#my favourite little man with terrible terrible coping mechanisms

[holdperson]

misc qifreys while i figure out how to draw him

#and just remember how to draw in general but thats another thing lawl #my favourite little man with terrible terrible coping mechanisms #witch hat atelier #wha #qifrey #pngs

[whiskey-bumblebee]

hotch headcanons

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Reader Warnings: College!Hotch, Dad!Hotch, mild angst, Haley and Jack don’t exist, smoking, Christianity A/N: A combination of some thoughts I had just now and my personal headcanons for his character. Mostly college and dad hotch!

-Coming of age in Seattle in the 90s, he was a big fan of the local rock music scene, which included such artists as Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Candlebox, the Foo Fighters, Pearl Jam.... He was definitely into the counter-culture!

-Which would have made him the butt of a lot of loving jokes I think, this guy in law school, normally pretty professional and clean-cut, but by night, he’s in the grungiest, dirtiest bars, singing along to songs like Lithium, wearing band tees and letting his hair grow out a little longer as he gets more into it

-Did a minor in creative writing because he wanted a creative outlet and a break from all of the law/ethics/philosophy/history stuff (and his writing is pretty good! A little stilted at first because he wasn’t used to expressing his emotions, but better over time)

-He smoked pretty heavily during his college years (cigarettes and.... not cigarettes), and to this day, keeps a pack of cigarettes in his desk at work. He lets himself have three or four a year, saving them for occasions when his other coping mechanisms aren’t working.

-He was raised in the church, since he grew up in the South, and his spirituality is still important to him, but he doesn’t attend church regularly because he’s seen a lot of people do terrible things and justify it with their religion, and he finds churches generally aren’t progressive enough, especially in Virginia

-That being said, this man has definitely read most of the Bible, and his favourite chapter is Romans 13 because he feels like it speaks to his life; a career in law enforcement, trying to be righteous and do good, but ultimately, recognizing that love, not vengeance, is the most important way to carry out God’s will 

-On a completely different note, he hasn’t had a lot of close female friendships or relationships in his life, so when you have a daughter, you have to start at square one and teach him everything. What to expect when she grows up, how to talk to her about her body in a positive way, all those important parenting things that he didn’t realize would be different from raising a boy

-There are smaller things you teach him too, like how to do her hair, how to paint her nails, how to pick clothes in colours that work together (because let’s be honest; this man has lived in shades of grey/navy/black for a while now)

-Every single morning, like clockwork, he presses a kiss to the top of her head before he drops her off at daycare, or before he leaves for work and you drop her off, or before he leaves you both for a work trip. The tradition starts as soon as he finishes his paternity leave and goes back to work, and lasts until she moves out of state for college

-He knows she’ll be safe, the two of you have taken every possible measure to ensure that your home is secure, her daycare is safe, the schools she attends are out of harm’s way, and she’s done age-appropriate self-defense training since she could walk. It’s probably overkill, but Hotch would not have it any other way. He’s seen too much carnage in his life to trust the world with his baby girl.

-When Hotch explains one day that he’s not doing it to be clingy, but because he never knows what will happen during his work day, you can’t help but cry. He’s right, nothing is certain, but it breaks your heart nonetheless.

-Maybe a little controversial, but I think Hotch would definitely be pro co-sleeping. Although the first few months are rough, defined by sleepless nights and being woken up by the sound of tiny cries, he sleeps a little bit better knowing that if anything goes wrong, he’s in the room with her, and so are you.

-On the topic of the first few months, while the baby gets hungry several times a night, you realize you’ve married the right man. When you groan softly and start to sit up so you can feed her, Hotch touches your arm gently and whispers “I’ve got it,” and gets up to put some milk in the warmer. You can’t quite fall back asleep, so you watch Hotch in the nursing chair, rocking gently and shushing the baby quietly, stroking her head with his index finger. 

-When he sees you watching him, he smiles. You smile too, watching the man of your dreams rocking the baby you made together back to sleep, the bottle looking so tiny in his hands.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner/reader #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch headcanons #hotch/reader #criminal minds

[littlemoondarling]

i don't know your characters yet, but i want to, sooo... 9, 12, 26, 30, 35, 42, 48, 50 and 57 for both ezra and theodore! hopefully it's not too much... 😅

Awww ty so much!! No ask is too much so never worry ab it! I'll answer under the read more bc I talk alot~

Starting off with dear ol Ezra Woodburn because he's a bit more down to earth than Teddy

[9] What is their love language?

His love language is physical affection, if he initiates it with you then you are sure to be his favourite person in the whole world because he despises being touched. That was how his husband discovered that "oh shit there may be something more than friendship here" when Ezra randomly cuddled next to him while watching movies on the couch.

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

Ezra's self esteem is so low it migot as well be in the center of earth XD

He was never able to accept anything about himself and always felt like a mistake that shouldn't have been born, but still, he makes it to over 50.

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

He has both, he has chronic joint pain and fatigue that he has been struggling with since childhood, he also suffers from terrible social anxiety, depression and autism but he never got diagnosed because he refuses to go to a psychiatrist. His family is a very conservative "pull yourself by your bootstraps" kinda family so he was raised to feel immense shame at his disabilities and so he is only open about them with his husband, but it isn't too difficult for people around him to guess given his behaviour.

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

The healthiest is definitely writing and spending quality time with his husband and cat, the unhealthy is sh and smoking :|

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

He really really doesn't, if he is given the chance to look like anyone else he would take it in a heartbeat. He got both top and bottom surgery to ease the dysphoria of being born in the wrong body and he has thought about going to the gym to lose some weight but his pain immediately flares up, but he is getting slightly better at accepting himself given how many kisses his husband gives the areas he considers flawed.

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

Going out to the library or a picnic in nature, maybe even a trip to the shelter so he can pet all the animals and coo at them and beg you for seven more cats, three birds, a turtle and a snake.

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

He experimented with the leather goth subculture in his 20s but he immediately discovered that he doesn't have the energy to melt in the summer, so for now it is only a winter and bedroom subculture XD

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

He's good at cooking, writing, organizing, cleaning and giving orders, he sucks at teamwork, asking for help, singing and knowing when to take a break (and socializing, my man has 0 friends outside of the ones his husband introduced him to)

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

The most stupidly dangerous thing was to let a stranger that ten years before was his bully at summer camp into his home because he (The bully) had all his money stolen and had nowhere to stay, it ended well for him tho.

The most dangerous thing is probably having 7 attempts at his own life before he turned 25. He eventually met a guy in the psych ward who was fostering a mother cat and her kittens and that is how he got his little angel cat Pumpkin (the guy at the psych ward was Theodore)

Now for Theodore Malik!

[9] What is their love language?

Giving gifts and acts of survice, he will cook for you and make you the best outfits you've ever seen all for the small price of tolerating his existence and listening to him ramble about Batman for way waaaay too long. On the more extreme end he will kill for the people he cares about ♡

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

It fluctuates between I am a gift from god blessing you with my mere existence to I am the worst thing to ever happen to this planet and if i don't stop existing right now the whole world will explode.

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

He is immortal and has otherworldly physical strength and immunity but you will find him with very sever injuries more times than not, mentally he has a little cocktail that consists of depression, general anxiety, bipolar, ptsd and some psychotic hallucinations. He is very open about everything and you WILL know when he is upset because nothing on God's green earth will stop this man from complaining.

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

The healthy ones are cooking, embroidery and chatting with his friends, the unhealthy ones are smoking, drinking, driving off of cliffs and other destructive actions

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

He is obsessed with his appearance, narcissus levels of self love, all except his eyes, they are blue like his mother but he would very much prefer if he had inherited the warm brown of his father's.

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

Theodore's perfect date would be going to the club, getting wasted and forgetting about everything the next day, but if you're not a fan of that he would settle to going to a convention with you.

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

Punk goth, from the 60s till now, before that he just dressed in frilly dressed with floral patterns

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

He is good at listening, taking care of people, cooking, making and fixing clothes, making friends, and making enemies, he's terrible and mainting a healthy long term relationship, taking care of himself, cleaning, and making good life decisions

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

Every choice he has ever done is stupid and dangerous, the honorable mentions being running away from home at 16 to go live with the man who stalked him, didn't end well at all. Attempting to kill his ex's abusive ex but he is the most powerful vampire so the only damage Theodore managed to do was burning half of that man's face (and getting himself on a hitlist) and having a thing for mafia bosses which isn't that good when you date two people from opposing sides at the same time :)

#ask answered #thank you so much for asking #my boys are both massive messed but i love them #theodore malik #ezra woodburn #messes**

[march-harrigan]

1, 5, 16, & 18 for Jervis Tetch aka Mad Hatter? :p

OH BOY, I'm gonna have to break out the readmore because you've just opened the floodgates! I have entirely too many opinions on this man.

Thank ya for the ask!

1 - Favourites thing(s) about this character? - It varies from version to version, honestly. But if I had to pick something consistent across most portrayals, it would just be some of the ways I relate to him.

He's obviously not neurotypical, first of all(canonically schizophrenic and there may even be some other things there. Who knows?). That's true of many rogues, of course, but Jervis is the one I recognize a lot of my own symptoms and coping mechanisms in. Particularly in the way he clings to childhood nostalgia and retreats into his fantasy world when reality gets to be too much. Albeit in the form of actual delusions depending on the media whereas I'm more of a maladaptive daydreamer.

He's also been portrayed to be very meek before he officially takes on the Mad Hatter persona. Usually feeling like he doesn't fit in with the people around him whether it's because of his physical appearance(a result of dwarfism and macrocephaly in some versions) or just the fact that he's kind of odd or immature-acting.

He feels liked he's overlooked, shunned, or actively hated for who he is, which I think is a very real experience for a lot of neurodivergent people(Although fortunately, the internet has made it a lot easier to find other people who "get" you these days).

But also, I just love the fun/whimsical aesthetic and absolute "little bastard" energy he gives off once he's started his criminal career.

-

5 - What do you not like about this character? - Addressing the creepy elephant in the room with this one. I do not like how many modern takes on the character end up being some flavor of sexual predator. Admittedly, it's partly because he's my blorbo and I don't like seeing that on his list of crimes. But I actually do have a couple of more thought out reasons for it as well.

First of all, I find DC can't be trusted with that kind of story telling most of the time if ever. I think it can be done well if it's a commentary on real world abuse or something that empowers survivors, but it usually just ends up being for shock value. Just there to make the story seem darker or edgier.

Secondly, there seems to be a pattern across media in general where schizophrenia(if it's mentioned or addressed at all) is this evil scary disorder that makes the person almost inhuman. With some rogues, there's an attempt to understand them. The things that drive them, why they were the way they are and the glimmer of hope that someday they could be helped. But then certain DC media will go and make Jervis as slimy and unforgivable as possible and it's exhausting.

I'm not 100% opposed to the idea of kidnapping "Alice" as part of a delusion(or in the case of BTAS, a poorly though out last resort). But where it would go from there in my mind is panicked realization. She's not responding properly, she lacks any personality, whatever drew him to her in the first place isn't there. THIS WAS A BAD IDEA. He either falls into a deep depression or lashes out. If it's the latter, he regrets it and it hurts him deeply that his violent impulses won again. He's sobbing and apologetic(see Joker's Asylum II: Mad Hatter for one of my favorite takes on this).

He's still doing awful, terrible things, but you get more of a glimpse into his humanity and his struggles with an untreated mental illness(because let's be real, Arkham isn't doing SHIT for him) and a lack of any real support system(again... Joker's Asylum II: Mad Hatter).

-

16- What do you think would improve this character? Like, character-arc wise? - I know I keep banging on about the Joker's Asylum II portrayal, but I think it would be an excellent starting point for just. Something on the concept of a recovery or attempted recovery for Jervis.

I wanna see a dedicated storyline where he's fighting tooth and nail to be his best self! I want to see him with a proper support system, learning healthy coping mechanisms! I wanna see him make connections with other people in the real world! Even if he falls in the end, even if he reverts to crime for whatever reason and winds up back in Arkham. Just to show some real hope for him that maybe someday, he can start to recover from the more harmful symptoms and be truly happy would do my heart good.

-

18- What’s something you associate this character with? E.g. a certain colour, object or scenery? - Wonderland, hats, tea, etc. would all be the obvious of course. As well as blue/green for colors.

I've actually come to associate him with the entire concept of nostalgia, especially for fantasy stories. I also think of him when watching movies like Labyrinth or The Dark Crystal. I even have several songs from the Labyrinth soundtrack in a Spotify playlist for BTAS Jervis. Just feels right somehow.

#questions answered #ask meme #wherein march doesn't know how to shut up about jervis

[sadchappuccino]

My Queen

Pairing: The Darkling x otkazat’sya!reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, sexual hints

A/n: Omg she’s actually writing again.... Honestly shit is happening in my life so I’m going back to my good ol’ trusty coping mechanism of simping for fictional characters

The sun shines bright in your room, too bright for your liking. Groggily your turned around and hid your face in your husbands shirt. “Make it go away”, you mumbled. Aleksander kisses the top of your head as he let the darkness embrace you both. “Thank you”, you smile. Aleksander wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight into his embrace, “anything for you my love.”

You don’t know how it happened. How you, an otkazat’sya, got together with the most powerful grisha in all of Ravka. It all happened so naturally, when you met you felt that instant connection and the more time you spent together the more the connection grew.

You were walking through the woods, trying to get some fresh air and far away from all the people in Os Alta. It was a beautiful city, but too crowded, so you’d escape reality for a while and take a stroll.

These little walks always cheered you up, they made you forget about the city. All there was were the chirps of the birds and the smooth breeze of the wind.

On that faithful day a horse ran straight to you, making you fall back scared by the large black stallion. A man jumped between you and the horse, once he calmed the horse down he turned to you. He was tall with black hair, a beard and the most beautiful eyes. “I am terribly sorry,” he offered you his hand and you hesitantly took it. “Oh it’s fine just scared me a bit, that’s all,” you smiled. You had no idea that this was the Darkling nor that he would be your husband, in that moment he was just a handsome stranger.

“What is on your mind,” Aleksander asked you. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, “the day we met.” Aleksander smiled broadly, “that’s one of my favourite days, after our wedding.”

“Oh really and here I thought our first time was your favourite day,” you sassed. “It is definitely up there,” he groaned into your neck, “but on our wedding we eternalised our love for each other.” You slowly kissed his lips “you’re such a sap.”

“How is that anyway to treat your husband,” Aleksander mused. “We both know that I know perfectly well how to treat you,” your hand trailed down his body, gliding over his abs.

A loud knock interrupted your movement and you groaned. Aleksander threw his head back in annoyance, “What is it?” He shouted to the person on the other side of the door. “We found the sun summoner, sir,” Ivan announced.

Aleksander’s eyes widened, he quickly pecked your lips, “I’m sorry my love but I have to go.” You kissed him again, but more passionately this time, “go. I will be here when you’re back.” He groaned into your mouth, “I’ll keep you to that.” And he left the room, leaving you alone and cold without his touch to warm you up.

You got dressed and walked through the halls of the little palace, at first this place was foreign. Many grisha didn’t accept you at first because you couldn’t practice the small sciences, but soon you proved yourself more than worthy of your place here. You were smart, so you often found yourself working with materialki. You also knew basic medics, a way the grisha healers weren’t taught, so you showed them how to give chest compressions instead of having to call a heartrender. It was harder to bond with the etherealki and the heartrenders, but you managed. Soon everyone adored you, even if you were just otkazat’sya.

Today you walked to the labs, you were working with a few alkemi on a new kind of substance that could temporarily impair a person’s legs and arms without them receiving any further injuries from the substance. You had it almost figured out, there was still a few hitches in the chemical compound. After a few hours with no progress, you gave up.

You walked back to you and the Darkling’s quarters. Your eyes landed on a few pieces of papers on the floor. You didn’t meant to read them, just pick them up and place them on your husbands desk, but your interest spiked when you saw the words ‘expanding the fold.’ Before you even knew what you were doing, you started to read everything, you grabbed more of his books and papers until every single inch of the room was covered with the books.

“Hello darling,” Aleksander smiled widely as he entered the room. You turned around to face him, “what is this?” you held the original plan in your hands. Aleksander’s face fell, “y/n it’s not what it looks like.” “Really? Because it looks like you want to expand the fold and kill thousands of people!” you screamed. “It’s the only way, if we don’t do this the war will continue on and more people will die,” he stepped closer and his voice softened, “if there was any other way I wouldn’t do this.”

“There must be another way Aleks, please you can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I’ve been alive for hundreds of years, there is no other way.”

“Promise me one thing Aleks,” you said, “you won’t lose yourself by going on this path, promise me you won’t change.”

“Never my queen,” he placed his hand in your cheek, “I will always be the Aleksander you fell in love with.” You looked at the ground and then up at him, “Then I will stand by you, for better and for worse.”

#darkling #aleksander morovoza #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #aleksander kirigan x reader #shadow and bone #sab

[tsarisfanfiction]

Fic Recs: Thunderbirds

A while ago I did a Scott!whump Fic Rec.  This time there’s no theme.  Just Thunderbirds!  Characters and genres vary wildly.

Got put in the mood to do this the other week, and after trawling through all my AO3 bookmarks/FFN favourites, and then the archives themselves because I’m terrible and forget to save fics, here are a bunch of my personal favourites.  As always, only complete fics feature (there are many fantastic ongoing ones, but I’m lazy and don’t like having to update fic statuses).

This list is also long.  100+ fics long.  So it’s under a cut to save everyone’s sanity.  There’s also a spreadsheet version of it that I’ll make available if you wanna search by character/genre/universe etc.

Ratings are all using AO3′s Gen/Teen/Mature, so for FFN “K+” fics, I shoved them in either Gen or Teen, depending on my personal opinion.  Likewise, genres are done using FFN’s method for conciseness, so AO3 ones I just kinda guessed.  Only the major characters are listed.

I’ve tagged (attempted to tag, tumblr please behave) authors where I know their tumblr.  If there’s any I haven’t tagged that anyone knows, let me know!

And one last thing before the recs: If there’s anything in particular you want recs for, whether it be a character, a theme, a trope, a fandom, etc. just let me know and I’ll see about putting one together!

Δv/Δt by @tb5-heavenward [Gen; Family; John, Scott; 4k] Deceleration is a function of velocity over time.

A Break In Routine by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil; 15k] They put themselves in danger time and time again. That doesn't mean they can always walk away from it again though.

A Father by rosefields [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Jeff; 3k] Scott Tracy has been under a lot of pressure since his mother died. But he can cope, it’s not a problem. Jeff know that, his oldest is strong and capable and he doesn’t need his father. Right?

A Guide to Valentine's Day (and how to exploit it) by Silverstar [Gen; Friendship; John, Penelope; 1k] In which John and Penelope pretend to go on a date to make the most of the discounts offered on meals for couples, because Valentine’s Day is about all kinds of love, including the platonic kind. A Seed Once Sown by @darkestwolfx [Gen; Friendship/Humour; Ned, Tracy Family; 4k] Believe it or not, they did have a garden on Tracy Island. It looked a little like a… tip. And that was being kind. A Son By Any Other Name by @space-baegel [Teen; Family/Angst; Scott, Tracy Family, Penelope; 83k] [AU] Cursed as a child, Scott Tracy lives a life in which everyone he encounters must follow all of his given commands. A Summary of Events by PanicPixieDreamGirl [Teen; Family; Tracy Family, Kayo; 3k] This is best described as ‘a look at how IR might function in the real world’ except obviously it’s not quite the real world because it’s several decades in the future and also after a war. A Typical Morning by @louthestarspeaker [Gen; Family/Humour; Tracy Brothers; 6k] The Terrible Two are scheming, Virgil just wants to be sleeping, and the brothers are faced with a bit of a situation. A typical morning in the Tracy household.

Access Denied // The Subject of Virgil by @gumnut-logic [Mature; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, Scott; 5k // 8k] He found a way. All Alone by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Grandma; 5k] Scott reaches breaking point for looking after his brothers so Grandma Tracy takes charge of the situation, and her son. Babies and Brothers by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Jeff; 3k] He may grow into the world's most protective big brother, but even Scott needed time to get used to the idea of younger siblings. Back Story by @thunderbirdcarebear [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott; 6k] That rock slide while rescuing Kat Kavanaugh has left Scott with more than just a few bruises. Bedtime by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Scott; 1k] “They’re my family.” Bring Our Starman Home by @lenle-g [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; John, Scott; 28k] When a meteor hits Thunderbird 5 while shields are down, the Tracy family think John is dead for sure. Scott has prepared himself to fly up in TB3 with Alan to retrieve a body, for John couldn't possibly still be alive after that... could he? Bruised by @gumnut-logic [Gen; Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil; 2k] Sometimes the prescription is simple, if unexpected. Buckle by Teobi [Gen; Family; Scott, Grandma; 1k] She finds him sitting at his father's desk, when everyone else has gone to bed. Candy Strippers by Chobrowny [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil, Gordon; 1k] The boys are unintentional candy stripers, visiting a childrens hospital in IR gear. Career Day by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Outside PoV, Alan; 7k] It is Career Day at school for eleven year old Alan Tracy. He has just lost his father. Who will he invite? Communications by nhsweetcherry [Gen; Adventure/Humour; Tracy Brothers; 4k] Random, short snippets of conversations between the guys. Some funny, some more serious. Coping Mechanism by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Angst; Virgil, Gordon, Scott; 7k] “I get you guys are busy and I’m spoilt that you all visit when you can, but honestly, this isn’t about me. This is out of character for Virg.” A pause. “And I miss him, okay?” Dare To Hope by i_amnerd [Gen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, John; 1k] Not for the first time, Scott wishes that little brothers came with some kind of training manual or instruction booklet. Denied by @thunderstorm-bay [Teen; Family; Gordon; 4k] Gordon is frustrated after "Deep Search" and "City Under The Sea". Different by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; John, Kayo; 2k] John Tracy is different. Dinosaur Dilemma by @godsliltippy [Teen; Action/Adventure; Gordon, Alan; 14k] Never in a million years would International Rescue have thought they would be rescuing victims from dinosaurs. Alan's excited, Virgil is... well, Virgil, John's out of his element, and Gordon is terrified. Edge of the World // Here Be Dragons by Corbyinoz2 [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Adventure; Gordon, Virgil, Scott; 47k // 114k] When returning from a rescue mission, Thunderbird Two is attacked by an unknown force. As Virgil and Gordon plummet towards the ocean, their chances of survival will depend, as it always does, on each other. Every time it snows by allandmore [Teen; Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Gordon; 5k] A simple mountain rescue goes wrong for International Rescue. Gordon battles the elements and his memories, and Scott has a tough decision to make. Exhaustion by @sugar-fiend [Teen; Suspense/Angst; Alan, John, Scott; 9k] A rescue mission in space is interrupted with deadly consequences… Expected & Unexpected by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Gordon, Virgil, Scott; 1k] He had brothers. It was inevitable, but sometimes unexpected. Facts of Life by Kaeera [Teen; Drama; Scott; 5k] There are some situations – lying on a floor in a pool of your own blood, for example – that really put things into perspective. Famous Last Words by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott; 2k] All Scott wanted was for everyone to be quiet so nothing else could go wrong. That was apparently too much to ask. Fires of Adversity by NKala99 [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Alan; 39k] Not everyone is supportive of Alan’s new and improved attitude towards school. First Times by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family/Humour; Scott; 3k] In which Scott forgets the speed of Thunderbird One, Virgil and John come up with a new form of torture and Gordon is after revenge. Just a normal day in the Tracy household then. Five Times Alan Flew Another Thunderbird by Silverstar [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Alan; 61k] ...and the one time he didn't. Five Times The Floor Was Not Lava by Silverstar [Gen; Humour/Family; Tracy Brothers; 5k] ...and the one time it was. Flat Packed by @hedwigstalons [Gen; Humour; Scott; 600] A simple mission leaves Scott minus two brothers and plus one headache Game On by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Virgil; 12k] As their future Field Commander, it was up to Scott to make sure his brothers were ready for duty - physically as well as mentally. Grudgingly Human by Yarnaholic [Mature; Angst; Scott; 4k] Scott faces some old demons while trying to talk down a man standing on a building ledge after a rescue. He Is, They Are by ThatGirlSix [Teen; Family; Tracy Brothers; 90k] Fixing what was wrong with their family was going to take longer than the span of a Disney movie, but they'd get there eventually. They lived on an island. It wasn't like there was anywhere else to go. He's WHERE? by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Virgil, Scott; 1k] Virgil's reaction to finding out that the Hood is in Thunderbird Two... His Part by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family, Angst; Scott, Virgil, Tracy Brothers; 4k] It started off as a mild annoyance. Holiday From Hell by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family, Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil, Jeff; 158k] It was supposed to be the break they all needed to put the last year behind them and take a step forward. But things never do work out that easily for the Tracys. Homecoming by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, John; 2k] There are times when only a big brother can help. When something seems to be on John's mind, Scott steps up to the challenge. I Dream of Genie by @godsliltippy [Teen; Action/Friendship; Penelope, Gordon; 50k] Penelope stumbles across a treasure that could bring more frustration than she bargained for. Illusion of a Saint by AlternateReality1 [Teen; Spiritual/Suspense; Scott, Hood; 92k] There’s an enemy admist their ranks. He’s hidden in plain sight. The question is… when will the illusion be shattered? In Enemy Hands by Claudette [Gen; Adventure, Drama; Scott, John; 62k] When the secrets of International Rescue are offered for sale to the highest bidder the Tracy family must act quickly. However, their secrets are not the only thing that is at stake. In The Trunk by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil; 1k] “Why don’t you ever listen to me?!” It Wasn't Me! by @janetm74fics [Gen; Family; Gordon, Scott; 3k] It's not like it isn't the first time Gordon had accidentally hurt one of his brothers, but this time? When his dad doesn't believe him Gordon decides to find the one person who will make everything better. John Tracy hated taking public transport by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Friendship; John; 2k] Every trip he buried himself in his own world whether it be his work, research, a good book or even a movie. He shut the world out and more importantly anyone who sat next to him.  Sometimes this was not possible.  Because sometimes they spoke to him. Just Another Rescue by teddy0bear [Gen; Family/Adventure; Scott, Virgil; 16k] A rescue turns into a hostage situation Just Let It Go by @angelofbenignmalevolence [Gen; Family; Scott, Gordon; 1k] Scott was just trying to get a little work done. Alan and Gordon were working on Alan's schoolwork. What could possibly go wrong? La tarte aux pommes d'or by Yarol2075 [Gen; Friendship; Scott, Mechanic; 400] Scott needs to thank the Mechanic - it really shouldn't be so hard. Labyrinth by TB's LMC [Mature; Horror/Supernatural; Scott; 12k] One minute Scott Tracy’s at Mobile Control directing a rescue. The next, he’s in a fight for his life. Line 'Em Up Bartender by @madilayn [Teen; Friendship; Scott, John, Colonel Casey; 800] Scott, John and Colonel Casey find a way to cope with one of Jeff's speeches at a Charity Function. Living Like Kings by CLynnB [Gen; Family; Tracy Family; 35k] The world wants to know more about the Tracy brothers. So Lady Penelope takes it upon herself to show the world just who they are. Through YouTube. Making Changes by @madilayn [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Tracy Brothers; 17k] Jeff Tracy has gone missing and International Rescue has to make some changes to cope with this. Merman by @janetm74fics [Gen; Family; Gordon; 700] He'd always wanted to be a merman. Ever since he was old enough to swim and read, his life had been filled with the sea and the things in the sea. A twist of fate may just give him that wish. Missing Scene: The Uninvited by Juud18 [Gen; Family; Scott; 2k] In between Scott being found by Lindsey and Wilson, and the scene where Scott, TinTin, Virgil, Brains, and Wilson and Lindsey are sitting at the campfire. Mission Impossible by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family/Adventure; Scott, Gordon; 55k] Being selected for his first solo mission should have been exciting for Captain Scott Tracy of the Air Force. But there was something else at play. Something dangerous and deadly. Something that could cost him more than his life. Monsters in the Dark by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Virgil; 3k] Scott was used to checking for monsters to keep his little brothers happy. He just wasn't so used to actually dealing with said monsters. More Than I Bargained For by puppetonalonelystring [Teen; Action/Hurt/Comfort; Scott; 13k] Scott attends a Yale reunion party thinking that it cannot turn out any worse than the last one. Unfortunately, things are never simple for the Tracy brothers - when things turn complicated for Scott he has to depend on his brothers to help sort the situation out, or the secrets of International Rescue will be exposed Never Too Late // Never Too Lost // Never Too Long by @loopstagirl [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott, Jeff; 58k // 75k // 138k] As the family deal with grief, Scott must face his fears and grow up, whilst Jeff battles between being dad and being a successful businessman. But what will it take to bring the two of them back together again? On Their Side by @gumnut-logic [Gen; Family/Humour; Colonel Casey, Gordon, Virgil; 1k] She trusted these boys with a great deal. Once In A Blue Moon by WhatHaveWeDone [Teen; Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, John; 3k] It was an aligning of the planets when John and Virgil got to work together. Out of Your Mind // All in Your Mind by @loopstagirl [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Gordon, Tracy Family, Hood; 75k // 149k] They can defy the odds and snatch people from the jaws of death on a daily basis. But sometimes, not all dangers come in a physical form. Over and Out by @thunderbirdcarebear [Gen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott; 5k] An incident at an earthquake rescue leaves Scott frustrated when he’s injured. Parameters by @drdone [Teen; Family; Scott, John; 1k] “Just pretend to be my date” with John and Scott - in a non-shippy way. Picnic by ThatGirlSix [Teen; Family; Gordon, Virgil; 13k] Every Tracy has a type of job they hate, be them car crashes, hotel fires, mine collapses, whatever. Gordon absolutely hates tornadoes with a passion. No, really, he hates tornadoes. His life would be so much better if they never did another tornado job ever again. The rest of the family is starting to think so, too. Plus One Tracy by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Humour; Tracy Brothers, Kayo; 2k] So which Tracy is right for you? Pranks and Tempers by shadowfox8 [Teen; Angst/Family; Alan, Scott, Gordon; 8k] It was only supposed to be an innocent prank, but Gordon didn't bargain for more. Questions Like A Whirlwind by @darkestwolfx [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, John; 6k] He couldn't put it into words. He wasn't sure they'd understand if he did. He felt like a child, he felt like a murder, he felt… like he'd lost something and had no clue how to put it back in place by himself. Rescue by taralynden [Gen; Hurt/Comfort/Drama; Scott; 26k] On the way home from a rescue, Thunderbird One crashes and it’s up to Scott’s family to save him. Scott Series: Fallen Brother by QuestRunner [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Alan; 11k] In a rare chance to bond with his youngest brother, Scott takes Alan with him on a simple mission to repair a damaged satellite. With tempers running high, the boys find themselves arguing over the roles they play in International Rescue. When Alan slips off a cliff, it’s up to Scott to save his brother and mend their broken relationship. Scott Series: Hidden Pain by QuestRunner [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott, Virgil; 4k] Scott suffers from a mysterious pain in his abdomen, but continues to push the limits on and off the field. Scott Series: Negative Split by QuestRunner [Teen; Family/Adventure; Scott, Virgil; 6k] Scott recruits Virgil as his fellow running partner for an upcoming 10K. When a mission takes a turn for the worst, Scott must put his running skills to the test before his whole world comes crashing down around him. Second Helpings by mcj [Mature; Family/Romance; Gordon, Alan, Grandma, Tin-Tin; 10k] Gordon Tracy's point of view of a VERY precarious romantic situation! Second Round by @darkestwolfx [Gen; Family/Humour; Virgil; 4k] All he wanted was a shower. Why did shopping have to be so complicated? And why did he always end up going? Next time, Scott could be lumped with the responsibility, smaller craft or not. Shattered by @singmetothesun [Gen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott, Gordon; 2k] One Tracy brother leaves his feelings bottled up, until the smother hen catches him out. Shiver // Smacked by @loopstagirl [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Family; Scott; 44k // 4k] When one of the Thunderbirds is infecting with something deadly, will the rest of the Tracys be able to save one of their own? Or are they about to be torn apart by grief again? Sidelined by @drdone [Gen; Family; Scott, Alan; 1k] Scott's sidelined for the time being and decides to ask Alan about college. Six Point Five by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Humour/Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, Scott; 1k] “So, Mr Tracy, on a scale of one to ten how would you rate the pain you are in?" Sky Candy by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Humour/Family; Virgil, Scott, Gordon; 4k] It was a pterodactyl sized bird. Possibly an elephant with wings. Sleeping Wounded by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Scott, Virgil, Fischler; 14k] Scott Tracy punched Langstrom Fischler. Sometimes by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott; 1k] Sometimes, Scott hates being the oldest. But are there some hidden perks... Stuck Like Glue by @drdone [Gen; Family; Scott, Virgil; 2k] Scott is stuck to Virgil like glue. Literally. Summonings by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Jeff; 2k] Alan isn't the only one in trouble at the beginning of Spring Break in regards to the 'birds. Swamped by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil, Gordon; 1k] So here he was standing in his undershorts on top of his 'bird in the middle of the ocean for all nearby female aristocrats to see. Take a minute by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil, Scott; 2k] A mechanical fault forces Virgil to take a minute in the middle of the Australian Outback. Terror After New York by @loopstagirl [Gen; Family; Scott, Gordon; 2k] It was all over. The rescue complete and everyone back safe and sound, finally. Yet it didn't seem as if everything had yet been put behind them entirely. The Antarctic Incident by @space-baegel, @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Adventure/Drama; Tracy Brothers; 9k] Thunderbird Two goes down in the middle of an Antarctic blizzard. The Assignment by Kaeera [Gen; Humour/Drama; Scott; 10k] Twelve year old Scott struggles with a writing assignment. Honestly, when you have four younger brothers, it can be hard finding time for yourself. The Bite by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Virgil, Scott; 1k] “I need my big brother, not his sacrifice.” the devil vs Gordon Tracy by @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Family; Gordon, Scott; 6k] Being a discussion about the namesakes of some lizards. The Fire by mcj [Mature; Family; Tracy Family; 22k] “Sometimes all you need is a little quiet reflection." The Hardest Thing by eriphi [Gen; Family; Scott, Jeff; 5k] How do you manage a billion dollar business and parent four growing boys at the same time? It takes something serious to make Jeff realise that he isn’t managing as well as he thought. The Most Dangerous Game by @godsliltippy [Teen; Action/Adventure; Scott, Gordon; 23k] Scott and Gordon find themselves unwilling participants. The One Where John Gets a Hug by Silverstar [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Angst; John; 21k] Spending months by yourself has never been advisable behaviour, and John's never been good at asking people for help. Or: the Tracys learn the magical art of communication, with a load of hugs thrown in for good measure. The Proof is in the Jello by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Hurt/Comfort; Gordon, Alan; 3k] “Call it what you want, but I’m not going to let you rot in that room.” The Silent Conversation by mcj [Teen; Hurt/Comfort; Scott; 5k] The sound of sirens, a flash of light and waking up under a pile of rubble. How can Scott survive knowing help just might not come? The Spider Incident by Silverstar [Teen; Humour/Family; Virgil, Tracy Brothers; 5k] It takes a certain kind of bravery to save the world... it takes a different kind of bravery to remove a spider from the shower. Or: there is a spider, and the Tracy boys are disasters. The Splinter by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil, Jeff; 1k] Now he had backup. The Venetian Venture by @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Romance; Gordon, Penelope; 11k] Penelope takes Gordon on a mission to Venice the waffle house blues by @akireyta, @tb5-heavenward [Teen; Family; Tracy Brothers; 5k] Wherein a bunch of boys sit around a restaurant, eating breakfast food and dozing on and off and talking about life. To Raise Havoc by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Havoc, Hood; 1k] They had to come from somewhere and he was more than she ever expected. Tomorrow Never Knows by Silverstar [Teen; Hurt/Comfort/Angst; Gordon, Alan, Scott; 110k] Things had not gone according to plan, to say the least. Now they were trapped on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere with no hope of rescue and increasingly slim chances of survival. To make matters worse, the Chaos Crew had shown up. This was not going to be a fun week. Triple Jeopardy by Purupuss [Teen; Drama; Tracy Brothers; 217k] One inventor and one set of plans. But triple trouble for the Tracys and International Rescue. V.T. Green by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family; Virgil; 23k] “Did you discover this, Brains?” He frowned. There was something familiar about this. Maybe they had discussed it recently. “Oh, no, this is V. T. Green. The man is brilliant.” We'll Be Home For Christmas by @gumnut-logic [Teen; Family/Friendship; Virgil, Tracy Brothers; 68k] The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way. Weathering the Storm by tiylaya [Teen; Adventure/Angst; Scott, Gordon; 102k] When an unexpected storm shipwrecks a holidaying Jeff Tracy and three of his young sons, they’re thrown into a situation far more dangerous and complex than anyone initially realises.

#fic rec #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2004 #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope creighton-ward

[firewoodfigs]

a smorgasbord of unbidden thoughts / highlights (long post ahead!): 

we’re slowly creeping out of the lockdown, and we’re allowed to go out for meals now! I got to meet a friend for dinner on Monday and he treated me to some amazing Italian fare as a belated birthday gift :’) I was really craving Italian after watching Luca and I haven’t had good pasta in a long while, so that was really nice. I also met a friend for dinner today after work, and we’re just glad to have made it to Friday tbh lmao. it was nice catching up again after so long and talking about everything under the sun (in this case, under the moon). I love spending time alone and having time myself, but I can’t deny that I’ve also missed interacting with other sentient life forms lmao. 

I managed to re-schedule my vaccine slots, and I'm getting my first shot tomorrow! fingers crossed it won’t be too bad (I still wanna be able to type through the soreness 😩). I'm a little nervous tbh because I absolutely detest needles, but I feel like at this point I just don’t care anymore LMAO. it also helps that my bf and I got the same vaccination slot, so I guess I'll just make a ruckus and be a nuisance if things go south. jk 

next week’s my last full week of work before my two-month break begins! I'm really excited to finally get a breather from work (although to be fair I've only been working for like... 6 months lmao rip) before things get real hectic in September haha. I'm definitely not looking forward to the added responsibilities, and i’m honestly not sure how to feel about getting called to the bar because everyday is just a flurry of shit, am I really cut out for this and help, work is dulling my * sparkle * and yo, you think I can just move somewhere west and be a country singer? but oh well. too late I guess. I'm too deep in debt to get out now LMAO. jk 

on the bright side, though, I received news today that I’ve been designated to my preferred area of practice for my next seat :) and i'm pretty excited about that! I've honestly been feeling pretty desiccated about the law ever since starting practice because it’s so different from whatever I've studied and something that college couldn’t have possibly prepared me for lmao (many thoughts but I don’t want to turn this into an essay so I will simply project my feelings onto my favourite war criminals)

it’s been a struggle to create lately, for various reasons. these days it feels like anything I make is woefully inadequate and subpar and mediocre, and i’m just. constantly torn between striking everything out altogether and desperately wanting to be better, to feel better. I felt a little burnt out after royai week because  I was rushing to complete so many projects and ideas on time (I do tend to get a little overambitious and overzealous that way, haha), and so I tried to take a break, but I couldn’t properly rest, either, because these days I only feel alive when I'm... creating. LOL. it's like an unresolvable paradox where I slog to feel alive and then feel like death, and then feel like I'm wasting away and wasting time when I'm being unproductive and fruitless. idk, man. it’s probably the productivity guilt acting up or something. it doesn’t help that my mind is an unholy mix of anxiety and imposter syndrome and perfectionism, either, or that inspiration only strikes me at the ungodliest of hours. I find that it’s easier to write when I've cleared everything else on my plate, but sometimes it’ll be midnight by the time I've done that because there’s just so much to do. I end up writing at two in the morning and/or recording snippets of a putative song while half-asleep (the result is usually pretty dang awful, because I have no idea what I was saying when I listen to it the next day lmao).

I also find it to difficult to alternate between so many forms of writing. my job mostly consists of reading and writing (mostly boring and terribly dreary stuff, because lawyers have apparently never heard of punctuation or one-liners, and I am 100% proving this right now with my streams of consciousness), and my hobbies primarily include that, too. I've also been struggling to switch between writing prose/fic and poems and songs because i tend to focus on different things. (I also have the attention span of a goldfish. or a confused rat.) like, I focus a lot more on how things flow for the first, how things look for the second, and how things sound for the third, if that makes sense? but I also literally cannot focus on one thing at a time so everything is just a half-written mess and a smattering of my illegible scrawls tbh 😞 I'm hoping that I'll have more time to sit down and properly sort these out one at a time during my break hahaha. 

that being said, I read something this week about the four stages of learning a new skill LOL iirc it goes (1) unconscious incompetence (2) conscious incompetence (3) conscious competence (4) unconscious incompetence? I find that I'm stuck at (2) atm for a lot of things, which is probably why it’s so hard to go forth and do the damn thing without descending into a spiral of self-doubt haha. the truth is I rely on external reassurances and validation a great deal to tide me through, because my mind is just so used to criticising myself for everything and being my own harshest critic that it’s become a challenge to objectively assess my own work. it’s probably a defence mechanism to feeling like failure is not an option and/or my upbringing or something, and it’s how I’ve coped with a lot of things, but I'm also coming to realise that it’s not always the healthiest way to live haha. 

BUT, you know. at the end of the day it’s a hobby and it’s supposed to be fun and joy-inducing and. it’s so easy to ruin all of that in the process of pursuing perfection so. I think i’ll just work on attempting the damn thing and worrying about it afterwards 🤠 (and also being less exacting on myself haha) 

ending things on a lighter and brighter note - I received a lovely surprise from a friend this week!! I ordered some earrings from her (the stuff she makes is the stuff of DREAMS) and she tossed in a necklace for me and it’s just. it’s beautiful. it’s handmade. it’s astounding. I'm weeping. 

#personal #not fma #sorry this turned out to be such a long ramble lmao... I've just been keeping these thoughts to the back of my mind #and it's Friday night so I'm unleashing them from the vault LMAO #anyway I'm off to bed!!! <3 I hope y'all have a lovely weekend mwahmwahMWAH

[skye-huntress]

RWBY V8 Episode 13 “Worthy” Reactions

There is so much going on in this episode and naturally because it’s the penultimate episode, so much conflict still in progress. I may miss or forget things and this will take me a while to get out because I have so much nervous energy it took me half an hour just to start typing. So keep that in mind as you read on

People were saying the plan went so smoothly but as I pointed out in my last reaction, local comms going down was and has thrown the evacuation into disarray, we can see it. So already we have Jaune and Nora splitting off from their team to spread the message, leaving less people to secure the gathering point in Vacuo

Second complication, a sandstorm that cuts off local comms and makes it impossible to know where Vacuo is. And a growing number of terrified refugees just out in the open with less than a handful of fighters to protect them. No way back to relative shelter or to even warn the rest either because true to his nature Ambrosius built exactly what they ask for.

Third complication, I wondered why Cinder seemed to be prepared for their plan. I thought Watts somehow also intercepted comms between Winter and Weiss but it seemed a stretch. Using the last question is going to bite her in the arse later, but I suppose she is in a damned anyway if she can’t give Neo Ruby before Salem respawns

And now we can also confirm she knows of Emerald’s “betrayal” but unless she leaves or gets knocked through the Vacuo portal, we may not get a confrontation this volume. Hard to say what she makes of this, she’s only shown to treat Emerald as someone she can use, much like how Cinder herself was and is being used.

Also Jinn definitely looked remorseful, but just like Ambrosius and the other spirits, she has rules to follow. BTW, I thought of a possible loophole for Jinn’s question limit. She can only be asked three questions every 100 years but I find it curious one question was already used. So my question is would it be possible to ask Jinn the same question twice. Technically it would not be a fourth question, but is that technicality enough to at least allow Jinn to repeat information for new ears.

Watts has access to the Command Centre. Jimmy’s need to control everything has once again backfired and given the enemy everything they could possibly want to do as much damage as they desire

All those people that Cinder blasted off the edge just to get RWBY’s attention, this has always been who she was, which is why there will not be any form of redemption for her. Even if she turns against Salem, it will be for her own selfish reasons and it is why she’ll never truly be able to escape from her fate

Our first RWBY vs Cinder fight (and probably not the last). Not many places worse for them to fight (if at all), with little ground (not a problem for a flying enemy), no cover, civilians in the line of literal fire (and glass). Got knocked off, game over. Speaking of which...

And Neo. Fucking Neo. And of course, protective big sister to the rescue. And she is the first to fall.

I did find it interesting that she seemed to vanish at a certain point on the way down. I interpret as proof, it’s not some endless void, there is something down there. And of course, there has to be a way back. We’re talking the Y of RWBY here, not to mention half the show’s most prominent LGBT+ couple. Contrary to what some individuals claim, RT do not do “Bury Your Gays” or “Queerbaiting”, at least not intentionally. As I said for Penny when she got hacked, Yang is going to be just fine, eventually. She’s not fine right now, obviously, but this isn’t the end for her. RWBY isn’t that type of show.

Ruby seems to be just surviving, no time to think or process what happen unless she wants to end up dead-dead by her sister’s supposed murderer. In this case, it is somewhat fortunate that Ruby’s coping mechanism is through actions, but when she stops it’s going to catch up with her

As for Blake, who got over repressing all her emotions several volumes ago, is not only the one to lose it the most but has gone absolutely feral. Still, she is not so far gone that she isn’t completely unaware that Penny and Weiss are unless in danger. Dilemma, exact vengeance on Neo, or lose another person you love?

While I’m on this point though, this is an excellent example of the destructive nature of the cycle of vengeance. An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. In her pursuit of vengeance, Neo has naturally made herself the target of the same type of vengeance. Precisely why killing often not actually a final solution, it also has consequences as well.

I fear for Penny but I’m still confident she’ll survive this somehow. She is something new and unique, a whole new chapter of her life has just started and it would be anti-climatic and a huge waste for the show not to explore that. Besides, if Cinder has learned anything than she knows the relics must take priority over her power lust. All the power of Maidens won’t save her from Salem if she doesn’t return with both of them.

Weiss seems to be the one in most trouble right now, and in most danger of falling next. Still, I’m curious to see if her Nevermore summon will come into play again. A finale seems like the best time for it, and could potentially be a tide turner, perhaps more so than the Queen Lancer summon in Volume 5. She could use more wins.

Back to the Loser Ops. Hoping Marrow is okay. But of course, Harriet is still set on delivering that bomb. Much like her boss, she seems incapable of admitting she is wrong or has lost. I don’t think most people expected Vine to be the next one to concede that Jimmy was not the one to follow, but it makes sense. At that point, blowing up a city for man who has already lost is the furthest thing from logical. It’s just spite at that point, and just a way to make sure everyone loses.

So the bomb is back in play, thanks to Harriet. And while everyone is focused on her, no one will notice Watts pulling the strings from behind the curtain. But what is his target? He wouldn’t waste such a thing on mere civilians. It could simply be to occupy and/or eliminate several powerful combatants, given the villains are currently outnumbered. Still, he’s in his element and the last person we want to underestimate now. If this is truly the end of Atlas, this may probably be his last great act of villainy before he truly falls into irrelevancy and expendability

Lastly, Jimmy F@#$ing Ironwood. Forcefield prisons are such a bad idea. And of course, we can’t forget Chekhov’s gun-gun-gun. We had to see it in action and what it can do to a person. He recovered extraordinarily quickly, but then his body is more machine than man at this point. Also, as I predicted, shattering his aura did not snap him out of it. Atlas the city, the idea, is everything to him. He stopped seeing the people in it a while ago. He’ll kill them all if it will keep the city afloat.

I have complicated feelings about Jacques Schnee. I don’t need to tell anyone how much of a terrible person he is but I can’t ignore the truth that not everything he touched turned to shit. Weiss is perhaps my favourite character in the show, and she would not only not exist if it weren’t for Jacques, she wouldn’t be the person she is that I love now if Jacques was any different as a father. Same goes for Whitley and Winter. It’s a reminder that some good can come from even the shittiest of people acting in the shittiest of ways. He was also right about Ironwood all along, can’t forget that.

That all said, Jacques did not deserve to be murdered like that, whatever his crimes. The man had nothing left, no threat to anyone anymore. He should have lived for the rest of his pathetic existence knowing what he lost.

So now Winter is facing Ironwood again, this time she is alone and he is armed. Neither are in the best shape. I only see this ending with one or both of them dying.

One final note, Yang may be gone but... what if instead of the others also falling... those still standing take a leap of faith to jump after her and whoever else falls

#rwby #rwby8 #rwby8 spoilers

[dukesleftbreast]

💃🏻👑💅🏼Shuna Sassi General Headcanons💅🏼👑💃🏻

First up is my queen Shuna ❤️ This got very long, sorry if it takes up your dash 😭 If anything contradicts with canon law then lemme know and I’ll edit it. Other than that, enjoy 😚

Disclaimer: All headcanons, views and opinions below are my own. I don’t claim to own the rights to any material written by Clive Barker, and do not claim to speak for Clive Barker. Cabal/Nightbreed © Clive Barker

⚠️ Warning: NSFW at some points, mention of alcohol and drug addiction, mention of child loss and depression ⚠️

✨ Sis really took her second name and made it her whole personality 💁🏻‍♀️ she’s always ready to verbally throw down and clown you.

✨ Very comfortable in her sexuality and a very proud sex worker. She supports anyone who chooses to take this career path and very much acts like the mother hen.

✨ Her relationship with Peloquin is polyamorous, both ways; they both seek out sexual relationships with other people. It’s also the first of its kind in her life; she’s never been in a serious relationship with a man before Peloquin, but she has been in serious, long lasting relationships with women (natural/human) and (nightbreed) that ended either with their passing (natural/human) or by mutual agreement (nightbreed).

✨ She’s very intuitive and has a good read on the people around her, which is why her romantic relationships with natural/human women last until their death.

✨ Her relationship with Peloquin is more than sexual. She allows him to be emotional and to talk about his feelings. They have a mature, mutual understanding and know and are able to predict each other’s thoughts and feelings very well. She very easily sets healthy boundaries and refuses to act as a pseudo-therapist, though.

✨ Her love languages are words of affirmation and physical attention.

✨ If she were human in modern times she would either be a nail/beauty technician or fashion designer. Either way, she would end up working with A-List celebrities and having a very long and fulfilling career, most likely retiring at a young age.

✨ She can play the violin fairly well for someone who is self-taught and often plays for Babette 🥺

✨ People would think her Starbucks coffee order would be really long and complicated, but she pegs me as someone who would straight up drink black coffee 🤢

✨ Talking about pegging, she’s definitely pegged Peloquin #girlboss

✨ She loves it when people come to her for advice, like I said she’s a natural mother hen. As someone who’s lost a child, it makes her very emotional that she is able to feel a connection to her child by being a mother figure to other people.

✨ Babette definitely sees her as a second mother 🥺 and Rachel greatly appreciates that Shuna helped raise Babette after her father passed. Shuna really said ‘joint custody of the child right now, please ☺️’

✨ I think Shuna is one of the few of the Nightbreed who doesn’t really hold any animosity towards naturals/humans as a larger whole; she just hates humans who are so closed minded to think they’re the only race in the universe with higher intelligence.

✨ Her favourite colours are teal and pink. She does not stand for humans making pink a ‘hyper feminine’ colour and loves it despite its stereotype.

✨ It’s actually very painful for her to shoot out the spines on her body; she really only does it as a last ditch defence mechanism. Because the spines are on certain parts of her body, different things happen when she shoots them out. If she shoots them from the head, they lead to a terrible migraine that lasts a couple days, from her back leads to horrendous back pain and even a slipped disc when shot hard enough from her lower back, her shoulder can dislocate at times when shot from her shoulder or arms, and her hands can cramp up if shot from the elbow down.

✨ I think it’s canon that she has clairvoyance or dreams of future events, but sometimes the people around her, especially Lylesberg, would often take advantage of her for it. Before Boone showed up, Lylesberg would constantly nag her for any updates on this ~foretold destruction of Midian~. Being the queen she is, she obviously put a stop to it straight away.

✨ Her favourite era for music is the 60’s and 70’s and her favourite era for fashion is the 90’s and early 2000’s.

✨ She’s an excellent seamstress. She makes her own clothes from any fabric she can find and often fixes other people clothes. It gets annoying how many times Peloquin, Lude and Leroy come to her to fix their clothes though, and she’s threatened to start charging them if they don’t start being careful.

✨ She has an elite sense of humour. People come for her jokes and stay for her beautiful smile 🥰

✨ Her and Lori have hooked up multiple times. Lori stopped coming to her though after Boone had a tantrum because it made him feel inferior 🙄

✨ This is kind of a sad one, but I don’t think Shuna can have kids anymore; or at least for now. Like physically there’s nothing wrong, she could if she wanted to; but I don’t think mentally she can, and so that projects physically too. She’s tried and tried, but that thought that she feels like she’s replacing her first child is too painful for her so her body just won’t allow her to produce another baby 😢

✨ The loss of her first child and the fact that she can’t have another is a major factor in why she suffers from depression. I don’t think she has an addictive personality, but she has in the past, fallen into addictive tendencies like alcoholism and drug abuse to cope with it. One of the biggest symptoms of her depression is apathy, so she uses alcohol and drugs to feel something. The Nightbreed are her family so they immediately intervened and keep a constant watch on her.

✨ But she’s not fragile and she’s very mature about it. She’s not afraid to seek and ask for help if she feels like she may fall back onto these unhealthy coping mechanisms. Peloquin is always there for her, and the best thing that he does for her in these moments is to refuse to have sex with her; he doesn’t allow her to ignore her emotions by relieving it with sex, instead he sits her down and they talk for as long as she needs to; he basically does for her what she’d do for him. Rachel also comes over and sits with her. They often sit in silence and sew/knit something together to keep her mind occupied.

✨ Ok back to happy stuff 🥲

✨ I don’t think people talk about Shuna and Kinski’s friendship enough 😭 like I personally believe that they have a sister/brother bond that’s very strong. They share the same sense of humour, and Shuna is able to feel like a silly little child around him, and vice versa. They’re relationship is just like... ☺️🖕🏻 🖕🏻☺️. Like all they have to do is stare at each other and they’d burst out laughing.

✨ Kinski is very supportive of everything Shuna does, as long as it doesn’t hurt herself or anyone around her. You best believe that if someone shamed her for being a sex worker and calls her a sl_t or wh0re then he’s ready to throw hands. Babette loves to have play dates with Mama Shuna and Uncle Kinski 🥺

✨ Shuna and Lude have an Aries Alliance. People wouldn’t expect someone as mature as Shuna to encourage Lude but she does and it’s so chaotic 😭 she doesn’t exactly help him in his fiascos but she definitely turns the other cheek and doesn’t stop him

#did yall like my lil disclaimer at the beginning? 😏 #very professional if I do say so myself #giving very much 2010 fanfiction.org vibes #also this isn’t even half as long as what I have in my notes #I have so much more for Shuna 😭 #I’m probably gonna do Kinski next #and then Peloquin :3 #nightbreed #clive barker #cabal #my post #headcanon #headcanons

[airesgay]

singing in the dead of night

1. to build a home

relationship: jennifer jareau/emily prentiss

words: 4,609

summary: A collection of song fics for Emily and JJ, although heavily focused on Emily. 

chapter summary: Based on the song To Build A Home by The Cinematic Orchestra. Set during season 3, episode 4: Children of the dark.

read on ao3

This is a place where I don’t feel alone; this is a place where I feel at home

Emily had never really felt like she’d had a home. And yes she knew how, not only pathetic, but cliché that sounded. Poor little ambassador’s daughter, getting everything she wanted, except the love of a family.

Growing up was a tumultuous event. From D.C to Europe to the Middle East, she’d never had a chance to fix herself to solid ground. She’d thought for a brief moment that Rome might become a home for her, but that wish was quickly snatched away; there were memories there now she wasn’t sure she’d ever get away from.

By the time she got to university, finally escaping her mother for a life of her own, in one solid place, she thought surely this had to be it. But alas she found her days of higher education passing by in almost an instant, with nothing much to show for them except the fancy diplomas and a Yale sweatshirt.

Taking the job at Interpol was her way of giving up any chance of having a home. May as well travel the world and take the most dangerous missions when there are agents who actually have people who’d miss them - was her thinking. Which had led her to the life she’d had in France. Ironically, on the outside it seemed the most domestic and grounded. Of course it was the one that plagued her nightmares the most. That in particular felt like a sick cosmic joke.

She’d been with this new team now for around a year. There’d been moments over that time where she’d found herself thinking overly sentimental thoughts; ones like, maybe I’ve found my place, maybe I’ve found my people. She’d shot those thoughts down quicker than she could pull a trigger.

These moments always caught her off guard, despite their increasingly frequent nature: a few weeks in when they went out for drinks to that bar and it was all abnormally social and fun, or a few months later when the oldest of the team set up an old movie projector in his office, and they all tumbled in, throwing popcorn and giggling like school children. Or when she was asked to her first girls’ night at Penelope Garcia’s humble abode to get blackout drunk on margaritas (that was the intention anyway, but it was still too early for Emily to let down her guard like that, lest she let slip all her deep, dark secrets).

Even the seemingly small moment when none other than Derek Morgan had revealed himself a lover of one of her favourite novels. Of course that had occurred just seconds after she declared herself not wanting to get too personal with these people she didn’t yet know: another cosmic joke. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was really trying to tell her something?

She tried not to let herself get carried away. In fact, it was against her nature and her defence mechanism automatically kicked in, reminding her of how nothing lasts, everybody leaves, you’re not worth this kind of love.

But then this case landed on her desk. And she lost herself for a moment.

She’d never seen herself as a mother. That had been clear even before Rome. She wasn’t quite sure the reason. In her preteen years it had just been something she never thought about – which was normal to her, she was twelve, as she’d communicate to any group of girls she ended up getting into this conversation with.

Why was how big a house you’d have, and how many kids you wanted and what kind of man you’d marry things twelve-year-old girls were so concerned about? Of course she knew those last two points went hand in hand. That was what she’d thought at the time anyway. And she already knew deep down that because of her lack of interest in the former, the latter would never be an option for her.

Rome had been a whirlwind of a mistake, tangled up in loneliness and self hate. She already knew who she was. She thought she’d always known really. But she’d found herself in a place where she thought she could finally make real friends. And one of them just happened to be someone who wanted her. Was she really in the position to ruin that, to lose her place in this group she’d become a part of? They were already friends. Maybe she could be different. It would certainly make things easier if it worked out.

And so she’d made a terrible mistake, she knew that immediately. Then again, could she call it a mistake when it truly clarified her identity? This was something she told herself to try to ease the pain of it all. Whether she wanted kids, in any capacity, she wasn’t sure. But she knew that she didn’t want them in that way, and certainty not at that time.

She was always career driven, desperate to prove herself. Career women didn’t want kids, right? She sometimes wondered why her own mother had had any -which she knew a therapist would dive right into. Was that the reason? Did she just not want that for her life? Whenever asked she gave the same response, even to this day: It was just something she didn’t think about – something people (her mother) couldn’t accept. How can it be something you just don’t think about? Especially at her age – was heavily implied.

But then here she was, offering to adopt a child she’d just met. She’d always been a protector, sometimes to a fault. Was this a newfound motherly instinct, a desperate need for a family and to have someone that wouldn’t leave her? Or simply her protector role gone rogue? Once again, she didn’t like to think about it.

* * *

It had started out like any other case really: gruesome photos, a slew of murdered families, a mid to late twenties, white male unsub just asking to be psychoanalysed. When they profiled the victims to be middle class, happy suburban families – PTA mums and flannel-wearing dads – Emily couldn’t help but think how her own family would be the last on the hit list.

The first moment anything out of the ordinary occurred was when JJ came into the precinct to report that there’d been another attack, and that an ambulance was on its way.

“Ambulance?” she asked, surprise evident.

“There’s a survivor?” came Hotch’s follow up question.

A weak nod from JJ was their confirmation.

Emily immediately offered to join JJ at the hospital. It was like an instinct.

As they followed the doctor down the corridor, he explained how she was lucky to be alive. Emily responded with the same line of thought she’d had on the way there, that “this guy doesn’t miss.” Which begged the question of just how this girl had survived. When he informed them of how she was still drowsy and confused from the drugs, Emily admitted that, given what had happened, it was probably best.

Emily started by going through the motions, following protocol of questioning the witness on the events and asking for any descriptions of the unsubs. By this point it was such a natural routine for her. She’d learned how to distance herself from the emotion of it all. She was able to do this by reminding herself of the job she had to do, and how them catching the suspect and preventing more suffering relied on her detaching herself, keeping a clear head.

JJ was sat next to the girl’s bed, closer and blatantly more maternal. This was usually the role she adopted. She was there to offer support, Emily to get information. It was only when the girl mentioned her dad that she felt her face fall, and the weight of what had happened to this girl, how her whole world had ended, fell on her shoulders. She couldn’t help the near look of horror that crossed her face when she croaked out “they made us watch.”

JJ cut in to tell her they could take a break, but the girl refused, tears in her eyes but insisting that they needed this information. As she continued to force her way through the events, Emily followed suit and switched her brain back into focus. She needed to catch whoever had done this.

* * *

A somehow off colour of coffee dripped into a polystyrene cup, agonisingly slowly. Emily watched each drip, trying to slow her heart to the same pace. She was trying to clear her mind at the same time, to slow the racing thoughts that were getting her nowhere in this case. She needed to be objective or she was never going to catch them.

“Damn, I was gonna ask for one too but looks like we’ll be here ‘till Friday.”

Emily jumped, uncharacteristically caught off guard. JJ noticed and eyed her carefully.

“Uh, yeah,” Emily cleared her throat as she tried to gain what little composure she had left.

JJ gave her a comforting smile and Emily felt herself relax just a little.

“Suppose it’s kind of nice to have a break. This one’s…”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. Emily was just glad she wasn’t alone. Hell, JJ seemed to be coping better than her. In that case, she was thankful the blonde was empathising.

“You think you’ve found a new lead?” JJ asked tentatively, not sure if keeping her mind occupied was how Emily wanted to cope.

Emily sighed long and low. “Maybe, I’m just trying to look at it from all angles.”

JJ nodded in understanding. Then she took a step forward to join Emily beside the beat up coffee machine. She watched the viscous liquid drip into the cup, which seemed to be getting even slower.

“Well looks like you’ve got some time.”

Emily looked to her and was met with another smile, one full of compassion. They didn’t say anything else, just stayed there until both their cups were full. Emily wondered if this was what people meant by a comfortable silence.

* * *

Spencer suggested they release news of her survival to draw the unsub out, but Emily flinched at the mere thought. Hotch noticed and asked her if she wasn’t comfortable with that.

She hesitantly agreed. “Okay, but I would be more comfortable if we doubled her security.”

She was back at the hospital when JJ came to meet her in the corridor. She informed her that the girl had been cleared to go.

“Well I wish she had somewhere to go,” JJ admitted despondently.

Emily sighed in frustration. “No luck with the LA thing? Can’t this girl catch a break?”

They started down the corridor together, Emily not knowing what to tell this girl. It was in that moment that a deafening scream sounded, and her and JJ shared one quick look before breaking out into a run.

JJ reached her first, holding her shoulders and telling her that it was okay. Emily hovered, watching in fear as the girl explained the nightmare she’d had, and JJ pulled her into her chest. She was so glad JJ was there.

“We brought you a change of clothes,” Emily offered meekly, as if that would help.

The girl gave a distracted nod. JJ caught her attention again.

“I didn’t know what to grab you, so I just got three of everything,” she said with a smile. Emily was in awe of this woman, and again thanked god she was here.

The girl seemed to smile for a moment before saying “from the house?” - a snap back to reality. Even JJ struggled to maintain her smile then. Emily looked behind her towards the collection of flowers decorating the back wall.

“Looks like a flower shop in here,” she observed, trying to grasp a somewhat upbeat tone. It was silly really. But then something clicked, and she was back into detective mode. Thank Christ.

* * *

Then came the moment they needed the girl’s assistance to help solve the case. And she hated it. God did she hate it.

“Is she going to be up for it?” Hotch asked. Even he was having his doubts.

“I don’t know,” was Emily’s reply as she rushed to meet the girl in question, who’d just walked into the precinct.

She stood with her while she picked out mug shots, so close; almost as if she was worried she’d fall down and was getting ready to catch her. She couldn’t remember her voice sounding smaller than when she asked, “Are you sure?”

The girl really did look like she was going to faint then. When she didn’t say anything else, Emily tried to think of something comforting.

“Your parents would be really proud of you,” she offered with a smile, placing an arm on her back. It was such an unexpected move for her, but it felt right.

“It’s too late to be a good daughter now,” was the flat response she got.

“Oh that’s not true,” she insisted.

But she wouldn’t hear it. “I was horrible to them and now they’re gone.”

Emily was sure this might have been a sign from the universe: call your emotionally distant mother! Tell her you love her! But all she felt was pain for this girl in front of her. And that she deserved better. Then again, maybe this was just projecting onto her own wishes for herself.

But then the girl spoke again, and she was saved from that particular line of thought.

“Why did they do it? I mean there has to be a reason right?”

Emily’s face grew soft yet again. “Oh you’ll drive yourself crazy trying to figure out the reason.”

“I go crazy every time I close my eyes.”

Emily knew she shouldn’t elaborate, but she found herself doing so anyway; like she’d try to help this girl process in any way she knew how.

“It may have something to do with what happened to them when they were younger.”

She felt JJ watching them across the room.

“Like what, they were abused or something?” the girl asked.

“There’s a good chance,” Emily admitted.

“Are there any happy families?”

She finally looked up at Emily, who felt her mouth fall open, searching for the right response. This girl really wasn’t asking the right person. All she could do was offer a sympathetic look. She almost felt like calling JJ to take over.

* * *

Emily and Hotch went to the animal shelter where the unsub worked, then his foster mother’s house. She felt an immediate sense of unease as they stepped inside. It spiked when a boy came in wanting milk but was swiftly banished. She forced a thank you as they left. Their priority right now was to catch the unsub. Which they soon did - one of them anyway. However, they were getting nowhere with the interrogation.

Emily watched from the other side of the glass and sighed, almost in defeat.

“Kids who grew up like he did, they’re incapable of forming attachments, it’s not like we’re going to earn his trust.”

She felt a knot in her stomach as she said the words. It tightened when she had her next thought.

“Maybe he’ll talk to family.”

She had hated asking Carrie to identify the unsub’s picture; this was on a whole other level. As they led the girl into the interrogation room, Emily emphasised how safe she would be, that she would be right there with her. And then there was JJ, saying how she didn’t have to do it if she didn’t want to. But as Emily expected, she insisted.

Hotch ran off a list of information they were looking for, which Emily could tell was overwhelming her.

“I’ll keep him on point about that. Just do your best to keep him engaged,” Emily encouraged.

Hotch led her away and JJ reached out for Emily’s arm.

“Okay, I’m sorry, can we just stop and think about this for a minute?”

Almost instinctively, Emily felt her own hand reach out towards the other woman’s elbow - like magnets.

“She’ll be okay,” she promised, voice soft.

“She’s a kid,” was JJ’s reply, a disbelieving smile on her face. “What is she trying to prove here?”

Emily’s face fell. “That she can be a good daughter.” She said the last word almost bitterly.

JJ’s expression of frustration shifted to one of intrigue, maybe even concern. She could tell the statement held more of a story than Emily was willing to let on in that moment. She could only hope that one day she’d feel comfortable enough to open up to her - to any of them.

As Emily led Carrie into the room, and the unsub greeted her joyously, the girl looked to her for guidance. Emily gave her a small nod of encouragement and they both sat down. God she hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. It was hard enough for her, with years of training and experience, to treat these people like they were just that – people. Asking an innocent girl who’s family had just been wiped out by the very one sitting in front of them? God she hoped this worked.

She felt her heart stop when Carrie reached across the table for his hand. This girl was so strong. She knew that was a cliché and so much more than anyone should ask of someone else. But she was. And they managed to find out the location of the second unsub because of it.

Once she snatched her hand back and he was escorted out of the room, she fell into Emily’s shoulder, finally breaking down. Emily brought her arms around her and whispered soothing words: “you did so good.” Had she done the same though? Even though it had the desired outcome, she still found herself hoping that it was the right thing to do.

* * *

They narrowly avoided a shootout at the doughnut shop – not something Emily expected to find herself thankful for today – and she was smiling down at the two kids in the back of the car who they’d saved. She overheard Derek on the phone, asking if there was some type of alternative for them.

“What is it?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Derek was stone faced. “Social services won’t intervene until they do a full investigation.”

“We have to take them home?” she felt sick even saying the words.

“Yeah.”

When they arrived back at the house, Emily helping the girl with her backpack, she saw Derek offering his card to the boy, telling him he could call him anytime. Derek, like JJ, was made for this - helping kids. She merely offered her own nod of support as she joined them. Seeing the kid upstairs staring out the window despondently, she sighed, “this sucks,” which was a massive overstatement.

The call from Hotch came too late.

Gunfire sounded from the house and Emily and Derek shot out of the car in a flash. Derek smashed the door in to reveal the foster mother lying on the floor, Tyler standing a few feet away, gun grasped in his hands.

“Are you hurt?” Emily demanded from the mother. She shook her head no, and Derek cautiously approached the boy.

Emily surveyed the scene and bullet-ridden pictures revealed the only damage caused.

“They’re lies,” Tyler bit out.

Emily knew all about that. Granted, not to the degree that the boy in front of them did. But she knew about big houses adorned with pictures of smiling families. All for show. Emily forced to sit for every family portrait, and wear a dress she all but ripped off afterwards. Pictures like these made a house even colder than they would be without: a house, but not a home.

“I know,” Derek responded to the boy, “But you could have come in here and you could have made her pay.”

He glanced to the woman currently lying on the floor. “And you didn’t, because you’re good. You’re not Gary. You’re nothing like him.”

Derek then spread his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Look at me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Emily held stiff as he holstered his gun and continued to talk the boy down.

“Okay? Let’s make a deal. Give me that gun. I promise I will walk you out of here and you will never have to come back.”

It was those words that seemed to break through the fog behind the boy’s eyes, a new life igniting in them.

“Sound pretty good?”

He gave the slightest nod, and Emily could see the tears in his eyes. Still she daren’t move until the gun was safely retrieved by Derek. When he passed it to her and brought the boy into his arms in a tight hug, she finally exhaled.

“I got you,” he promised and Emily could feel the relief from the boy too.

* * *

It was after, when they were tidying up at the precinct, that Emily made the offer. Which felt more like a confession.

“I could take her,” she said to Hotch, impossibly casual as she sorted through files.

He looked up, trademark frown appearing. “Take her?”

“Carrie,” Emily supplied, and then, as if it were obvious, “to DC.”

“You mean to live with you?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, still busying herself with collecting files.

Hotch on the other hand didn’t let his eyes leave her, like he was profiling her. “Why would you want to do that?”

Again, Emily made it seem like it was the most obvious course of action.

“I have room, money,” she said with almost a shrug of her shoulders. “And you know, she’s smart; two, three years she goes to college.” So maybe that last bit was overkill.

“Prentiss.” The tone and use of her name made her look up.

“This is the job, and I need to know that you can be objective.”

It was terribly patronising, and Emily found it not only offensive, but also a slap to the face - like it was a personal assault on her character. But of course she would never admit that hurt out loud. Instead she took that fire and turned her response into an attack.

“And I need to know that I can be human.”

There was a long moment before Hotch continued. “JJ heard from the family and they’re on their way from LA.”

Another slap to the face. This time she felt incredibly stupid. And all the more so for Hotch letting her explain herself before telling her this information.

“Oh.” She didn’t think her voice had sounded so weak in one mere syllable.

The pity, verging on concern, on Hotch’s face didn’t help.

She forced a smile. “That’s great.”

For a fleeting few moments it seemed like her life was about to change, that she was going to be someone different. More importantly, that shebelievedshe could be someone different: someone capable of looking after someone else, someone that they would need. She wasn’t quite sure what had come over her, an insane adrenaline rush? Nonetheless, it was just that – a fleeting moment. And all too soon she was back to being the person she always knew herself to be. It felt like a sign from the universe: you’re not someone anyone needs.

Except then came another moment, one that felt the opposite of fleeting. No, this settled deep inside of her with a warmth that was entirely foreign.

They were flying back on the jet, everyone exhausted from the emotional toll of the case. Emily had been quick to take her seat and busied herself with staring out the window, not in the mood for conversation. She couldn’t sleep, as was common. As much as she wanted to she couldn’t turn her thoughts of, as she’d become such an expert at. The sound of Hotch calling his son didn’t help matters. Like it was a taunt. What had been so special about this case? What had made her make such an embarrassment of herself, to think she was worthy of such a life? What had changed?

JJ slipping into the seat opposite her was welcome company. She couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her face before turning back to the window. Comfortable silence, she recalled. Or, better yet, comforting.

“You okay?”

Or maybe not so silent.

Feeling caught, Emily blinked and lifted her head. Even now, a year of case after case, she still felt her breath catch every time their eyes met. JJ could see the silent question in those big brown eyes, reminding them both that JJ could not in fact read the other woman’s mind (although the years to come would test that theory greatly).

The weak “yeah” Emily offered didn’t sound convincing in the least.

JJ nodded, even though concern was still very evident. Emily appreciated her going along with the lie.

“They’re good people,” JJ said.

Emily frowned before JJ continued with “Carrie’s family,” and she sighed.

“Good. I’m glad.”

And despite her own feelings, she was. Except now it was harder for her to keep up the façade.

“I think it’s a good idea though.”

“What’s that?” the words sounded tired, because she was. But also curious.

“You,” JJ explained, and Emily frowned. “Kids.”

Emily gave a soft laugh, so close to a scoff, entirely disbelieving. Had she been so obvious? She hoped this wasn’t the new gossip among the entire team. Hey, the new girl’s trying to fill the aching hole in her life with any child without a home, better keep an eye on her!

But she knew JJ had a certain way of reading her that the others didn’t. Despite being the non-profiler on the team, she could see into Emily’s mind in a way that almost scared her.

“I can see it,” JJ continued, words earnest. Emily turned back to face her.

There was no doubt that the next “yeah?” she let out was the weakest she’d sounded all day, voice close to breaking. She couldn’t help it; she felt completely cut open in that moment, all vulnerabilities on display for the woman in front of her. It was an alien feeling, but not entirely unwelcome.

She held her gaze, eyebrows upturned with the silent question of you think I’m worth that kind of love? She hoped not bleeding through.

The way JJ was watching her - finger pressed to her bottom lip, eyes sparkling with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint - Emily felt her heart flutter. It certainly wasn’t the first time the blonde had had that effect. But this had a different weight behind it.

There was something so deliberate about that moment. And just for those few seconds, everyone else on the plane dissipated. There was only this woman in front of her, telling her she was worthy of everything she never dared hoped for: a family, a home. A voice in the back of her head told her to slow down, to push these thoughts away like she had so many times. But in that moment, with this woman looking at her the way she was, she found herself unable to. For once, she found herself daring to hope.

Emily Prentiss had never been one to set up roots. Because she knew any kind of home she’d try to build would inevitably come crashing down. It was just what happened for her. But in that moment, staring out a tiny plane window into the night sky, she let herself dream of a life she’d never before thought she could have. That one day she could build a home.

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #jemily #mine #fanfiction #fanfic #I just spent about half an hour trying to get the italics to work on ao3 #this might be a sign of insanity

[buckybarnesbingo]

BBB Week 13 Roundup!

Sorry it’s a day late, Tumblr Mod is just losing her mind a little bit!

Title: Enemy Collaborator: grimeysociety Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - Bucky/Darcy Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Explicit Sexual Content Summary: Friendship with Bucky began like pulling a thorn out of a wolf’s paw. Word Count: 3522

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Title: Because I could not stop for Death - (He kindly stopped for me): Chapter 4 Collaborator: Faustess Link: AO3 Square Filled: C3 - Free Square Ship: WinterPepperony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Inspired by Corpse Bride (2005), Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Cheating, Pre-Poly, Supernatural Elements Summary: Tony apologizes and realizes his feelings for Bucky go deeper than he'd realized. Later, Dr. Strange points out that they aren't truly married because Tony is unfortunately alive. Count along - there will be three weddings and a (very hasty) funeral in this chapter! Word Count: 16,249

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Title: “That treasure of yours better be worth it Stark!” - Moodboards Collaborator: sianmcawesome Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K2 - Bucky/Clint/Tony Ship: WinterIronHawk Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboards, snakes, skulls, medical equipents (for pics under the cut), mention of Obediah Stane Summary: 4 moodboards for the WinterIronHawk meets Indiana Jones/National Treasure/Blood and Treasure/every other Treasure Hunter movie and show out there story I´ll probably never get around to writing.

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Title: Pinup Calendar October: Steve/Bucky - Mad Hatter Day Collaborator: carnival_of_rust Link: AO3 Square Filled: C4 - Secret Admirer Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: art, nudity Summary: The Alice In Wonderland AU wherein Bucky fingers some butter and smol Steeb forgets his pants.

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Title: Pinup Calendar December: Steve/Bucky - Midnight Kisses Collaborator: carnival_of_rust Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Love at first sight Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: art, nudity Summary: Ever wondered where the bubbles in champagne come from?

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Title: High on You Collaborator: hddnone Link: AO3 Square Filled: U3 - Teammates Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Sex Pollen, Dubious Consent, Non-consensual drug use (from the sex pollen), allusion to Clint/Nat/Steve Summary: Sex pollen. Just another Tuesday as an Avenger.Strucker is wrong about it distracting the Avengers too much to fight - well, with the exception of those with the serum. It hits them a little differently than the rest of the team. Word Count: 3481

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Title: End Of All Days - Chapter 18: Part XVII Collaborator: Minka Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 – Terrible Choices Ship: Stucky Rating: Mature Major Tags: extremely unsettling happenings, non-sexual power play and some good old-fashioned ‘torture for information’ tactics Summary: Alright guys, we all knew this was coming! Warning for some extremely unsettling happenings, non-sexual power play and some good old-fashioned ‘torture for information’ tactics. Parental guidance recommended…?? IDK. But like, if you can’t get through a James Bond torture scene, or a violent episode of Game of Thrones or equivalent, then this chapter probably isn’t for you. Word Count: 83,731

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Title: (It All Started With) A Night at the Nat - Chapter 9 Collaborator: Politzania Link: AO3 Square Filled: Pining & Apology Ship: WinterIronHawk Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: The three of them have breakfast together, and after seeing Tony off, Clint and Bucky hang out and discuss boundaries and expectations. Word Count: 11,746

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Title: Stardust Collaborator: Avidreader6 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Kink: BDSM Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: The lights in the bedroom are dimmed to a warm soft glow when Tony enters and he’s not surprised to find that Bucky has gotten there first. He’s waiting on his knees, in the center of the room, and there’s only the slightest twitch of his shoulders to give away that he knows Tony has come in. Word Count: 6834

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Title: N/A Collaborator: zainniko Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K2 - Bucky/Tony Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: art Summary: Bucky gives Tony a massage (No powers AU)

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Title: Subliminal Advertising Collaborator: Kalee60 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K2 - Kink: “Harder.” Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: Bucky is a walking disaster when it comes to gorgeous men. He stumbles over words, says inane things and makes a bit of an idiot of himself. So when he sees the most glorious man in all existence helping a little old lady out at his local supermarket, he knows there is no way he can string a sentence together and look smooth (considering he’s a train wreck in disguise). Cue an impromptu photo opportunity with a well placed product, that in turn somehow begins a pun laden photo game as Bucky starts to bump into the breathtaking man on the regular while shopping. Who’d have thought so many mundane advertisements were so suggestive? So with a little help from his meddling best friend, a lot of misunderstandings and a crush the size of the Empire State Building, can Bucky find enough courage to ask out the man who hopefully, will ‘melt in his mouth, not in his hand?’ Word Count: 22,770

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Title: That's What She Said Collaborator: betheflame Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2 - Shopping Together Ship: Stuckony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Get Together, Drunk Consent, explicit sexual content Summary: Steve had a massive crush on his TA, which he was hiding from his boyfriend, until a chance meeting in the chip aisle at Target changed everything. Word Count: 3378

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Title: No Other Love (3/3) Collaborator: grimeysociety Link: AO3 Square Filled: C2: “It Wasn’t Worth It” Ship: Bucky/Darcy Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, References to Violence/Gore, PTSD, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: While on the run, Bucky meets Dee, a working girl he can’t seem to shake. Word Count: 19,616

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Title: Pinup Calendar December: Bucky Barnes - Christmas with Captain Snowman Collaborator:  LiquidLightz Link: AO3 Square Filled: U5 - Realistic Art Style Ship: none Rating: Teen Major Tags: art, nudity Summary: My December pinup of Bucky Barnes with Captain... Snowman 🙃 celebrating Christmas 🎄 🎅🏻 and Winter ❄️ ⛄️This is just one of over 40 artworks created, by 20+ artists, for the Marvel Art Party Pin-Up Calendar 🎉😍Click on the collection to check out all the other months, from July 2020 to Dec 2021, and download your favourites to put together your own printable calendar.

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Title: Missing Pieces Collaborator: LiraelClayr007 Link: AO3 Square Filled: U1 - galaxy Ship: WinterHawk Rating: Teen Major Tags: emotional hurt comfort, childhood memories, angst with a happy ending, established relationship Summary: When Clint becomes down and distracted, Bucky takes it upon himself to discover what’s bothering his boyfriend. Even though Clint won’t talk about it. Even though Bucky has too many missing pieces. Or, In which Bucky goes to great lengths to make Clint smile. Word Count: 2942

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Title: When a Bad Day (Month) Turns Good Collaborator: Purple_ducky00 Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Chapter 1 - Tony’s POV: B1 - This might as well happen Chapter 2 - Bucky’s POV: U2 - Bucky/Tony Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: Broken bones, Sleep deprivation, unhealthy coping mechanisms Summary: Tony and Bucky are both having terrible days, or, in Bucky's case, months. When Bucky falls asleep on Tony, how will they both react when we wakes up? Word Count: 2106

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Title: Because I could not stop for Death - (He kindly stopped for me) Collaborator: Faustess Link: AO3 Squares Filled: Chapter 2 -  B2: ‘Oh hell, no.’ Chapter 3 -  U3: “Don’t say it!” Chapter 4 -  C3: Free Square Ship: WinterPepperony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Inspired by Corpse Bride (2005), Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Cheating, Pre-Poly, Supernatural Elements Summary: Howard Stark and his wife are wealthy industrialists looking for an entrance into polite society. Lord and Lady Potts are aristocrats one sneeze away from the poorhouse. Their heirs will marry and both sets of parents will get what they want... as long as everything goes According To Plan. (Hint: it doesn't). Word Count: 17,099

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Title: Are You Sure About This? Collaborator: Fighting_for_Creativity Link: AO3 Square Filled: U4 - Bucky/Tony/Rhodey Ship: Bucky/Tony/Rhodey Rating: Explicit Major Tags: explicit sexual content Summary: Tony, Bucky, and Rhodey had been dating for a long while now. They were in a happy and healthy relationship, able to talk about almost everything. When Tony had down days, the other two were there to cheer him up, show him how good life could be. And Tony did the same for them. Sometimes, though, they still had hiccups in their daily life. But, ultimately, that was ok, because they were ok. Maybe that was why Tony felt safe enough to just say what he thought with them. Maybe that was a deciding factor in why Tony blurted out that he wanted both of them, inside him simultaneously. Word Count: 3658

#buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #weekly roundup #bbb week 13

[padfootagain]

Watching Movies With Richard Would Include…

Okay, an anon asked for some cute HC for Richard being your boyfriend. And I'm sorry, anon, but that is the most unprecise ask you could have sent. And I can't write a headcanon that is so unclear. So I've decided to narrow it down to one subject: watching movies. I hope you like it anyway! Here we go…

Also, it's my first piece for Richard, so please, tell me what you think because I'm super nervous to start writing for him!!

WARNING: So much cuteness, my own heart is bursting!

If you ask for them, I will be happy to make more HC for him about other particular subjects, but I find it very hard to write for general HC so please, be more precise.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 2157

*At the cinema

 -Going out for a good movie is always a nice way to spend a lovely evening.

-He lets you choose the movie most of the time, except when one he really had been waiting for is coming out, then he will insist on seeing it and reach a level of excitement that would make a five-year-old proud.

"Okay, what time is it?" **growling** "Why does time pass so slowly all of a sudden?"

"Richard, you're being ridiculous."

"I've been waiting for this movie for FIVE months!"

"Just a few more minutes to wait, relax."

"I can't wait to see it…"

-He lets you choose the seats, he doesn't really mind if he's closer or farther away from the screen.

-Pop-corns or Maltesers. No other snacks allowed.

-The moment the lights are out, his fingers move closer to yours until he reaches your hand and he generally doesn't let go until the lights are burning again.

-You often end up resting your head on his shoulder, especially if the movie is romantic or sad. Intertwined fingers the whole time. Sometimes he rests his hand on your thigh instead. If he hears you crying too hard, he'll drop a soothing kiss in your hair and give your fingers a reassuring squeeze or soothingly stroke your thigh.

-Richard is actually so damn good at crying in silence, most of the time, you don't even notice that he's crying while you're struggling to sob in the quietest way possible. You'll only know he had been crying when the movie ends and he finally sniffs a little and dries his cheeks. When you look up at him, he's not hiding his reddened eyes and merely smiles at you.

-If you're watching a funny movie though, it takes all his strength to not be too loud. He generally ends up loosing it, bursting out laughing anyway so much that he's crying.

-Spooky movies have both of you jumping in your seats and him cursing under his breath every. Single. Time. He jumps, he curses. Soft, barely audible 'fucks' breathed out that, under other circumstances, could sound quite… in one word: hot.

You can also feel all the tension of the movie spread through his body as he tightens his hold on your hand.

-When there is a plot-twist, if you discreetly glance over him, you will find his mouth quite agape in shock while he slightly frowns or occasionally raises an eyebrow. And this is probably the cutest shocked expression you will ever see, so I would advise you to pay more attention next time you see a thriller together and to enjoy the view.

-At the end of the movie, he stretches before standing again. Every. Single. Time. He stretches, rolling his shoulders, stretching his legs and arms (not above his head, that wouldn't be very discreet, but on each side of his body or before him) and he generally moves his neck around a little too, while making the most adorable wince with one side of his mouth curved up and wrinkling his nose and frowning a little.

-Then he turns to you with a smile that silently asks 'Did you like it? Are you okay?'

-You walk out hand in hand, recalling the best or worst parts of the movie and laughing at each other. And in general, it's always a lovely time.

 *At home

 -Late night, you're both exhausted, whatever pops up on the screen will be watched until neither of you can keep their eyes open anymore. At least, it's the idea, but Richard generally spends some time exploring possibilities despite the fact that he knows he will probably fall asleep in the coming 30 minutes.

"This movie is terrible."

"Y/N, it doesn't matter, love. I just need to relax a little before going to sleep."

**ten minutes later, he changes the channel** "okay, this was really bad, let's find something else then."

-Everytime, you tell yourselves you should be going to bed. Everytime you end up sleeping on the sofa watching crappy TV.

"It's late, and we're both exhausted. We should go to sleep, Richard."

**Richard groaning from under you as you are both lying on the sofa and you are mostly lying upon him, his eyes closed already** "I'm listening to what's going on."

"Are you, really?"

"I am. The cop just asked where the gun came from. See? Besides, it's very comfortable here. Let's stay here a little longer."

-If you try to move out of his embrace, he will pull you back down, and you will never be free until he decides to release you. Not that you're complaining, though.

-You end up both sleeping on the sofa and waking up a few hours later with your entire bodies painful (especially for Richard as you've been sleeping upon him, the poor man).

**Letting out a low growl** "Next time, love, remind me to not let you convince me to stay on the sofa instead of going to bed."

"Are you kidding me? I told you to go to bed! You're the one who forced me to stay here with you?"

"Forced you?"

"Well, you're stronger than you look, I could hardly break free."

**chuckling, eyes swollen with sleep, tenderness oozing from every fibre of his being** "That is a very poor excuse, you know you could have freed yourself whenever you wanted. You just liked cuddling on the sofa with me, 's all."

-Also, I have to point out that tiredness has the same effect on his accent as alcohol, which results in him dropping all consonant sounds and basically mumbling vowels, and that is very hot and very adorable.

-Chilling together for the evening watching a good movie while drinking some comforting tea or a beer and cuddling on the sofa under a warm blanket. This is paradise.

-And this time, you don't have to be as discreet as you were in the cinema, so that comes with loud laughter from him, unashamedly full on bursting-out-cause-no-control-over-my-amusement laughter. And you love that sound so much, you would do anything to hear it.

-Scary movies mean the two of you clenching on each other at first, but the scarier it gets, the more he grows distant. He still holds your hand, but it's his coping mechanism to just sit very still, leaning forward a little, and watching in silence. Until it gets so scary that he passes on commentary mode, which is hilarious, although as you are just as terrified as he is, you don't fully enjoy it most of the time.

**In his adorably heavy Scottish accent** "Don't. Don't. Don't do that. Don't go down there. What the hell are you doing? You're in a haunted house, don't go in the fucking basement! Don't go in the basement. Oh, shit… Oh no, that's bad. Y/N, did you hear that? Oh, he's gonna get killed. It's coming. Why on Earth would you go down there anyway? Here it is…" **jumping as something scary bursts on screen** "Told ye not to do that! Yeah, he's dead…"

-Romantic movies means extra-cuddling and chocolate snacks. Always. More hand-touching as well, and playing with his fingers, and resting your head in the crook of his neck. Sometimes, he lies down on the sofa and rests his head on your lap and you spend most of the movie running your fingers though his hair, paying extra-attention to his grey strand, and you are absolutely not complaining about how your evening is going.

-Crying together, he's not hiding his tears, but he's still quiet. Meanwhile, you've reached ugly sobbing, but he just stays there, motionless, crying silent tears, and you are so impressed by this talent of him to not look and sound like a complete mess like you so often do. You will both need some extra-cuddling after a sad movie though.

-Thrillers are a constant conversation between the two of you as you try to make up the best scenarios to solve the mysteries, and sometimes, when the movie is not that good, it turns into a game of who will get the stupidest scenario imagineable.

"It's the mother."

"The mother can't be the killer, Richard. She's dead."

"First thing first: she could have hired someone to kill everyone including herself so she would not be suspected and be considered a victim. Second thing: zombies."

-Richard has one habit that is absolutely adorable: for his favourite movies, the ones he has watched over and over again, like Jurassic Park, for example, he knows all the lines. And sometimes, during his favourite scenes, he can't help but mouth, or sometimes even whisper, the lines. And that is so damn adorkable…

**Richard mouthing the lines with an excited little smile on his lips without making a sound but you discreetly watch him ** "God creates dinosaurs, God destroys dinosaurs, God creates man, man destroys God, man creates dinosaurs. Dinosaurs eat man… woman inherits the Earth."

**stops as he notices you're staring at him** "What?"

"Nothing, you're cute, that's all."

**Rolling his eyes but he also blushes** "Shut up…"

 *Bonus : watching one of his movies/TV series

 -He's torn apart by the desire and excitement to show you his work and discover what you will think about it, and the fact that he's always quite embarrassed to see himself on screen.

-Sometimes you watch things without him, especially if at the time he's away working on a project. But you do try to watch his work with him.

-He's quite uncomfortable during all the naked and sex scenes, and you feel a little bit weird too cause… that character has your boyfriend's face, you know? But you generally turn it into teasing or half-joking-half-serious compliment, and that drives him crazy for different reasons.

"Ha, here it comes. The steamy scene. I was waiting for it. I knew you couldn't keep it in your pants, and you had to show these abs of yours, right?"

"Obviously, why would I go to the gym but to look good in these scenes."

"It was your idea to get these two together then, huh?"

**laughing** "obviously."

**after a short silent** "You are rather hot in this though. But then you're always gorgeous."

**Richard blushes hard** "Now, now… here we go with the flattery."

"You are gorgeous, Richard. You will have to accept it one day."

**in full cinnamon roll mode** "Well… thank you then, I guess…"

-He does take you to premieres whenever your schedules match, and he loves it when you can discover his projects when he sees the final product too, rather than rewatching it all with you later. You're nervous as you're not in your element, but he's careful with you, and thoughtful, and makes sure you're okay all along, no matter if it's during the press events at the beginning, or after you've watched the film. He stays with you all along, and wants you to enjoy yourself.

You always do feel quite nervous though, and try to not do anything clumsy or stupid, efforts that sometimes fail miserably but then Richard takes it all with a laugh and a reassuring word, and at the end of the day, all is fine. Also, you always look so beautiful during these events, and he makes sure that you know how gorgeous you are.

He's quite proud of every projects he works on, and you can read it in his eyes even more during the premieres, and if he sees that same glint of pride in your eyes at the idea that your man worked on creating this, then he doesn't care how well the movie makes out there. He's already convinced the only person who truly matters.

-Richard can be quite nervous about his performance, uncertain and he doubts his talent probably more than he should. Because if he always tries to do his best, he is also always looking for ways to improve, and the question of 'was doing my best enough' arises every time. So it's good to compliment him and make sure he feels supported and loved and understood in these moments.

It doesn't mean that you can't tease him about his roles though, on the contrary, he secretly loves it. So go ahead. Make sure to tease.

**Richard, in the kitchen, wearing an apron and relaxed clothes, cutting onions and clenching his jaw in an attempt to not cry, his jaw muscle trembling**

**You, sneaking next to him** "Please, Sergeant Budd, control your temper. Don't shoot the onion."

He just can't hold back his laughter.

#richard madden #richard madden x reader #richard madden headcanon #richard madden fanfiction #richard madden imagine #richard madden fanfic #imagine #headcanon #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

[lostinforeverness]

Everything I meant

You’ll never ever ever see this; you won’t read it, you won’t think about it, you won’t care about it or mull it over or assault it. So I can say everything, all that I ever meant to.

The timeline is incoherent, ironically. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, I just have a load of junk and hearts.

1) You were hands down my favourite sexual partner ever, and I’m unlikely to ever find anyone as good. I’m coming to terms with that.

2) I used to tremble at night because I knew I couldn’t pleasure you, and threw up a few times at the thought of what that might make you do. I just wanted to be better, so I used to speak to you about it, like a grown up - you told me it didn’t matter, and I knew you were lying.

3) I believe that you truly loved me; I believe that you felt truly loved and adored BY me, but you had no idea what to do with all of those roses. You were neither prepared nor comfortable with it, right?

4) You were the only person I could reveal my tortured soul to.

5) You were the only person who could ever torture my soul by simply being absent.

6) Your family intimidated me, I’m not sure why - maybe because they seemed so stable and comfortable, which may have been their coping mechanism for dealing with past hardships. All I know is, it made me feel so unworthy for being so broken.

7) I knew you had cheated on me long before you told me. I could feel it, sense it, smell it. I used to cry rivers while I wondered how you’d tell me; how pathetic.

8) I hated it when he brought you gifts at work.

9) I hated it when he’d pick you up from work.

10) I hated it when you showed off your engagement ring at work.

11) I hated him, and he hadn’t even hurt me. I felt like a monster.

12) I cried out your name whilst screwing 3 different women, on separate occasions. I only got called out on it once, which I thought was kinda weird.

13) I hated that I was your emotional cushion, but you still preferred his cock. I felt like I had to escape from that, the image used to keep me awake at night.

14) I used to tell everyone that we loved each other, that you were having a rough patch, but it was only a matter of time. They told me to stop being stupid.

15) My friends wrote me genuine, hand-written apologies when you came back.

16) When you left again, they rolled their eyes and reverted to type.

17) I only went to see you at the restaurant, where you and big dick worked together, because I wanted you to remember that you loved me. I’m not sure if it ever worked.

18) I bought the ring because I wanted to propose to you; I’d never been so sure of anything in my life.

19) I still have the ring. It’s engraved, and so worthless

20) When I spent all my money on gambling, booze, and drugs, I contemplated selling the ring. I remembered it was worthless and opted not to.

21) I wanted to raise the coolest motherfucking kids on the planet, I wanted to do so with you by my side.

22) When you said you had been pregnant, and lost it, my heart was overwhelmed with both sadness and joy. You told me it was impossible, and I had resigned to it; suddenly there was such possibility, and yet such overbearing heartbreak.

23) When I wanted you to watch Love Actually, it was because I believe in true love, and I believed we truly loved each other - I actually thought having you watch a goofy film might have made you pick up on it too.

24) I never understood why you wouldn’t leave your fiancee for me.

25) I never had the courage to ask.

26) I left my first job because i couldn’t handle anymore the reality of loving you so much and you seeming not to care. I spoke to my doctor at the time about the stress this was causing.

27) Since you came back into my life, I have never once slept in the bed without you being present.

28) I’ve fucked people in the bed, but I’d sleep downstairs instead.

29) Being alone on a couch is easier than being alone on a bed.

30) I didn’t like that you’d put a bit of weight on, but you seemed intent on pizza and wine, so I thought it better not to say much about it.

31) It kind of turned me off, honestly. Until we actually got to it, then I remembered how great you were in bed, and I got over it. (cause it’s the type of thing that only matters ‘physically’)

32) One night, I climbed on that garage roof next to the White Lion. I stayed there for like 6 whole hours. I watched you from afar, there were lots of reasons why:

32A) I wanted to see if you looked like you missed me.

32B) I wanted to see if he would turn up.

32C) I wanted to see if you would leave for his house.

32D) I wanted to see if you were happy, so that I could hate you if you were, to give my brokenness some kind of legitimacy.

33) I felt terrible about it and like I’d done a really awful, creepy thing. I had.

34) I left you to have my house key because I thought you were coming back.

35) The night I came to collect it, I had been drinking heavily - I saw you and he were back together, and I cried all the way to your house.

36) When you didn’t answer my calls and texts that night, I thought you had some weird kind of vendetta against me, that it was your way of getting back at me.

37) My favourite holiday ever was the one we had together.

38) I hated the last part of that holiday, when it became clear you didn’t want sex with me and were desperate to fall out with me. I now know that’s because you’d already cheated and hate yourself, but I couldn’t understand at the time why it felt like you hated ME.

39) I love you.

40) I like you.

41) I love your company.

42) I love being serious with you.

43) I love being silly with you.

44) I miss you every day.

45) I love you.

46) I love your style, I love your attitude.

47) I love you.

48) I never felt worthy of you; you’re kickass, and you’re a straight up babe - I’m a loser with stained teeth, no future, and bad habits.

49) I begged every night that you’d forgive me for being shit in bed.

50) I wanted to spend time through the day with you more cause I felt like I sucked at being your nighttime companion.

51) I considered asking if you wanted me to watch other men fuck you because I couldn’t do it right. I decided against it.

52) I love the way you are with strangers.

53) I love the way you were with Lily.

54) I love the way you were with my mum.

55) You always seemed to know what to say.

56) I hated you being drunk when I wasn’t. Usually, the reason was that I was skint, but I didn’t want to tell you that; I already considered myself a bottom-dwelling male who didn’t deserve you, I didn’t need more of it to deal with in my head. So I just pretended i didn’t want a drink. I wanted to get pissed and have fun with you, just like we always had. But I’m always skint.

57) I wanted to see all the really cool places in the world with you, places nobody else would ever bother going to with me - Peru, India, New Zealand. I don’t know how I intended to pay for it.

58) I still love you.

59) I still miss you.

60) I used to dream about our little baby, and what might have been.

61) In the dreams, we were fucking great parents. You never listened to your parents, and I never listened to mine - instead, we raised them in our own way, and it was the most beautiful glorious thing ever.

62) The kid always loved you more than me. I don’t know if that means anything.

63) I forgave you for everything.

64) I didn’t know how to forgive you and also make you realise how hurt I HAD been.

65) I see now that your drinking and abuse was your guilt. At the time, I thought it was you pretending that nothing was wrong, and I felt violated.

66) I regret not sweeping you off your feet sooner.

67) I also felt incapable.

68) I just want to spend some time with you, watch a stupid movie, go for a stupid long walk, smoke some stupid cigarettes, have embarrassing stupid sex, and hear your stupid laugh.

69) I told all my family in Ireland about you, how much I loved you. They still ask me about you, which is why I haven’t spoken to them - I don’t know how to explain to them that such powerful amazing love could end in such failure.

70) I feel like a massive failure.

71) I don’t know what it is about me that could make you love me.

72) Yet I do believe you love me. It’s really weird.

73) I just wish we could go back in time, be simple again, and work our way up from there.

74) We’d have a house and a family by now, our own space, our own freedom, our own life.

75) I fucked up just as much as you did, and I never knew how to get that across.

I just want you back in my life again. I want to hold you, laugh with you, travel with you, feel you, fuck you.

I’m resigned to the fact that I can’t do any of that, or have any of that. And it will never feel okay, it will always feel like a huge, unnecessary, depressing failure.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be. But hear me, honestly - I’m still fucking desperate to be him. But I can’t be, can I?

I’m just not good enough.

Not good enough.

Not enough.

Not.

#kellston #junkofhearts #regret #i miss it #i miss them #i miss you

[indomitablemegnolia]

I have been dragging this coffin around, like Django, for a while now, and for some reason American politics has to just keep poking at a seeping infected wound; as a psychologist I know that the best way to deal with certain emotions and PTSD is to talk it out, if you can talk past the ragged breaths.  Now I am not much of a talker but I do write; I was thinking that maybe letting this out into the world might help someone or perhaps not fatally wound them by reading. I just know I have been  keeping all of this way too close for way too long. I am going to try to do this so those who don’t want to know can avoid. I do add a bit of fantasy into it as my own default coping mechanism; so it is not just a barrage of horror. There are triggers... physical pain, blood, rape, and political triggers...this is me screaming into the void. If anyone reads this, I would hope that I could inspire a kind word.

Good god, what fresh hell is this? I swear that sometimes I have to just kick this evil darkness, beat it back, strike out with every weapon I have until it bleeds sunlight; oh, and when that first drop of sun falls I have to keep fighting until I am bathed in that healing glow, smearing it over my face, rubbing it in to my soul; reveling in the warmth of the end of a battle well fought and valiantly one worth the effort.  This is always a rough two weeks for me every year for well 19 years now… the tenth falls and it seems some note really minor catastrophe befalls me; there has not been a skip year, a stand out or a delayed year; I will not whine about the past, but for the past three years it has been a political horror show on top of the menial financial, health, or personal failing; I focus on the possible and look up, which usually lands me down a manhole but I can’t change my stripes. In these last three years the shit-show of a congress (and congress is both houses equally guilty) put on these shows of caring and disdain, evil in its fake almost after thought of un-electability. Kavanaugh sent me into a bottomless tailspin; something about a Judge rapist being put on the highest court in the land on the anniversary of my own…attack; not that I think it sits any better in the pit of my stomach any other time of the year, but now… again… and I just can’t breathe, they had made my life all of the things I still struggle to live through… a joke, a pawn, something to leverage each other with… I am sick; politics making life, again, not worth living; nothing mattered, the truth did not matter, their ignorance, their lies did not matter. I find myself feeling rather Wilde; I was left feeling, broken, forgotten, as if I do not belong anywhere; there was nothing to lose myself in and no escape even if there were.

This country, this world, has become such a small, terrible place; I cheat, and I excuse myself, as I escape only by avoiding reality, I love the world that I create; but once there was a moment, out of time, such a terribly long time ago that I bring the memory to life often; for a time I had sunshine, and flowers, mud under my nails and rich coffee and I apologized to no one for who and how and what I am; I live with no thought regularly to why I should not be here and who I should be; yes, I do know that eventually I will die here, being banished to that other world where indeed I know because of the impermanence of life it will be as if I never did exist; every broken molecule of me will parish, every inch, every thought, but one. That molecule, that inch, that thought, its small, its infinitesimal, its worthless if you asked most, but in this world of whit and worry it is the only thing worth having; it is worth all the worlds in all the universes.  I cannot lose it; I can not barter it or sell it and above it all it should never be given away. This world must get better, it must stop getting lost in all the things that are not real, such as money, race, all the false differences we draw between us; there is only one true thing about this world, there is no escape, so make your difference here and now.  I must tell you, now that you see me, you know part of my life, my story and because of that I hope you understand that I Love you.  I love you, despite never knowing your story, we may never meet, never laugh or cry together and I will never kiss or hug you, but I love you as dearly as my universe, as closely as a flesh and blood friend.

I love you.

It has been so many years, I hardly talk about it, but I warn you now this gets a bit graphic, but it is my story; this story is not being told for anyone else's campaign; it is not a #metoo. This is me taking a psychological victory, screaming my pain into this void like echo chamber; I know no one may hear me, and that is fine. This is one of Dante's hells I live in, wrapped deliciously in my favourite personal coping mechanism a piece of detached fiction that reads like a conversation between my super ego and my Id....

I sought freedom, the only freedom to be had in this world, music loud, the delicious truth of life’s simplicity; music is a true elixir, ideally it should be listened to at 60-80 decibels and 70 mph; everything can be made right if you just put the music on and the top down, drive 85 mph on a country road, as if you are trying to out run time itself. The sun low in the western sky; fat fluffy gray clouds float lazily over a layer of black, brooding, formidable clouds rolling in like the undaunting wall of night, mocking the artificial azure sky that lays at the last eighth of the sky, about to be swallowed up. Music playing too loud, I sang atonally along; the cool breeze of autumn playfully ruffled my hair as if I resided in a third visible universe in one place unattached to the storm or the artificial sunny day.  The little silver dream I drove was cutting through the country side; coming up on a slower moving rusted out pick-up truck I worked the gearshift, not laying off the gas, dropping to fourth to pass, galloping ahead hard and fast, leaving the truck behind.

Suddenly, for the first time in ages the world almost made sense, err, I suppose it is awkward saying that because the sense it made was tenuous and momentary at best. Escape possible only by way of ignoring the horrors; after a week like the last, a little sensical nonsense was called for.  I had to get away, I had to distance myself from the news and the bluster, the horrible reality; the reminders that weighed my heart, slammed my soul, obliterated my psyche; in my home, my home, the country I love, whose founding documents read of words like truth and justice; a vicious criminal is appointed to the highest court in the land; a man accused of raping three women; a charge that not so long ago would have precluded his admission; but that was then and this is now, basically more of a wild west, kangaroo, dumb-fuckery idea of conscience; we are now a people who allow the separation of children from parents, to be kept in cages. Now, because of this stupidity, people treating justice like a partisan football; horrible happenings from my past are brought front and center of my subconscious every night as I sleep. Yes, I have read books and listened to tapes as to how to guide dreams, none have prevailed.

Letting my mind wander, it was dangerous; and yes, it circled back to last night’s bout with Fate, Christ, she hit me hard and fast; for a figment of my imagination she really left me bruised, broken, bloody; I can still taste the sickly copper iron flavor of blood in my mouth, my soul limping.  First. she took me on a trek into the past; tiny, horrible, years ago; Jesus, I realize, if this nightmare I carry heavy in my mind were a child it would be graduating high school; oh god, the thought, the kind that should never be thought; after, I was sentenced to a more vile prison, to a sentence more than double theirs, I see no possibility of parole from this place. I feel as if I were slowly being eaten alive; Fate, she held my face to the fire, she made me watch and relive it, over and over and over again.  

I despise the fact something as delicious as this breeze can trigger panic, terror, horror; this feeling was, twice upon a time, in the valley of faded fears, my favourite season, now it sits heavy on me, like a box of babies tears. Though now, it is that recurring nightmare, I try to break free, but as he said in The Godfather ‘every time I think I am out, it drags me back in.’ I feel so pathetic, seriously, I earned my PhD in psychology, trying to outfit myself with all the tools; I should have been able to drown this demon long ago, but alas, I find the zombie bastard can swim; argh, and yes, I know that isn’t possible, no one can fight off all the memories, it's impossible to erase events, for anyone, most especially me.

Out of the blue it seems, a wonderful friend, a friend one which I didn’t know I still had; sadly I assume that I am always left behind, but she sent me in a tailspin of introspection; she asked me simply, 'are you okay?' A real flesh and blood human asked me, she noticed, she pointed out that I am not acting like myself; I have been tearing myself down, doubting the simplest things, I have even, in an odd way, seeking her approval; asking permission to hang my own pieces on my wall, my usual 'it's easier to ask forgiveness, than seek permission', attitude gone.  

Gods, she is right, I know she is right; I am acting weird, different, calling myself stupid, pathetic, worthless; at first it started just stupid, small, subtle... most people bought that I was fine, they never saw it... I think. Anyways, they never called me on it. This friend, this good friend called me on it; I wrote a piece out of my usual character, at first, I loved it; then the next day in a mercurial hissy fit, I ripped into it, then in another flip I apologized for it, I am acting like a kid caught lying, obvious, blatant, guilty. This friend, ah, this beautiful friend called me on all my shit; like that guilty child, my psyche tried to hide it, then I stopped, I looked, really, I am. Then this introspection brought me to the realization that at times, not always, very rarely, I get weird, almost puritanical about sex. Usually I have a very laissez faire attitude; bi, straight, whatever flavour of the lgbtq or any other spectrum, if you get off on it, if you like it, then it's beautiful; there are people I love on all levels of depravity. It may even seem to them that I am a touch prudish because I do not partake, that is fine. Because this friend, this wonderful friend, shined a light, I could again see the bruises fate had left.

Fate had asked me, "so, if it is all good, what gets you off?" With that I was lost, nothing; everything; how was I to know? Of known experiences I have rape (not awesome) and a failed relationship (asshole never understood a thing I said, then tried to recreate experience #1); yup, two times lose on those. I know what I need, no desire, no require; with all the horrible mediocrity in this world that we seem to accept as fair sacrifice, I will not let love be among those. I want epic love, mad, passionate, crazy, undying, span the universes kind of love; anything less will be a poor substitute, meaning I can not, I will not let her take that from me; this is just one of those turns where nothing goes well. She shook me, and god, I had let Fate affect me.

The moment she reared her ugly head was pain. I was lost in a soft dream of sweet remembered soft kisses. Suddenly, a hit to my face, my eye starting to swell; a doubled fist to the gut, air rushed out in a horrible half scream.  A hand wrapped in my hair slamming my head into a stony ground, again, that horrible haunting memory.  Her voice chilling in a predatory growl, she wanted blood. She taunted me, "I KNOW what you wrote, hmmm, I know what you enjoyed, I told you; you can admit it, just to me, no one else is listening;" She ground her hips into mine from behind, "I know that you liked it, you loved it; I wonder, did you reach orgasm? Was it earth shattering? Did you moan like a whore?"  Fate, that horrible bitch, licked up from my jaw to my temple, I stopped the urge to vomit, I felt my hate multiply, but in seconds I felt a turn inward, "You know that the hecklers are still right;" she raked her pelvis suggestively against me, three more thrusts.

"No, but it seems to get you off, dry humping me; hmm is the bitch in heat? So ya like my ass? I have been working out." She slammed my face down into the stone.

I let a painful groan escape, "You like the rough trade."

"Oh yeah," I ground out lifting my head turning to face her, "about as much as I like you."

She laughed cruelly, standing slamming her foot into my kidney. “Look at you, still so pathetic, still that laughing clown punching bag, you are always such fun; there is a lot to be said about consistency," slamming her boot into my jaw.  "If it was not the roughness, the pain, was it the team effort? Now, remind me how many was it that you liked? Four or five? How many holes were the putting it into?" She ground her heel onto my palm, I try to stop the noise, a near scream, "how many holes?"  

I smiled showing my blood outlined teeth, "This many." I held aloft a single middle finger.

Fate came to torture my soul time and again, with unlimited creativity; it has happened more than a few times in recent days; using more taunts, planting more doubts, inflicting more pain; cracking open my soul leaving it weeping and bereft. The more it happened the more I began to believe that she was right; yes, maybe I really enjoyed it; then I didn’t take the moment needed to breathe before I reacted this time out of emotion, gut check. She was right, they were all right; it was all I deserved; I asked for it, I had enjoyed it. Though that moment of introspection given to me by a gorgeous friend, gave me time to recognize this is actually an extreme rendition, interrogation tactic, the kind used in interviews at Gitmo; some good interrogators can even implant false memories, causing false confessions.

I woke from the nightmare; I gathered my own thoughts.  I had to run; I had to hide. I hated; I hated the world and all the people in it, I hated myself and most of all I hated all this wasted time. If I had known Life before would I blame him, hate him… yes, right now, in fact I do.

I drove faster, not even slowing at bends in the road; why was I running? What good could it do? I know can not escape when the horror is inside my own skull. The green leaves starting to turn gold, some starting to age red at the edges. I whisked through the countryside, far too fast; it was liberating. God, this is my favourite season; there is something so sultry and libidinous about fall; I let go of the wheel, raising my arms joyous in the air. The feeling, the smell, the look, it seems to get my heart racing and my mind reeling; in pure celebration of the seasons change, the bite to the wind and the trill of cinnamon to the air, senses that are so much Life, oh me, oh my, oh my favorite things. Dark chocolate, eaten slowly, savored and enjoyed; passionate literature read in a hot bath tub that requires an entry like bugs bunny getting into the boiling cauldron; music, so many lovely perfect kinds of music, hard hitting, rampaging, soothing and truly sensual all appreciated savored and enjoyed… Please, Life... I need you.  Why don't you come? I call to you, I miss you.

Before even fate showed the aphasia really affected my self-confidence; I no longer had my words, I constantly sounded either stupid or drunk or both, that had shaken me to my core; with both of those, it changed my own reactions. Then America, my home, is not helping, the president mocking a rape survivor, his little toadies backing him up. It just tore a hole in my psyche, in my soul, letting all these demons back. This is not me really... but what is me?

For me, after the attack, the police, they never doubted; the bruised and bloody the evidence abounded, they had no trouble even finding the culprits, but the faculty, the students... not so kind... I heard the whispers, they never looked at me, not the real me, I was just a disregarded scrap.

My lips hurt, they were cracked in two places, my ribs were bruised, all making me wonder if Fate was more than just my horrible subconscious. More than the conscience that makes a coward of me; makes me want to run for the shelter of a strong set of arms.  My foot slacks off the gas pedal; I was losing my will to run, I realized that I was not able to run from this kind of mountain.

"Why can't you hear me?!” I yelled at the building clouds so hard my throat ached; they were heavy with rain. I saw the edges of refracted rainbows as they slid slowly in front of the sun.

Soft, so close to my ear, I felt the breath of Life. "But I did."

I swerved, nearly off the road, I screamed, slamming in the clutch not touching the brake, cutting the wheel sharply, putting the car into a full 360 spin, it almost came to a rest.  "Jiminy Cripcity Roosevelt Christmas, man. You could have just killed me." I collected my galloping heart, letting the clutch out in 3rd gear screeching off the tires. He laughed, his words sunk in slowly, I understood his words and they angered me, I slid the gearshift into 4th, without the clutch; "Yeah, right, you heard me, sure.  So, what you are saying that as usual when the world begins using me for a toilet brush, I am on my own; lemme guess, all for character building I am sure. Just go, I do not need you anymore.  Just get out." I leaned into the gas, not caring the speed, anger making my eyes begin to run.

"What the hell was that?" He reached his hand over, gripping mine, "wound a little tight their honey; let’s get you relaxed” he started rubbing the inside of my wrist, my breathing slowed. "I wish, with every ounce of power I have, I wish I could have come when I heard your cries, they caused an ache in me so cutting so horrible, I cried. I don't know how I heard you or how I am here now."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." I jeered my hand waving him away. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, his expression was so hurt, “God, I shouldn't have mocked... I’m just angry, but not at you,” I took a long breath, “I am sorry" I whispered, easing off the gas.

"Then just stop, pull off the road, talk to me."

I sighed seeking that cognitive reset.  "Okay." There was a wooded turn out just ahead.  I pulled the car over, stalling out, killing the engine. I rolled my eyes internally; it has been ages since I stalled out.  I swiped the little tears away. "So, what? What is it that you want?" My jaw set. "What?"

He sighed, seeing this was going to be an uphill battle; he reached for my hand bringing the palm to his lips; instantly my jaw slacked, and air rushed from my lips, "I missed you." He kissed the tender pad of my palm. "I know you have been in pain. Tell me what caused it; tell me haunts you." His fingers still softly drawing hypnotic circles on my wrist.

"Ah, pain, but where to start? We could do a chronological study into the beginning of pain; it might take a while."  I try to sound unbothered.

"Where this pain, your pain, the one that has had you screaming, where that pain started." His face so beautifully earnest, and there is an importance to being earnest.  “Please…” he breathed

"Words, it always begins with words, then those sticks and stones; they come hard."

He let one hitched chuckle out, "Wow, what a cop out." He dared.

I breathed again, then let it out slow, "Dammit really?” he nodded, “shit, with this whole 'legitimizing rape' floating around, taking even the one recourse for a victim of said crime has if it takes an unlucky turn. They have the audacity to mock and berate a survivor of a crime, I have seen them, mock hurricane victims, the disabled, they come just shy of saying that they want all of us defectives to die they put a rapist on the high court, now this monstrosity that will end my only piece of mind. My…" he held up his hand.

Clicking of his tongue stopped me. "No, not what I asked for Joan of arc, I was asking for the story, for this pain I see in your eyes, not a history of the worlds ills. I want your story."

"Eg, yeah, but that’s not important, it's really not even worth telling."

"Just stop; stop with the bullshit, stop deflecting; I want to hear your story, please, just tell me the goddamned story.” He gritted his teeth, “sorry, but I hate when you make light of yourself; you are making fun of my favourite person in the world, I am sorry just, please, just tell me."

"Cheese and crackers man, it is a horrid little pathetic thing. But fine." I take a breath, “Shit, my story…" I could not form the words. "hey, what’s better I could just tell you the tale of the little engine that should have known better, but still did it anyway.”

"No," he watched me closely, not letting his impatience show "I want to know your story, your pain, please."

"Shit, shit, shit, OK, shit... dammit," I hit the steering wheel, I pressed my forehead into the hard surface of the wheel, "but don't say I didn't warn ya. Shit” minutes passed, I said nothing.

He reached over holding my shoulders, "Honey, nothing that would make you too nervous to say, could be a waste of time, you are that fearless girl that never holds her tongue. Trust me, I think I can help." His thumb rubbed tenderly.

"I am neither fearless, nor am I a girl; I am a right old horrible spinster," I huffed, I fiddled with my fingers. I looked in his eyes; “I am" I stopped gathering my thoughts; "I don’t think you will like this as well as you think; I know what will happen after its all out, so, I must preface with a goodbye, you have been lovely. I know your opinion of me will slip; you won't want to know me after I finish, so thank you." He looked doubtful, but I knew, gods, I will miss him. "Before I start, I want to say, even if it means nothing to you, if no one ever tells you, I love you." A tear streaked from my eye, "What am I? Nothing," he shook his head vigorously, "look at me, I know most don’t think much of me, red round cheeks and usually a smile, no makeup and holes in my jeans; I have been told many, many, times after having conversations with people that my Naivety was endearing, but if I had ever encountered the real world my outlook would become as jaded as theirs. I may act like I have encountered nothing but sweetness and light in a noodle salad life, but that is far from the truth. I believe that you can encounter the worst that life has to offer and choose your reaction to it. You can stop believing in the world around you or you can continue to believe in kindness, understanding, and trust. Some say it is just denial, burying my head in the sand that allows me think that life is still what we make it… I Laugh and Laugh… If they knew what this girl, well, shit, here you go. Enough wasting time, I will get down to it. It's a shit story..." I wiped my hands down my face, the a swipe under my nose with the bad of my hand, then on my thighs, "shit," I sighed out, “Too many years ago it was a bright sunny day; a warm fall morning with a light breeze. I was worried about a calculus test; the biggest thing on my mind were cos A and sin B. I was on the phone ironing out a scheduling problem; I was talking to my internship mentor on the first cell phone in my family, dad got it for my safety because of my commute 90 miles to school. Jabbering on about what, I don’t even remember, I reached into the back seat for my bag. Sighing and hanging up the phone, preparing for the day ahead, or so I thought." I took a steadying breath, I had evaded long enough; I couldn’t meet his gaze, I just stared straight ahead out the windshield. "Suddenly, horribly brutality was introduced into my life; the surprise really isn’t as horrible as the feeling of helplessness; I was still bent closing the door with my hip I started to heft my book bag; my head caved in the rear door of my car; you should have seen it, truly impressive the damage a cranium can do." I remain in this protective tone, details curtailed "I was knocked out cold; I slowly came out of my haze I felt pain, searing horrible pain, but not my head, I heard ripping material;  I smelled blood my blood; flying back to reality and I know what is happening, the animal grunting and horrible rhythm; pain, it’s between my legs; no one had ever been there before;" I heard Life take a savage breath, it was nice to know someone cared, even if it was just for show.  I wiped the dampness from my face again.

"They raped me, I did not count or really anything." I tried to laugh it off, "they beat me, pulled my hair, god, one stood one foot on my head so I couldn’t move and urinated on my face as that other one finished, they called me whore, and cum bucket, and worse; every part of my body was used and abused; I lost, my hands blindly flail, I try to kick. I was savaged by animals I use the term loosely. They ransacked my car as they took turns, seeing my viola in the trunk and to punish me for fighting they crushed my left hand, they kicked me, beat my head into the pavement repeatedly. When they had finished with me and my car, the cruelest one of them, pulled the scarf wrapped around my neck and strangled me, they murdered me, and I do have to say part of me did die. As they did they laughed, god, they laughed, horrible laughs, they creep into my conscious when anything goes awry. I lost consciousness, I guess they assumed I died, I woke, I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke in a pool of blood and …err other, I got in my car and drove to the security station on the bottom level… yeah." I shook. He rubbed my hand; I pulled away quickly, I could have spit on him, but it was not him the anger belonged to. "What is madness but nobility of soul, at odds with circumstance?"  

"My god, I was expecting bad, but my… my heart, it is broken” ready to face the loss of him, I turned, I watched his face as the light died in the low, dark, rain swollen clouds; a delicate falling rain drank in the dusk; it felt like it swallowed my misery whole and for that I was grateful; shrouded in silence, the branches of the trees above wrapped me in their stoic peace. Shadows fell across us the boundaries lost their edges, as the borders were erased, once again the wonder if I had ever really existed. His presence was always so elegantly reassuring, and still I had to remind myself it was not him I was so mad at.

"Yeah, so, how was that for a hard luck story? The first time I have told anyone since I left the police station. Not exactly Disney Channel friendly, but I am waiting to hear back from lifetime." I laughed; the sound was hollow.  "Peachy side, I didn't end up knocked up or diseased; so, maybe the universe heard that plea."  I sniffed, my frustration returning.  He trailed his hand lightly down my damp cheek.  I flinched away, shy, stupid, embarrassed, "pretty pathetic, huh?"

He shook his head. "Shh, stop that please, you don’t have to mock yourself in that Cyrano de Bergerac style you always use; you are not beating me to a punch line, I was never going for one” he ran his hands over his face, “did you not hear your story? My heart is broken." I tried to look away; his gentle hands coaxed my gaze back.  "I heard a story of survival, those monsters tried to end you; here you are, fight intact, undaunted, truly indomitable, the rest just damaged facia."

I looked in his eyes, "Fate has been taunting, mocking me, whispering that I liked the assault,” I stopped, hesitating, “that has me doubting everything."

His face skeptical, eyebrow raised, "And you believe those taunts?" He shook his regal head.

Temper sparked, "kind of,” I stopped, feeling stupid, I bristled, “I do, okay. So what?"

"Why?" He cajoled. "Really, tell me why; the whole truth answer." He sat back like Cesar at the gladiator games, "hold nothing back, I can take it."

Apparently, he was satisfied that I was soundly kicking my own ass. "I wrote out, an imaginary tryst, you and I, we were on a boat, it was just delicious, an escape, there was a touch of rough to it... some of the details were... similar to... that." my voice stopped working.  "I liked it a lot, but then I got overwhelmed, confused; how can I like that, without liking the other.  The reality of that implication," I sniffed, fluttering my hands; that horrible weird guilt weighing my soul, I knew it was just my own psyche, but it was horrendously irresistible; I stopped I gave up; "shit, now you know; you know… everything why I am so deplorable... grotesque... disgusting." I rolled my eyes closed, I concentrated on my breathing, minutes clicked by finally I opened them, expecting that he had blew away on the breeze.

I met his gaze, I saw no pity, no disgust; I saw him, just Life.   Confused, I searched further, still none.

"You are not. You know better than most that feelings can be deception; sex, isn't just soft, isn't just rough, it is never one flavour; it is the connection, the intention." He ran his hands through my hair. Pressing it back behind my ear the way I like it.  "Honey, there is no equation between your rape and having a touch of rough in a fantasy. It does not mean you liked being helpless, beaten, or broken, the intention there was viciousness; there was no connection there, no trust" he sighed.

I gave a derisive chuckle, "right."

He dropped my hand, pulling away, gaining my full attention. "You apparently have made up your mind not just for you but also what I would think; you really must be magic; I think you would be surprised by what I think.”

I let a derisive chuckle out, “Sure because you are some kind of paragon.”

“I wouldn’t say paragon, but I heard every word you said. It made me so mad that you would think that way about you.”  I rolled my eyes.  He growled, and good god something in me was listening, something found the sound so delicious that it made me tingle; I scanned his eyes, there was still softness there. “Honey, look, I heard a story of an invasion, a horrible, massive invasion. I don't care if you were splayed naked on a table saying, 'come and get it big boy, give it to me hard,'” I let a snerk of laughter out at the idea. “if it was not the specific person you were talking to; that was an invasion. You cannot discount a rougher, needy kind of love making; accepting carnal love rougher more animal in its display requires trust in the intention of the other party, it is not simply the actions; Accepting love rougher, that act of trust is never more shameful or dirtier; it is a communication telling the other party, I trust you to be just this much, but no more; the instant you voice a dislike and it continues it becomes the other; it’s all up to you, whatever is pleasing to you, only you. There is no right, there is no wrong, no disgusting or dirty; sex is all about the feeling, expressing.” I understood what he was trying to say, but I really didn’t want to hear it, I knew he was trying to placate me, I tried to ignore him; “Don't be like a velvet glove cast in iron, dealing only in absolutes." I had to look away, “love is love, is love, is love, and it all matters” the storm gaining strength, he released the top and pulled it up; kissing the top of my head as he passed. "Sweeting, the space between absolutes..." he sighed, "remember, you said that is where you had chosen to live, you were right, it is the place where life happens." He ran his hands through his hair; his frustration evident, then a light hit his eyes; "I would really like to read this fantasy, curiosity leads me to wonder," he chuckled, "I just wonder if it would match up to any of mine." I shot him a skeptical look. “oh, honey; I have had so many fantasies since the first time you appeared.”

I had no words to say, I just sat watching him, waiting for the change.

He sat, looking at me, the storm began to rage, much like the maelstrom that had been inside me for so long; I pulled the piece up on my phone handing it to him. We were more than damp, I noticed I had been shivering; for how long, no one knows. I sat watching the storm split the sky; I started the car, flipping a bitch, starting back in the opposite direction; he was deeply ensconced in my words, he reached over with out looking up, turning on the heat, directing the vents at me.  

I shot him a look, just a glance; but what I saw. God, the power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that I had never believed in its power; no one now dares to say that two beings have fallen in love because they looked at each other. Yet, an unguarded look can tell you so much, love, despise, languor and fear; tenderly in his exquisite look, I saw the most gorgeous thing, understanding; an acceptance.  I was astonished, I was bewildered, dizzy, in a daze; I still did not understand, I began wondering what universe he was from... My stomach panged, rumbling as loud as the storm, I ignored it.

"Hey, can you pull in up there, you need something to eat." There was a neon sign in the distance, that advertised barbeque, I was surprise he could even see if as he didn’t look up from my words. I pulled in, reading the sign that promised barbecue and drinks, after all it was Texas, a bourbon sounded just right. I pulled in and parked; I was a numbed, near depressed but electrified, dumbfounded, impressed and slightly aroused; all the roiling emotions had my jaw clenched, I was disassociated, separated, on autopilot. My feet moving me through the rain, but I was a cloud of confused emotion; a stranger in a strange land; emotion was not my wheelhouse. Wandering idly toward the door; passing the columns, he gripped my shoulders almost punishingly. He spun me to face him, his face dark and serious, I began shivering, he pressed me to the wall. His face serious, but the passion burned; again, that growl, it hit the bottom of my stomach, warming, making my legs shake; he kissed me, suddenly, deeply, no warmup, no cuddling into my lips just immediately lips and tongue.  Tucking his knee between my legs pressing hard, soft mewling left my throat caught in his mouth.  He pinned my arms to my sides I tried to touch him, but he wouldn’t yield, he wanted to kiss me, his way; and yes, I liked it, he ran his tongue along the roof of my mouth, I moaned softly into his mouth, rocking gingerly against his knee; the visceral feeling. He started to deepen the kiss even more, his knee caressing, moving with intention. A quiet shudder rocked me.  He sucked in a deep controlling breath, resting his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes; I shook like a leaf as we parted. Shaking I clung to his shoulders.

"Now, kitten, did you feel my intention, to bring you pleasure?" I nodded, "was there pleasure?" I bit my lip, a small smile creeped, I nodded. "You know, the fact that you know the horrible purity of absolute, pure despair; doesn’t mean that is all there is in this universe." He kissed me again, faintly. He passed his fingertips over my skin, almost without touching an experience that neither of us had expected or experienced before, the miracle of feeling myself in another body, "Now, did you feel that?"

"Yes," I whispered, I was shadow pinned against a sweating wall; needing more, my soul pleading for more, but I was frozen; "Oh there was a moment there; oh me, oh my; as you began a whisper of that kiss; clearer than any whispered words; god there was something there that makes it all worthwhile; that was the edge, hmm, the edge is what I have; truth of this fiction, it's the edge of flavour that makes the difference.” I giggled, “there was a time when I would speak words that made sense." I giggled.

"Yes. But what truth is there in sense?" He laced my fingers with his and pulled me after him; we walked in me confused actually wanting to go back to being pinned to that wall, we walked in.  The waitress took us to a booth; I slid in first, I gasped in surprise as he slid in next to me on the same bench. He ordered me a bourbon and an order of fries; I sat there blinking, he then turns me to face him, he leans in close whispering deep and low; his breath warm on my neck, "When we are young we felt we are invincible; as we age we find ourselves, second guessing, always thinking twice." As he spoke, he planted little kisses on my neck; “I am done with that, I thought I was done paying my dues, same for you; now, I find that I have something I do not want to lose. The day you came into my life I changed again, fear still there, but also a cacophony of joy, both at odds, now every day now is just a grateful roll of the dice." His hands skimmed over my arms as they draped around his neck, freely delicious. "I look at that, it is working; you are starting to hear me; I like you, feel powerless in the lonesome times, thinking to myself 'dear god what have I done?' But with you here..." biting the edge of my ear, "you can run baby, you can try to hide, but whatever comes it will find you. For us, there is now; yesterday is history, an hour from now, no one knows for sure; but baby right now it's just you and me and that kiss, it said a lot." He turned me to face him.

Our drinks and fries came and I took a long drought, I laughed cuddling close, I felt young, I felt alive, and I really had never felt that way, “Are we mad?" he looked wounded, "but the good madness, the change the world madness."

"I want to just hold you tight; right now, we can make this moment last; don't think about anything other than helping you forget about the past, for just a moment if needs be." His kissed me slow, long deep caresses with his tongue; I tried to match him, I was awkward at first, but he led me in a natural rhythmic motion.

I missed feeling him, tasting him, gods, it was like breathing. I kissed him with everything I had. "You know, your fantasy, it was gorgeous." He kissed me again, his hands cupping my cheeks, tilting my face for a new angle. He broke from my mouth kissing down my neck. "I have sailed a 20-foot catch; I have had some very similar thoughts, but I loved that very forward confident you that you wrote."

I fumbled with my hands trying to make him feel some of what I was. "Have you really imagined us together as well?"  My fingers sliding through his hair. He nodded, “I kind of assumed you were so out of my league."

He laughed, the sound rippled along my nerves; "oh, kitten, you have no idea who you actually are. Yes, I have, so many things I have fanaticized about."

I pulled away to see his eyes, they held no lie; "Even now?... after?"

He looked shocked, "Especially now." He said with conviction.

"Tell me one," I was breathless.

He held my had looking into my face, "Happily, but I would rather show you. I long to grab your hand and run to the motor inn across the parking lot, get a room." I looked out the window over his shoulder gnawing on my kiss swollen bottom lip.

"Mmm, story first," I stood firm.

"OK then, well, I suppose I could tell you about the one where you are the aggressor; holding me down using me as you will." He shook his head, "no, the one where I am the aggressor, holding you down? Kissing you slowly, teasing your nerves, dipping my fingers into you, feeling you shiver; nah, you don't look keen on that, eating chocolate ice cream off of your skin;” I really shivered, “maybe another time; I suppose, I could tell you about how I dreamt of kissing you, teasing you, then bend you over this table licking all the way up the back of you thigh and... no, no, not that one. Kitten, come here." He pulled my leg up so he could slide closer, fitting just between. "You have to use your imagination; I dream of laying you down, kissing you so hard, it takes your breath away; I want to make out with you like a teenager out passed curfew." He caressed my trembling bottom lip with his thumb. "I would get lost in your kisses; intoxicating, enticing, articulate, telling me exactly what you want, how you want it; using only the tip of your tongue you draft a treatise." He toyed with my hair idly, my eyelids began to sag half-mast; passion building in my body, "Wowzah, that scorching look in your eyes, so intent, you are so Wildely beautiful; why, oh why do you squash that want, fighting it like a foe, a weakness; please, just... let it free."

His hand began caressing my neck, I could not have stopped myself from rolling my head, so my neck was wide open for his lips. His tongue. "I love kissing your neck, licking, taking little bites, right here." His fingers wisping passed the place where neck meets shoulder, my bones melted; he smiled mischievously, shot me a naughty look wiggling get his brows. He slid his fingers along my neckline, his touch whisper soft; his voice low, rumbling, deep, "deliberately I descend along your succulent curves;" my body raising to meet his fingers, straining for attention. "I watch you arch your back, just like that; I can't take my time learning; your heaving breasts wanton for attention, nipples like diamonds," oh and they are, his two fingers caress along the crevice between my breasts. My breathing hitched, coming in soft pants, his eyes gorgeous reverent. "I reveal the state in which I see your nerves are in; rampaging, greedy, alive for just a whisper of a touch; oh, but I want more" he sunk in closer, enjoying the slight shake of my shoulders. His hot mouth kisses just behind my ear, his tongue licking along my skin; his lips playing with the cords in my neck as I let out a sighing moan, just a solitary note; his fingers toying with the area of my soft sweater, just over my the area of my nipple. "Your belly covered with barely visible downy hairs, soft, soft, so soft;" he slipped his fingers of his other hand up under the hem of my sweater, just above my waistband; his first hand dropping to my thigh, dipping between rubbing with soft curious fingers; the nail of his wide thumb, scraping along the seam between; "they are standing up because of the goose bumps I just made."  His fingers velvet soft over my skin, I try clamped my thighs together he keeps that from happening.  "Pushing passed the band of your jeans, I reach for what I crave the most." His second hand skimming a rougher scratching fingernail along the seam; his other fingers just trace along the skin along the edge of the bottom of my bra, his lips kissed along my neckline.  "I would make you moan," I squirmed, "I would form a symphony of your empassioned calls, all the delicious sounds of satisfaction; I will be ruthless in my intent, pleasure my only goal; releasing you from the past, my hope. I know you will want to run, to escape, but at the same time you will be wanting more;" he pulled back, "more; look at you, breathtaking, deliciously titillated. Your cheeks flushed, you lips slightly parted; eyes glossy, erotic, steamy, fervid, seductive, coaxing, shameless; saying every want your lips refuse." Pulling at the hem of my sweater, "I want to slip my hand under your panties, sliding my fingers across your damp skin.  God, I have wanted that for so long" His fingers ghost over my skin, reaching the edge of my satin bra; his lips crashed into mine, his kiss demanding, delicious, scalding; his hand enveloping my breast; his thumb rubbing delicately, I react honestly. I grabbed his wrist of his hand that was resting on my thigh, pulling his fingers to my mouth, sucking. The clench in my belly responding to his hand slipping under my bra. I pull away, gasping; I stand, dropping a ten on the table.

"Shit, I am sorry," his breath laboured, his face recalcitrant, "I pushed too far, too fast; I am sorry; so, where are we off to?" He looked disappointed, sad.

"Well, I decided, you are right," viciously, I let that hang in the air; “you should just show me.  Our direction, over there," I pointed out the window to the inn.

He looked like a child at Christmas, he grabbed my arm tossing me over his shoulder, I giggle and squeal, he moved quickly to the door. We were out and across the parking lot swiftly, he was running; the rain drenching us; he dropped me to my feet under the awning. "I'll be right back."

I watched him fill out the forms, pay the woman, and he bounded back.  "We will make, new experiences, giving you back all the power. Let’s roll." Pulling me over his shoulder again; I squealed, I laughed; he slapped my rump, I moaned.

And outside it was October Country . . . that country where it is late in the year and everyone is tired and waiting for that one good thing to break; country where the amber hills covered in fog, rivers are mist and ice; where noon shortly proceeds sundown, twilights linger, and mid-night’s stay; geese and dusks on their parade to the south; dilled carrots and jams are lined into cellars, sweaters, coats, jackets, are cycled to the front of closets, boots and gloves to the entry way, coffee and tea served hot and steamy with fresh cookies and it seems for a season everything faces away from the sun. October people, think October thoughts and wish that the Christmas stuff would remain hidden for another season, and passing nights, cool, bundled in warm socks and a large sweater walking or listening to the light rain on the tin roof hoping the winter doesn’t kill hope

[pandamomentum]

Soft OC asks: Eilir 💐🌸🍂; Moroven 🌹🌲🌺; Henry💐💫🌾

Eilir

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Eilir is a pretty hardy little shit at this point, but when they did get sick they definitley see the pragmatic reasons to stay in bed and get well again. They’re very lucky fantasy concussions don’t seem to exist, because if they had to spend weeks healing and weren’t allowed to read or strain their eyes making tiny weird inventions they would have been insufferable. 

🌸 What are some of their favourite things and why? List as many as you can think of!

Bats! dogs! inventions! swords! learning!

🍂 Does your OC enjoy hugs? What do they do as a show of affection for: their friends, their family, their significant other(s) or for strangers? Overall what are they like with receivinging affection from others?

Eilir is pro hug, as you may have noticed when they tried to hug Cara and did hug Vorna that one time. But hugs are for people they’re close to and for special occasions. Of the party members, they’re definitely in the half that’s more comfortabreceivinging affection (it’s a family, not a cult!)

Moroven

🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

uh-oh. uh-oh. I’m getting emotional over the baby. The most stable place she’s lived is at [redacted magic school], but it never felt quite like home. She spent school breaks with Primus Aureus whatever, and is close to him, but he’s not really a father figure, more a trusted teacher and mentor. The only time she’s really felt at home in the last, oh, 11 years, is is in her mother’s arms in Gylae’s glade. 

🌲 How deeply does your OC feel? Are they typically empathetic or do they have a hard time connecting with others in this way? What are they like when offering support and comfort to someone they care for?

Moroven definitley feels very deeply about a lot of things and I hope went to fantasy therapy about all her childhood trauma. I think that Seeker!Moroven is quite single-minded about her mission and is going to have a somewhat hard time connecting emotionally to the others if she perceives them as taking it lightly. 

🌺 What does your OC do to calm down when they’re scared or after a nightmare? Do they have any special comfort items or need to be reassured by a specific person? How do they handle this if they’re alone?

Again with the fantasy therapy. Momo has a whole lot of things to be scared of and to cause her nightmares. I think she dreams of falling a lot, even now. So she’s used to nightmares and has a bunch of other healthy coping mechanisms, but in terms of comfort items, she keeps a seemingly broken sending stone on her person at all times, and holds it when she’s most upset. I think she also prays to calm down and center herself - after all, she knows Gylae is listening. 

Henry

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed?

Henry is a horrible patient oh my god. He’s like, “if I can sit up I can drive and if I can drive I can work.” I was going to say “sit up and see straight” but then I remembered that 1. the man is very gay and 2. he definitley couldn’t see right when he tried to drive the van out of town last time.

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

It’s never come up but on my character sheet it says he owns a bunch of art books (Picasso). Can one learn to draw like Picasso?? Does he like other Cubists and Futurists? Do he and Henry go on art museum dates??

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

“He brought me coffee” - Henry 

#ask cabal #friday night crew #the gang plays pandemonium #asks #oldearthaccretionist #long post #eilore

[mariocki]

List of ten of my favourite characters

I was tagged by @rebelqueenoftheliberator

The Doctor (Doctor Who, 1963 -)

A beacon of goodness and hope, who taught little me the value of kindness and tolerance - and they still do!

2. Frank Marker (Public Eye, 1965 - 1975)

Perennial downbeat, hangdog detective, the weight of the world on his shoulders; he's glum and kind and tired and clever and soft and frustrated and I just love him OK.

3. Lady Pamela Wilder (The Plane Makers, The Power Game, 1963 - 1969)

Although it takes a while for her character to develop through The Plane Makers (including a brief recasting whilst Barbara Murray was pregnant), by The Power Game precious Lady Panels was fully formed and brilliant. Although she presents herself as ditzy and irreverent, Panels is really as sharp as anyone else in the series - but she's also the most human, the wittiest and the most fond of hats.

4. Professor Jeffrey Fairbrother (Hi-de-Hi!, 1980 - 1984)

I expected to kind of like Hi-de-Hi, but I absolutely wasn't prepared to instantly fall in love with Simon Cadell's stuffy archaeologist turned camp entertainment manager. Cadell and the writers take an awkward, anxious academic archetype but make him so incredibly endearing and loveable, and unexpectedly one of the funniest characters in the show.

5. Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who, etc., 1973 - 2011)

Doctor Who is full of bamf companions I could have chosen (Barbara Wright! Liz Shaw! Romana!) but the late and much missed Lis Sladen was truly the greatest of the great. Unfailingly kind, courageous, funny, brash and brilliant: Sarah Jane is the companion every Doctor wants, and every other companion wants to be.

6. Deandra 'Sweet Dee' Reynolds (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, 2005 -)

A trash bag full of neuroses, unhealthy coping mechanisms and severe self image issues, the butt of many cruel jokes, but I just love her OK, I feel her, I get it.

7. George Bulman (The XYY Man, Strangers, Bulman, 1976 - 1987)

Cranky, difficult, eccentric... In his first appearances in The XYY Man, George is positioned as a secondary antagonist and a pretty unlikeable character. Over the next decade the character would have one of the most detailed and satisfying developments across a range of shows as he unlearnt a lot of what made him a bad cop and in the process becomes a better person - still cranky, still difficult, still eccentric, but somebody you root for with all your heart.

8. Cally (Blake's 7, 1978 - 1980)

You could pick almost any regular character from Blake's 7 as one of my favourites (well, almost... Looking at you Tarrant..). Avon? Villa? Blake! Zen!! Servalan and the Travii! But Cally, Cally is my moon and stars. Badass alien freedom fighter who joins the team by accident, she's often the cool voice of reason and the prickling in their conscience. ILY Cally, you deserved better.

9. Edwin G. Oldenshaw (The Man in Room 17, The Fellows, 1965 - 1967)

An egocentric (note the initials), unashamed snob and genuine genius, Oldenshaw uses his brilliant mind to solve impossible problems for the government - but never does the legwork, instead directing proceedings from the titular room whilst playing Go with his colleague, or reading the newspapers. At times incredibly frustrating, and always irritable, it's really down to Richard Vernon's impeccable performance (and Robin Chapman's razor sharp scripts) that Oldenshaw is simply too incredible not to like.

10. Jennifer Kingsley (The Brothers, 1972 - 1976)

The long suffering voice of reason in the high octane world of, uh, road haulage. From her very first moments onscreen Jennifer is simply Too Good and Too Pure to be entangled in the lives of the terrible Hammonds - but entangled she is. I just... Sniff... I ju... I just want to give her a hug.

Thanks for tagging me! I am not going to tag anyone, just because I know some mutuals don't really like being tagged but if you see this and want to do it Please Do, I would love to see some more!

#favourite characters #Meme #Ask meme #I know I'm gonna think of so many beloved characters the second i post this #And kick myself #For the record I considered both Izzard from Big Breadwinner Hog (The Duchess Of Malfi's Bosola transported to 60s London gangland) (i mean #What's not to love) and the amazing Alan Crowe from the otherwise fairly average The Hanged Man (the most polite and charming #Hired gun ever to fall out of public school) as well as various others but couldn't get decent images of them. #Also I went all TV for some reason? #Idk #Thanks for asking!