#this ended up way longer than i intended it to

[world-of-wales]

THE PRINCE OF WALES HAS GIVEN AN INTERVIEW AT THE END OF HIS OFFICIAL VISIT TO SOUTH AFRICA.

During the candid and emotional interview he admitted how the past few months had been ‘brutal’ due to the health scares The Princess of Wales and King Charles went through :

‘Honestly? It’s been dreadful. It’s probably been the hardest year in my life. So, trying to get through everything else and keep everything on track has been really difficult. But I’m so proud of my wife, I’m proud of my father, for handling the things that they have done. But from a personal family point of view, it’s been, yeah, it’s been brutal.’

Speaking about the Princess of Wales he said that :

‘She’s doing well. Doing well.’

Speaking about what it meant to host the awards in Africa, a continent he connects very deeply to as he spent time there following his mother's passing and it is the place he proposed to The Princess of Wales as well, he said :

'Hearing the Circle of Life. I don’t know about everyone else, but hearing the Lion King and things like that gets me quite emotional, So, when they started singing and I saw the clips from the top of Table Mountain and we were all there and it’s happened. I did feel quite emotional.'

He then spoke about his children watching the awards saying :

'I don’t know yet. I haven’t clocked in with them yet but I hope they did.'

William added of his relaxed demeanour in Cape Town this week :

'It’s interesting you say that ’cause I couldn’t be less relaxed this year, so it’s very interesting you’re all seeing that. But it’s more a case of just crack on and you’ve got to keep going. I enjoy my work and I enjoy pacing myself and keeping sure I have got time for my family too.'

He also spoke about his family's opinions on his beard :

'Well Charlotte didn’t like it the first time. I got floods of tears the first time I grew a beard, so I had to shave it off. And then I grew it back. I thought, hang on a second and I convinced her it was going to be okay'

He also spoke about his new role as the Prince of Wales and how he intends to 'royal' in a different way than his grandmother and father before him :

‘You mention the added responsibility and the freedom in the same sentence,’ he laughed. It’s a tricky one. Do I like more responsibility? No. Do I like the freedom that I can build something like Earthshot then yes. And that’s the future for me. It’s very important with my role and my platform, that I’m doing something for good. That I’m helping people’s lives and I’m doing something that is genuinely meaningful.’

William spoke about the BTS work that goes into setting up huge events like Earthshot successfully :

‘So, the Earthshot is a culmination if you like of all that put together. But it takes a lot of work, and there’s a lot of unseen stuff that goes on, a lot of meetings, a lot of people coming in, a lot of chatting and phone calls, letters, all trying to sort of make the Earthshot get to being the best possible entity it can be'

He talked about his frustrations over reluctance as well as more involvement from buisness & governments saying :

‘I’d like it to be more a team sport. And so, when you go and approach people...business...or even government...and say, listen, we’re building this incredible thing. Please come on board. Some people are extremely fast and keen to it. Others take a little bit longer and it’s those people who take a little bit longer, I’m like, guys, we just don’t have the time.'

'So, yes, I get a bit frustrated that it takes a long time to convince people that this is worthy of their attention. But I guess that’s the nature of a global environment prize, you start from scratch and it’s going to take a bit of time.'

On his hope for the solutions & the impact and his message to those who can invest, he said :

'So you guys have seen for yourselves the scale of the solutions. I mean, they cover all sectors in all walks of life. Brilliant people, some barely started, some been a bit more established and have a bit more money. But overall all doing fantastic work in the same direction. I think the key thing for us is how do we translate that into more impact, more scale, and ultimately, greater progress in tackling environmental challenges.’

On his hope for more involvement, ‘I definitely think so. We’re giving this amazing platform to all of them. And really it’s an amazing platform for business to come in and poach what they want. But if we keep waiting....we’re going to keep eating into time that we just don’t have. And so my message to business really is: hurry up and be courageous. Invest faster because we just don’t have that time.’

[yooniivrse]

bouquet | myg

summary. every day with you serves as a reminder that you are, in fact, the best thing that has happened to him

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationsip au, fluff

word count: 1.3k

content: oc buys yoongi flowers / my man is whipped

warnings: none <333

notes: u can find the post explaining how i imagine yoongi and oc’s apartment here (in case u wanna visualise it better) likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are so appreciated!! i hope you guys enjoy <333

��───

main masterlist

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The fresh scent of flowers tickles your nose as you hold the bouquet close to your chest. You can't help but pride yourself in your selection as you admire the pale colours that caress each petal; an arrangement of pinks the same shade as the blush you often find creeping across your cheeks, oranges that mimic the morning sky on a winter day, yellows that remind you of the sunshine that warms your eyelids as you lie in bed during summer, and whites that reflect the hue of the moon.

It may not be perfect, but it's just right for your boyfriend — this you're sure of. Because it's Yoongi who causes your blushes and watches the sunrise with you in his arms despite the chilly weather; it's Yoongi who convinces you to stay in bed for "just a bit longer", until the day is almost gone but it doesn't feel wasted because it was spent with him.

Yoongi illuminates the dark skies that often haunt you, lighting up even your dullest days in his own way. And he whispers sweet nothings in your ear at night as if they're words from the moon itself.

Getting Yoongi flowers wasn't something you set out in the morning intending to do. You had come across the bouquets on your way back home from work, catching sight of them in the window of a quaint flower shop tucked in the corner of a street. It still baffles you how you had managed to not see the building for so long despite knowing the street like the back of your hand.

It was hard to miss too, given the amount of intricately put together bouquets wrapped in parchment paper and potted plants that were displayed on wooden stands just outside. They spilt out across the sidewalk, painting the grey town with the pop of colour it desperately needed.

You don't know what it was, but nothing had felt more right for you to do at that moment. So you marched in and paid an outrageous amount of money without a second thought.

And now, here you were — unable to hide the smile on your face despite the burn on your cheeks — watching the elevator ascend to the floor of your apartment. The pixelated numbers seemed to be moving slower than usual today, but you didn't linger on it for too long.

Eventually, the steel doors part to let you out, and you walk down the empty hallway to your apartment. It's a struggle to unlock the door with the flowers in one hand and your tote bag flimsily slung around your other shoulder, but you manage.

The door opens with a familiar creak and you step inside.

The immediate aroma of food that hits you is sudden, but also mouth-watering. You make your way down to the source of the smell — the kitchen — to find Yoongi working away at the stove.

A short towel hands around his neck, catching the droplets of water that fall from the ends of his hair. A loose, black t-shirt hangs on his figure, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. He hums an oddly staccato tune to himself, completely immersed in whatever he's cooking.

"Hi."

Yoongi's gaze immediately moves from the dish in front of him to you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hello." He meets your eyes for a brief second before moving down to the flowers. He quirks an eyebrow, lifting his gaze again. "Special occasion?"

"No. I got them for you...just because," you reply with a shrug, walking over to him with the bouquet outstretched in your hands.

"Oh. I- Thank you." You don't fail to catch the tint of pink that creeps across his skin, slowly becoming prominent around the tips of his ears as he takes the flowers from your hand.

He stares at the arrangement for a few seconds, and you feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. He would like them, right?

"So, whatcha cooking?" you ask, eyeing the pot of noodles. A small pile of thinly cut cucumber rests on a cutting board just beside the stove, but before you can take in everything else displayed across the marble, Yoongi's lips are on yours.

You melt into the kiss almost instantly. Your heart soars in your chest and the nerves in your stomach wash away, only to be replaced by the erratic flutter of butterflies.

Yoongi tastes faintly of mint and love, and the pressure of his kiss is slightly stronger than usual — as if he's reminding you of who his heart belongs to, even though you're already well aware.

The feeling of knowing that you're loved is almost overwhelming, but you bask in it, unable to stop your lips from spreading into a smile against his mouth.

"God, I love you so much," Yoongi mumbles as he pulls back, tenderly moving a few strands of your hair behind your ear, and you giggle at his words.

"I love you too, baby," you reply. His eyes crinkle into soft crescent moons, and he places another peck against your lips.

"Where do you think we should put it?" He does a quick scan of the room and you follow his movements. The coffee table would've been your first option, but it's occupied by the flowers he got you on your most recent date.

"Hmm." Your eyes move down the room. "I think it should look fine in the bedroom."'

Yoongi hums in agreement. "You're right. I'll put them here for now, 'cause I'm fucking starving right now."

"Oh my God, same," you reply as he places the bouquet on the marble island behind him. "What are you making anyway?"

"Just jajangmyeon. You mentioned wanting it last night, so I thought I'd make it for you. Didn't want you to get food poisoning like last time when we went to that sketchy restaurant."

"You're amazing," you say, loudly kissing him on the cheek. "I was literally craving it all day today."

Yoongi lets out a soft chuckle. "I knew you would be. Don't worry, it'll be ready pretty soon."

"I'll go get changed then. Don't burn down the house!"

"That's rich coming from you," he says with a snort.

You feign innocence with a shrug. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Mhm, sure you don't."

As you leave the kitchen, your laughter still echoing in the room, Yoongi lingers by the bouquet. A feeling of warmth blooms across his skin, and he's sure that it has nothing to do with the stove.

Even as he continues to stir the noodles, the only thing he is focused on is the single thought in his head.

You really are the best thing that has happened to him.

────

permanent taglist: @petals4bangtan @futuristicenemychaos

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Across Time (8)

A/N: This is a shorter chapter, I've been dealing with insurance and life and the goddamn election bullshit someone get me out of here...

Sorry. Anyways. I could only get a short chapter out this week. Once I've had a chance to breathe for a while I'll have better, longer chapters out.

Pairing: Adar x Former Elf! Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air in Adar’s tent is thick with the smoke from the fire crackling in the center of the camp. The war drums still rumble in the distance, a reminder of the gathering storm. The firelight casts dancing shadows across the map stretched out on the table before you, its edges frayed and worn, covered in marks and symbols of battles past and the ones yet to come.

Adar stands over the map, his finger tracing a line from Mordor’s heart to Eregion. His thoughts are heavy, his voice steady but urgent. “I must gather my forces—Uruks, wildmen, and those that remain loyal to me. Eregion will fall. We will march when the time is right.”

You stand a few paces away, your arms crossed, watching him intently. His presence commands the space, his dark energy an ever-present undercurrent to the conversation. There’s something in his gaze tonight—a sharpness, a finality. It seems he’s made up his mind, and you know what that means.

“And Sauron?” you ask, your voice low, careful. You feel the weight of this question, knowing full well the danger it carries.

Adar’s eyes flick to you, his lips curling into something almost like a smile, though it holds no warmth. “He’s still a shadow in the woods, a flame flickering at the edges of our reach. But I intend to take him. One way or another.”

Your heart clenches at the thought. Sauron. The name itself carries a weight that none can escape. Even you, standing beside Adar, cannot quite banish the cold shadow it casts.

“You must know what he plans, yes?” Adar continues, his voice darkening. “He moves, too, in the shadows, waiting to reclaim what is his. I cannot allow that. I will move when I’m ready—but I need you to keep an eye on him. Follow him.”

Your brows furrow, not because you don’t understand, but because of the burden it carries. The thought of following Sauron, tracking his every step, is more than just a dangerous task—it’s a risk that could very well tip the balance of power in Middle-earth.

“You want me to shadow him while you prepare your forces for the march?” you ask, your voice steady despite the knot of unease tightening in your chest.

Adar nods, his eyes cold and calculating. “Yes. I need to know where he goes, whom he meets, and what plans he makes. He will not escape me again. You are one of the few who can move unseen, and I trust you to gather the intelligence I need.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering. The task ahead is fraught with danger—not just from Sauron, but from all that lies between you and your target. “And if I’m discovered?” you ask, though you already know the answer. If you’re found, it could very well spell your end.

“I don’t expect you to be discovered,” Adar replies sharply. “But should it happen, you know how to handle yourself. You’ve done it before. This is no different.”

His voice holds an edge of command, and you know he means it. He trusts you, in his own way. And yet, you can’t ignore the weight of this task. Following Sauron, watching him from the shadows—it’s a dangerous game to play, and it’s one that could unravel everything, even for you.

“And what of you?” you ask, your voice softer now, your gaze flicking to the map again. “While I watch him, you plan to move your army on Eregion?”

Adar’s eyes narrow, his expression resolute. “Yes. Eregion must fall. Sauron will be dealt with. But I need to be ready. I cannot risk anything standing in my way.”

You nod slowly, understanding. The stakes are high, and Adar’s resolve is clear. You can’t afford to fail.

“I’ll follow him,” you say, your voice steady. “But I will need something. A way to reach you, should things go wrong.”

Adar’s lips curl into a small, grim smile. “You’ll have it. You always do.”

++++++++++

The dawn is a dim, ashen light filtering through thick clouds as you tighten the last strap on your pack, checking each blade and vial one final time. The weight on your shoulders feels familiar—a reminder of all the missions you've carried out in ages past, each one marked by long nights of careful planning and colder days of loneliness. But this time, it’s different. You aren’t setting out at Morgoth’s command, nor answering the will of anyone but yourself. And yet, there’s a gnawing dread you can’t quite dispel, a tension tightening your hands even as you try to steady them.

Just as you’re lacing your cloak over your pack, you hear Adar’s steps approach from behind, steady and slow. You turn to find him watching you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something else in his gaze, too—a faint but undeniable worry.

“Remember,” he begins, his tone low and serious, “this is not the same as tracking an elf or ambushing a guard. Halbrand—Sauron—is no ordinary enemy. He wields a power that even the most cautious among us would be wise to fear.”

You hold his gaze, determined to keep your voice steady, though you sense his worry mirroring your own. “This is not my first time going into enemy territory,” you remind him, voice calm, trying to reassure him. “I’ve spent ages tracking down threats larger than myself, slipping through strongholds, and staying two steps ahead.”

Adar steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly, his expression both resolute and grim. “And your courage is beyond question. But Sauron is no mere enemy of flesh and blood. He is a master of shadow and deceit—a being forged in darkness, with powers both vast and cunning.” His gaze sharpens. “Even the slightest misstep could be fatal.”

You tighten your grip on your pack, lifting your chin defiantly. “I’m aware,” you say, meeting his eyes squarely. “But I’ve dealt with darkness before. I know how to remain unseen.”

Adar’s eyes flicker with something unreadable, and for a moment, silence stretches between you. He studies you intently, as if weighing the strength of your resolve. “I would rather you didn’t have to do this at all,” he finally murmurs, voice low. “I did not give you freedom only to see you walk into the jaws of death.”

You hesitate, feeling his words weigh on you. “I know,” you say, softening. “But this is what I choose. And if I don’t do this—if I don’t stop him now—what will that freedom mean if he brings ruin upon everything you’ve fought for?”

Adar’s gaze softens for a moment, his hand lifting as if he means to touch you but stops short, his fingers curling back. “Then you must be careful,” he says, his voice carrying a rare, almost tender note. “Remember, Sauron is not an enemy bound by honor or reason. He will seek to unearth your weaknesses, to twist your mind with words as much as any weapon. And if he senses you for what you truly are…” He trails off, his expression darkening.

You nod slowly, feeling the chill of his warning sink in. “I’ll be cautious. I won’t underestimate him.”

A beat of silence, and then he speaks, his voice soft but unwavering. “I know you won’t,” he says quietly. 

For a moment, your heart clenches at his words, the warmth of them both unexpected and grounding. You manage a small nod, though you feel the weight of his gaze linger, pressing a kind of unspoken promise into you.

Just as you turn to head into the woods, Adar reaches out, his hand resting on your shoulder, a quiet but firm gesture to halt. You glance back at him, brow raised, but his gaze has shifted to the edge of the camp, where a young Uruk, lean and slight, steps forward, awaiting Adar’s summons with silent attention.

“I mentioned a way to reach me should you need it,” Adar says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “This one will accompany you. He has been trained in silence and swiftness; he knows these lands better than most.” His eyes flicker to the young Uruk. “He will follow your command and ensure that you are not left defenseless, should Sauron prove… difficult”

The Uruk steps closer, his movements nearly soundless despite the rough ground beneath him. You assess him in the dim light—he’s slighter than most Uruks, with sharp, watchful eyes and an air of calm that strikes you as unusual for his kind. There’s an intelligence in his gaze, a quiet observation that reminds you of a hawk tracking every movement in its sight.

He meets your eyes and inclines his head in a quick nod, a quiet respect in the gesture. “I am Azgor,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “Adar has told me to protect you—to keep to the shadows, and to leave no trace behind.”

You nod slowly, taking in this unexpected addition. “Azgor,” you repeat, noting the pride that flares in his eyes at your acknowledgement. “I’m sure you’re as capable as Adar claims.”

Azgor straightens slightly, his shoulders lifting. “I am swift as ash falling in silence, and no one will hear me if I don’t wish it.” He glances at Adar, his fierce loyalty apparent. “I would die before allowing harm to come to one of Adar’s own.”

A flicker of surprise catches you off-guard, though you don’t let it show. Adar sent you a companion not just for your safety, but as a gesture of trust. The weight of that gesture rests heavily on you, and you feel both a warmth and a tension settle in your chest.

Turning back to Adar, you meet his gaze one final time, a silent agreement passing between you. He is entrusting you with one of his own—and trusting one of his own with you.

You offer a nod. “We’ll go unseen. Azgor and I will watch and report back if I need support.”

Adar’s expression remains stony, but there’s a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good. And remember, both of you,” he says, his voice softening, “you are valued here. Your lives are worth more than a spy’s report.”

Azgor straightens even more at these words, and you feel the same faint spark of pride in your own chest. With one last nod, you and Azgor slip away from camp, two shadows passing into the deep woods, moving silently toward the unknown trail of Sauron.

[bluestjayy]

Life update:

I didn't make my deadline.

After approximately 200 applications, only 6 (first stage) interviews, 3 (second stage interviews), and more rejections than I could cope with some days, I unfortunately haven't been able to find a job since being laid off in September. This means I can no longer stay in my apartment. Which. Sucks.

I'm lucky enough to have my parents to fall back on, so I'll be moving back to their bungalow until I can find something to support me and save up enough money to come back to the city, so that's something. But it's also not going to be great for me while I'm there.

My hometown is an incredibly small mining town in the rural north-east, it's ridiculously close minded and conservative. I'm not out to any of my family for this reason, so I am for sure signing up for a minimum of a year being misgendered and stomaching casual bigotry from everyone I'm surrounded by.

And I love my parents, but our relationship isn't the best. They have a lot of really unhealthy, toxic, and occasionally abusive behaviours, and the way they treat each other and me is really... well it's not always good. Which is part of the reason I not only moved out but to a city that's 3 hours away in the first place. Their home is not intended for anyone but the two of them, it is incredibly small, and I will be living in a second room that only fits a camp bed and a small desk with very little privacy as this room is also where some of the utilities are. It's something, and I am so lucky to have this option at all vs complete homelessness. But I also know the toll this is all going to take on me physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I have already had to start looking at my current possessions, over 4 years of the life I built here, and decide which parts I get to keep and which I now have to leave behind.

Being back there is going to be... I don't know. I get into dark places whenever I go home for the holidays for a few days so living there again... I really don't know.

I guess the only thing keeping me going is the idea I will be able to come back to the city I'm in right now, the one I call home, eventually. It's just going to take some time.

And I have a plan, I am already job hunting for remote roles I can do back there, I'm open to taking on two or three if necessary, and I've started working on opening an Etsy store for some of my crafting creations that may also help me fundraise the money to leave a lot faster. Perhaps I'll even consider commissions again.

But it's definitely going to be a long long year getting myself back on my feet again.

One of the only upsides currently is how much time I have to be working on fic and art (whenever the muse allows me!) so that's something I guess haha.

Anyway, thoughts and love and support and virtual hugs go a long way for me rn, and if you're so inclined (absolutely 100% not necessary but every little helps) here is the link to my tip-jar:

Ko-Fi

Even just giving this post a share would really help me right now. Those who know me know I find it really difficult to ask for help even when I'm in desperate need of it but I think, after six weeks of this reality slowly creeping up on me, I have reached a point where I am ready to say I really need it.

The fandom communities I have found myself in the last year have been an absolute rock for me. And I am so glad I get to be a part of them with you all.

In the end, it will be okay. That's what I have to keep telling myself. Positively rebellious and rebelliously positive.

Thank you for reading, I hope you have a wonderful day and I appreciate you all so much 💛

[108garys]

The Clarkes haunting the narrative is THE point

The following was a response to the idea that the prologue and end hold little hope back that ended up being way longer than intended, no shade on the person who said that I just realised that I didn't want to drop a whole essay on them, so without any more preamble:

Truthfully I am completely disinterested in making Little Hope more palatable to people who require the story's soul to be torn out to enjoy it because that's what the beginning and ending is. The broken heart of little hope.

That said I very much love the middle too but the Clarke family's story is the heart and soul of little hope and the whole point, otherwise why does anything in the town matter? Vince? Just some dude, the subplot of the town falling apart, being in the literal wreckage of 1970s era Little Hope? Random set dressing because a straight up three century old ruin of a town would just lack the infrastructure required to have the facade of searching for help in town… So many of the secrets are about them, you straight up spend a good chunk of the runtime passively learning about the individual family members both in private and public and even though I think some people choose the shallowest reading out of spite it is very deliberately stated that there is an element of choice in interpretation, the curator says so at the start. The more praised facets would be greatly diminished without the Clarkes, the subtextual nature of overcoming your demons gives meaning to the outright textual fighting of demonic monsters and the parallels would not be as strong between the 2020 and 1692 eras alone.

It is a common mistake that there are better or worse versions of the characters but it's simply not true as they are all different aspects and much like a triangle needs three points the cast of little hope needs all three points of reference to fully appreciate their stories. My earliest read of Little Hope centred on Anthony recontextualising his family in two divergent ways, 1692 where they are presented as victims of circumstance and 2020 where they are more deliberately flawed people who must overcome their demons because the truth is that both things are true of the Clarkes and so they are separated out into their different aspects and analysed accordingly.

Angela's characterisation doesn't work exclusively compared to Amy, her story of fighting for her agency doesn't land the same without Anne, Amy on paper is a woman who did everything right bar being too harsh to a child and was killed for it, Angela is a woman burnt by her past yet soldering on and still retains the same flaw of blaming the child, where as Anne being a snowed under house wife who struggles with keeping her family together and feels like she has zero agency in her situation and all the while fails to understand the perspectives of the very people she feels responsible for is the context between Amy the beloved wife who is wrongfully accused and uses her one bit of agency to place mistaken blame on Mary and Angela who refuses to rely on or believe in anyone or anything, the fact that she's divorced and starting over in her late forties does not work when only compared to the wholesome yet tragic Lamberts who's marriage is never depicted in the negative to justify Angela's divorce. She'd appear as a nearly fully different person for no reason without Anne to bridge the gap and make their depictions consistent, without the 1970s it just looks like she's angry at her husband for failing to save her despite his best efforts and that severely damages her character and arc.

Connected to that, J places his trust in the wrong places, delegates, blame shifts and runs from facing the bigger problem, the alcoholism is emblematic of this but the refusal to see the truth about M's innocence and place responsibility at the feet of the proper authority because he'd have to confront his misplaced faith requires all three, Joseph failing to his dying breath to understand Mary's innocence and James getting blackout drunk over the stress of problems he finds insurmountable are necessary context to John's sobriety and further arc and John being a recovering alcoholic would just be flavour text without the harsh sting of how addiction colours James.

Daylor wouldn't lose its questionable reading if they were only siblings in 50% of other eras instead of two thirds but Dennis expressing his frustration at Tanya pulling away contextualises their codependency and mutual need to be needed in a way that is incomplete, you see a couple in the early stages of dating and siblings who got killed three hundred years prior, the 70s contextualise T's need for stability and dependability and her survival instincts pushing her to flee and D's arrested development in the way he struggles to function when they aren't a unit, beyond that David and Tabitha care for Mary together in Amy's trial scene and after her death he doesn't even fight his own execution, not even to continue the task of raising his only remaining orphand sister alone, this isn't to say David doesn't love Mary as he blatantly shows care for her in not wanting her to be traumatised by his death but he simply falls apart without Tabitha and Dennis being the way he is when Tanya is pulling away from the family shows a lower stakes, longer depiction of that breaking down but she's still physically there so it isn't collapsing in grief, it's the simmering resentment of feeling like a person you care for isn't prioritising you reciprocally, these feelings aren't wrong in of themselves but they aren't pretty and Daniel's outbursts and more negative dialogue choices and David's quiet grief don't capture the way that feeling of being stabbed a million times over everything time you aren't the first choice but the other person didn't wrong you by choosing differently so there is no proper way to get that out feels. D is often mistaken as a shallow generically decent guy with a random angry iteration that doesn't fit into a boring whole but it's simply not the case, him proving he can be reliable in 2020, his fight against his various insecurities is something he needs to do for himself as much as T, the others aren't better adjusted or better people compared to Dennis, their circumstances just present entirely differently.

Furthermore Taylor feeling like an outsider doesn't work alone with Tabitha being part of a family unit, I've seen it misinterpreted as Taylor being less proactive than her counterparts but the truth is that T's behaviour is characterised by survival instinct and a need for stability, Tabitha realises something is wrong after the first death and attempts to protect Mary but counsels keeping their heads down, Taylor being vocally in favour of staying put and Tanya's quiet desperation to get away from everything are not opposite but different flavors of the same base needs, Tanya legitimately being a practising witch adds a layer between the other two versions, Tanya appears very conventional despite her secret unconventional beliefs and Taylor is the inverse being visually the most nonconforming member of the cast while her desire for a knight in shining armour is very traditional in its own way, pair this with the straight forward trial of Tabitha and you get an exploration of not going with the first assumptions that blankets the rest of the narrative.

Carver is a great antagonist all his own but without 1972 there is no broader context, and even if you still have that era but not the Clarkes it would just be "this guy's bloodline remained assholes for centuries" and not the direct parallel to Carson, there is no canonical 2020 equivalent to his character yet he haunts the narrative beyond himself, judge wyman intentionally mirrors the passing neighbour who immediately demanded to know what Anthony had done when the matchbox is revealed, the accusatory paranoid hysteria of puritan little hope and Anthony's poor treatment after the death of his family are directly connected and that's the point, Melissa is there to bring the conversation about the little girl's guilt or innocence to the forefront in a way that makes it a present plotline that goes beyond Mary and brings in the nature that the past is reflected in other eras and without Megan you lose a lot, Melissa requires her context in a way that Mary alone doesn't achieve and Abraham and Andrew's decision on the matter is in fact a question over Anthony's guilt and his internal struggle between blaming himself and blaming Megan and the further grief around this unresolved guilt to the point where he was psychologically unable to process the death of his family for nearly fifty years is the point, the whole point, of the 1692 reframing.

the Clarke family haunts every aspect of Little Hope and without the ending it would be pointless, the way their deaths hang over everything to the point where the puritan versions are doomed to die in the same way they were already depicted as dying and the way an engaged person would quickly catch on that 1972 death=1692 death and therefore 2020 character faces the same fate, it would be meaningless without the Clarke tragedy, it would simply be shock value that builds towards nothing without the ending and the ending doesn't make the game any less about the other eras because they are one and the same in every way that matters.

[bats-and-the-birds]

I made a post involving young/feral/perceived cryptid Dick Grayson and someone tagged something about Barry Allen losing his mind when this terrifying child befriends his nephew and I have NOT stopped thinking about this since.

Because like, imagine you're Barry Allen. You've been doing this hero thing for a while, and you've seen a lot of things, but now your nephew has gotten himself wrapped up in this too, and goddamnit, you're worried because you know this life isn't easy.

Then he makes a friend - Ollie's boy, Roy Harper - and you breathe a little bit easier, because you know that however rough this life is, it's worse without friends. Besides, it's sweet. They're young boys, and they roughhouse, and tell stupid jokes, and play video games together sometimes. It's nice to see Wally just be a kid with someone that he doesn't have to hide from. And, yeah, sure, they get into trouble sometimes, pull pranks that go too far, get themselves in danger because they think they can take on something they can't, but it's still a net positive, because you need friends in this line of work, and that's exactly what they've found.

And you think about Robin. Not often, but you do think about him. Because you know nothing about him, and you don't want to, but he still has the face of a boy that's younger than your nephew. You wonder if he has friends.

But really, you don't think about him that much. You don't want to. He's freaky, and generally, thinking too hard about anything to do with the Bat is inadvisable.

Then there's a fight. A big one. You don't even really know who's fighting on your side until everything has cleared. It was basically the entire Justice League, no one dead, but a few injuried. And your nephew's there too. And Roy. And Robin.

No one really goes near Robin, ever. It was an unspoken rule, of sorts, and you're pretty sure it's just because everyone's scared of messing with Batman's little bird, though whether that was due to fear of Batman or the bird himself, you're not sure.

But Wally doesn't seem to know this. Wally doesn't seem to care. He runs up to Robin with a big grin on his face and grabs his hand, trying to tug him over to where Roy was patching up some injuries.

You notice that Robin doesn't go with him immediately. In fact, he looks confused. But if you know anything about your nephew, he's persistent, and eventually Robin lets himself be dragged over. Roy seems unconcerned, but you can tell that the other adults in the vicinity shift uncomfortably, unsure of what they should do, or if they should do anything at all.

It doesn't last long anyway. Batman calls for Robin and he bounds off, but you notice he stops and hesitantly waves a gloved hand at your nephew before he leaves. Wally waves back.

You don't think much of it.

Then, the next time you and Ollie catch Wally and Roy fighting something they shouldn't be, Robin's right there with them. It's the first time you've seen Robin without Batman in close proximity, and you think he looks just a little bit more human. He smiles sheepishly with the other boys when they're chastised for fighting things that they shouldn't, and you watch Roy ruffle his hair like there's nothing to be worried about. You're still worried.

You still don't think much of it though. Even when Robin's there with the two of them the next time, and the time after that.

But then, oh dear god, he's in your house. You don't actually notice him at first, for two whole hours, because it's normal to see Wally and Roy sitting on the couch and playing video games. You just don't realize that there's a third head in between them until you sit down in an adjacent armchair to see what they're playing, because Robin is just short enough that his head doesn't peak over the back of the couch.

You have to blink a few times to make sure what you're seeing is real, because nestled in between the two slightly older heroes in their civilian attire is Robin, sans his gloves, cape, and boots, but otherwise still in full uniform with his mask still firmly in place, holding a video game controller and laughing while Wally elbows his side to try to make him lose.

And you just sit back in your chair and stare, because what the hell are you even supposed to do in this situation? Your nephew has decided to make friends with Batman's goddamn son - the boy that you've seen sneak up on League members with super hearing, break a grown man's femur, and somehow fade into shadows in a bright yellow cape - and it worked. And now he's playing video games on your couch. And you don't know what to do about that.

[shesnake]

hello here's my little Armand essay. spoilers for season 2 and content warnings for discussions of racism, csa, intimate partner violence.

[empressofthewind]

Honestly it always makes me a little upset when people say Near is a copy of L/too similar to him, because as much as that's the point of his character, I also don't even think it's that accurate?? Visually he's similar, but in personality, there are a lot of key differences that get overlooked in favour of the cosmetics. Their treatment of Light/Kira is a major one that comes to mind, with regards to the notable respect L shows towards Light and his methods. Near is also quite a bit more expressive than L; L mostly alternates between "deep in thought" and "mildly annoyed", with some minor flexibility outside of that, whereas Near has a distinct look of excitement when things are going his way, looks distraught when his team members die, and gets angry several times to the point of physically breaking things. Near's manner is more blunt, and he's a much bigger nuisance to Light on the basis that he's more inclined towards brutal honesty, whereas L is a notorious liar with a habit of deception. Near also focuses more on morality in his approach to the Kira case, and doesn't have the same ego or personal investment in detective work that L does. L is a lot more physically active than Near too, with his record as a tennis champion and occasional tendency to pace while speaking. The move to enrol in college, for example, is not something I could ever see Near doing. Near was specifically groomed to be L's successor, so there's definite overlap in their attitudes and methods, but they're actually quite different characters if you look beyond the surface, and I think it's important to treat Near as a unique character who takes on L's role rather than an outright clone.

[tadfool]

thinkin about Astarion mending Wyll's clothes for him but also embroidering something on them when he does. I imagine with all the fighting and traveling Wyll ends up with rips and holes in his clothes pretty often and eventually Astarion gets sick of watching him walk around in tattered clothes (most people likely wouldn't even notice but of course Astarion isn't most people). the first couple times he does it he just mends the damages and gives it back, but maybe one time Wyll ends up with a particularly large rip in his shirt and Astarion decides to take the opportunity to cover the damage with a small bit of embroidery to tidy up the repair. Wyll thanks him for repairing his shirt (again) but then he notices the embroidery and pauses for a moment in both surprise and marvel. "did you do this?" he says, carefully running his thumb over the delicate stitches, he knew it was a bit of a stupid question but he couldn't seem to think of anything else to say. (cont. under the cut bc this got kinda long)

"it was a pretty nasty rip, even with my skillful hands," Astarion flashes Wyll a suggestive grin to emphasize his innuendo but Wyll is still to busy admiring the embroidery in his hands, "I wasn't able to make the repair look presentable on its own, but a bit of embroidery does well enough to cover it up"

"it's beautiful." Wyll breathes.

"yes, well, you're welcome." Astarion retorts, his voice thick with snark to hide how much Wyll's earnest praise flustered him.

Wyll chuckles and thanks him again before they part ways.

the next time Astarion repairs some of Wyll's clothes when he returns the item Wyll once again notices a small patch of embroidery but this time it's somewhere totally unrelated to the damaged area. it's lovely, and he spends a moment admiring it before giving Astarion a questioning look. "there was a stain, I couldn't wash it out so I just covered it up. you're welcome, by the way." Astarion defends, and it's almost believable. it might have been more believable if it didn't keep happening.

every time Wyll hands over a damaged piece of clothing to be repaired, it's returned to him with some new embroidery adorning it. it starts off subtle but after some time he has a collage of embroidery along his left pant leg, starting at his hip and extending further down towards his knee with every repair. the collar and both shoulders of his shirt are adorned with delicate designs in colourful thread. he also, notably, becomes a bit more careful in battle, not wanting to damage Astarion's embroidery.

once, an opponent manages to graze his shoulder with their blade, the cut isn't deep but it slices through his shirt. and through the embroidery. as soon as he glaces over and catches sight of the torn thread, he's furious. he dispatches the enemy quickly and rather ungracefully. when he hands the shirt over to Astarion to be repaired he's positively dejected. "swiped at my shoulder, I didn't manage to deflect it in time, cut straight through the embroidery..."

Astarion clicks his tongue, assessing the damage, "no respect for craftsmanship these days..."

when he returns the shirt most of the old design has been picked out and replaced with a new one. a simpler design, Wyll notes, likely easier to repair if it were to get damaged again. he admires it with the same appreciation as the first. "is your shoulder alright, by the way?" Astarion asks rather suddenly.

"hm? oh, yes, barely grazed it. nothing a bandage and a night or two's rest won't fix."

"good." the silence that follows is almost palpable. so many unspoken words, concern, affection, hanging in the space between them. "well. do try to be more careful." Astarion finally says, then hastily adds "at this rate I'm going to run out of thread before I get a chance to get more."

Wyll smiles softly at him. (so softly it makes Astarion's chest ache) "of course." (the idea that Astarion cares about his safety makes Wyll's chest ache as well)

[stevenrogered]

ONE DAY ↳book > screen

Imagine one selected day struck out of your life and think how different its course would have been. Think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on that memorable day. - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

[dragonanon]

can you do a chapter based on your Death!Reader and God!Brother hcs where Death wakes up from her sleep and goes to Heaven to check up on her brother's children and everyone is obviously terrified of her?

Hmmm…I’m not typically one to do requests because the urge to write is so sporadic and random for me. BUT I have been thinking about the initial confrontation in Heaven for a while now, so here are some head cannons for that. >w>

——

- It’s a typical perfect day in Heaven…Until it isn’t. Having seen what had become of your realm and learning Heaven was to blame for it, you’re on your way to rip someone a new asshole.

- Screams erupt from the Angels as the ground begins to shake and the bright sky darkens. Sera and Emily rush out just in time to join the Angels in watching in abject terror as a massive pool of darkness forms on the ground, and from it slowly rises a menacing figure.

- The figure is massive, and it only continues to rise until even the tallest building barely reaches its hips. Its six long horns twist and arch toward the sky, only making the figure appear even taller. Upon reaching its full height, the figure spreads its six mighty wings, each one sporting a menacingly sharp claw and all as shrouded in darkness as the rest of the figure.

- As its wings blot out the sun further, the figure opens its many blazing white eyes; two where you’d normally expect to see eyes, a third in the center of its forehead, and dozens more scattered across its wings and body.

- Sera lost all color as soon as she saw the figure rising, and somehow lost even MORE color when the figure opened all of its eyes. She looks like she shit herself, and Emily is panicking, trying desperately to get Sera to tell her what’s going on; she’s never seen the older Seraph look so terrified.

- With this unimaginably imposing figure now looming over Heaven, Adam decides this is the PERFECT time to attack, having been dumb enough to think this was a Demon attacking Heaven.

- The exorcists fly up towards the figure, ready to attack. This only angers the figure further however, and with a rumble that shakes the ground itself, the figure merely flaps its wings; creating a gust of wind so powerful it knocks all the exorcists back onto the ground.

- It’s at this point Sera FINALLY snaps out of it, rushing to Adam in mad panic and damn nearly strangling him while telling him to call off the exorcists. Which he does, albeit with some reluctance.

- This doesn’t stop him from asking Sera what gives, and her response is “Adam you absolute fucking fool, that is DEATH!”

- Now it’s Adam’s turn to look like he shit himself. “Death? As in, “the big man himself’s younger sister” Death?? As in, “the baddest bitch you’ve EVER seen, but can kill ANYTHING by just touching it” Death??? THAT fucking Death????” Ignoring that last statement, Sera’s frantic nodding in confirmation confirms to Adam that he has indeed fucked up. Big time. Adam then proceeds to lose all color in his face and practically cowers behind Sera as she cautiously approaches you, mentally preparing herself to be reaped on the spot.

- Back to your perspective however, you’re fucking PISSED. So pissed that you don’t even notice or stop to think that most of Heaven’s inhabitants likely have NO CLUE who you are, and are likely legitimately fearing for their lives. Meanwhile for all the older Angels and Angelic beings who’ve been alive long enough to have known you before you went to sleep, like Sera, they’re all still very much afraid, but it’s more in line with the “oh shit mom’s home early and she saw the mess we made in the kitchen, she’s gonna kill us!” kind of fear.

- The fact that they sent exorcists at you makes you even angrier. Like for starters, how fucking weak do they think you are that you could be stopped by just some low level Angelic beings with pointy sticks?? And then the audacity to even attack you to begin with, like THEY weren’t the ones who fucked up and you’re just some kind of strange intruder needing to be slain?? The INDIGNITY of it all!

- Your voice booms throughout Heaven, making even the ground tremble at the sheer intensity of it. “WHO DID IT?” You’re met with only silence, so you ask again with more force. “MY REALM IS A COMPLETE MESS WITH MILLIONS OF DISPLACED SOULS RIGHT NOW. SO AGAIN I ASK, WHICH ONE OF YOU FLAT FOOT CHILDREN DID THIS?!”

- Sera replies, voice trembling slightly. “Are…Are you talking about the exterminations? “IF THAT IS WHAT YOU’RE CALLING THIS MOCKERY OF MY WORK, THEN YES.” Sera looks visibly confused and concerned. “But…That SHOULDN’T be possible!…The exterminations KILL the Sinners; their souls should be gone, not stuck in Limbo! There has to be some kind of mistake here!”

- Hearing this, you can’t help but let out a brief but harsh cackle, making the ground jolt from the abruptness. “DEAR YOU HONESTLY THINK A SOUL COULD BE SO EASY TO DESTROY? A SOUL IS A POWERFUL THING FOR A REASON CHILD, IF THEY WERE SO EASILY DESTROYED THEN NONE OF YOU WOULD BE STANDING HERE BEFORE ME NOW!…SO ONCE AGAIN, WHO. DID. THIS?! AND SO HELP ME, IF I HAVE TO ASK AGAIN THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES.”

- Whilst Sera is dumbfounded by this revelation, Adam sees a golden opportunity to save his ass and points at Sera. “I-It was her! Yeah it was all fucking HER idea! I-I tried to tell her it was stupid, b-but she just REALLY wanted to go down and kill those bast- Demons! Yeah she REALLY wanted to kill all those poor Demons, can ya fucking believe this shit?!”

- Before Sera can defend herself, the darkness seems to intensify, and she can just FEEL every one of your eyes glaring daggers into her. “SERA…YOU SIGNED OFF ON THIS?? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, I EXPECTED SO MUCH BETTER FROM YOU! I LEFT EXPLICIT INSTRUCTIONS FOR HEAVEN AND HELL TO WORK TOGETHER TO SORT SOULS FOR THIS VERY REASON! AND NOW BECAUSE OF THESE BARBARIC “EXTERMINATIONS”, YOU’VE COMPLETELY DESTROYED THE BALANCE I WORKED SO HARD TO CREATE AND MAINTAIN. I HOPE YOU’RE PROUD OF YOURSELF, BECAUSE I’M CERTAINLY NOT!”

- It’s a strange and mildly amusing sight to see the head seraph get scolded like a misbehaving child by this massive dark entity. But here we are anyway!

- At one point during the tongue lashing you’re giving to your niece, Emily buts in and asks for an explanation for what’s going on; having not heard Sera’s previous explanation to Adam apparently.

- Your temper flares for a brief moment, and you just about launched into another lecture at the little shit who DARED interrupt you. But upon seeing Emily, you softened considerably, seeing that she was young and TRULY didn’t understand what was happening.

- “AH…I APOLOGIZE DEAR, BUT I DON’T THINK I RECOGNIZE YOU…COME CLOSER LITTLE ONE SO I CAN SEE YOU.” You slowly crouch down and lower your hand, offering Emily to climb onto it. Emily is hesitant, obviously a bit scared of you. But Sera encourages her to go to you, she knows that you won’t hurt Emily and it’s high time she meets her aunt anyway.

- With the small seraph in hand, you stand back up to your full height and bring her closer to your face. Now FINALLY able to see her properly, you speak. “YOU’RE FAIRLY YOUNG FOR A SERAPH…YOU MUST’VE BEEN BORN DURING MY SLUMBER, AND IN THAT CASE I APOLOGIZE THIS HAD TO BE OUR FIRST MEETING. TELL ME, WHAT IS YOUR NAME CHILD?”

- Her voice trembling slightly, Emily tells you her name and then asks who you are and asks if you’re a seraph like her and Sera. The innocent question gets a genuine laugh out of you, and despite it shaking the ground it’s a lovely sound. “OH CHILD, I AM FAR FROM BEING A SERAPH. THOUGH I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT. YOU WERE ALL MADE IN MY IMAGE AFTER ALL.”

- Seeing the visible confusion on Emily’s face, you elaborated. “LONG AGO, YOUR FATHER WANTED TO SHOW HIS APPRECIATION OF ME. SO FOR HIS FIRST SENTIENT CREATIONS, THE SERAPHIM, HE BASED THEM ALL ON ME.” Emily looks surprised, and follows up by asking how you know God.

- You give another genuine laugh at her question. “SWEETY I’M HIS YOUNGER SISTER, I AM “DEATH”, THE GODDESS OF WELL…DEATH. BUT YOU CAN CALL ME “D” OR “AUNT D”, MOST OF YOUR SIBLINGS DO.” Emily’s mind is blown “Wait! YOU’RE aunt D?! Sera told me all kinds of stories about you before you went to sleep, like the time you got into an argument with Father over his invention of the “Snuggie”. I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

- “IT WAS LITERALLY JUST A BATHROBE YOU WORE BACKWARDS, AND I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HE THOUGHT THAT WAS AT ALL CLEVER.” You huff, feeling amusement and mild irritation at that memory.

- “SPEAKING OF YOUR FATHER, WHERE IS HE?” Sera speaks up, having managed to recollect herself, and explains that no one has seen or heard a word from God since before you went to sleep.

- The irritated snarl that leaves your throat sounds like thunder and shakes the ground, making everyone tremble with fear. “THAT LAZY BASTARD HAD ONE FUCKING JOB, WATCH HIS DAMN KIDS, AND HE COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT?! NO WONDER THIS ALL HAPPENED THEN, HE LEFT YOU ALL UNSUPERVISED!”

- Bending over, you carefully set Emily down before standing back up. “I HATE TO CUT MY INTRODUCTION SHORT, BUT APPARENTLY I NEED TO GO AND HAVE A LITTLE CHAT WITH YOUR FATHER.” You stare pointedly at Sera and continue. “DON’T THINK THIS MEANS YOU’RE ENTIRELY OFF THE HOOK EITHER. WHILE YES, YOUR FATHER’S ABSENCE IS MOSTLY TO BLAME FOR THIS DEBACLE, YOU ALSO KNOW BETTER THAN TO DO SUCH TERRIBLE THINGS. WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THIS MORE ONCE I FINISH WITH YOUR FATHER, AND IF I COME BACK AND FIND OUT YOU HELD ANY MORE OF THESE “EXTERMINATIONS” I WILL TURN YOU INTO A HOLLOW! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” Looking at the ground, Sera nods and says “Yes Auntie D…”

- Satisfied with that response, you bid everyone farewell and slowly melt back into the ground, completely disappearing. Once you’re gone, the sunlight is back and it’s as if you were never there.

- Now the seraphim have to soothe the murmuring crowd while Sera starts attempting to get in contact with Lucifer to let him know that “Hey Aunt D found out about the exterminations and is NOT happy about it. She just got done yelling at me, and now she’s on her way to go read Father the riot act. Just warning you now because once she’s done with him, you’re probably gonna be next.”

- Lucifer receives the message and is now frantically trying to create peace offerings in hopes they’ll make you more amicable, while also preemptively planning his own funeral in case the peace offerings don’t work.

- Meanwhile in God’s palace, God is currently relaxing in an elaborate hot tub and watching American football on an absurdly large TV whilst drinking wine like it’s water. He’s pretty drunk and having a grand time yelling at the TV.

- His fun is interrupted through by you literally kicking in the door and storming in, you’ve shrunken down to your smaller size so all your features are actually visible now and not covered in darkness as you glare at your older brother with an intensity that could peel paint.

- God startled momentarily before seeing it’s you and giving you a dopey smile. He’s also in his smaller form, so that makes things slightly easier for you. “Ohhh heeeyyy Death!…You startled me thereee…It’zzzz beeen awhillle, huh?” You scoff at his slurred speech, in disbelief that he could be so drunk right now.

- “Yes, it HAS been awhile. Good to see that you still choose to spend your days getting completely wasted instead of tending to your children.” You answer tersely, and God rolls his eyes. “Zzstill the saaame old ssstuck up bitch…Tha kidzz are fahine Deee! Yyyoou should cohme haave ah drink wib meee.”

- You ignore God’s offer for a drink and cut right to the chase. “No, your kids are NOT fine! When was the last time you checked in on them?! Do you even know what they’re up to right now??!” God dismissively waves his hand and chugs more wine. “I juzzt checked on thhhem ah couple decades aghooo..They’rrre prohably makinnn neeewh liffe.”

- “God that is a load of shit, and you know it! I was JUST down in Heaven, and the seraphim told me that you haven’t seen or spoken to ANY of them since I left to take my nap eons ago! And furthermore, while you’ve been in here drinking the day away, your children have COMPLETELY destroyed the balance we created! They’ve been mass slaughtering Demons annually for millennia now, and Limbo is a complete disaster right now because of this!” Hearing this, God looks down at his bottle of whine, embarrassed, and mumbles an awkward “oh”.

- Silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before God clears his throat and says. “Zzsooo…You’rrree NNOT gooing to drink wiff me?” At this you snap and snatch the wine bottle from God and chuck it at the TV, smashing the bottle and the TV. God shouts in anger but before he can ask you wtf that was for, you just lay into him. Calling him a deadbeat and pathetic excuse of a deity.

- “How can you just sit in here day after day, while your CHILDREN are out there causing such mayhem! Do you not love your children all??!” God is shouting back at you, his anger having sobered him up some so he’s not slurring as much. “How DARE you accuse me of not loving my children! I would giive ANYTHING for them and you know that!”

- “Then fucking ACT like it!! Don’t just sit in here and rot your mind with booze and TV!” God growls. “I don’t need you to tell meee how to handle my children! Why do you even care?! It’zzz not like they’re yours anyway!”

- “I care because they are part of MY family, and I want my family to be safe and happy, something that you couldn’t give less of a shit about apparently!” God throws his hands up at this point “Well what do you want from me Death, go hhhold their handz?! My children are ALL capable of thinking and being on their own, they don’t NEED me to do shit for them!”

- “That doesn’t mean that they don’t still need you there emotionally! But with the way you act maybe it’s best you ARE never there! After all, what use could any of them get from your pathetic drunk ass!!” This clearly struck a nerve as God points back at the door you came in through and roars at you to get the fuck out of his house. Growling, you give a harsh “Fine!” and tell him he can sit and be a drunk deadbeat all he wants because you’re done with him and his shit, and he’s NEVER to contact you again unless it’s in regards to his children or business.

- You stomp out of God’s palace and return to Limbo, wanting to start working on getting things cleaned up and cool off some before you go check on things in Hell.

- Once you’re gone though, God slumps his shoulders and hangs his head. With your venomous words echoing his head, he summons another bottle of wine and begins chugging it while he trudges into his bedchambers.

- He flops down onto the bed and picks up a framed photo and slowly brings it closer to his face. It’s an old photo, one taken shortly after God created the first few seraphim. You and God are both standing next to each other, arms around each other’s shoulders and leaning in close while the first seraphim all stand in between the two of you. Everyone is absolutely beaming, and God looks especially happy; so proud of his creations.

- Tears drop onto the photo as God remembers how things used to be back then, back when he was actually NEEDED by those around him and wasn’t just some brand figure who’s only job is to smile and wave. Even as he slowly sets the photo down, tears continue to fall and he holds his head in his hands. “…I’m sorry I’m so damn useless…Hopefully you’ll forgive me someday…Not that I deserve it though…I’m…so fucking sorry…” No one is there to hear God’s sobs, and eventually he passes out. He’d rather be dreaming of happier times anyway.

[designernishiki]

it’s kinda funny to me how that dumb scene in kiwami 1 of majima getting shot and left for dead in the harbor was basically just added as a half-assed way to explain majima not being around for a bit of the plot, but they accidentally(?) just made it seem like start of a chain reaction where majima ended up feeling slighted and heartbroken after being abandoned like that and then lashed out about it via smashing a big truck into the building kiryu was in. and yeah that isn’t inherently a romantic thing as-is but then they go and add the part where majima grabs a hostess and performatively hits on her as in-kiryu’s-face as possible, she says she’s already in love with someone, and majima lets her go immediately, no questions asked, making a big fucking point of it just to say see THAT kiryu? I appreciate when people are HONEST about their FEELINGS. people who won’t just BACKSTAB someone who CARES about them to save themselves. is that so crazy kiryu?? huh??? anyway make it up to me get down here and fight me right fucking now

[camels-pen]

warning: eating disorders/food issues

-

"Something wrong with it?"

Usopp startled and snapped his head to the side. His nose jabbed Sanji's eye and they both hissed. Usopp jerked away to rub the tip of his nose.

"Fuck, I forgot about that," Sanji grumbled. There was a contrasting, fond smile on his face as rubbed his eye. "Anyway, the food?"

"What about it?"

"What's wrong with it?"

Usopp turned his gaze back to his plate. Plenty of pork chops piled high- at Luffy's request for a meat-filled dinner- and mashed potatoes with green beans on the side. His mouth salivated again just staring at it.

"Nothing," he said. "Just taking my time."

He could feel Sanji's unimpressed stare. "You've been 'taking your time' through the whole dinner. Everyone's already finished and left. The moss ball even finished the dishes, and we both know how he likes to dawdle."

Despite himself, Usopp giggled quietly. When it was his turn to do dishes, Zoro always took his time, waiting for Sanji to get frustrated with his speed and leave him to finish it alone. It was the perfect strategy to steal booze when Sanji wasn't looking, but it seemed Usopp had unknowingly thwarted his first sake stealing attempt after their reunion.

As if reading his mind, Sanji said, "I let him steal that alcohol, you know. I'm not that stupid." He huffed, voice sounding like he was pouting as he added, "It's the only damn way I can keep an eye on his shitty drinking habits. He'd constantly drink us dry otherwise, that damn mossheaded bastard."

Usopp giggled again and made the mistake of glancing up at him. Sanji was staring across the room at the kitchen, probably the place he'd put all the good booze. He'd confided in Usopp, once, that he had two hiding places for drinking alcohol: one, more obvious place, by the fridge for the cheap stuff, and another, hidden somewhere he wouldn't say, for all the more expensive and high quality stuff. He'd confidently crowed, on more than one occasion, that despite the cheap stuff always going missing, he'd never lost a drop of anything else. He always looked so smug saying that, and well, Usopp now knew why.

But then his eye- the left one now, and despite looking right at it, the change had still caught him off guard more than once- turned to Usopp and Usopp clammed up. Sanji stared at him, his eyebrow- this one curled on the opposite side, closer to his nose bridge than his ear- raised high on his forehead. "If you're well enough to laugh at Zoro, it can't be that bad."

Usopp gulped. Looked away. "I'm not sick," he said quietly. "The food looks great, Sanji, really. Eating is just..." He trailed off. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, only the sounds of their distant crewmates enjoying the sight of their descent to the ocean's floor filling the galley.

Sanji's arm slowly, hesitantly, laid on the back of his chair- Sanji didn't used to hesitate, but, he supposed, things had changed. He settled himself in the chair next to Usopp, rather than continue to lean over him, and said softly, "Eating is just...?"

Usopp stared at the grain on the table, studying the lines and deviations with an intense and sudden fascination.

"Usopp."

"It's hard," he mumbled.

Another silence, this one less expecting and more confused. Awkward.

"You ate fine at breakfast...?" Sanji said, voice lilting up at the end, almost in question.

Usopp snorted. 'Ate fine' was a kinder way of putting it. Usopp had demolished breakfast, nearly rivaling Luffy with how much and how quickly he ate. The usual sense of desperation had dimmed slightly, now that he was with his crew, but it was still there, dictating his eating habits. He would've felt more ashamed if he hadn't seen Luffy, Franky, and Brook eating in the exact same disgusting manner. Instead, he felt right at home.

He had wondered, privately, if something similar had happened to them. Had tossed around the idea of asking them about it. Then he would think back to how they used to eat, before. How it was exactly the same. How they had all basically cried that they'd so dearly missed Sanji's cooking. He couldn't blame them, he nearly sobbed over Sanji's pancakes- and then did sob over his hashbrowns.

"The island got hungry at dawn," he started. Stopped. Stared at the little vase of daisies at the centre of the table that Robin had gathered from her garden- now shared with Usopp. "It would close up. Then open. After, everything was... safe. For a little while."

He gulped again, cringing at his dry throat. He stared at the glass of water, a little wet stain under it. Luffy had bumped his glass earlier when he stole a few chops off of Usopp's pile.

Usopp didn't reach for it.

"You know, I was expecting grand stories of your heroics when you finally talked about where you were." Usopp shrunk in his seat. "No- no, come on I didn't mean it like that. I was just trying to make a joke."

"You should leave the jokes to the experts." Usopp's lip quirked. "Even Brook's better than you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji scowled. "Brook wouldn't know a good joke if it kicked him upside the head."

Usopp giggled again, relaxing. "Admit it, you missed his skull jokes."

Sanji huffed. "...Maybe a little."

In the background, they could hear Zoro talking about taking a swim followed by a familiar thud and Nami yelling at him. They both giggled this time, leaning into each other.

"God, I missed everyone. I missed-" Sanji cut himself off and Usopp turned to look at him. There was a wobble to his lips and his visible eye stared intently at him. Usopp would almost say Sanji looked longing- yearning, even- if he didn't know better.

"I know," he said. "I missed everyone too." Sanji's eyes pinched a little at the corners, but Usopp didn't know why. He didn't linger on it long though, what with Sanji's smile as he pressed his temple to Usopp's for a moment. Usopp's heart would've beat wildly two years ago, but now all he felt was warm and content.

Sanji hummed in agreement and pulled away. Patting his pockets, likely for a cigarette. Usopp pulled the one tucked behind his ear, admiring the feel of soft blond hair a moment too long before handing it to him. Sanji chuckled and accepted it with a quiet thanks.

He lit it and sat back in his chair, relaxing with the first inhale. "Back to the important stuff." Usopp would argue all of that was important stuff. "You only felt safe to eat breakfast?"

Usopp shook his head. Then tilted it side to side. "No- well, sort of. It was never really safe, but..." He rolled the words around his mouth, feeling out the right ones while discarding others. "It was... easier. To eat a lot in the morning. Gather food later in the day. Then sleep when I got hungry closer to sunset."

Sanji blew out a puff of smoke. "You didn't have anyone to watch your back while you were eating?"

"I did." Usopp nodded, a sense of pride filling him as he puffed out his chest. "Heracles'n was a great friend and teacher! We took turns watching out for each other and, well, he's the reason I survived that island in the first place." He flexed one of his biceps. "He also helped me get a whole lot stronger!"

Sanji pursed his lips around his cigarette. "But you didn't eat dinner. Or lunch." Today nor in nearly two years, though Sanji likely meant the latter.

Usopp deflated, arm settling back down in his lap. "We couldn't stop moving until sunset. By then it was better to sleep and eat heap loads in the morning rather than risk dinner and not getting enough rest." He sighed. "Heracles'n was always telling me to eat more berries and fruit throughout the day, but..."

Sanji stared at him. "You had this-island-is-too-scary-so-I-can't-eat-anything-itis?"

Usopp scowled. "I'd like to see you keep up an appetite when you're constantly running and hiding from giant-"

Sanji used his arm to tug Usopp closer, so their sides were pressed together. He pressed his nose to Usopp's hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"What for?" Usopp whispered back.

Sanji didn't answer, his breaths warming Usopp's head. The galley had grown silent when he finally spoke, the others having found quieter activities or retired to their rooms.

"If I was stronger then- or quicker-"

"Sanji," Usopp said. "There's no way you would've been able to beat Kuma, back then."

Sanji shook his head. "I know, but maybe we could've been sent somewhere together."

There was a bittersweet, choking feeling in the back of Usopp's throat. A burning in his eyes. "You wouldn't have liked it there," he said, laying his head on Sanji's shoulder. "You would've hated it, actually."

"But I would've been with you."

Usopp laughed, the sound wet and brittle. "I wouldn't wish that island on anyone, Sanji, but least of all you. I'm not worth-"

A hand cupped his face, cutting him off as he was turned to face Sanji. His nose was bent, pressing against Sanji's cheek. "You worth a lot, Usopp. You're worth it to-" Sanji's cheeks dusted pink all of a sudden and he looked away. "You're worth a lot. And it would've been nice if I could have watched your back. Made sure you were eating well."

At a loss for words, Usopp turned back to the table, staring at his plate. The mashed potatoes were surely cold and hard by now and he was fairly certain a thick pork chop wouldn't stay down.

The green beans, maybe. Those could work.

He picked one up. His stomach rumbled. He lifted it to his mouth.

His hands shook.

He gulped again. Stared at his hand intensely.

Sanji's hand covered his own. A sudden, terrible spike of anxiety overwhelmed him and he held his breath, hoping Sanji wasn't going to just force him to eat it. He hated wasting food after all and it was already in Usopp's hand and Usopp himself just needed to quit cowering and just eat it already-

Sanji pulled his hand away from his mouth. The tension left Usopp in a rush. Shame took up where anxiety had left, but he forced himself to meet Sanji's eye. He knew what came next.

Before Sanji could say anything, Usopp blurted, "There was food. On the island. Not just fruits and berries and whatever game we could hunt. Pre-cooked food, I mean." Sanji's brow furrowed, but Usopp continued on. "There were these plants- and rivers- that had cake and burgers and ramen and- well, you get the idea. And the closer you got to the centre of the island, the more tasty the food got." He gulped. Coughed a little. Sanji reached for his glass, but Usopp grabbed his wrist in a tight hold. If he didn't get it all out now, he never would.

"I didn't meet Heracles'n immediately. I was on my own at first and- and I didn't completely trust him at first either." He laughed, the sound as self-deprecating as it felt. "The centre of the island, that's where its mouth is."

Sanji's eyebrow furrowed further. "So when you said the island 'got hungry'..."

Usopp nodded. "It was a trap to lure in prey." Quietly, he added, "Like me."

Sanji gasped, his eyes darting down, and wow, Usopp really should've re-thought the whole 'show off his new muscles by going shirtless' plan. He pulled away from Sanji, and pulled up the waist of his pants. "Staring at my stretch marks isn't going to change anything, y'know."

Sheepishly, Sanji said, "Sorry- sorry, I should know better." He held out his arms, with a sad little pout. "Come back?"

Usopp held out for a few moments, glaring at him, but he sighed and eventually gave in. "I hate you," he mumbled into Sanji's shoulder. Sanji patted his back in response.

The two of them sat there in silence once more. Usopp savoured the contact between them, like he had always dreamed of on Boin.

"You had to train yourself to avoid delicious looking foods, then," Sanji said quietly. Usopp nodded. "That makes sense. But then, breakfast?"

A new wave of shame, far heavier than the last. He dug his forehead into Sanji's shoulder. "I don't want to talk about it."

He didn't know how to explain how he had become some kind of wild animal during meals and he didn't want to explain. Heracles'n was already one person too many and earlier, the entire crew had seen him. His heart beat hard and fast in his chest at the reminder, a belated rush of fear to make up for his single minded focus at breakfast.

"Then I won't ask," Sanji said. "You should tell Chopper though-"

Usopp grimaced. "Eventually, but..."

Sanji sighed, pressing his cheek to Usopp's hair. "Okay, but can I make you something? Just a snack or tea or...?"

Usopp huffed. "Sanji-"

"I know, I know! But letting you go to bed hungry is..."

"Hard," Usopp finished for him, pulling away. "I know."

He wasn't going anywhere before Sanji fed him, of that he was sure, but it made Usopp's stomach queasy just thinking about all the snacks Sanji used to make before they were separated.

Some of it must have shown on his face too, since Sanji was already holding up his hands and starting to look even more concerned. "It doesn't have to be anything special. I could just peel a tangerine for you or slice up some apples or juice some pears- I mean oranges! Why would anyone juice pears- oh, hm, I should check that sometime; remind me to write it down. Oh and maybe I could steep a really bitter tea, so you don't have to worry about drinking too much because I know you hate bitter things-"

And Usopp couldn't help himself. He laughed.

Sanji deflated, his brow furrowed in confusion, or maybe it was concern. Usopp didn't know, he was too busy laughing at the absurdity of Sanji being so anxious and speaking every rambling thought. It was adorable and Usopp couldn't help but reach up and squish Sanji's cheeks.

"I lo-" Sanji's eye widened and suddenly, Usopp didn't feel brave enough. "Lost my notebook. We'll have to use one of yours."

"O-Oh, yeah, sure." Sanji nodded, voice slightly muffled by his squished cheeks. He stared at Usopp, his eye asking another question.

Usopp looked away, his eyes landing on the fruit bowl on the bar counter. There were apples, bananas, and pears. He pulled his hands away. "...Nami will be mad at you." he said quietly, weakly.

Sanji sighed, a shaky, relieved little thing. He wrapped his arms around Usopp's middle, crushing him to his chest. "I think she'll forgive me," he said.

Boldly, Usopp added, "What if you made coffee?" The only coffee in the pantry was a fancy jar brought along from a Revolutionary base near a village that prided themselves on their harvest.

Sanji chuckled. "Robin would forgive me too."

Usopp hummed. "You seem awfully confident."

"I am," he said, pulling away completely, his chair squeaking against the floorboards as he stood. Sanji held out a hand, a smile on his lips. "If you don't believe me, let me show you."

And right here, Usopp could've chosen to laugh it off. Said something about not wanting to face Nami's wrath, much less Robin's. Fled the galley completely with an excuse or three and sleep in his workshop while ignoring any and all feelings of guilt. It would've been easy.

But he'd already accepted it. Acknowledged the inevitable consequences instead of turning down those anxious suggestions. How could he do anything else, in the face of such genuine care and concern? To leave now would just hurt them both and the last thing Usopp wanted to do was hurt Sanji.

And, well, he trusted Sanji, to do what he couldn't. Planned to trust him with his heart, at some point.

Trusting him with his stomach, in comparison, was as easy as breathing.

So, Usopp placed a steady hand in Sanji's own, a small, teasing smile on his face, and said, "Lead the way."

[legobenkenobi]

i think Cody is such a fun character because he’s so intimidating when you don’t know him but as soon as you talk to him you realize he’s literally the best ever and i think everybody has a different perspective of him and that’s really neat

like, you have Waxer and Boil who talk about him like he’s their favorite grumpy older brother who they love annoying the shit out of but also respect so insanely deeply

then you’ve got Helix talking about how he’s “the most competent kriffing moron in the entire galaxy” (“just because he can kick spin a droid doesn’t mean he should”)

then there’s the General, Obi-Wan, who talks of him as though he’s an angel sent directly from the Force. they love bugging the shit out of one another with their little games and quips and enjoy each other’s company in every mean they can have it.

that’s not to mention other legions- the 501st loves him and thinks he’s the coolest fucker to walk the galaxy (they’re right). Fives and Echo tackle hug him like he’s that one cousin you only ever see at family gatherings but love. Rex is his best friend and it’s incredibly obvious if you hold a conversation with him just how much they love each other.

his batchmates love teasing him because all siblings love that (especially Fox and Wolffe. they all have to wrestle and spar every time they see each other. they just have to.)

the Bad Batch owe their lives to him and they don’t hold back on the respect they have for him because of it. they literally don’t view him as a reg and have no problems taking his orders because they love him!!!

Anakin and Ahsoka have that weird brother-uncle-father figure dance going on with him (much like with Obi-Wan) but they also think he’s really, really cool

essentially, everyone loves him in different ways and. i’m just thinking about it

[potentialheartofdarkness]

Steve wasn’t allowed to ever enjoy the first snowfall. He tried, tried to bundle himself up in sweaters and a hat and run out before his father was awake. He just never made it that far. His father would catch him, and spout bullshit about how he needed to stay inside because Harrington children didn’t waste time playing when they could be working.

Harrington children didn’t do a lot of things, Steve found out. 

Tommy and Carol dragged him out into the snow during their first year of high school, throwing snowballs and taunting each other. Steve just stood off to the side, unsure of what was happening and acutely aware that it could get back to his father, like everything else seems to. They didn’t notice him when he went inside, they never did.

He stared at it, watching it fall, and remembered what his father had told him. Remembered every lesson his father drilled into his head.

Harrington children don’t waste time playing, Harrington children don’t waste time partying, Harrington children don’t waste time speaking, Harrington children always marry the opposite sex. Harrington children don’t talk back, they do what they’re told. Harrington children are business men. 

Steve hoped one day these rules would turn out to be false, especially as he stared at one of his classmates tackling his friend in the snow. Buzzed hair and dark clothes, chains on his pants. The jeans perfectly sculpted to his body. The boy met Steve’s eyes and winked at him, cheeks frosted pink from the snow and laughter etched into his face. Steve turned away, the hope growing inside of him with the blush on his cheeks. 

After that, snow reminded him too much of the Upside Down. The aching cold that pierced through into his bones, and the snowflakes resembling more of the particles floating around then snow itself. He still loved it, the pain in his heart mending with each flake melting in the ground.

Enter the first snowfall of ‘86. 

Steve was awoken early in the morning by a pounding on his door. He’s halfway down the stairs by the time it starts up again, heavy fists slamming into the door. Too strong to be the kids, too strong to be Robin and she has a key anyway. Had to be....

“Good morning, Eddie.” Steve grumbled, opening the door, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “The fuck are you doing here so early.” 

“Its snowing.” Eddie said as if that explained everything and he pushed his way inside.

“Okay?” Steve shut the door, turning to raise his eyebrows at Eddie who threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“It’s snowing!” He repeated, more emphasis this time and Steve just stared at him blankly. “Don’t tell me you hate the snow.” 

“No, I actually really love the snow.” Steve mumbled, heading back upstairs with the full intention of going back to bed. Eddie followed him up, still talking. 

“So then why are you looking at me like I told you Vecna is back? Look I have a plan okay, we’re gonna go out and have fun and be children for the first time in forever and we are going to play in the snow.” He finished, reaching the landing with Steve and watching as Steve paused with his hand on the door handle to his room. “So, get ready. Cause, I’m not above standing out here and screaming at the top of my lungs until you come with me.” 

“What do I wear?” Steve asked him, voice not even above a whisper. He didn’t know what one was supposed to wear when playing in the snow, or how to act like a child.

“Whatever you want, as long as its warm.” Eddie’s voice was soft, almost like he knew what Steve was thinking, and Steve nodded before heading into his room. 

He was most grateful for Eddie, in his life. They’d formed a quick bond after everything, after Steve ignored his own injuries until he was sure Eddie was safe, then passed out in the hospital hallway. After he spent a week at Eddies side, then months helping him recover. Because of that, Eddie seemed to be more in tune to Steve and how he was feeling. He was always picking up on things Steve didn’t mention, could sense when he didn’t understand something and backtrack to explain. Only thing he didn’t pick up on were Steve’s, most likely one sided, feelings. 

Steve took a few calming breaths once he’d dressed in warmer clothes he wouldn’t mind getting damp, and threw open the door.

Eddie grinned when he emerged from his room, like Steve had brought the sun with him where he went. He let out a low whistle and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“Lookin good, Stevie.” He swallowed and looked away. “If you’re ready to get your ass kicked by me, the snowball god, then lets get a move on.” 

“Oh you’re on.” Steve replied and Eddie cackled, full on evil laugh kind of cackle, as he dashed off down the stairs. Steve was right behind him. Soon they made it to the trailer park, where all the kids had set up near Max’s, walls of snow already built up to hide behind, and Steve had never felt his heart so full. Gone were the days where his fathers lectures would dictate what he would do. Here he was, a Harrington child, wasting time and playing in the snow. His team consisted of Dustin, self proclaimed snowball extraordinaire, Max, the stealthy, and El who was banned from using her powers. 

Eddie’s team was tough to beat. He had Will the Wise, Lucas, who’s aim had improved due to basketball practice, Erica, the sundae Queen and Mike. Erica who had in fact named herself that, had actually begged to be on Steve’s team, which he tried and failed to hold dear to his heart. They sent her over to Eddie’s team though to give them a fair advantage. Hearing that they would lose without her, Erica conceded and the battle was underway. The first time he got hit, was because he was too distracted watching Eddie, the snowflakes perfectly collected in his hair and the brightest smile on his face. He launched a snowball at Dustin, made its mark, and cheered, picking up Erica and spinning her around before tackling Mike into the snow. It reminded Steve of something, but he’d left himself open and Will struck him straight in the face with only a mischievous grin as a form of apology. Steve made a snowball, and launched it.

In the end, there was no clear winner. Both sides made equal shots, laughter heavy in the air, and for the first time in a very long time Steve felt light. Once the bitter coldness of the air and snow started to soak through their clothes, they parted ways. The kids going into Max’s trailer for hot chocolate and to wait for their parents to arrive, and Steve trailing behind Eddie into his trailer. He’d always liked the trailer, it felt more of a home to him than his own house. The mugs lining the walls, the clothes thrown over the chair and partly the couch. The papers spread across the countertops and stacked high near the cupboards. Wayne giving him a soft smile every time he stepped through the door, and a pat on the shoulder when passing him food. 

Steve had spent a lot of time here, enough to feel more comfortable here than in his own room. 

“Want some cocoa?” 

“Sure,” Steve smiled softly at Eddie and made his way to the couch. Feeling all the adrenaline leave his body as he relaxed. His first time playing in the snow, all because of Eddie. 

“So, Stevie.” Eddie began, handing him his cup of cocoa and flopping down next to him on the couch. He somehow managed to not spill a single drop of his drink and end up far too close to Steve as it was. He seemed to notice this and instead of doing anything to remedy it, he hooked his knees over Steve’s and stretched out his legs, leaving Steve to rest his hands on Eddie’s knees. Eddie leaned sideways into the couch before continuing his sentence, eyes fixed on Steve’s face. “How was your first time playing in the snow?”

“You knew about that?” Steve felt his cheeks flare red as Eddie used his legs to pull Steve towards him a little bit, not at all realizing what he was doing to Steve’s heart. 

“Course I knew, couldn’t worm it out of Dustin or Robbie though, Nancy was easier to crack.” He teased and Steve rolled his eyes. “Nah, I used to uh...” He looked away, into his drink and avoided looking at Steve as he tossed him a curious look. “I saw you a few times, at school.” He cleared his throat and the memory hit Steve like a ton of bricks. 

“That was you?!” He exclaimed and Eddie winced, like he was worried Steve was mad at him or something. “Man, if I’d known it was you then I would have-” He cut himself off and cleared his throat. “You looked different back then.”

“Yeah, Wayne’s razor became my greatest enemy after that year. Can you believe I thought I looked good with my hair all buzzed like that? If I ever want to buzz my hair again please take me out back and shoot me.” Eddie sighed dramatically before taking a sip of his drink. 

“You did look good. Obviously your hair suits you now too, feels more you this way, but it suited you then too.” Steve half-mumbled, unable to keep the words to himself and he watched as Eddie tried, and failed, to not choke on his scalding drink. 

“Did you have to wait until I was taking a sip you fucking asshole.” He cursed and Steve grinned into his own cup. “Wait.” 

“Anyway,” He interrupted Eddie before he could start anything and shifted a little under the weight of his legs. His heart hadn't slowed down its rapid pace, and given the way that Eddie was looking at him it wouldn't any time soon. “Thanks, for y’know. The snow day. It was fun, a lot of fun actually, surprised on how quickly time went by actually.” He finished his drink and Eddie swung his legs off of Steve, placing the cups on the table and standing. He offered Steve a hand, he took it. 

“C’mon, we didn’t build a snowman yet and there's plenty of daylight left.” If he could have, Steve would have fallen even deeper in love. They traipsed outside into the still falling snowflakes, and piled up a bunch of snow, Eddie showing him how to make the perfect snowman. Steve took his chance and dumped a bunch of snow on Eddie’s head, and took off running as Eddie shouted at him. He chased him around the front of the trailer before he got his revenge and it was Steve’s turn to chase him. He felt free, like he’d never had the time to fully experience freedom until now. He could have ascended into the heavens, and not known the difference. Every single weight off his shoulders had been lifted, even just for the moment. He tackled Eddie into the snow and they fell, giggling into a heap by the snowman they’d half built. 

Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

Eddie was beautiful. He always was, but it struck Steve now. With the snow and the pink cheeks and the crinkled corners of his eyes, wide and filled with joyful innocence. Every freckle, every line, every scar on his face. His eyelashes were wet, probably from the snow or from laughing, and there was something buried deep in the brown irises that sparkled with mischief. Steve was a weak man, his heart crumbled like a freshly made cake with too much flour. Eddie was like an eclipse, if Steve was the sun. The moon passing by him so closely he could just reach out and touch it, make contact for the first time in forever, however fleeting. People like him didn’t come around too often and fuck if Steve was going to miss it to continue living blissfully unaware with his sunglasses on. Intentionally holding the world at bay, just for a brief glimpse of something he might not have much longer.

“I’m going to kiss you.” He half whispered, the words only for Eddie to hear. A secret almost, between the two of them. Like if he whispered it quiet enough the wind wouldn’t steal it away and send it somewhere it shouldn’t belong.

“Okay.” Eddie whispered back, hands coming up to caress Steve’s cheeks lightly, the spark of joy back in his eyes before he met him in the middle and their lips met. It wasn’t perfect, it was cold, Steve’s knee was wet from the snow he was kneeling in. But it was perfect to him. Eddie had given him back something he never thought he would miss, and Steve loved him for it. 

“For the record,” Eddie began after they broke apart. “I’m in love with you.” 

“For the record.” Steve replied, brushing a stray curl out of Eddie’s face. “I’m in love with you too.” 

“God I wish it had snowed sooner.” Eddie rolled his eyes and Steve chuckled, pulling away and standing up. He offered Eddie a hand up and tugged him a little, causing him to stumble. Steve glanced around quickly, making sure there were no prying eyes (Max) before he kissed Eddie once more. 

“C’mon, I’m starting to get cold.” Steve headed towards the trailer door and Eddie jumped on his back, pressing a tiny kiss to his temple. 

“I know a way we can warm up.” He whispered lowly in Steve’s ear and if Steve picked up the pace a little to make Eddie howl with laughter, well that was his secret too. 

Maybe some good could come out of breaking his fathers rules, he thought later that night wrapped around Eddie and drifting off to sleep. He definitely knew what other ones he planned on breaking, but that was for the future. When they’d moved into a small apartment in Chicago in a few years, and the first snowfall was beginning outside as they were curled up by the fire and Steve voiced it aloud. It couldn’t be official, of course, not yet...but it was official to them, and maybe that’s all they needed. 

[eahmybeloved]

idk if this makes sense but d/rrabella, especially with how it was done in epic winter, feels very forced,,,both with the ship and darings character as a whole

like, in dragon games, when daring realized he wasnt apples prince, he was genuienly distressed bc he didnt know what to do w his life afterwards, everyone was telling him he was her prince, so thats what he dedicated his life to

So, in epic winter, when the writers turn around and are like "whoops! nvm, ur rossabellas prince :)" which just,,,really? It couldve been SUCH an intresting world building opportunity if they kept darings destiny secret/ambigous, both to let people make their own theories and to give him room to grow

Like, we have characters who know what their destinies are and dislike/hate them (Raven and Briar to give an example), characters who know and actively want them (like apple and maddie), so having daring as a character who thought he knew and wanted it, only to be told otherwise? that wouldve been awesome !!! Darings self worth hinges on it, it wouldve been so intresting to see darings journey to figuring out who he is beyond that yk

and !! he still couldve gotten a destiny after that, after he acknowledged that hes more than his destiny and it isnt life or death to not have one (does that make sense ?? hopefully it does), like this may be bc ive been seein more dizzie content, but it wouldve been neat if daring was the future king of hearts

even if he wasnt, it could still go both ways, daring could learn that the destiny he thpught he had wasnt his at all and learn to grow and heal from that (bc it for sure wouldve affected him mentally) and then AFTER he gets his arc about that then he could learn what his destiny really is, or he doesnt, and both outcomes are ok

but now that thats out of the way, daring was also just very ooc during epic winter? like,,,sure, he can be arrogant at times, but he isnt that selfish? he dances with farrah so she can feel like the princesses she helps, keeps lizzies soft side a secret bc she wanted to protect her reputation, even at the cost of being publically humilated by sparrow, thats not something a selfidh person would do

but yeah, i might rb this later with more thoughts, but these are what i have rn

im open to discussion tho so feel free to add on n all that stuff :)) i made this account to better interact w eah tumblr after all

but yeah !!