#this is such a rambly post i just love them

[zepskies]

hiii lovely happy wednesday 🫶🏽:) random question while i’m on my 10 :D this kind of goes hand in hand with your coffee shop headcanons if you squint, but in your opinion what coffee shop pastry would the boys (your favorite jackles characters) choose? 🤎

if that makes sense, like I think beau would really like our dulce de leche cheese danish :p or like ben might like a jalapeño cheese bagel lmao

again I loveee your insights <3 it makes work more entertaining for sure cause then i’m thinking of your responses at random times lol 💗 + I hope you’re having a wonderful week !!🫂

Happy Wednesday, friend! 😘 Oh yay! I love your random questions, and I love coffee shop pastries. 🥐 ☕

Dulce de leche Danish sounds amaziiiiing. 😩 And thank you!! I'm flattered that you love my insights - and that my little rambles infiltrate your brain! lolol 🥰💜 Hope you're having a great week too, hun! Mine is ok so far. I have a lot coming up tomorrow, so this is a fun distraction until then! 😂

HEADCANON: Coffee Shop Pastry Orders

Dean Winchester

*snorts* You mean the human garbage disposal?

We all know Dean's not picky about food. Though since he's drinking an espresso in his coffee order headcanon, I think he'd go for something indulgent to fill his stomach, like a cheese Danish, a couple of donuts, or if they have it, a brookie. 😂

He's very happy to show it to you and Sam when he brings it over to your table, strolling over on those bowed legs. Sam, of course, wears that half amused, half judgy look of his.

"It's a cookie mashed up with a brownie, Sam. Best of both worlds."

Beau Arlen

Beau the basic latte guy needs a basic (but delicious) coffee shop confection to go with it, so I'm going to say he's into coffee cake.

He likes them crumblies on top and a nice, warm cinnamon swirl in his cake. 👌🏽

Just be warned. He's probably going to have you order him another slice of cake while he's still working on the first one.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Like Dean, this guy's not all that picky about food post-captivity. Of course he likes good food, but he's also highly indulgent in most respects.

"I like what I fucking like," as he often tells you with a smirk. That goes for food, drugs, and frisky women (of almost all ages).

That being said, since we paired him with a cold brew, he'll probably want something classic, like himself: a glazed donut or a slice of marble pound cake with that thin strip of icing on top.

However, I think he could be persuaded (by you) to order something a little adventurous. He'd be game enough to try a jalapeño cheese bagel, with hash browns, and that donut and/or slice of pound cake on the side...

And he'll probably tell them to pack him up an extra bagel for the road. 😂 🥯

Russell Shaw

Russell's another one who's highly self-indulgent lol. He ain't picky about food, that's for sure. He'll eat junk food just as easily as a five-course meal from a Michelin star restaurant.

But since he got paired with a flat white, I think he'd get the biggest cinnamon roll he can find. He'd ask if they could warm it up for him, get that icing all warm and running down the sides, sticky and sweet.

And he looks at you mischievously while he licks his fingers afterward. ✌🏼

(He's only satisfied when he makes you blush.)

AN: Do you agree with these? Got other pastry orders for these guys? 💜

I love working on these HCs every time, no matter how simple or complex the prompt is. 😂

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Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[keeganns]

Yes, a lot of them do have similar personalities post-infection, you’re right! I realize I didn’t really clarify my end point about stereotypes, because I don’t think “they start fitting into stereotypes” and “their personalities are somewhat the same” are mutually exclusive things yk? Since Pokey does have the ability to dig into their real personalities, and frequently Paul and Emma have to wait until someone starts singing to see them as infected, it makes sense that some of who they were carries over.

The stereotypes they fulfill- Alice as rebellious teen girl, Ted as horny office guy, Sam as dumb horny cop with a power complex- do somewhat match who they were in the case of the latter two especially, although they do have elements that make them more complex than that as humans, like Sam’s love of musicals and Ted’s almost-redemption. We don’t really see into Alice’s perspective before she’s infected, though, since we mostly just hear about her secondhand from Bill, so she’s harder to figure out. She is definitely more complicated than “rebellious teen girl who hates her dad”, though, which is what “Not Your Seed” sets her up to be.

I love what you pointed out about Paul though, since he’s been pushed to fulfill a stereotype from the beginning as the musical protagonist (“What Do You Want, Paul?” is literally Davidson pushing him to sing an “I Want” song like musicals usually have) and instead he becomes the show’s villain, putting him in a similar role to Mac. Also him and Mac both hate musicals, so.

That’s a long ramble whoops lol, I just wanted to clarify my point a lil and your reply gave me an opportunity to do that. I have so many thoughts about this show and I’m so excited to see what they do for the remount :D

Obviously “America is Great Again” is a fantastic critique of capitalism and American propaganda, which would be enough to make it an incredible scene on its own. It’s a great song and a great demonstration of the show’s themes, and it’s really well done.

But there’s a tragic layer to that song that really elevates it for me, and that’s because it’s specifically MacNamara singing it.

MacNamara first is introduced to seem like a stereotypical patriotic army guy in the scene where he knocks Paul out. However, he then subverts that in the next scene where we learn his true morals, namely that he believes in love and humanity as his higher purpose and he will put that above the orders of his country if they conflict. He chooses to let Paul live because of that, and when Paul asks if he can save Emma, MacNamara gives him his gun and tells him to go. We learn, as does Paul, that despite his appearance and general vibes, he is a genuinely good person who wants to help and is willing to put his moral code above his patriotism.

But when he gets apotheosized, he becomes the complete opposite. Suddenly his loyalty is to his country only, and his own moral code is erased in service of that, which causes contradictions between the lyrics of AIGA and his thoughts in the scene with Paul. “You can’t run because our borders are closed” when he was helping Paul escape in a helicopter as a human; “Americans should fit a mold” when he didn’t at all fit the “douchey army patriot” mold he was presented with; “There’s only room for right and wrong” when he clearly is able to choose between his own morality and his orders, indicating a more complex outlook instead of a binary. He becomes the stereotype he was subverting, and in doing so he becomes someone that the real MacNamara would have hated. That’s the tragedy of that song, and of the whole show really, is that the people who become part of the hive mind lose their true selves and are only able to act in their stereotypical roles, even if that’s nothing like how they actually were as humans.

There’s also something to be said here about how the us war machine and capitalism corrupts people and makes them into something they would never have been otherwise through a forced loss of personhood but I can’t figure out how to phrase that so

[stevenose]

I’m thinking about knight!steve ever since you mentioned him, sigh. I’m thinking about him at his post and he hears something in the kitchen and it’s you in your linen sleeping gown under candlelight eating the leftover dessert from dinner because you can’t sleep and he’s like fuck, I really didn’t need this today but he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame and will take any attention you give him and it’s addicting and he knows he shouldn’t entertain it and he should leave you be but he can’t. I’m thinking about him falling short of breath as he watched you come down the stairs at the ball and you look so beautiful and him getting so jealous that all these twats get to dance with you and be so close to you in a way he’s only dreamt of (and he’s dreamt of it many times). I’m thinking about his friends absolutely hounding him about it and how dangerous it is and how he needs to stop drooling everytime he sees you but he can’t help it. Your dad loves him and always says Steve is like a son and he wishes he was of higher rank so he could wed his daughter and this absolutely kills Steve because he knows this all too well.

taking a long drag of a cigarette rn…. idk what this ask did to me but i’m truly just rambling for a long time under the cut. simply basking in this ask i love this so much

reader with a vagina; reader referred to as ‘princess’; reader wears dresses; yearning so much yearning; dry humping; piv, mentions of masturbation; and ofc knight!steve!!!

knight!steve wants you any way he can, and he feels strangely honored when he’s around you during seemingly ordinary but quiet moments.

he’s always watched you from afar. he’s constantly battling with himself over the authenticity of his knighthood - did he choose his station for the love of his country, or for you?

it’s during a nightly round through the castle that steve finds you in the dark, wandering around without a light. you’re like a ghost, gracefully haunting the centuries-old halls.

after a long moment of staring at you, in awe of being in your presence when he wasn’t scheduled to be, his pretty face turns concerned. he softly calls your name and asks if you’re alright, if you need a light to guide you. and you let him. he leads you back to your chambers but still feels like he’s following you instead, desperate for your attention like a puppy.

now that you’re properly acquainted, he can’t go a day without seeing you. you’re walking through the grounds much more often, spending time looking at the tapestries in the hallways. when he catches your eye, you smile and wave before wandering off.

steve finds you in the corridors again just a few days later, your face illuminated by moonlight. it takes his breath away, his knees quivering.

“you must be sir steven,” you say softly.

he does a small bow. “at your service, your highness.”

you shake your head and wave him off. “my father’s talked about you,” you continue. “he’s quite fond of you.”

steve smiles softly. “does he play favorites?”

you smile back. “if he does, it would be you.”

it sort of keeps up like this. steve’s fighting with the others over night patrols. he finds you in that same moonlit spot every few nights. your conversations aren’t very long, but they’re enough. you take his arm and he escorts you back to your room, leaving you with a dumb joke and a sweet “goodnight, princess.”

after a while, you start to interact with him more, often at inappropriate times. he has to act normal and refined as you come by to rough up his hair or whisper in his ear, trying to do anything to make him break focus and laugh.

“what the hell was that all about?” his friend asks later, gawking.

steve shakes his head and does not elaborate.

it’s always been hard to watch you at balls, but now it’s excruciating. he stands idly by and watches you dance with the many suitors you’ve been brought. forced to watch you laugh and smile with them - it looks like how you laugh and smile with him. he spends the entire night watching your hands as they lace through someone else’s, gritting his jaw when one of them pulls you in tight. he knows you hate it, the forced proximity, the way you’re treated like something to be conquered and traded away, but you still play the game.

it drives him goddamn mad, and yes, his friends make it worse.

“you’ll be killed one of these days, y’know,” one says, tone oddly serious. “if you keep this up, i mean.”

“her father likes me,” steve grits. the very last thing he needs tonight is a lecture. he would take an invasion of the castle over this. hell, he’d rather fight a dragon without a sword over seeing you dripping in rubies and emeralds and laughing with some ugly creep from a few kingdoms over.

“but does the counsel?”

which immediately shuts steve up. he knows your father isn’t the one who forces you to meet with so many suitors. there are traditions that simply must be up-kept, and there are many people willing to do anything to stay conservative. including killing one of the king’s favorite knights.

you still torment him in and around the castle, day or night. he always smells you before he sees you - honeysuckle and violet. he wants to taste it, lick the perfumed oil off of your skin and savor you. your nighttime strolls are intimate, but not intimate enough. he wants to be certain he’s the only person you feel like this with - the only one who you’d like guide you back home, night after night.

this night is like any other. he finds you in the moonlight spilling through stained glass, giggles with you for a few minutes, then walks you back to your chambers sloooowly. hushed whispers and butting into each other, walking much like your father and mother do.

he returns you to your wing, as usual, and prepares to bid you a goodnight until next time.

“nights are rather lonely for me,” you say before he can speak. you pause for a long moment. “it would be very kind of you to keep me company until i fall asleep.”

he tries desperately to remember what his friend reminded him of - his own mortality - as he steps into your space. your linen nightgown is thin and he can see right through it with the help of the soft candlelight glowing in your reception parlor.

steve’s not quite sure if he’s imagining it, but he swears the air has shifted.

you’re rather casual as you lead him to a chair by the fireplace in your bedchambers. steve cannot believe he’s here. it doesn’t look much different from his imagination. fisting his cock to the idea of your soft body under his, rutting in and out of you slowly.

“would you like some tea?” you ask softly, breaking him from his perverted thoughts.

he shakes his head. “no, thank you, your highness.”

you swat at him. “stop that at once.”

“is that not who you are?”

“did you know that knights are not supposed to talk back to royals?”

steve grins. “take me to the gallows, then.”

it’s really not funny. he’s practically putting the noose around his own neck by being in here, anyway. you’ve told him before that you dismiss staff at night and he prays that you weren’t lying. if he was caught…

you move closer, sitting in the chair positioned next to his. it’s turned slightly towards him, and you stare him down, fire casting a red glow over your face.

hellfire, perhaps, is what it is.

“i enjoy your company,” you whisper. “very much so.”

steve nods, a bit gobsmacked and rendered speechless by your beauty.

“do you enjoy mine?”

steve nods quickly, then remembers he can speak. “of course.”

your eyes scan his face and you do a once-over of him. eyes drifting downwards, from his hair to his legs. then you look back up at him, eyes intense.

“when i’m here and lonely, my mind wanders. i think of all sorts of things. but what i always go back to is you.”

steve forgets he can speak again.

“i think of how you look in your armor. i think of the jealousy etched on your face when i’m dancing with someone. i think of your eyes, your smile, your scent.”

steve blinks.

“and i start to wonder what your hands might feel like on my body,” you continue, sounding a bit breathless. “what your lips might feel like. what sweet sounds and pretty faces you make. how sinful we would be together.”

that intimacy he wanted so bad has hit him like a badly-aimed cannonball.

you stand. he sees your body trembling and he reaches for you, thick brows laced with worry.

but you instead let your dress fall to the floor, standing before him naked.

steve breathes heavily. he knows he shouldn’t - can’t - look. but he still does, soaking you in, eyes wide, pink lips parted. his cock kicks hard in his pants, stomach somersaulting.

you take a step closer, standing directly above him. you lean down, lips pressing against his ear.

“do you think of me, too?”

he shivers, his hands desperately clenching the edge of the chair he sits in.

“yes,” he breathes. doesn’t even need a moment to think about it.

you pull back, looking at him softly. “then have me.”

steve doesn’t know what to say or do or even where to look. his mouth opens and closes, eyes wide, cock stiffening.

you part your thighs and lower yourself onto his lap, planting yourself right onto his dick. he gasps, eyes growing darker, blood pumping hard and fast.

“touch me,” you plead quietly, taking his hands and moving them to your waist.

“your highness,” he says, deathly serious, “i cannot.”

he makes no effort to push you away.

you glare at him for the pleasantries and, impatient, you do the work. rubbing yourself back and forth on his crotch while his strong hands finally grip your hips to keep you steady.

he knows how pathetic he looks - is - and he knows this night will ruin him. there will never be any going back from this. there will never be any moving on from you, never any night for the rest of his life where he doesn’t imagine the noises you make and the soft plush of your body.

he’s holding you in his hands tightly, as if you’d slip right through them. and that’s the thing - you will. there aren’t any other options.

steve doesn’t stop you when you kiss him, despite his conscience begging him to. every next touch and kiss and breathless moan sends him further and further into the pits of hell, which is rather ironic. he’s never been so happy in his life and yet he’s horrified of what you’re both doing. he’d much rather yearn than have you stripped away from him after he finally has you.

but all of his brain has transferred itself down to his dick. he isn’t thinking. he can’t think.

and when he finally sinks his cock into you? it’s like a dream. he can’t shut the hell up.

“beautiful — you’re so beautiful — i need you.”

“i’m yours,” you sigh softly, eyes hooded, trying to get used to the stretch.

it’s not like steve’s never had sex. he’s certainly went to bed with plenty of suitors. but he’s never made love quite like this before.

you both work in sync, each push and pull calculated with no effort. beads of sweat drip down steve’s temple as he looks up at you, entranced.

“i think of you,” you moan, riding his cock slowly, face so hot he can feel the heat radiating off of you. “all of those boys - when they come to c-court me - i think of you.”

steve groans and buries himself into the crook of your neck and shoulder. you run your soft, perfect hands through his dirty, messy hair, cooing at him.

it only makes him fuck up into you harder, moving tenderly but with much more intention. he sneaks a calloused hand down between your bodies and gently rubs circles into your clit. he has meticulously planned this moment out, though he’s never thought it would come to fruition.

“pretty boy,” you gasp, back arching, mouth dropping open. you’re fucking sinful. “please, don’t stop, i need it, i need you.”

he sinks his teeth into your sweating skin and focuses hard on your pleasure, not his own, lest he cums inside of you and gets himself hanged.

every word that comes out of your pretty mouth is blasphemy. steve kisses you to stop the noise but it just makes his hips rut faster, deeper, and he really doesn’t want this to end so soon but he can’t take much longer.

“please,” he pants, hands swiping all over your curves. “please, princess, have mercy.”

your hands tangle up in his hair so hard it hurts and your body stutters as you cum tightly around his cock. his hand slaps over your lips to stifle the noise and he must move his mind elsewhere.

stab wounds. scratchy linen. heavy armor. those bastards that try to have you for themselves.

he’s in tears by the time you’re done, trying desperately not to cum. you try to convince him, though.

“don’t pull out,” you slur, sleepy and content. “make me yours, make me stay with you.”

“don’t,” he grits.

you shift. that tone excites you.

he’s gentle as he peels you off of him, but his hands still grip you strongly. his cock weeps, swollen and needy and it’s so embarrassing.

you simply look at him with wide, hungry eyes. it makes him feel light headed.

he has to take care of it once he’s back in his own dark, dingy quarters, skin still smelling like yours, trying to push away the realization that he’s fucked on several different levels.

[immortaledd]

Me when I mix Golden Cheese Cookie & Lord Eclipse (TSAMS)

I DIDN’T TOALLY MIX UP THE NAMES AND EDIT THIS POST NOOOOO

If he survived to see the death of his universe.

The fight is over. My enemies are no more.

But so is my kingdom.

My temples, my gold, my treasures, and my subjects. All of them.

I lost everything.

All that was gleaming, all that was mine.

My water carriers, my servants, my status and power.

all those little kids who played on my streets.

Moon. Whose failed assassinations always made me laugh.

Lunar. We had our differences. But none cared for the upcoming of my kingdom as much as you.

My Servant Sun, who died protecting my land.

They all were my possessions. My finest, most sentimental possessions.

Ramble to give some context!

You don’t gotta read this if you see ✨THE VISION!✨

Context of the image

I had a dream. A dream SO CRAZY, it brought Lord Eclipse from the DEAD. It genuinely sounds like a mix of an Alter Forming story and a Religious story. [I DO NOT HAVE D.I.D.]

One night I was getting ready to go to bed - and out of nowhere I just started heavily fixating on Lord Eclipse. I didn’t know why, but I was just extremely fascinated with his lore, details, and the possibilities of new context. That night, I went to sleep. I dreamt I was an Eclipse variation. My own Redeemed Eclipse AU [TWE], actually. I had gone dimensional hopping for the first time after being my tech allowed back.

I was at the bottom of a chasm that resembled a desert. Like I was at the bottom of the grand canyon. I walked forward, turning an awkward wall that revealed Lord Eclipse splattered on a giant rock. His back was completely destroyed and he seemed very much dead. I had froze in place for a hot second processing what I was seeing, staring at his open eyes.

Until he looked at me.

I was TERRIFIED at first, but brushed it up when I realized “THEY’RE ALIVE.” I pulled Lord off the rock and brought him back to the portal I came from. Then, I woke up.

->

After that, it felt like he was LOOMING over my shoulder at all times like any fictional character does when you’re delusional and tired enough. That day I drew my official Eclipse design (as you see in the first image) with the morse code “I’m Alive”. After that, he was gone. Like the message was delivered and I’ve been left like a weird ass spiritual medium.

WEIRD? yes. NOT REAL? absolutely. STILL POSITIVELY CRAZY AND LOWKEY REALLY FUN TO MAKE INTO LORE?? YEAAAAHHH?????

Yeah so since then I’ve been imagining him as alive and recovering off somewhere in a distant universe. This image is the idea of “What if he came back to see the aftermath?”

He’s devastated.

LOOSE QUOTE MONOLOGUE BREAKDOWN

This is where I’ll go over why I edited certain parts of the monologue

“The fight is over. My enemies are no more.”

Sun, Moon, Lunar, anyone who has ever had the chance of reviving or becoming to attack him no longer has that chance.

“My water carriers, my servants, my status and power.”

Originally ending with “my builders and architect”, this quote was altered due to the fact Eclipse built everything himself. He transformed the world to what he wanted. He also cared about his status and power WAY more with his philosophy, “it’s better to be feared than loved”.

“Moon, whose failed assassinations made me laugh.”

Moon wasn’t revived much, but whenever he did, it was only to amuse Eclipse and give him a sense of action. Eclipse does enjoy the revolutions that spawn over the centuries, but when it gets quiet for too long, his conscious starts to set in and he tries to distract himself with violence. Thus, he revives Moon, lets him roam, and waits for Moon to attempt to kill him. The sense of thrill rekindles Eclipse’s passion to live and the society’s passion to throw Eclipse off his throne. It never works, but it’s the only thing that makes Eclipse happy anymore.

Which, by the way, Eclipse’s world isn’t completely desolate like Lord Lunar’s world is. Eclipse has thousands of cities and generations of people who still roam. He’s much like a Greek God but is physically interactable. Everyone is under his direct watch. He is often fought back against for tyranny and violence. But the other half of the world praises him like the God he is. He can’t live without both aspects.

“Lunar, we had our differences. But nobody cared for the upcoming of my kingdom as much as you.”

Lunar was the reason he achieved getting the Star, despite betraying him. Lunar was one of the first he killed when it came to family, but he never shook off the sudden regret that came with it. He hates remembering the excitement in Lunar’s eyes when Eclipse finally made his world…and then the terror when Lunar realized he would not be a part of it.

“My servant Sun, who died protecting my land.”

Sun was killed by Dark Sun canonically to “put him out of his misery”.

“They were all my possessions. My finest, most sentimental possessions.”

Originally “treasures, my finest, most precious treasures”. He doesn’t treasure them, they’re still something he “owns” (in a sense). He doesn’t believe they’re precious, but they were something he didn’t realize how important they all were until he realized he couldn’t just bring them back to play with again. Suddenly, objects became people.

[legendofmorons]

WAIT I JUST HAD A BIG BRAIN REVELATION MOMENT

So yknow the post where you talked about like. Guide!reader playing the loz games as a child and like the Chain's thoughts about it. This upcoming ramble is related to that

Imagine a reader who, as a kid, thinks they somehow had a dream of this weird loz adventure they went on with multiple links despite having never played any of their games and THEN picking up the games as an adult!

But surprise surprise it WASNT A DREAM. They somehow stumble upon the Chain in hyrule because theyre a kid OF COURSE theyre going through a cool portal!!! yknow as a kid I think I would've gone through a portal if I saw one lmao

But anyways. The Chain Freak Out. Because is that- is that our guide??? Why are you a CHILD????? Do you know us yet???? No????? Okay 🥲...

So like. Yeah, time paradox or smth because reader meets them as a child. Each Link already knows them as their guide who helped them during their adventures who clearly sounded like an adult.

I dont entirely know how the Chain would actually recognise reader as their guide but younger actually... throwing a wrench in my genius machinations dammit

That's actually such a cool idea! I love that!

I'd have absolutely gone through a portal as a kid, and I would have immediately imprinted on them as soon as they gave me snacks. Oh? Twilight sounds like my grandma? Wild has apples? Sky can play music? Yep those are my friends now.

The poor chain, not only did some kid wander out if a portal, this kid is their guide. Oh and their guide hasn't met them yet!

As for how they figure it out? Maybe like... Hyrule's magic tell him? And he talks ti the others?

Or it's like in the guide au I was talking about where certain traits carry from childhood? Maybe you have a phrase or an expression you've always had that they recognize?

Maybe Fi knows and tells them?

[dandelioncasey]

(I need everyone to know that this entire ramble was inspired by the last few paragraphs because I am a petty bitch who loves a callback - it's never gonna happen but honestly this concept is living in my brain rent free and I might just write another six versions of this lmao)

Okay so picture this:

Eddie comes back to LA and so Buck moves out to give Christopher his home back (Eddie doesn't notice that Buck never says where he's going, he just gives him a week to clear out so that Christopher will have somewhere to sleep, but it's fine, he's just got a lot on his mind, right? He definitely cares, right?)

And so Buck, with his bad credit and nobody willing to rent to him, ends up sleeping in the Jeep (not acknowledging the truck, he still has the Jeep to me), or in a shitty pay-per-night motel type situation (but he tries to avoid that and he definitely never leaves his stuff there, not that he has much anymore - he left most of what he bought for the house for Chris and Eddie, and it's fine, really, where would he put it anyway?)

He starts withdrawing from the team, both because he's embarrassed about his situation and because some tiny part of him is angry that none of them ever asked - they know Eddie's back in the house on South Bedford Street, so they must've figured it out all on their own, look at Buck being an adult, he'll be fine, right??? We're all just glad you're back!

Time passes and that anger is getting louder and harder to ignore. Buck mostly just hangs out with Ravi on shift and then goes 'home' (to his Jeep) alone. He showers at the station or in crappy motels, he cooks too-big meals with Bobby's recipes (which nobody will eat) so he can maybe sneak some of the leftovers (he has money but nowhere to cook, but Bobby's lasagne is just as good cold, right?), he signs up for every extra shift he can, not for the money but because he doesn't want to be alone

Nobody has noticed his housing issues except for Eddie complaining once that he keeps accidentally getting some of Buck's post (it's not an accident, you took his home and left him with nowhere to go and no postal address, you didn't even say thank you to the man who wrecked his credit for you before you handed down a verbal notice period)

One night, as Buck is sleeping in the back of the Jeep, he gets carjacked, someone drives off in his car with him still groggy in the back, he wakes up fully to the sound of police sirens and he manages to sit up, but this startles the driver and the Jeep ends up balanced on the edge of a cliff

Now in precarious situations like this, air rescue is the only safe option, and who should show up but Tommy and the 217? (because as we all know, there's all of three cops, two firehouses, and one helicopter pilot in all of Los Angeles), and the medics get the driver out and then they notice Buck in the back (nobody knew he was there, he couldn't get to his phone)

They try to set up a way to get him out without tipping the car forward and over the edge, but Buck just tells them to go, it's fine, nobody will notice anyway. And then the radio that one of the rescuers is carrying crackles, and he hears Tommy's voice telling him that 'i'd notice, Evan, I always notice you'

They get Buck out, and the Jeep falls, and Buck is just empty (that's all he had left, everything was in his Jeep and now that's gone too), and Tommy is the first person in months to ask Buck if he's okay rather than just assuming he is because clearly trying to help others means you're over losing the only good father you've ever known, right?

More time passes, nobody except Ravi has noticed that Buck's Jeep is a different colour (and model), or that he filed a change of address, or that he's smiling more and cooking less, they're all supporting each other and everyone thinks Buck is talking to somebody else so it never comes up

Eventually we come to a mirror of Buck finding out about the party and the job offer from El Paso from Ravi, instead of from anyone who should have told him - Ravi asks Hen and Chim when they're arriving at the party that's happening during their four days off

Party? What party, did we forget someone's birthday again? Well, it's a housewarming party for Buck, because he's been crashing with Tommy and Tommy finally agreed to let him pay into the mortgage, so it's officially their house now

Obviously everyone is shocked by this - did you know they were dating again? Why didn't he ask for help moving? Buck shows up and Hen, Chim, and Eddie start throwing these questions at him, and he just blinks at them and says that he didn't want to make it all about him, because they're all busy and grieving and suchlike

What do you mean, make it all about you, of course you moving is all about you! Awkward glance at Eddie, and Buck explains that he didn't really have much that needed moving anyway, certainly nothing that he needed help with

Ravi mentions that Buck moved out of Eddie's house (it wasn't Eddie's it was his but none of you noticed why didn't any of you NOTICE??) months ago and just moved in with Tommy last month after 'the whole Jeep thing' (what happened to the Jeep, it's right there? No, that's a different Jeep, it's not even the same colour!),

And someone (probably Hen lbr) finally notices that hey, that math ain't mathing, and it all comes out that not only did Eddie kick out his so-called best friend without so much as a thank you but also nowhere would rent to Buck with his credit in such a state so he was homeless for months and nearly died and NONE OF YOU NOTICED

I just love the parallel of Buck finding out about Eddie's job offer through hearing about the barbecue to celebrate it and the rest of the 118 finding out about what Eddie did and what Buck has been through by hearing about a housewarming party, and both times it's because the rest of the team are supporting and talking to each other and not Buck (who has been told over and over that his help isn't wanted)

[lynnsartsworld]

Hello, my fellow witches and wizards! How are we doing today? This might be a long and probably isn’t gonna make any sense because I never did this before so sorry, rambly post—just bear with me! And I’ll go in specifics of how I started my page and April if anybody’s interested I’ll put it in a separate post later on anyway let’s get back to

First off, thank you so much for mentioning me!@espressoristretto-patronum I really appreciate it. I’m definitely one of those people who ships Poppy with the female MC—specifically, my MC April (as anyone who follows me on Tumblr probably knows!). I used to draw them all the time, and while I’ve taken a bit of a break, I really want to get back into it. It’s just taking me a little while because I’ve been dealing with some personal stuff lately. Nothing too serious, just some internal struggles, you know?

Anyway, I wanted to hop on and thank the person who tagged me and also shout out a few others who ship Poppy with their MCs. I’ve seen so many amazing pairings like Imelda x Poppy, Ominis x Poppy, Sebastian x Poppy, and more. And the fanfics—oh my god, the creativity is incredible. I honestly wish I had the courage to post my own fanfiction on here, but after someone called me out for using AI, I’ve been a bit too nervous. You guys are seriously smart at figuring things out!

I just want to keep spreading love for this ship because I truly adore it. Evelyn x Poppy (@celestial--sapphic), Tori x Poppy (@espressoristretto-patronum)—those two are so sweet—and even Sylvan x Poppy (@rene-hl-trashcan), from someone who hasn’t posted in a while but created such amazing content.

Honestly, I just want to give credit to everyone who’s keeping this ship alive with so much love and creativity. You’re all incredible, and it means the world to see this much heart poured into something we all care about. 💛✨

It's almost time!

Hogwarts Legacy Pride Week is barely a month away, can you believe it? I wanted to do something fun in the meantime so let's do a tag game shall we?

Tell us your favorite LGBT Hogwarts Legacy character or couple, tag their creator (if applicable) and tag 5 friends that may want to participate. Feel free to tell us why they're your favorite (and even mention more than one)!

This is pretty tough because I've met so many wonderful LGBT characters but I might have to say my roleplay ship Garreth & Ombeod Black. I already headcannon that Garreth is either bisexual or pansexual. @ombeodblack and I have created such an in depth story with them that I'm biased. But I also adore Sebinis and Garrinis (could you tell?).

No pressure tags: @celestial--sapphic @espressoristretto-patronum @gideonstrix @cuffmeinblack @leaswhum @eternalremorse @raenegade-accio @rypnami

Follow @hogwartslegacyprideweek for more info and for questions!

[carbonfiction]

angsty frank hcs? :( i think we all have our ghosts, reader might have depressive episodes, anxiety, etc. frank obviously has ptsd and canonically pushes people away. i think them getting together will be a slow burn then they both have to get used to eo's habits. i'd love for you to explore how reader would handle frank being away, constantly being worried about his safety, him self isolating, being rough and angry, etc. i do think he's so gentle and patient in a relationship but sometimes it can get meddled with the version we create of him here. canon frank is a pain to deal with it but we love him anyway hehe.

Ohhh now this is excellent, i love these kinds of questions! Fair warning i have rambled my way through this with a slightly different approach than you asked so it could be a little less headcannony?? - that being said if you'd like dialogue moments/any more thoughts to follow up on this im completely open, just lmk and i can drop another post on this!

But god, You are so right though, frank is canonically a pain in the ass- hes rough, ragged, mentally and in alot of ways physically shattered. He's lived through trauma that no person should have to and become who he is because of that.

I do certainly think, as you said, any kind of relationship built with him is slow burnt, no matter if you also live with ghosts. Infact on his side, the start of it is almost built on a foundation of reluctance? Not exactly in the way that he doesn't want it, more that he holds such a deep rooted anxiety to anyone who gets close getting hurt.

In his mind, If you get close then what? How long does the ticking clock above your head have left?

On Franks side, He knows what he brings to the table, who is he, what he does. Every single moment of his life now is spent trying to ensure what happened to Maria, his wife, the love of his life in many ways, never ever happens again. Much like his relationship with children; frank will go to the ends of the goddamn earth to protect a child caught in crosshairs.

He'll do whatever, anytime to anyone so long as they make it out. its Frank doing what he feels everyday he didnt do for his own kids, while no fault of his own. But that sight of his son and baby girl will never ever leave him, nor will the agony of it. The blood, the damage, the damn fear on what was left of them. No. Thats never happening again, no matter whos damn kid it is.

I feel Frank also drifts off into his own mind alot, blank stares toward the wall or his boots. Lost in a time thats gone but not in the slightest forgotten. Yet Frank will hell or high water feel it an insult to call it PTSD but in near every way it is.

it would take time to understand it- understand him- as a friend or even partner. For you to process what he's been through, Learn what moments he just.. Needs to be left in it and what others he needs helping through. How to approach him in a way that doesnt make him feel a mockery to those really struggling. And its those times you have to squeeze his rough hands tight and really let him have it that he is struggling. Has been from that day at the carousel and likely will always be. And yet that does not make him any less worthy of good, or of care and attention and hell, love itself.

And yeah, those talks make Frank real grumpy. Hes sharp and he's got little filter. Words will fall from his chapped lips as easy as bullets when hes in a mood and they always have the ability to hurt. To push you away and to make you really sit and question why you love him. Fuck, sometimes if makes you question of he even does love you or want you around. It's absolutely the things that set off your own insecurities, anxieties and demons.

But thats unfortunately Frank. And while it certainly is not fair how he portrays himself sometimes it's just.. Theres alot blocking that proof of care from the surface you know? Hes always thinking of what you deserve, not perhaps what you want.

But the one way frank can and does show his care is in his actions, even if his words fall sharp and hurtful. Its the way he'll bring you a tea to apologize wordlessly as you sit curled in on yourself on the couch or bring home a pastry from that bakery you always drop into down the street. It's in your favorite meals he does his damnedest to cook and helping you fold laundry. Its in the baths he runs you after sex and in the hushed drifts of his fingertips on your skin as you drift off. He still loves, while differently now of course, intensly.

And perhaps you worry, ofcourse you do. Thats what happens when you care for someone, much more so when they do what frank does. So his whereabouts and safety is 100% an argument point, you subsequently sitting up to wait by your phone or the window is another.

Its impossible to count the amount of times hes told you not to do it, to stay away from windows and keep shit locked. To not call or text. You try, you do, to compromise, to make an effort, follow all the rules he sets. Naturally it isn't that easy, not when hes radio silent for times on end or coming home battered purple an blue all over; new bullet hole shaped scars littering his skin. He tells you, drills it even, because frank finds comfort in the controll of it all.

In a way, control keeps him afloat. Lets him monitor all that can be monitored.

But, with all of that said, Frank does become more mindful of what makes you anxious or stressed. Infact the longer your relationship with him blooms the more he.. Opens up to it? So to speak?

One way this manifestats is that Frank will never let you go to bed angry. You might fight, might say things neither of you mean in the moment, but not once will he let you walk away (and, after some effort on his part, nor will he). If you need to break down then do it beside him, if you need to slap at his chest and cuss him out? Do it, he's fine.

In the time you've spent learning all of Franks habbits and quirks, hes been learning yours albeit a little more silently. One of those lessons he's learnt is that walking away causes more harm and thats always the last thing he wants. Especially when he has to leave again.

You also begin to find post it notes scattered around, little reminders or messages. Things that fill the silence while in a communication gaps.

But I could seriously yap on this all day.. So again, if you'd like any more.. I guess more thought out?? for lack of better wording? moments, then im absolutely down for it.. I think theres a whole lot of potential there!

[peanutalergy]

Mr. Winston - SR x reader

The BAU doesn't really need your help with the case. Spencer does. tags: post prison! spencer, fem! child psychologist! reader. cm type violence (blood, murder, etc), traumatized child. pre-relationship yearning MAYBE ? maybe fluff also sorry i still don't know how to classify these things. the synopsis doesn't really make any sense because this is kinda spencer's pov but idk guys sorry im really tired. w/c: 1.5k (this was originally 5.4k words but then i reread it and found that i actually hated every single one of them so...) a/n: okay so wow... i had so much fun writing this (let's ignore most of my posts from the past two weeks) THE THING IS i sorta already had a pt2 to this but then i thought well we can't have that without the beginning so i did kinda write this in a rush im really sorry that it's so short and shitty. . . ALSO i really love this reader & i'd love to write more of her but if you don't like it then i don't like it either and i'll never write again if you tell me not to. i do not think this is good by any means. i do hate it but if i stared at the google docs page for any longer i'd go insane.

Spencer doesn’t treat her like she’s made of porcelain because she’d be easily broken (though, she would, but neither of you say that since you can tell how hard she tried to look strong before coming to the precinct). He treats her like she’s fragile because he can’t remember the last time he didn’t break something like this — wide-eyed and shaking, holding onto something soft like it’s the only real thing around.

He was the one who convinced the team to ask for your help when the kid got involved — he always is. They insisted it wasn’t needed, you can deal with her yourself, you’ve always been good with children, or whatever, but your office got a call from him anyway.

No one knows why he sticks around. Maybe it’s the way you hold her; the gentle hand that runs through her hair, much warmer than the tiny fingers with chewed off nails and blood stains. Maybe he’s trying to memorize the tone of your voice — soft and sweeter than the apple juice she didn’t open, rambling about the silliest things you can think of — to imitate it next time he finds himself having to question kids. Maybe it’s the teacup in your other hand (the one he made you) and the way you so casually sip from it. As if this delicacy came to you as easily as taking a breath, while he struggled even with breathing.

Either way, despite his hesitance, he’s always sure to be around if you’re working on a case with them. Watching from the corner in a way that might have seemed creepy if only you didn’t smile so often back at him.

Amelia Murphy, 6 years old.

She sits at the end of the couch, legs tucked up to her chest like she’s trying to make herself as small as a crumb on the untouched sandwich going stale by her side. Spencer stands at the edge of the room, a smile threatening to peek through as he listens to your stories about the stuffed animals on your bed.

“You can’t tell any of his buddies, okay?” she nods, small but enough for you, “Mr. Winston is my favorite teddy out of all the ones I have.”

“Why?” You and the agent have to hide a surprised expression at the sound of her quiet voice, ragged and hoarse, coming out for the first time tonight. 

“Because he’s been with me since I was very, very young.” You chuckle lightly, “I must’ve been around your age when my grandma gifted him to me.”

“How do you know my age?”

You look at Spencer. He takes that as an ask for help (it really wasn't) and moves before you can speak again, still as careful as possible as he sits on the armchair next to the couch and joins in on the conversation like you suggested to him so often. “We don’t, actually.” She doesn’t flinch like he feared she would, so he continues with a soft smile, “I’m sure my friend was just trying to say she was young, like you are.”

Amelia tilts her head, small brows furrowed as softly as she mutters, “Really?”

“Yeah.” He nods, “We don’t really know how old you are.”

“I’m… six.” Her fingers, miniature sized when compared to Spencer’s, struggle for a second before arranging into a six, “This much.”

You smile and pretend to write it down on your clipboard, “That’s a lot.”

He laughs in half disbelief, half joy when she asks, “Well, how old are you?”

“Do you want to guess?”

“Uhm…” Tiny hand scratching her chin, she examines him like she knows what she’s doing. He looks to you in pure confusion during the seconds she stays quiet. “A hundred?”

He holds back a snort, “Not quite, no. Do you wanna try again?”

During most of the time he talks to her, you stay quiet. He often looks to you, hesitating, asking for some sort of reassurance that he’s doing this right — you always give it to him with a barely there nod and a big smile.

Always, except for the moment he started talking about his job in almost too much detail when she prompted what are you?. Though, that time, he didn’t need your confirmation or denial to figure it out. All it took was a different knit to her eyebrows for him to go back into smaller than regular talking tone, from the bordering robotical lecturing mode.

“I wanna be a model when I grow up.”

“Oh, yeah?” you giggle breathily. Thankfully, she doesn’t take it as an offense like both of you thought she would. She just nods back at you with a proud smile. 

“And do you know what models do at their job?” Spencer inquires.

“They sit pretty in their pretty clothes for the people to watch,” the girl shrugs, speaking in the same way one would say the sky is blue. “Like her.”

He laughs when she points at you. “Being pretty isn’t all she does, though, Amelia. She’s not really a model.”

“She should be,” she whispers and you pretend you don’t hear it.

“Yeah, she should.”

He’s still careful even in the way he looks at her. Like she’d feel his cold hands if he said something too loud, too much. Every time she shows any sort of reluctance, he goes even softer — like he’d learned from uncountable hours of watching you do this over the years.

The very first time you met — interrogating an unsub’s daughter, before all of it happened. Before Mexico and Maeve and Gideon and Dilaudid and Emily. Before his jaw was screwed permanently clenched and his brain painted foggy. When he didn’t think of himself as a ticking time bomb and wasn’t scared of what he saw in the mirror.

Even when he didn’t feel this way about children as well as every other aspect of his life, he admired your work and yourself. So, it only makes sense (to him) that, when he sees himself as some sort of monster, you look like you’ve hung the moon and the stars even though the only thing you’ve ever been is yourself.

“And, uh, Amelia…” he mutters, pointing to the stuffed bunny in her hands, all love stains and frayed stitches, “Your friend over there. Does he have a name?”

She shakes her head, then spins it around to show the bow hidden on the back of its head, “She’s a girl.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m so sorry,” he laughs awkwardly.

“She doesn’t have a name.”

“Is there a reason for that, sweetie?” you ask as soon as there’s a pause from both of them.

He just watches with a grin while you work with her to find names for her teddy.

The markers were Spencer’s idea. He didn’t mean for it to be anything more than a way for her to express herself — you’d both been drawing animals and trees and numbers. Though, when her page became full of red scribbles and what seemed to be portraits of her parents, you realized she might have more to say.

“Who are those people, Amelia?”, he places a hand on her shoulder. She’s so focused on her tiny fingers wrapped around the marker, that she barely shows any reaction to him. When her bottom lip goes wobbly and her hands impossibly shakier, he takes away the paper with a “Okay, that’s enough.”

She fell asleep on his shoulder after half an hour of sobbing while telling what she remembered of the story.

He can’t help the warm feeling that floods his chest when you tell him, “You did a good job.” after getting as much as one can out of a kid who just witnessed her parents’ murder. His expression and words go against it, though. With a small shrug, he mumbles, “Oh, it was nothin–”

“No, don’t do that,” you cut him off, “You did really well.”

“You would’ve gotten her to say a lot more in a lot less time. It takes you an average of five minutes and for–”

“Shut up,” a giggle.

“Would you please stop cutting me off?”

“Not until you admit that you are actually still amazing with kids.”

He sighs. “How’s Mr. Winston?”

“No, no!” you slap his arm playfully, “You don’t get to change the subject by mocking me for my friends.”

“I’m not mocking you,” Spencer raises his arms in defense, a smile brightening his face. “I’m trying to get to know you and your friends better. I can’t do that anymore?”

“Not if you’re mean about it,” arms crossed over your chest and a half fake pout on your lips, you mutter.

“When was I mean?” he cocks his head to the side.

“I can tell from your tone of voice. It gets higher and weirder when you lie. You’re not the only one who knows about psychology here, buddy.”

He just shakes his head with a laugh. “I’m being serious. How are they doing?”

“Well, if you must know, they’re doing amazing.”

“I’m glad.”

It takes 43 (he counted) chimes of the clock on the wall for anyone to say something again. It’s him, in a whisper, “Do you really think she liked me?”

00:09 doctor reid genius guy

Amelia’s aunt just picked her up. She said her bunny was now named Mrs. Winston.

[thecircularsystem]

"Anti-Recovery"

The words "anti-recovery" are thrown around a lot in system spaces -- typically to tell people what to do and what to not do in their own recoveries. Ignoring just how blatantly inappropriate that is (I don't feel anyone on tumblr is posting as someones personal medical team), I want to discuss what those words actually mean to me.

Anti-recovery, to me, is something that gets in the way of an individual's recovery. Pretty straightforward. And, by that same token, this means that there is no way to label something as completely, no matter what, anti-recovery. Sure, you can speak up about things that are usually anti-recovery! But you cannot say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that something is anti-recovery, because everyone will recover in different ways. Recovery looks different for everyone!

Let's tackle a few common ones. This got rambly and enormous, so bear with me.

Purposefully splitting, or splitting a lot is anti-recovery.

Splitting in CDD systems is largely a coping mechanism. It is done to help cope with situations. Whether the person has control over the split or not is of no consequence; what matters is their distress level. If splitting helps bring an individual's distress down, then inherently, that is going to be better for them -- and if it keeps them alive, then it's vital.

When we (purposefully, in a way) split Debra, our distress got so, so much worse in many ways. It absolutely impacted our recovery negatively, because we were not in a position to handle those emotions... but on the the other hand, splitting Debra kept me from killing myself. I would rather be distressed than dead.

It is possible for a coping mechanism to be unhealthy, of course -- just look at syscourse for many individuals! But unhealthy is not the same as anti-recovery. Unhealthy means it is hurtful for the individual; but harm reduction is an aspect of recovery in many cases.

Celebrating splitting is anti-recovery.

Connected to the above idea, celebrating splits can definitely be unhealthy for some people! It could be anti-recovery for some people -- and for others, it may be incredibly healthy and help aid in recovery.

In our system, celebrating our splits has led to them feeling welcomed, loved, and valued -- which, in turn, helped them to integrate further with us. Trying to push away that split, or complaining about splitting, or even resenting the part for coming into existence... that's resentment toward my own self. That's distress, caused my self-loathing. That definitely would not help me recover!

Being miserable about your disorder is anti-recovery.

This disorder is difficult to live with. You are allowed to be upset about the hurdles you must jump over, particularly when others do not have to jump over those hurdles. You are allowed to be frustrated with how hard life can be!

Looking at someone else’s misery and insisting they are hurting themselves by being miserable is not your place. They likely would also like to not be miserable! Give them that space to recover.

Even hating your parts can be part of your recovery process. I’m not saying it’s healthy; for us, it was absolutely anti-recovery. It hurt us, and stopped us from continuing in recovery. But it was also part of my process of survival; if I accepted all of my parts outright, it would’ve meant confronting my trauma head on — which would’ve been more anti-recovery in the moment.

Identifying with sources is anti-recovery.

Identifying with source is already such a vague statement as it is. Do you mean something similar to kinning? Do you mean using the name of the character you interjected from? Do you mean considering source memories as real?

Whatever you mean — it can be helpful for that individual. And it can even vary by part! For us, for instance, some of our introjects relate far more heavily with source. Some of our introjects abandoned source ASAP. Some are in the middle.

Our introjects who separated fully from source benefit from it because it gives them the opportunity to view themselves as their own person; they started to form their own identity and ideals, and can continue that work easily. Our introjects who relate heavily to source benefit from it because they process the pseudomemories they have and the source trauma, and apply those lessons to our life; accepting their trauma as real and impacting us has led to us processing our trauma through their lens.

Allowing your system members to individualize is anti-recovery.

This goes along with the, “you must admit you’re just one person” mentality; the idea that accepting personhood and having your own identity is somehow harmful.

Identifying strictly as different people with no connection to one another was harmful for me. But it’s not harmful for everyone. By the same token, thinking of ourselves only as parts, just fragmented pieces of a single personality, also was harmful for me. It’s not harmful for everyone.

Allowing my system members to individualize physically — packers for the men, jewelry for those who like it, personal clothing or aesthetic pieces that help folks feel more like themselves — makes them comfortable enough to exist, front, and most of all, talk to the rest of us (and my therapist). Allowing them to individualize personally — different hobbies, rooms innerworld, and beliefs — helps them to feel closer together and more integrated.

I just exist. I’m not even “allowing” things — I’m just here. And so are hundreds of others who also don’t view this as an anti-recovery sentiment.

Intentional dissociation or barriers to integration are anti-recovery.

Intentionally raising barriers between ourselves meant I could no longer access memories I was torturing myself with, which other parts split to handle.

Intentionally raising barriers between ourselves meant our ace parts no longer were co-conscious anytime we fuck, feeling much more at ease.

Intentionally raising barriers between ourselves meant we now also intentionally began reaching out, talking to one another and purposefully seeking integration — rather than feeling pulled along outside of our control.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ feels recovery centered to me! And it is for many others!

And so much more!

Genuinely, there’s so many more. I could get into littlescourse, dignity of risk, everything.

At the end of the day: all of the things above could be anti-recovery. You can be so miserable that you prevent yourself from healing. You can be so dissociated that you prevent yourself from healing. You can be splitting so frequently that you cannot heal.

But there’s cases where those things can also help someone’s recovery.

Please: don’t deal in absolutes. What works for your system might not work for others.

[warmblanketwhump]

always a treat to see your posts :) some whumpy ramblings from me below, if you dont mind reading them!

- A & B stuck in an environment that isn't dangerously cold by any stretch of the imagination, (Hell, the temperature probably not even top 5 most life threatening things about the place), but it's lacking in anything resembling heat, or ways to warm up. Which becomes a problem later on when everything starts taking its toll on a relatively frail (if determined) B, most of all being the deep-seated chill that's settled into their bones.

- a stormy night causing a character who's just ill/injured enough to be a little disoriented to be absolutely terrified even in the safety of their own home, their regular fear of thunder becoming so much worse because of the state they're in.

- just... the image of a generally more thin and frail character sat somewhere, knees to their chest, shivering so hard their bones rattle. That's it, that's the post.

- A, who is much smaller than B (Maybe B is some big ole creature) gently cradling their larger companion's face in their hands while they soothe them. Gently planting a kiss (or numerous) on their forehead, pulling them close and holding them until the world doesn't seem so scary anymore. Do you see the vision.

anon these are INCREDIBLE 🥹

thank you so much for this gift of so many tropes I love all in one place??? (specifically the ones about smol whumpees being COLD you know i love to see it)

[walnutcookie]

can we PLEASEEE hear more about Arthur and Astros relationship 🙏🙏🙏 either while the tower was still standing or after Arthur took astro in I just love the them both oh so much

SIR YES SIR!!! IMMM ONITTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Arthur has a bit of a closer relationship with the toons but i wouldnt really call him a father. He still has a creator/creation relationship with the toons, but i guess its more from an artistic perspective than a scientific perspective (like delilah) if that??? Makes sense??? he treats the toons like kids a lot of the time, but he doesn't take care of them like a father would, thats the toon handlers job. he also often gets upset when they dont fit his vision of who they were meant to be; mostly when they have Bad Traits or Negative Emotions. this stems from his grand dream of gearview, he's reluctant to realize that it can't be this ideal fantastical place that he really wants it to be, and unintentionally he takes it out on his creations because they don't fit the vision he's been crafting for half of his life. He wasnt always the great at handling emotions - the reason why i describe him as an entertainer is because hes really . Only great with positive emotions. for a guy who runs a whole childrens attraction he is AWFULL with kids unless its from an entertainment/education standpoint because he doesnt know how to handle bad situations, he only knows how to spread positivity. Hes always wanted to inspire kids, never had a desire to be a father. while astro is mentally an adult, hes still like. New to being Alive and is relying on arthur for guidance so he does have some kid-like aspects to him, and as i said before, arthur treats the toons like children anyways.

The founders raised dandy and astro themselves, while all of the other toons were raised by just the handlers, so astro (and dandy) does have an especially close relationship with him. Throughout their working days, they would report to the founders' office to talk to them about significant things that have happened, any issues with the toons or the buildings, suggestions, ideas, etc, so they also visited the founders pretty often

Im gonna go into this deeper in another post, but the founders and the mascots sort of criss-cross with their traits and personalities. Delilah and astro are antisocial, arthur and dandy are extroverted and entertainers; delilah and dandy share a deep fascination with ichor and a desire to push reality past its limits, while astro and arthur are deeply uncomfortable with the potential of ichor and are terrified of anything they can't control. Arthur understood astros paranoia and tried to help in what ways he could (which includes trying to give astro his own perscription anxiety medication, but medication doesnt work without organs and shit for it to actually affect), but failed to support him in any way other than some motivational pep talks. Idont know i find their relationship really fascinating like . arthur really does try his best, but he just isnt equipped to Raise A Thing. he likes doing art because its controlled, its predictable, he can plan it; back to his fear of control, thats why he was so reluctant when delilah wanted to give his art sentience. He's lost control of them now, and he doesn't really know what to do about it. He doesnt know how to care for them in the ways that they need. sorry this is like 90% me rambling about arthur its just because i havent tealked baout him on this blog much good LORD dont even get me started on delilah heelppp okay back on track hes like. A father figure, but distant, but not in a cold way. hes distant in a warm way? hi. im playing cookie clicker rn and my back ghurts. i should go to sleep.

Post-gearview-collapse, it def changes their relationship a lot. I would argue that arthur is more dependent on astro than astro is dependent on arthur. he does take on more of a "fatherly" role since hes the one who has to go buy groceries and stuff, but astro tries to take care of arthur in return. I don't really think that i can put a label to their relationship but theyre incredibly close (no duh theyre the only person the other speaks to anymore) HELP they just. aughhgh words idk how to describe them. Theyre hopelessly reliant on each other, after everything thats happened the other person is the Only One They Have Left and theyre depserate to keep the other happy and cared for. They can't lose anything anymore. they're both drowning in guilt and they're trying not to sink and drown. they both blame themselves for it, they blame their partners for it, neither of them blame the other though, they just feel horribly guilty that they ruined the other's life and destroyed everything they loved. anyways my friend chat always begs me to let arthur give astro a bowl of cereal so he also gives astro bowls of cereal

[swingingthehatchetnow]

In the hypothetical movie version, of which I’ve thought a LOT about, being a screenwriter, I keep going back and fourth on something—

Would it serve the story to see Owen and Curt post-banana.

The effectiveness of the late reveal, leading to a high tension final sequence, with an emotional moment that ends in a bang (pun intended (if I laugh enough maybe Owen will forgive Curt instead)) leaves no room for seeing Owen’s side of the story, because you can’t put it in anywhere between the banana and the reveal, because that throws off the reveal.

But if we saw that turmoil he went through, and similarly saw the way Curt grieved, that would expose just how bad these two are at communicating, which is the root of the whole show — (“I lied, I set the timers for three minutes”). Sure, there’s a lot of extrapolation an audience can do based on what information were given, but in all my classes, my professors harp on intensifying the tension. If we see the way Owen learns to hate Curt, the final confrontation will hold more weight, because when he finally is face-to-face with Curt, he almost can’t hate him. Just look at his face, that’s a man at war with himself.

And if we see Curt’s grief, I think there’s a good chance to show how these two loved each other, but never listened to each other. Ultimately it sort of is Curt’s fault Owen slipped. Sure, part of it was unfortunate luck, but Curt was drinking on the job, needlessly blowing up facilities and putting them in unnecessary amounts of danger for the fun of it.

Curt’s grief has an easier time being put into the show, whether it be stage or screen, because there’s no surprise being ruined if it’s shown, but to see Curt’s grief without seeing the way Owen feel in the same 4 years feels unfairly weighted.

Also showing Owen post-fall would serve to introduce Chimera more, and build them up to be a hidden threat that isn’t just revealed in the end.

I keep wanting to change the ending. Maybe Curt shoots something non-vital. Maybe he’s out of bullets. But the worst part about the show is the inevitability of the face-off, because neither person can move on from that staircase, there’s just too much there for both of them.

As for showing Curt after he shoots Owen, well… I know Curt says a spy’s work is never done, and he goes right back into the job, but I think there’s consequences of his actions need to haunt him. More than they have, that is. He spied once, and his partner died. He took a break. He spied again, and the same partner died. Curt loves being a spy, but he also loved Owen. I think the price for getting over Owen, if you can call it that, is giving up being a spy.

Maybe none of what I’m saying makes sense, but I’m in my semi-annual Spies obsession and I feel like you’ve already dissected the shit out of this show, smy (and I love you for that), so there’s not much more for me to add, and maybe I’m just rambling.

I'm still thinking about the Joey Richter cameo. He said that Curt believed Owen had fallen all the way down the silo, that he was dead on impact. And that Owen had fallen onto the partially closed safety barricade, looking up at Curt through the smoke, watching him panic and run and thinking that Curt had abandoned him.

Owen died still believing that Curt abandoned him. Believing that Curt left him to die in order to save himself. When Owen says "that secret died the night you left me for dead," Curt doesn't say that he thought Owen was already dead. That he didn't think there was anything left of Owen to save.

And Owen dies never having told Curt how he survived. Never telling Curt that the last thing he saw before the silo exploded and his life changed forever was Curt running away.

Owen shouldn't have assumed that Curt would choose to leave him behind. Curt shouldn't have assumed that Owen was dead without evidence. But the assumptions they make are totally understandable based on the information available to them. And after that event they are both in such dire emotional circumstances. Curt drowning his grief in alcohol and self-hatred. Owen captured and severely injured and trying to survive. They assume the worst, and take those assumptions as fact.

It probably wouldn't have changed anything, but I can't help but wonder what would've happened if Curt had told Owen that he thought Owen was already dead. That he never would have left if he thought there was any chance whatsoever that Owen was alive. If that mask of cruel indifference Owen wears had cracked just a little bit further, shown his pain a little more clearly.

It's such a bleak end for them, and the more you think about it the sadder it gets

[mushroominaforest]

“Just a quick doodle of the current designs for the characters of Concept 7 Version 4,” I said, like a fool. “In a simple style, just to try and get their designs on paper and stuff.”

Anyways I spent 7 hours and 48 minutes on this, meaning that this is somehow my most time-consuming digital art piece ever, by over an hour. This.

This drawing of the main five characters from Concept 7 Version 4 in their combat gear, in what I thought would be an easy style, has taken me longer than anything else I’ve ever drawn digitally.

I wasn’t going to post this but it took me almost 8 hours so I feel like it deserves to be seen by more eyes than just mine.

Anyways, I’m gonna ramble about this lol :D

[You may notice that a few of these look suspiciously like characters that have been featured on my blog before. That’s because I’ve posted about Concept 7 Version 1 before, and since both stories are from the same concept, they have very similar characters. Basically just the same characters but put in different situations lol.]

The first girl, who’s name is currently [Purple-Metal] until I actually think of one for her, can like, control metal? Idk what it’s called. She can throw certain solid metals around with her mind. Bc of that I sorta gave her some metal armour, including chainmail that definitely just looks like mesh lmfao. I know a skirt is impractical for battle, but she’s a pretty princess so it’s just out of my control you see.

Second person, Flint. His clothes are semi based on a firefighter uniform, except that he makes more fire instead of getting rid of it. He has big ol’ fireproof sleeves on his arms, (instead of fabric for obvious reasons), and steel-toed boots with little flame designs on the sides for fun idk lol.

Third is Radar, and if you’ve read my previous rambles from other Concept 7 Version 1, you will remember that Radar’s power is having like. A built-in radar. He just knows where everyone is around him, but he’s also very specially aware and good with body language as a side effect. Since his thing is having a radar, he gets an army-inspired design, bc of how important radar was in ww2.

Fourth, known as [Token-White-Boy] until I name him. In typical fashion, he gets The Only White Boy Haircut I Can Draw, except this time with a little ponytail! I decided to give him some way-too light blue eyes as well, because I think they look cool and have a slightly unsettling vibe. Also he can teleport.

Lastly but not leastly, we have [ADHD-Zapper], probably my favourite character lol. I’m not 100% happy with their outfit, I know I can do better, and I’ll probably fix it eventually. Currently, they have these copper gloves (?) that help them channel electricity to their hands, and while I like the idea and the science behind it, I don’t think it looks great. Idk lol. They get a graphic design shirt as well, bc I love doing that.

But yeah, the three Good Guys are on top, and the two Bad Guys are on the bottom. The trio of good guys are all best friends, and the duo of Bad Guys are best friends as well. They all live in [Cool-City-Name], with the three Good Guys working for the queen of the made-up country that [Cool-City-Name] is in. (The queen isn’t perfect, but I’m not doing the evil queen thing this time, so she’s chill lol). The two Bad Guys are the right hand men (people?) to a Very Not Nice Lady who’s working name is Via. She’s very strong, has plant-based powers, and runs a Bad Guy organization called Kudzu (Genius name for an evil plant themed organization in my opinion /silly). Her goal is just to like, take over the country. Overthrow the queen. It’s kind of embarrassing but be honest I’m not actually 100% sure what it is lmao. (I haven’t gotten very far yet, if that wasn’t evident by the fact that barely anyone has a name yet.)

So because of this threat, the three Good Guys were assigned as part of Operation Weedkiller (I had fun with that name lol) which was put in place to be ready to stop Kudzu whenever they try anything. So the three Good Guys and the two Bad Guys get to interact a lot, since the Bad Guys are sent to go do stuff by their leader, and the Good Guys are sent to go stop them from doing said stuff by their commander. It’s fun to write these five, since their rivalry is really not personal at all. They’re all just young people who can fight well, and are therefore being thrown at each other by older, more powerful people who are beefing.

Anyways I could talk for a lot longer about their personalities and the story, but it’s 2am so I think I’m gonna cut myself off lmao. If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for caring about my weird stories, it genuinely means a lot to me. Also you should totally suggest names for the characters bc the placeholders make it really hard to take the story seriously (trying to write a dark scene when the characters in it are literally called [Token-White-Boy] and [ADHD-Zapper] is so hard lmfao)

[motleyistheonlywear]

Goddamn Liam and Robbie have so much chemistry together. Their scenes as Dorym are just so tender and wonderful. Orym is shy but he's being so brave and careful, taking the lead in discussing his feelings with Dorian, for Dorian, because he's done this before, he's been in love and he's known what it's like to go day by day healing after experiencing devastating loss, and he knows how he feels for Dorian, sees how he is hurting, and wants to be with him, take joy in him, help him shoulder his burdens. And Dorian who is inexperienced and freshly hurting and feeling so many things for the first time sees this little halfling, who he believes is so much more of a leader than he knows, stepping up and leading them toward this wonderful new relationship between them and he wants it so badly, even if he can't find all the words for it yet, so all he can say is an immediate "ok. yes." to anything Orym asks.

[ghost-kings-court-jester]

Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.