Princess Anne and her husband, Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, arrive at St Giles Cathedral where Queen Elizabeth II will lie at rest, on 12 September 2022.
hc that Dazai made a point of calling Chuuya small when they met because Dazai was used to being the small one.
like, finally there was someone shorter than him. because let’s be real, Dazai was barely taller than Chuuya in Fifteen.
i think people forget how small Dazai was too— not just in height, but also in weight. He was underweight in Dark Era, but in Fifteen & even at present he's barely within the healthy weight range for his height. he was constantly described as a twig in Fifteen, and almost every time he's introduced in the light novels he's called lanky, slender, etc.
a non-exhaustive list of my dunmeshi cast headcanons, as well as a fun exercise in censoring genitals in creative ways. below the cut you can see a list of notes and explanations. hope you enjoy as much as i enjoyed watching the anime!
I just have to say that it's so weird reading how transphobes think of trans bodies as mutilated and gross when they never would have thought my body pre-transition was worthy. The "argument" of mutilated beauty that transphobes have tossed around is just a fear mongering tactic, because they don't tend to actually love or appreciate and see value in bodies that don't "neatly" fit into male and female, with no overlap and no nuances.
i’m telling yall just imagine lying in bed with stiles; you’re on your back, he’s draped over you/your side. you have an arm around his broad shoulders, nails gliding up and down, side to side on his back over his grey shirt. your other hand is combing through those unruly brown waves on his head, they’re completely messed up from hours of just existing in one another’s presence. and stiles couldn’t ask for anything more than the soothing effect your touch has on him. the room is slowly getting darker over time, courtesy of the setting sun, allowing a gentle orange hue to be cast over his face, making the golden flecks in his brown eyes shimmer like little suns. he’s gorgeous— ethereal, even, while he lets his gaze settle in the path of yours. his eyelids are weighing down, then opening wide, then drooping once more. you’re always stressed about school or supernatural problems, but whenever he places his head near the curve of your neck and lets his arms hang over your body, there’s no weight at all. he’s practically engulfing you like one of those huge ten-by-ten blankets, but who needs a blanket when you have stiles?