#unshakeable faith in him

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Teruko and Yosano should've faced off. I think Yosano should've been posed that question that Atsushi was; that reveal of the "future war" - Teruko went along with Fukuchi out of a mix of indebtedness and being at a loss for what to do. War is all she's known; of course she doesn't know. But Yosano has been to the depths of despair and come back out of it again. She might've faltered at this horrific reminder of her trauma, but when it comes down to it, she saves the lives before her. She fought for a way back to light and life. I just think there could've been a really interesting conflict there. And it would've made Teruko's role much more tragic if she wanted desperately for there to be a third option but just didn't have enough time to sit with it and process what that third option might be before Fyodor made it all go to hell.

Also a fight between them would've been interesting, because Teruko is much physically stronger than Yosano, but Yosano can heal from any physical injury inflicted. However, since we now know Teruko can alter mental age, she could inflict psychological wounds by de-aging her, which would've been a good callback to the horrors of war in her backstory, and also been a nice bit of foreshadowing for Teruko actually being a child.

Teruko eventually allowing Yosano to leave out that door after seeing her resolve would've been a deeply bittersweet and powerful moment, I think, especially in hindsight after her backstory reveal.

[loveinhawkins]

thinking about the first time Dustin actually sees Eddie without any of his high school persona on show. They’re locking up the drama room after Hellfire, and Eddie realises that he’s left his acoustic guitar in one of the music classrooms, so Dustin follows him.

It’s then that they find a very young looking freshman sat by Eddie’s guitar—Dustin had thought that maybe he looked a little daunted starting Hawkins High, but she looks absolutely miserable.

They manage to piece together the fact that she had a violin lesson, went to the bathroom, then got completely disoriented on her way back, the teacher nowhere in sight; she stayed put, kept doubting herself about what was the way out to the parking lot.

And Eddie… he doesn’t poke fun, not even a little bit. He just picks up his guitar, says, “Don’t worry, this place’s a labyrinth sometimes,” and guides her out.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until the girl finds her mom’s parked car, just keeps smiling even when the mom regards him with poorly concealed disdain.

That’s how Dustin knows Eddie’s kindness is the real deal: it’s not for show, not for the benefit of anyone else—not even himself. It just is.

So when the news is full of the death of Chrissy Cunningham, when others start whispering darkly about how they’re not surprised that Munson boy was no good, Dustin never once doubts Eddie.

He’s seen the very best of him, long before The Upside Down.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I've gotta be real, you're out of your mind if you actually, unironically consider B/llford 'old man yaoi'.

[seravphs]

It’s going to be okay guys

[raayllum]

rayla's "is this a guessing game? just do it!" to "what are you talking about? that's impossible" to "callum! but how did you—?" to "humans could do anything, they could be anything, they could take their own fates and change them—" to "then take a different path, dummy!"

[tytangfei]

a;sdklfdja i just realized that liu xueyi haven't had many main roles in dramas??? which is wild to me. he's been hot and psycho since love and redemption (2020), and he needs to be typecasted immediately for all roles like this, please and thanks

[actiaslunaris]

"He would never have resorted to murder. ...Ishigami wouldn't do something so foolish." -- Yukawa Manabu.

[yeslordmyking]

The Fear of the Children of Israel

Exodus 14:10-13

[10] And when Pharaoh drew nigh, the children of Israel lifted up their eyes, and, behold, the Egyptians marched after them; and they were sore afraid: and the children of Israel cried out unto the LORD.

[11]And they said unto Moses, Because there were no graves in Egypt, hast thou taken us away to die in the wilderness? wherefore hast thou dealt thus with us, to carry us forth out of Egypt?

[12]Is not this the word that we did tell thee in Egypt, saying, Let us alone, that we may serve the Egyptians? For it had been better for us to serve the Egyptians, than that we should die in the wilderness.

[13]And Moses said unto the people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will shew to you to day: for the Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again no more for ever.

The poor Israelites were so afraid that they'd rather stay enslaved and never take a stand than for Moses to provoke the Egyptians in attempt to free them, even with God's power and all that He displayed throughout beforehand. It's so easy for us while sitting on a church pew or in the comfort of our own homes to judge the Israelites as faithless, but in moments of fear like this, we are so guilty of losing faith in God, sometimes to the point where we'd rather keep our heads down and stay in a lower state than believe He can and will deliver us. Though it is good to endure and necessary suffering, we mustn't be afraid when God leads us down a difficult path that leads to His promise!

[trellanyx]

If Rook is a Crow, can you imagine what Viago must be feeling during the strategy meeting before they fight Elgar’nan?

Rook, who was impulsive and reckless enough to destroy the Crows’ long term operation against the Antaam to “just” to save a few prisoners.

Rook, who returns home after the contract for Solas to say not only did they not complete it yet, but they unleashed two more elven gods in the process.

Rook, who commands Grey Wardens and pirates and necromancers and rebels. Who moves pieces across the board with confidence and precision, no room for impulse here, everything must be calculated just right or all is lost. Rook, whose team has complete, unshakable faith in them.

Rook, who now looks at Viago and gives him a contract.

It’s the most important one of his life. I also think it’s the one he’s proudest to accept.

[physalian]

3 More Character Types the World Needs More Of

Or at least, I do.

1. The denied redeemed villain

I need this. So badly right now. So, so, so many “redemption arcs” are half-assed and carry undertones of guilt by the heroes, gaslighting them into thinking the villain “wasn’t all that bad” right before they make some big heroic sacrifice, as if that’s ever enough to make up for the damage that was done.

But you know what I never see? A villain who’s done some awful shit, wakes up to reality, tries to apologize and… is denied. No, it’s not enough to be sorry. No, you’re not absolved of your crimes just because you cry really hard on your knees. Yes, you have to work for it. Yes, even if you work for it for the rest of your whole life, those you hurt are not obligated to forgive you.

Example that sadly did not happen in canon: Enji Todoroki

2. The liar revealed who loses

This fucker lies and cheats his way into his lover’s arms (and liars revealed are always men, because their love interests are always women put in the place of “but he tried really hard and you need to forgive him uwu” unless it’s gay). Similar to above, no, you do not get rewarded just for feeling sorry.

This character builds an entire relationship (and it’s specifically romance that I take such an issue with) on a lie. They are not who they say they are, specifically, they lie about their identity because they know their lover would not let this happen if they knew the truth.

It’s one thing to lie about something inconsequential, or to lie about something unrelated, but to lie deliberately to present yourself as the perfect suitor—and these are never little white lies, these are usually entirely false identities, or secrets so damning that risking the truth could mean arrest or even death—just. Why?

Yeah, okay, you never thought you’d get this far. Cool. You don’t have to tell her the truth, but you have to leave before you trick her into sleeping with you.

It’s just. So squicky. And the lesson always is that he deserves love, that he makes up for it with everything else, that he’s just got a winning personality. She always forgives him, even if they fight about it, it’s so, so predictable.

Examples that did not lose: Aladdin, Evan Hansen

3. The paragon who loses faith

I don’t know that we need a whole bunch of these characters, but so many paragons are painted as heroes with unshakable loyalty to their causes and I’d love to see a devolution of character where they just can’t keep smiling and pretending it’s alright. That there is a limit to how much shit they can take.

They don’t have to go full villain, but maybe they just stop caring, maybe they get cynical, maybe they just don’t show up for work the next day, maybe they’re not there when they’re needed the most.

There’s a few stories I can think of where the masses realize they’ve screwed up and show the hero that their faith has been rewarded (Nolan Bats being one of them) but I mean really a hero who just cannot take it anymore, throws in the towel, and walks away knowing it’s the hardest thing they’ve ever had to do.

Example: (kind of) Captain America

—

Sorry this list is kind of a bummer. It’s a bummer kind of week.

[asoiaf-bambii]

𝔖outhern 𝔚ife

summary: to Cregan Stark, winter was comforting; to his southern-born wife, it was cruel. but with their child on the way, he’d shield them both from the north’s relentless cold — no matter the cost.

paring: cregan stark x southern!reader (house not specified)

The North had always been an unforgiving place. To those who called it home, it was a land of harsh beauty, where the cold was a constant companion, and survival was more than a mere skill—it was a way of life. But to outsiders, the North felt more like an eternal challenge, an unrelenting test of endurance.

For Cregan Stark, the endless white blanket of snow and the biting chill in the air had always been sources of comfort. The North was his sanctuary, a place where he felt both bound and unshakably rooted. In the winter, when the skies turned grey and the world seemed to hold its breath beneath a blanket of snow, he found a quiet peace. There was something almost sacred in the solitude of those cold days, something that echoed within the depths of his own heart.

But when he looked at you, he saw an entirely different story.

You stood near the grand hearth of Winterfell’s main hall, wrapped in furs far heavier than anything you’d ever needed in the warm, golden South. The flames cast a soft glow across your face, warming your cheeks, and for a moment, Cregan let his gaze linger, watching the subtle, delicate way your brow furrowed as you stared into the fire, seeking warmth. The South had been your world—a land of balmy breezes, of flowering gardens and warm sunshine. Winterfell, with its ancient stone walls and freezing nights, must have felt like a fortress built of ice and shadows.

His gaze softened, though his features remained as stern as ever. In you, he saw a softness, a gentleness that the North rarely harboured. It was as if the warmth of your homeland clung to you still, like a tender light that persisted against the cold. But he could see it too—the subtle, weary lines in your expression, the faint tremble in your hands when the chill crept too close.

And it was more than just you now. The child within you, the life you both awaited with an unspoken hope and an unyielding fear, made the stakes even higher. The North would be his child’s home, just as it was his. But as much as he loved his land, he knew it would be no kinder to his child than it had been to him.

As he approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate, you looked up, and a gentle smile lifted your lips. He could see the love and trust in your eyes, the quiet faith you held in him to keep you safe, even here in this unfamiliar land. He moved closer, his large frame casting a shadow over you, his rugged face softened just a touch by the flickering firelight.

“I know this place feels foreign,” he murmured, his deep voice as steady as the mountains, “but I swear to you, it will be a home for you… for both of you.” His gaze lowered to your abdomen, where his child grew beneath your heart. A sacred duty—that was how he saw it. This fragile life, a blend of him and you, a delicate piece of both your worlds brought together—it was his to protect.

You reached out, placing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath layers of wool and leather. “I trust you, Cregan,” you whispered. “I know the North is in your blood. And I know… our child will come to love it, too. But sometimes… sometimes, it feels like the cold is too much, like it seeps into my bones.”

Cregan felt a pang of something he rarely allowed himself to feel: helplessness. He could swing a sword against any enemy and defend his land and his people against any threat. But this? The cold was an enemy he could not strike down, a force he could not control. All he could do was keep the fires burning, wrap you in furs, pull you close to his chest, and let his warmth shield you, even if it never quite chased away the cold completely.

“Then I’ll stay close,” he replied, his voice a low rumble as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. His hands, large and rough from years of sword-wielding, settled gently on your back, holding you as if you were as precious and fragile as the finest glass. “And when the cold feels too strong, I’ll be here to keep it at bay. My warmth, my strength—it’s yours. Every bit of it.”

You leaned into him, letting the heat of his body seep into you. The broadness of his shoulders, the unyielding strength that he carried so effortlessly, was a balm against the chill that seemed to haunt Winterfell’s halls. As you pressed your cheek to his chest, you felt his fingers gently brush your hair, an act that was tender in a way only he could make it—subtle, almost hidden beneath his roughness.

The silence stretched between you, a silence that spoke of shared worries, unspoken hopes, and a deep, quiet love that neither of you had yet fully put into words. For a man like Cregan, love wasn’t something expressed in declarations or grand gestures. It was in the steadfastness of his gaze, the unwavering loyalty he showed, the way his arms tightened around you as if vowing never to let go.

His grey eyes, as sharp and fierce as the winter storms, softened as he looked down at you, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your back. “The North is harsh,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It can be cruel. But it can also be… protective. Strong. Like the walls of Winterfell. I know it seems bleak, but it’s a kind of strength. The kind that will protect you, that will protect… our child.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his eyes, and saw something in his expression that stole your breath—a fierce, unbreakable promise. In that moment, you understood the North a little better. It wasn’t a place that gave its love freely; it was a land that guarded, that endured. And in Cregan’s embrace, you could feel that same strength, that same loyalty, radiating from him.

“Then I’ll learn to love it,” you replied softly, your voice steady with a resolve that matched his own. “If the North is your heart, then it is mine too. And our child will have the strength of both worlds.”

Cregan’s gaze held yours for a long, silent moment, as though committing every word, every promise, to memory. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the scratch of his beard warm against your skin. It was a kiss that felt like a vow, a promise that no matter how cold or dark the North became, he would be there to shield you from its worst.

As the night deepened, he held you close by the fire, his presence a solid wall against the chill that surrounded you both. And for the first time, you felt a little less of the foreign cold, a little more of the warmth and strength that Cregan carried within him.

In his arms, you realised, Winterfell did not feel quite so strange or unwelcoming. It was slowly becoming a home, built not just of stone and ice, but of shared warmth, unspoken promises, and the fierce loyalty of a man whose heart beat steady and unyielding as the North itself.

[muqingapologist]

i think it’s interesting how people often characterize lan wangji’s perspective of wei wuxian during and after the yiling laozi arc like “free my man, he did nothing wrong.” but to me, i feel like this is just selling short his character and his devotion to wwx. the way i see it, when wei wuxian is at his worst and in the years after when wwx comes back, lan wangji isn’t condoning his actions of that era. it’s more like, “i know you were trying to do the right thing, and things spiraled out of control, and i failed to help you back then, and i won’t fail you again.” it’s not wei wuxian’s actions that lan wangji is so defensive of but his intentions. even if lwj didn’t know at the time (and even when he comes back, at first) why wwx chose the ghostly path and gave up righteous cultivation, he has an unshakeable faith in wwx’s moral code, that wwx will do what he feels is right. or at least, doing what he thinks he needs to do to survive. this doesn’t necessarily mean that lan zhan thinks what wwx did as his mental state eroded WAS right. we see this so many times when lan zhan tries to help him, hoping that wwx will return to gusu with him. it’s not until it’s too late, when wwx is truly breaking down, that he understands that that wasn’t the right way to help wwx. the right way is to just be there for him, which is what he does when wwx returns. letting wwx make his own decisions while showing him that there is still someone who believes in him. imo this is much more meaningful than the other interpretation that i see a lot that i mentioned above. it’s about being there for wei wuxian even if he does make the wrong decisions because at the end of the day he knows that wwx, at his core, has good intentions.

[tyrantisterror]

There's a tweet going around right now about how "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" is uniquely American because Johnny wins instead of learning a lesson about hubris and, like... no, no it isn't, that's actually how a huge number of Christian devil folktales go, especially the earlier ones that are just Pagan trickster folktales with the serial numbers filed off. A good percentage of early devil stories are basically just Rumplestiltskin with Satan in the rumple role.

Like, there's one where a guy makes a deal to give Satan his wife in exchange for manual labor, and at the end he wins by making his wife cover herself in pigshit and chicken feathers so she looks so foul that the devil changes his mind and leaves without taking her. There's another where a guy goes to Satan's house and repeatedly tricks the devil into thinking he's got super strength by doing shit like crushing eggs and claiming they're rocks. The devil was not an insurmountable threat in folklore - if you had either guile or unshakable faith in God, you could easily kick his ass, and you'd have to be a pretty big dumbass with some extreme character flaws of your own to fail to beat him (Dr. Faust was not, in fact, a clever man).

Really, the interesting thing about "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" is that it recreates the feel of classic devil folklore so well while being pretty modern in how its music is structured. It makes me think that this folklore tradition must still be alive despite attempts to squash it out with more modern "The devil is unstoppable unless you convert to Christianity right now" storytelling.

[coralhoneyrose]

Why Chrom Fire Emblem is The Husband of All Time: An Essay

SO. There was a screenshot going around of a reddit thread asking about how Chrom has managed to maintain such lasting popularity as a Fire Emblem husband even 6 years after Awakening came out. Given how beloved he still is another 5+ years later, I could not resist taking the opportunity to talk about just what I think makes him so great and endears him to players.

Character Introduction:

Let’s start out the same way Awakening does—with Chrom’s in-game introduction. This is one of the immediate ways Chrom sets himself apart. The game boots up and before anything else happens, Chrom is there expressing his unshakable faith in the player character. You take down the Bad Guy™ together, he turns and gives you this wide, puppy-ish smile and then you push him out of the way to take the hit from an oncoming spell in his stead. Right away you know this is someone your player character cares about deeply—and clearly that care is returned, because he’s immediately running over to make sure Robin’s alright.

Of course, as we all know, things go south very quickly after that. But as the cinematic plays out, and you proceed to watch yourself stab him in the chest, the *first* thing he does, the very first words out of his mouth are: “this is not your fault”. Chrom has just been completely blind-sided and arguably betrayed by his best friend, possibly his spouse, and his immediate instinct is to absolve Robin of guilt. He is literally more concerned about Robin blaming themselves for what happened than about his own imminent death. That alone tells you so, SO much about the depth of their relationship. It tells you both how deeply Chrom cares and how well Chrom knows Robin too. And not only that, but his final request, the ONE and only thing he asks of Robin before dying is that they will promise him they will escape from this place. In his last moments, his single “selfish” wish is for Robin to assure him that they will do what they can to survive. Chrom’s final request is for Robin to give him the comfort and peace of mind he can only obtain through the assurance that even though he won’t get out of there himself, Robin will. He just wants to be able to die believing they’ll take care of themselves and be alright—and knows them well enough to realize that unless he makes them promise, they likely won’t.

AND THEN. And then!!!! You jump cut to Robin waking up in the field with all the sunshine and Chrom’s smiling down with the softest expression and his ridiculously blue eyes. He lifts Robin up by the hand and pulls them right up to his face (because he has no concept of personal space, apparently) and OUUuuggh.

Those scenes in direct sequence make me so insane. You get Chrom’s life ending with Robin immediately followed by Robin’s life starting anew with Chrom. Chrom’s unwavering faith in them and his eagerness to extend his hand and bridge the gap between them from the moment they meet until his last breath. The warmth and kindness and love that Chrom treats Robin with is communicated so effectively in the first few MINUTES of the game it honestly makes me feel unwell. Showing how profoundly Chrom cares for Robin immediately endears him to the player. And he only gives you more reasons to love him as the game goes on.

Personality:

There can be a tendency in some corners of fandom to simplify Chrom to just being either a generic prince charming type character or a lovable himbo. I’m not here to police how other people enjoy him, but I will say that those characterizations fail to get at some of the aspects of his personality I find most compelling.

Chrom is deceptively nuanced. While there are certainly ways in which he aligns very closely with the standard jrpg protagonist, I suspect that a lot of his enduring popularity is the result of the ways he deviates from it too. He is brave and loyal and cares deeply for his friends, yes. He has profound conviction in his ideals and strives to do the right thing, as is typical for that archetype…but what makes Chrom so lovable is his determination to keep trying to be good in spite of the ways it does not come easily to him.

We see this in the Valm arc, when he’s struggling to reconcile his own beliefs about justice with his sister’s ideals for peace. We hear echoes of it when he talks about the horrors the Ylissean people endured at his father’s hand and how despite that, he has never been able to understand how Emmeryn forgave them for the cruelty they once directed her way. He has so much admiration for his older sister’s ideals despite the fact that peace is not his first instinct. 

When Emmeryn first sacrifices herself, Chrom is consumed with grief and rage, and it takes some time for him to understand why she made the decision she did. “Peace above all else” is just not how he’s programmed to operate…yet he wants it to be. If you count the drama CDs as canon, then that serves as another excellent example as well—where the message of his sister’s sacrifice is so lost on him that his first instinct is to respond to it with violence and prejudice and hatred directed at the very people she sought to reach out to. For a moment there, we see him veer from the person he wants to be towards what we as the player can only assume is the person his father left him afraid that he would become.

And yet he finds his way back. He stumbles, he lashes out, but his love for his friends and fear of losing more of those he holds dear is able to help him course correct.

I love that tug-of-war in him. I love that we get glimpses of the darker paths he could have gone down and that there are tangible consequences for his mistakes. Early in the game, we see Chrom lose control of his temper and how Gangrel and Aversa are able to take advantage of that to officially declare war on Ylisse. Chrom later tells Gangrel that were he alone, he can imagine losing himself in that need for vengeance but reiterates that it’s love that is able to keep him from succumbing to that.

And it’s not only that he’s able to stop himself from being horrible—his losses are the catalyst for him coming into his own as a leader. He’s able to pick himself up and hold himself together to see their troops through the rest of the war. And he manages that despite the fact that in the course of mere days, he lost both his home and his most important person and has been freshly saddled with the duty of ruling an entire country. That’s…a lot. And really goes a long way in demonstrating Chrom’s incredible strength of character and conviction. We get some wonderful moments of vulnerability where he confesses to being riddled with doubts about his own capabilities and worthiness, but in spite of that, he is still determined to try to be the person that Ylisse needs him to be.

All of this leads me right into another wonderful aspect of Chrom’s personality, which is that he is just…so driven by emotion. He feels DEEPLY, and while the narrative definitely uses that as a way to hurt him and force him to grow at times, something that really stands out to me about Chrom is how the story isn’t here to send a message that it’s wrong for him to be that way. Chrom’s big feelings are one of his greatest strengths in addition to his greatest weakness—they’re what saves his life and ultimately Robin’s too, if you go the sacrifice ending route.

And ya know what? I honestly think that’s such a breath of fresh air. I love how much he does NOT embody the emotional disconnectedness that you see pushed a lot of times with stereotypical masculinity. I love that he is the hero, and he's gallant, and very traditionally "manly" in a lot of senses…AND that he's also very emotional and guided by his heart. If you’re playing with f!Robin then you wind up with a really refreshing inversion of gender stereotypes from that: in which Chrom is the emotional decision maker and Robin is the more calculating and logic driven of the two.

Beyond his big heart, I can’t talk about what’s so charming about Chrom’s personality without touching on the ways he embodies a certain level of gap moe as well. Chrom is so stern and serious, as well as quite charismatic when he’s speaking from a place of passion. But on the flip side of that, we get to see him as an absolute bumbling mess when he’s out of his element. He’s easily embarrassed / flustered, self-conscious about his appearance, and often socially awkward where romance is involved. While these traits may seem of minor importance compared to the whole rant above, I think they’re really important for humanizing and rounding him out.

There are lots of other nuances to his characterization that go a long way in fleshing him out too. Despite being a prince, Chrom is blunt and completely unmindful of formalities. That, along with his impulsivity, definitely gets him into trouble sometimes. He’s melodramatic and blisteringly sincere. He’s a little bit clumsy and doesn’t know his own strength. He has a dry sense of humor and can be surprisingly funny. He’s optimistic and trusting—not due to naivete or stupidity but because he has decided that giving people chances and believing the best of them is an important value to him and one that is worth embodying in how he lives his life. 

Lucina’s presence in the story and his immediate and complete acceptance of her is an extremely effective way of demonstrating what an incredible father he is too. Honestly, he just has really wonderful relationships and deep admiration for a lot of the women in his life and that absolutely earns him points in my book (and I suspect in many others’ as well). When you look at all of that together, I don’t think it’s hard to understand why he’s so beloved.

Design:

Slightly less serious note here, but I think it warrants discussion regardless because character design absolutely contributes to player’s feelings about and interpretation of a game’s cast members.

And Chrom is…well, he’s eye candy, honestly. He’s got the nice, exposed arm, the messy blue hair, the completely nonsensical outfit he somehow manages to look handsome in anyway (his questionable sense of fashion is a charm point, okay?). Add in the square jaw and the surprisingly long eyelashes and he’s just. He’s very pretty. Idk what to tell you. Bonus points for the summer scramble cg where he has the most inexplicably flat butt of all time. And I really do believe that some of the oddities of Chrom’s design lend memorability to him and go a long way in setting him apart from other lords in the series with similar design concepts. The insistent asymmetry across many of his outfits, the fact he’s showing a little skin, idk it just WORKS. Chrom is hot, I don’t make the rules.

Relationship with Robin / the Player Character:

Last but not least, I want to talk about Chrom’s relationship with Robin.

I touched on some of this in his character introduction already, but Chrom is just…the biggest Robin stan. If Robin has only one fan then that is Chrom. If Robin has no fans it’s because Chrom is bleeding out on the floor with lightning in his gut. 

He just has such deep respect and admiration for them. He values Robin’s opinion and insight and thinks so highly of them and their ideas, often serving as an enabler in many cases (setting the boats on fire, the volcano, etc.). Chrom’s faith in Robin is SO unshakable that when his daughter tells him that Robin is going to be magically controlled and forced to murder him, his response is, “That won’t happen because Robin and I love each other so much that everything will somehow be okay. No, I will not elaborate.” And ya know what? He was RIGHT. Their bond DOES wind up being so strong that it’s able to change fate. The narrative is quite literally validating his slightly ridiculous insistence that him and Robin just care about each other The Most of Anyone Ever. He is Robin’s biggest advocate from the moment they meet when he defends them from Frederick’s suspicions all the way to the game’s close when he either assures Robin that their life was worth preserving or, as in the case of the sacrifice ending, that he will spend the rest of his own life searching for them until they return.

Honestly the fact that Chrom was willing to potentially risk dooming the whole world to the fell dragon’s awakening 1,000 years down the line just so he doesn’t have to lose his comfort tactician is WILD. For the game’s hero to literally say “we don’t have to defeat this evil for good, the people of the future can figure it out” JUST so he can keep Robin is absolutely unhinged behavior and I love it. I think it’s incredibly humanizing that he’s a little bit selfish about the people who are most important to him…that despite his willingness to sacrifice himself or run headfirst into danger, he draws the line at losing Robin because he’s already lost his most important person once and he’s not going to let it happen again. Chrom and Robin absolutely come across as a little codependent and a lot obsessed with each other and personally I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And then there’s his love confession to Robin. GOd...

I think that’s the most flustered Chrom appears in any content in the entire game…and it’s because he treasures their friendship so deeply that he is petrified about messing it up or saying the wrong thing. I love that he goes into their S support dead set on NOT telling Robin what is going on but the second he realizes that Robin is under the impression he doesn’t care about them or like spending time with them anymore he is so horrified and desperate to correct that line of thinking that he blurts out the full love confession on the spot.

He’s SO earnest throughout the whole thing, but then at the end he hits you with the whole “this is the best day of my life”, and the “You are the wind at my back and the sword at my side. Together, my love, we shall build a peaceful world, just you and me” (thank you Matt Mercer for your services), and the cg image of him staring right at Robin with what are basically heart eyes and. I just. There were no survivors.

That’s not even their only proposal / love confession scene either! The fact that the game gives us an entirely separate alternate proposal that’s more serious in tone is the icing on the cake. How many ships out there can say that they get not one but TWO canon proposals that are both that good? Truly no one is doing it like chrobin.

Closing Remarks:

Chrom is a well written and nuanced character who struggles and grows over the course of the story while always remaining true to himself and his ideals. His intense and unending trust, admiration, and love of Robin endears him to the player from the moment the game begins all the way to its conclusion. He is kind and good while still being fundamentally flawed (and it doesn’t hurt that he’s very handsome to boot). Bearing all that in mind, while the message of Awakening may be that nothing is inevitable, Chrom’s conceit and execution were always going to lead to MANY of those who play the game coming to love him and pick him as Robin’s husband…and there may be no greater evidence of that then the fact I’m out here writing all of this eleven years after the game’s release.

[moonstruckme]

hi! congratulations on 8k! i know no one who deserves it as much as you! i hope you are having a lovely day. just wanted to request this if it hasn’t been done before:

hot cocoa☕️; ‘coming home’ with james

the way you write is so soft and gentle and reminds me of when my mom would dump laundry that just came out of the dryer on me as a kid so thank you so much for being a source of comfort to me:)

thank you either way!

Oh that's the best feeling, thank you so much!

cw: vague mention of reader's "friends and family," which in my head could mean chosen family, I tried to keep these people very obscure so sorry if that makes the writing feel unnatural

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 857 words

James watches you with an odd sort of pride as you navigate the contours of a beat-up road on instinct and memory.

You’ve become more obviously familiar as your little road trip has gone on. It’s endearing, your posture changing and fingers sure as they turn the dial to a radio station you must know; you’re getting closer to home. James rolls down his window and breathes in the scent of dogwood trees and wet soil, and he imagines you smelling these things every day for so long they became a part of you. You curve around a pothole so naturally James doesn’t think you’ve noticed yourself doing it. 

He realizes the wind is messing up his hair, and puts up his window quickly. 

You notice his unease. “What?” 

“They’re going to think I’m a mess,” he says, flipping down the visor above his seat to fix his hair in the mirror. It always looks disheveled, but he was hoping to have it less so to meet your friends and family. 

You laugh. The sound relaxes James some, light and sweet and all things lovely. “They are not,” you say. “You’re going to charm the pants off of everyone without even trying, and then they’re going to vote to replace me with you.” 

He grins, slotting a piece of hair behind your ear that had come loose when he’d let the wind in. “I wouldn’t let that happen to you, lovie.”

“Not sure you can help it.” You look at him sideways, teasing. “Everyone falls in love with you instantly. I’ll seem bland by comparison.” 

This is something you’ve repeated often since inviting James home with you—not the part about you seeming bland, which is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, but about everyone liking him. You have an unshakeable faith in his ability to get on with people. The word irresistible has been employed once or twice, and James doesn’t have the heart to correct you (Sirius’ parents seemed perfectly able to resist him. Argus Filch would probably still have James’ bollocks in detention if it were in his power). Every time he’s suggested you might be biased you’ve waved him off. 

Still, James isn’t very nervous. He’s going to meet the people that have been your home; loving you is something they’ll all have in common. 

“You could never be bland.” He leans over to smooch your cheek, chuffed when it squishes with a smile with your eyes still on the road. “Anyway, if they try to excommunicate you I’ll only go with you.” 

“Will you?” you ask, pleased. 

“Course. You’re my favorite.” 

You make an amused humming sound, reaching for his hand. Your fingers are cold, and James sets about warming them, rubbing his thumb over yours. “It’s that sort of sweet talk that’s going to have you sitting in my spot at the table by dinner,” you say, “just you watch.” 

“We’ll sit in it together,” he replies, stroking a line down to your wrist. “That’ll show ‘em.” James probably shouldn’t be talking about your people like they’re antagonists already, but he’s gotten distracted by the sweet bit of skin where your long sleeve has slipped up your wrist. He leans down thoughtlessly, pressing a kiss to the intricate linework of veins showing beneath your skin. 

James comes from an adolescence of dorms and locker rooms. Having had multiple serious conversations fully naked, nudity doesn’t tend to phase him. He is, however, an eighteenth-century gentleman for you and only you. The delicate bumps and creases of your wrists and knees make his heart flutter in a way he has to imagine is medically dangerous. 

These are feelings he’s going to have to get a handle on while meeting the people you grew up around. 

James sighs. “I should have brought a dish.” 

“Don’t,” you chide. Your fingers tighten on his, squeezing reassuringly. “You didn’t need to bring anything, there will be too much food anyway. Are you really still nervous?” 

“Not very,” he admits. “I do want them to like me, though. And…don’t get after me for chauvinism or anything, but I want them to think I’m taking good care of you.” 

You slow down at the side of the road, and for a second James thinks you’re stopping to console him, but then he sees the line of cars parked in front of you. You’re here. 

You turn the car off before taking off your seatbelt, turning to face him. “You take very good care of me,” you tell him, soft and kind with your hand on his cheek. “You don’t need to worry. They’re going to love you for all the same reasons I do.” 

James raises his eyebrows. “I’m not taking my shirt off for them.” 

Your eyes sparkle beautifully when you laugh. “Maybe not those reasons. But really, when has anyone not liked you?” 

“I could make you a list…” 

“It’d be exaggerated.” You roll your eyes, kissing him once before reaching into the backseat for your bag. “Ready?” 

James smiles, the warm impression of your lips still tingling on his. He'd go anywhere you asked him to.

[severinageto]

Eternals (Or one year since the airport)

Can the body feel without the soul?

Suguru trusted that something awaited him beyond. Some days he believed it more than others, but few can boast of having unshakable faith. So, when he felt his left arm, observed his youthful body, and examined the place awaiting him, he knew his belief hadn't been in vain. There he was, in the waiting area. For what? What else could happen when the finality of life had already taken place? A vast ocean on an empty beach would have made more sense. Even the darkness of Hades' hell. But no. Something had brought him to a plane that he sensed would not be just his own.

It didn't take long for him to realize what that ethereal place meant. He would need more than a pair of hands to count the times they'd been there, watching the screens, counting landings, and checking departures. "I hate flying, Suguru." "Why?" "Because it's so common." A playful shove, the luggage on the floor, the Ray-Ban store. Dozens of countries, hundreds of flights, and thousands of caresses. So, there he'd be, just like in his youth, sitting, reading, reflecting, until his eyes deigned to appear. He'd probably arrive late, just like always; late to their first date, late when he needed him, late to snatch away his life.

He wasn't wrong. A year, exactly. However, when he felt his presence, he couldn't help but ask himself: *Why did I keep waiting for him?*

"For the same reason he chose this day," he answered, looking sadly to the north.

“Sleep a little longer, Satoru”, he whispered to the soul starting to take form.

Gojo had thought about the possibility of dying before facing the cruel king of curses. He entertained the idea behind all the others but never materialized it into wills or declarations. Arrogant as always, he concluded it was no more than a slight probability, existing only because he had the misfortune of being mortal. "Nah, I'll win," he said, sure that the day would pass like any other.

Those who loved him had the bad luck of believing him.

Satoru, upon falling, felt nothing. There was no requiem, no eulogies. His heart simply stopped beating, and his soul crossed the plane dividing them. As he looked one last time at the vastness of the sky, a cold air, unlike any he had felt before, invaded his body. Yet he welcomed it gladly. He narrowed his eyes and breathed in the scent.

“Finally”, he murmured as the pressure in his veins disappeared.

Neither of them imagined that beyond life, the senses would be as sharp as when their lungs could still draw breath. Yet that first embrace, strong, intimate, almost suffocating, convinced them it was true. It wasn't until they inhaled each other's scent that they internalized the importance of something so basic, so corporeal, so earthly to both of them.

Satoru, in life, had never really thought about what the owner of his soul smelled like; "People don't smell like anything specific," he thought. However, when he rested his nose on that manly chest, the images that flooded his mind took him back to that lush, unique forest, to the clearing where he had often laid on his legs. "Move a little, Satoru." "Which way?" "Toward me." The spring flowers, the summer grass, the damp autumn soil, and the smoke from winter stoves—all had their own essence, one intertwined with that hint of incense that accompanied his caresses. It was the scent of camaraderie, of security, of intimacy.

"Sleep a little longer, Satoru," he'd say while combing his hair with his delicate fingers.

Over time, that same scent became painful for Satoru. Whenever he caught it, in some place or in something left behind, he felt a knot in his stomach—a mixture of nostalgia, sadness, and perhaps, just perhaps, a twinge of betrayal. His scent was something that lingered with him even after he was gone, something that still made Satoru feel that, in some way, his beloved curse manipulator remained the same person with whom he had shared so many moments. That he was still, after all, his partner, his lover, and his best friend.

"Sleep a little longer, Satoru," his deep voice from the window, the bare shoulder, the moonlight, and the glow of his cigarette outlining his delicate profile. A pitying look and a slammed door. His last earthly memory.

Suguru, on the other hand, was always sure of the notes generated by the strongest man's hormones. No wonder he watched him intently, as if there were nothing else to do on earth. The countless verses he dedicated to those sharp citruses in the intimacy of his notebooks. Satoru's scent reminded him of the mandarins they shared. Gojo would throw them at him, and he would peel them, while they talked, while they laughed, or while they were silent, always looking at each other as if they could see through each other's pupils. After all, it was a scent very fitting for the bearer of the Six Eyes. It evoked his electrifying personality, always standing out, for better or worse, from the rest of mere mortals.

From time to time, especially in the heat of summer, the albino's movements brought with them the freshness of his wild ocean. Free, expansive, as if he were one with the sky. For Suguru, that scent was the ultimate manifestation of his limitless technique; the ability to encompass everything belonged only to him and the untamable ocean.

"Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?" he would ask between sighs when the first rays of sunlight illuminated his pale complexion. His fingers searching for his, an alarm clock against the wall, a warm embrace.

Once time did its work, Satoru's fragrance began to confuse him. The love he felt for those long hands, for the warmth of his breath, and the softness of his hair mingled with the painful reminder of what he left behind, with the resentment for what was broken, and the deep sadness for all that could have been but never was. The possibility of waking up to his snores, of caring for him during his colds, of scolding him for his careless attitude. Ultimately, the possibility of navigating youth while holding those long hands.

"Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?" closed eyes, a raspy voice, bandages on the nightstand. The feeling that everything that had happened between them was the embodiment of the worst sin. A blink, a grunt, covering up again.

They would start again.

By the time death came for him, the scent of his beloved Six Eyes was a chemical manifestation of everything he had chosen to reject: the system, the structure he couldn't change, and, ultimately, him; with his magnificent strength, his figure, and the central axis of the world that, when he needed him most, gave him so much indifference. His scent, the embodiment of his greatest weakness. The slightest hint of his scent, of his purple scent, was a door to the past, to the memories he preferred to forget. To the moments when the love for his manic laughter, his strange occurrences, and his incredible intelligence knew no bounds. That fragrance was the last thing his body processed.

"Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?" a flash of purple light, his world fading to black. The question that no longer had an answer.

If the soul is incapable of feeling without the body, then why, when they crossed paths again, did the power of chemistry act as if they had never separated? Why did hunger, burning passion, and desperate longing for the other's body take over them as if it were the first day? Why was something as simple and earthly as a scent able to anchor one person to another?

Because perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps the presence of a curse manipulator was bound to the birth of the Six Eyes heir. Perhaps where the existence of one began, the other's ended. Perhaps something as profane as this world would never be enough to contain a love as eternally sacred as the one they intoxicated themselves with.

Or maybe they were always two bodies and one soul.

Their soul.

Gojo's nose sank into Suguru's neck. The curse manipulator's left hand slid over the albino's waist. Satoru's right knee touched Suguru's left. Their fingers intertwined, their lips met, their scents mixed, and they became one entity again.

Perhaps the earth stopped for a moment, surprised; the love that moved it had finally resumed.

“Can I sleep a little longer, Suguru?”, he asked, resting on his legs, smiling flirtatiously.

“Sleep a little longer, Satoru”, he replied, as his delicate and soft hands welcomed him, eyes brimming with emotion.

Who would have thought an airport could feel like home?

The eternal home.

———————————✈️

©️ by https://x.com/yu7272s