"it's not a myth, damien." her voice is soft as she finishes pouring out the honey-lemon tea in the mismatched mugs - damien's was in the shape of a garden pot and moira's was one painted and decorated by basil back when he was in nursery. small hands cup the warmth of her cup, allowing it to spread throughout her body as the fireplace crackled recently, heat slowly rising in the old cottage. "and it doesn't have to be romantic, as much as we all wish for it. love can be the type of love you have for me and basil, for your friends, you know?" a moment. "what's with this talk of love?"

The  sentence  is  met  with  complete  silence  at  first.   Not  because  Ezekiel  cares.   Oh,  no.  Many  people  have  called  him  a  piece  of  crap  prior  to  this  moment  and  many  people  have,   he’ll  confess,   been  correct  in  their  assumption.   Mostly  he’s  trying  to  process  why  it  matters  to  this  individual.   Obliviousness  has  never  been  a  particularly  strong  Ezekiel  trait.   Given  his  career  choices,  he’s  always  known  what  he  needs  to  know  when  he  needs  to  know  it,   but  it  is  possible  when  it  comes  to  potential  relationships.      —     Such  observant  skills  waver.   Call  it  a  surprising  lack  of  experience,   despite  his  age.   Whatever  the  reason,   the  unfamiliarity  he  feels  towards  Damien  is  there,   bemused  eyes  watching  him  a  moment  longer  before  simply  nodding,  reaching  for  his  mug  of  coffee.           ‘     Shit,  kid.   I’m  sure  you’re  right,   but  why  this  time?     ’

@chacswins​ ( isaac taylor-howlett! )

right post context: if not basil, then damien. her instagram is a litter of pictures ranging between the pair - with a sprinkling selfie or the pets - so, if anybody wants to see embarrassing photos of damien, moira has them posted for all to see. its just what younger siblings gotta do. ( ft. @chacswins )

"uncle damien!" basil's voice calls out from one of the slide turrents of the wooden castle - a recreation of king arthur's grand castle as a playground - the six year old almost rushing down the rope ladder to meet his uncle at the nearby seating. moira lets out a belly laugh as basil run-jumps at her brother, arms wrapping tightly around his waist with a big squeeze. basil loves his uncle. "you've caught the great dragon damien, bas. well done, buddy."

"i never knew i was a stranger to begin with, damien . . ." perched on the painted bench in her back garden - chips of pink and blue litter the concrete slab beneath her feet - the younger graves shakes her head, a breath pushing past a reassuring smile. always the hopeful, always the optimist. it hurt to think she was ever a stranger to her brother, and she hoped it was easy to hide - moira never was good at hiding her true feelings, poor girl. "i thought we were still family, still brother and sister. still friends. just because you were gone doesn't mean we're strangers, i'm still the same and so are you, right?"

‘     A  tiny,  little  inconvenience?    ’          The  smile  on  his  features  can  only  be  described  as unbelievably    (   and  undeniably  too   )    fond.   It’s  been  there  ever  since  the  first  moment Arthur  saw  Molly  and,  truthfully,  it’s  never  really  left.   For  good  reason  too.   The  way  she  so  quickly  tries  to  reassure  him  that  his  burnt  beyond  belief  strawberry  tart  is  still  somehow  salvageable?     —     Just  one  of  the  MANY  REASONS  why  that  aforementioned  fondness  remains.           ‘     My  dear,  while  I  do  appreciate  the  ego  boost,     ’         And  he  does,   gentle  hand  settling  on  the  small  of  Molly’s  back  while  he  leans  down  to  press  an  ever - loving    (   sweet,  affectionate,  full  of  warmth   )    kiss  into  red  hair.           ‘     I  think  it  may  be  time  to  call  it  on  this  one.  Time  to  abandon  ship.   Run  for  cover.   Admit  defeat.   But,  rest  assured,  they  will  never  be  forgotten.    ’

Alena was not feeling well. Her head was pounding and she felt... a little bit numb. This Halloween wasn’t what she was expecting at all. All she wanted was a night out, drinking, dancing, and not giving a shit about anything around her. However, it was starting to feel like the exact opposite of that. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder, twisting around with her eyes wide to see who it was. “Jesus christ. Do you mind?”