i kind of need people to stop acting like athos is constantly drunk, and unable to function. 

he is not.

i’ve never seen his alcohol thing interfere with his duties (except for commodities perhaps, which was a pretty special occasion. and even then, i think that under the circumstances he recovered quickly and became his competent self again), while he is working he is always competent and observant and present and showing these amazing flashes of greatness of his.

i don’t know, it kind of seems like some people think it’s funny to act like athos is all about the alcohol, and doesn’t care about anything else, while really he is always to busy fighting injustice wherever he finds it, like porthos says, and being a steadying presence to his loved ones. seeing so much and caring so much and doing what he can

Quando la vita non regala sorrisi, vestiti di coraggio e lotta sempre per i tuoi obiettivi.
Meglio essere pessimisti, così non potrà mai andare peggio di come avevi premeditato
—  ibattitidelcuore
La mia personalità non cambia mai, a differenza di chi si svende solo per piacere alla folla.
Sono taciturna di fronte alle persone che pensano di avere fottutamente ragione. Sono scontri inutili per me che amo il confronto intelligente.

The body of a Confederate soldier in Fort Mahone who was killed during the final days of the Siege of Petersburg, April 3, 1865. By Andrew J. Russell.



Tonight we built a Dream Fort

Sid: The Ultimate Ginge named it- Rocket Ship Fort Jump in it & Pretend that it Blasts Off into SpaceVenture! 1 2 3 GO! YEAH! LET’S GO!

fightin' @ the pond

Greg was pretty excited, to say the least. He loved fighting people, even though he wasn’t too great at it, but he thought it was fun either way. After pulling on a t-shirt, then a sweatshirt, and a pair of baggy jeans, he headed out toward Stark’s Pond, deciding to walk rather than get a driver to take him there. It was nice out, anyway.

Once he arrived, he glanced around, not seeing Christophe anywhere. He checked his phone and decided to wait there for at least twenty more minutes, and if the brunet didn’t show up at all, then he’d leave. It was getting dark soon, and Greg didn’t exactly want to be outside alone at night in South Park. Who knows what the fuck could happen.

So, he sat on the little bench by the pond and waited, playing a little game on his phone to pass the time.