I bend over backwards to try and make you feel better every single time you’re hurting and drop everything when I see your name light up my phone. I write you pages of advise and positive words, whatever you need, just to help.. to make you feel better.. and all you bother to respond with is a single fucking word.
I’m seduced by the thought that one day it will help, that one day I will “fix” you. Because maybe then.. just maybe.. you’ll be able to love me back… and it will all be worth it.
But I’m done. I am so fucking done waiting for that day. This has already gone on for way too long. You are driving me insane and you don’t even care. You give me nothing, I mean NOTHING, and I give you EVERYTHING. It’s not healthy, it’s not a relationship, hell it’s probably not even friendship. But still I do it. Still I give all of myself to you.. and every single time I hurt myself by ignoring your obvious ungratefulness.
So this is it. I’m leaving “whatever this is”. I’m leaving you. And I know it’s gonna be hard, because you’ll only be a text away.. but I have to do this. I have to stop hanging on to you and give myself a chance to find someone who will give me what I need. A person who will be just as crazy about me as I’m about them and will support me just as much as I support them. I need someone who appreciates me for me, and we both know that person isn’t you.
okay, so i’m not going to lie to you all — I did lose muse for Hyojung / Royce for a little bit.. Every time I came here to do replies I got nothing, and it made me sad… on top of that I moved to a new job and had to get all figured out in there.. What I’m really trying to say is, if we have a thread and you would like to drop it due to my absence, then let’s do that and plot something else. Or if you want, like this so I know I’m allowed to invade your inbox and message you for a bit until we come up with something.. I swear, she’s not that bad. lol
I said this to @adifferentkindofson the other day but all of this baby stuff makes me think of someone trying so hard to fix something they fucked up a long time ago. Imagine you’re baking a cake and you realize once you’ve already put it into the oven that shit, you’ve forgotten the flour. Instead of just realizing that what’s done is done and you can’t fix it, you take out the “cake” and add flour to the baking mess, hoping against hope that this will help you and that you’ll have the cake you intended to have in the first place. Except of course it doesn’t work because you’ve already missed a crucial step and no amount of flour or anything else can fix what you’ve done.
That’s what they’re doing with this baby mess. They’re trying so hard to make it look convincing now when they should have put actual effort into it months ago. It’s too late now. It doesn’t matter what they do, we’re not going to forget all of the shadiness of 2015 just because a few more things have been thrown at us. That’s not how any of this works. You either get it right the first time or you fail.
It’s a stupid thought to have when confronted by a man with blood flecked on his sleeves and a heavy staff in his hands, but it’s the first thought Hawke has. Carver is inching towards his sword, Aveline’s eyes have turned to stone, and this healer, this Warden is prepared to fight for his patients. Something needs to be done, and Hawke is thinking in poetry.
The blue fire under his skin should change something, but it doesn’t. Sunsets aren’t blue, and their fire isn’t cool to the touch, but somehow it still feels like the right word.
Years later, drowsing in safe arms, Hawke reconsiders. Sunsets represent endings, flames flaring then vanishing. They’re beautiful, yes, but they leave no lasting effects. What good is a spectacle if things don’t change?
Anders is more a harvest moon, bringing light in even the darkest times. Rare but necessary, beloved by those in need. With that light, the lost can find their way; the monsters can’t hide in the dark. They aren’t gone, but they can be seen, and they can be fought.
He exposes everything, and they can’t cover him up.
In the red glow of the Chantry explosion, Hawke thinks maybe sunset was right after all. Fire bursting and fading away.
It’s not until after Divine Victoria declares the mages free that Hawke realizes both descriptions are wrong. Or maybe not wrong so much as shortsighted.
His hair is the color of sunrise, and the blue under his skin is the sky on which all things are born.
His fire now is not the last remnants of a dying day but the beginning of a new one. He will be among the last to lose his childhood for the sin of having magic. He will be among the last to even be taught that magic is a sin. The Templars aren’t there to harass them; the Circle isn’t there to imprison them. The old ways are truly dead.
And in those interim years, the years between merging with the sky and new beginnings, he was the light to those in need. He brought them hope in midnight escapes, in hidden refuges. He exposed the monsters in his manifestos, his accounts of wrongdoing to anyone who would listen. They couldn’t stop him, couldn’t block him out. But even a full moon can’t completely vanquish the darkness, and he was never going to be content with that.
It took fire to end an era. With it gone, he could have faded too. But he didn’t, and now he’s sitting in the dirt, smile easier than ever, showing off wisps to the nearby village’s children, and Hawke knows he looks like hope.
Had fun painting this R.A.N.D.I. from the Hat’s DnD livestream! Also tried doing their signatures as well. I imagine Chevin as the kinda guy who would just flat out scribble his and Randi would try to make it all fancy and then Chub chub wouldn’t even know how to hold a pen properly.