#artistic licence

[leconcombrerit]

Thank you for the ride

Especially to New and Non, whom I never stopped loving for even a second. Not to mention the way Mio and Barcode spat their guts on set and acted the hell out of their roles.

I send my sons off on a nice car ride, with cool breeze and warm sun and plenty of time to bicker over what music to play. I'd love to meet them again in a second season, but I'm also fine letting them be.

Farewell to Tee as well. I never cared much for White, but he's good in my book. All the others can go choke. I'd love that for them.

[calandrinon]

Foaie verde derutat

Am băut și am fumat

Dimineață vreau să mor

Mi-aș bag capul la cuptor

[darkhorse-javert]

Fluff-tober Day 2 'Family, Friends, Loved Ones'

Slightly stream of conciousness thing from Foyle's point of view reflecting on Sam and a bond with her. @flufftober

A Daughter He'd Never Had

He had to concede that, he'd had no idea, absolutely none how to deal with Sam Stewart when she strode smartly into his office, and given the over crisp salute of the newly in uniform. A new driver was one thing, but a girl, and one with no experience of the order of the police force, was yet another. A girl who proved to have with romantic-fantastic ideas of detection and uninhibited, uninhabitable, curiosity.

And sharp eyes, quick intelligence, better than many constables (that's why they've stayed constables, or in uniform at least).

And then her father came to Hastings, wanting to take her home. He could understand that, wanting her under your eyes, and safe and sound (he wants the same for Andrew, if he will admit it to himself.) But he minds. Minds as much as his men being taken by the war. Finds himself arguing for her to stay with them.

And because she asked, he let her try to winkle things of Graeme. He's stung when she comes back, rumbled and complaining of being pinched; although she won't say where out-loud, he can guess. It was Sam who called him off a response. It's on good logic but he regrets it all the same, resents the behaviour for being as much against one of his own, as against a woman, and a woman young enough to be Graeme's daughter (or mine). He's sickened, but not surprised, after that, when it all comes out - everything Graeme did to Lucy, and her father's vengence. And in a way, the death to come is more for the poor driver with the wrong name, not the Group Captain. For the law is law, even in wartime, especially in Wartime. He tries not to think of the 'What If?' pushes it into a box and locks the door, even as he lays it to Keller; for Andrew, scapegoated for doing the right thing; for Lucy, for all the girls and women the moralists fret about (and perhaps they're right.)

Somehow, in spite of all of that weight to the contrary, they, he, get to keep Sam in Hastings. His heart drops to his boots when she's bombed out (unhurt, Thank Goodness.) And again when it comes out she's not been promptly re-billited, but is lodging in the cells -the Cells! -at the station. Hang propriety for once, he takes her in, and admist her wave of chatter and observations, finds just how much he has missed having another person mostly in the house, for all these years. Sam is a breath of fresh air, even if overeager.

He tries that with Andrew- injured, alone-and maybe it is 'presumptous', but its the mask she'd puts over the hurt when she'd come back to him, trying to pretend it didn't matter. He thought he'd done better than that with the boy (certainly tried to), and he gives Andrew what-for. Later, months later, he finds out that dressing down may have worked a bit too well.. but he can't mind. Don't count your chickens- but would be nice...

In one timeline, Andrew muffs it, out there in Debden. Why can't his son just stick? He almost wishes Andrew would get leave, so he can have a word. But he doesn't, and Sam seems to move on. In that timeline, the American tells him "The way she talks about you sometimes, you could almost be her father." He tucks that inside, it warms him, but he will not interfere with Sam's choices, she has a mind and a life of her own.

It's horrible seeing her in the hospital bed; drained, so ill and still trying to make light of things with him, trying to be herself. And Elsie Jenkins dead with the same symptoms. He humours her, although it twists his chest.

The infection comes from a station near here

Enough! Enough!! I've been made bend to the war requirements here and there, but not against our own, not against MY own. Not Sam.

"Well, there's been an outbreak of anthrax in Hastings and he's responsible for it. If I'm not in his office within the next two minutes, I'll be back with the army, the police, the Home Guard and the press. D'you feel able to convey this to him at your earliest opportunity?" He says it, and he means it.

Later, afterwards, he'll feel a little bad for the poor sentry who got that earful; a man who was only doing his duty scrupulously, as trained to. But right now, I don't give a forsaken-damn.

The sentry has a heart, or at least an acknowledgment of authority. The CO's a smug blighter puffed with his pride, but the young scientists care more for life than the secrecy.

Sam makes it. Somehow, somehow. Weak, but she's alive. She's alive. He lets himself shake only when he's home alone, relief hammering at him, as it had when Andrew was only knocked about in the landing. Not this time, has the world taken something, not this time.

[joegramoe]

..And every woman I see looks like a place I came in

[agathameriwether]

It often seems that humans have this ingrained desire to destroy other humans by finding out the most damaging information they can on someone and using that against them to bring them down in any way possible. It seems to bring joy and satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment to them.

Why?...

Why is there such a desire of humans to do such things to other humans, we are all of the same species, we all live on this planet together and share the same air, land and sea. Why aren’t we forming cameradaries, pacts to share the good and the bad that we all encounter, we all go through so much of the same so why don't we pull together, help one another, form a union of compassion towards our fellow inhabitants? 

It makes no sense to me as to why the human race measures their success on their cruel abilities to bring down another human being, as if that is the sum of their worth.

Is this really what the wars were fought for? What rights were campaigned for? What so many groundbreaking pioneers battled to achieve a better world for.?

Just for it to be a battleground of who can hurt their fellow humans more.

Is that the achievements to aim for now in this world?

Does hate really achieve and advance us more than compassion

[xx-completely-in-ur-car-xx-blog]

I don't know if you cherry-picked the photos here, but they compelled me to draw this:

I think my mind operates on a higher plane of existence

Especially when it comes to the most obscure cross overs ever. Case in point:

Funny, Misogynistic

Nerdy, simp

Strong willed, love interest

Fucking, weirdo

Bitchy, Friend

Yeah. I cooked with this one, not taking criticism at this time.

I think Horace and Grandma Weir can be compared as… old people ( Horace be better tho) and Alan and the little sister whose name I can never remember are…. Annoying.

Anyways I ate with this one fr.

I gs Jesse can be fucking… Experion or something idk

(Me after taking two cases of classic sitcom Disney show stereotypes and yapping like I did something actually)

[lampaesque]

Sua said that she loved me.

I loved her.

[powerarmoured-painting]

Apologise right now. >:[

[ranticore]

harpies speak from their syrinx which is in their chests.

Cuinn got basic lessons as a kid like everyone else but was not able to continue learning and developing his skills once he was taken as a tiercel. He's trying to relearn it now using some weaving frames designed for humans which make things a little easier than the freehand/frameless style from his home eyrie.

Thunder Strike is pretty good but he's so focused on the end product that it's all he can think about when he gets to work. As a king he doesn't have a lot of free time to work on it though.

Terrestrial harpies don't have a weaving instinct but obviously they can still learn it as a skill, Wildfire just didn't care for it. He prefers to play with dyes and paints. The people of his eyrie produce dyed grass threads which the others can weave with.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

this is the beta kids. to me. (except june and dave would have Not figured it out yet).

[bitterflames]

Hello Langya friend - Your answer to question 4 was correct - Xiao Jingyan is the best! Full credit. For question 5 I noticed you are a Jingsu shipper, so, would Xiao Jingyan feel some angst about kissing MCS before the reveal?

omg, i love this question, thank you anon! i, uh, have A Lot Of Feelings about jingyan and his lin shu-related grief and how all of that colours his relationship with mcs and... for reasons i ended up writing out my response as an r/AmITheAsshole parody. as you do.

Posted by u/WaterBuffalo 3 minutes ago

AITA for still being hung up on my first love?

I (31M) lost my best friend/cousin/first love (it's complicated) to a tragic incident twelve years ago, and was convinced I would never feel the same way for anyone else. I'm basically married to my work anyway, so it's never really been an issue.

Until I met this guy (30?M) - I guess you could say he's a work friend? We see each other regularly; we practically live in each other's back pockets, and I don't think I'm being delusional when I say there's a spark there.

Except… I don't know why, but whenever I'm around him, my thoughts keep going astray. They don't look alike, they're opposites in every way - one was outdoorsy and full of energy, a little fireball even in the dead of winter; the other is a fragile scholarly type who's always cold. But all these little mannerisms he has, the way he clenches his hands in the hem of his sleeves, they remind me of my first love so much I think I'm going crazy.

And last night, one thing led to another, and I kissed him in the secret tunnel between our houses (don't ask). It was just a brief kiss, but I could tell he was into it - the way that he shivered and clung to me with those long, elegant hands, even called me by name (which he never does).

And then he left in a hurry. Since last night he hasn't returned a single one of my messages, and I'm alone with my thoughts, and worst of all I can't stop thinking - they even kiss the same way.

I know it's not fair on either of them. Not to the memory of my first love, or to my new friend. Maybe it's just wishful thinking; maybe I'm just seeing the ghost of a dead man in places where he doesn't belong, because I miss him so badly. I don't know.

AITA?

[crusheswhimsandfancies]

Blue Jeans Baby by Atlantic 5

[witchiestwitch]

My v self-indulgent lunchtime project- Keros my durge as a companion! Inspired by Maat! I have no illusions of being a good writer so look at the colours

[pa-pa-plasma]

AU where instead of Spectra, it's Dr. Phil with his stupid little studio he just summons Danny into to bully him on live (ghost) television