#this show heals my inner child like nothing else

[kadesdb]

Things I never expected to get emotional over: a preschooler show about cartoon dogs

Things I cried over today: a preschooler show about cartoon dogs

[mapis-putellas]

Emotional support bunny

Pairing: Nat x you

Words: 1362

Warnings: none

Summary: you gift a stuffed bunny to Natasha on your one year anniversary. She adores it, names it, and promptly sleeps with it every single night. Well, that was until disaster strikes and bunny goes missing.

Notes: It’s been months. I have no explanation other than I’ve had some major writers block. I am, so sorry. And I hope this makes up for it.

It was on your one year anniversary that you’d gifted it to her. A small, grey bunny adorned in a cute black t-shirt with the phrase, this is my emotional support bear written on the front. It was meant as a joke. At least, that’s how you intended it to be at first. She was Natasha Romanoff. The black widow. Why would the black widow want anything to do it’s something so childish?

But surprisingly, she’d been delighted, and she’d quickly given it a name. Tiny. Tiny the bunny. For the first few days, tiny had sat on her dresser next to a photograph of you and her together. Natasha would give it soft smile and fond touch as she passes, and that was that.

But then, tiny would appear in your bed. Just during that day at first, propped up against the pillows when neither of you were there. But then one night, after returning home from a mission with Yelena and Clint, you noticed tiny was neither on her dresser or propped up against the pillows.

Upon closer inspection, as you’d crawled into the bed next to her, you realised that the reason tiny wasn’t in either of his usual spaces was because he was held clutched to Natasha’s chest. Your heart immediately melts at the sight, and after pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you’d laid down and pulled her close to your chest before too drifting off to sleep.

From that moment forward -with the occasional exception of course ;) - tiny was in your bed every single night. Sometimes Natasha cuddled him, and sometimes you would because Natasha liked him to smell of you. Natasha had never been too settled when it came to sleep. Insomnia, nightmares. You helped of course, but there was something about tiny that would settle her immediately. You guessed it had something to do with healing her inner child.

Tiny would soon start coming on missions too. Of course he remained safely hidden in her bag, out of sight and out of mind from everyone else, but knowing he was there often helped. A reminder of sorts that she always had a piece of you with her no matter where she went.

Everything was great. Until it wasn’t.

You see, Natasha had misplaced tiny before. Whether it be he’d slipped out of bed during one of her restless nights of sleep or he’d fallen to the bottom of her bag after forgetting he was there and unpacking everything but him. But she’d never completely lost him before. Or well, she hadn’t until now. And her reaction to losing him wasn’t anything like you expected.

You’d walked into the bedroom to see her clad in nothing but a shirt and underwear determinedly ripping the blankets off of your shared bed. The rest of the room was a mess too, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you pocket your phone and make your way over to her.

“Nat?” You question, reaching out to touch her arm.

She startles at the touch as she whips herself round to face you, and you hold up your arms to show her you meant no harm as you take a small step backwards. “Baby, what’s going on?” You slowly lower your arms as you sit on the now bare mattress and give the shirt burying her small frame a gentle tug, coaxing her closer.

She steps in between your open legs, and you wrap one of your arms just beneath her rear end as the other one comes up to brush a messy strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes, you realise now, are bloodshot, bottom lip quivering as if she was doing everything possible to stop herself from crying.

You frown in concern as you give her thigh a gentle tug, coaxing it over your lap and against your hip. She complies, and you wrap an arm around her waist to keep her supported as she brings the other leg up so she was effectively straddling your lap.

She burrows her face into your neck, and your heart breaks when you feel hot tears beginning to stain your neck. “What’s going on my love?” You murmur, bringing one hand up to settle on the back of her neck.

Natasha shakes her head with a soft sniffle, and you frown as you give her a soft squeeze, not really understanding why she didn’t want to confide to you but happy to sit here and hold her for as long as she needed. It takes a while, but she does eventually sit herself up in your arms. Your arms move from resting against her shoulder blades to just above her behind, fingers slipping beneath her oversized shirt and grazing across soft skin.

“I can’t find tiny.” She whispers, one of her hands rising to cling to the front of your shirt as her face scrunches up and another soft sob escapes her lips. Your heart breaks, your hand rising up the bare skin of her her back and coaxing her back to your chest. She seems to allow herself to cry freely now, her body trembling as she clutches fiercely to the back of your shirt.

Some may think this was an overreaction to losing a measly stuffed animal, and maybe they were right. But this wasn’t just any stuffed animal. It was her comfort. Her safe place. And whilst that may seem childish to some, for Natasha, someone who had denied herself the most simplest of comforts because she was under the impression she didn’t deserve them; someone who didn’t have any ounce of a childhood, tiny was her everything and you thanked god she trusted you enough to let down her walls and allow you to comfort her.

“Is he in your bag?” You question as you begin the motion of gently rocking her back and forth in your arms.

Natasha shakes her head. “N-no. I looked there.” She manages to choke out, and you nod in understanding as you look around the room to see if there were any spaces tiny could have hidden himself in. When you come up empty, you attempt to wrack your mind for any more ideas.

“You looked under the bed?”

Natasha nods again as she sits herself up in your arms, hands rising to roughly wipe away the tears. You shake your head slightly as you gently knock her hands away, replacing them with your own and tenderly wiping off her cheeks.

You’re about to suggest looking elsewhere in the house for the beloved bunny until a familiar fluffy hand appears in your peripheral vision. You gently pat Natasha’s back to get her attention, waiting for her teary eyes to meet your own before pointing to the corner the room where a pile of clean laundry sat in its basket.

“Did you by chance change our bedding today?” You ask, rising to your feet before easing her down onto her own. Natasha doesn’t acknowledge your question as she all but sprints to the corner of the room, knocking that large pile of laundry to the floor in her haste to grab tiny from here he was hidden at the bottom of it before clutching him to her chest.

She lets out a quiet breath of relief, and you realise, as you make your way over to her and tug her into a hug, that she must have tossed him out of the way whilst changing your sheets this morning and had forgotten to put him back. Natasha’s arms rise to settle around your neck, tiny clutched in her hand, and you immediately bend to lift her up into your arms. Her legs loop tightly around your waist, and you place a single arm beneath her behind whilst your hand rises to rest against her back.

“He was hiding from you.” You laugh slightly, and you feel the way Natasha smiles against the skin of your neck as she moves tiny to settle against her chest.

As you stand there, holding your favourite girl in your arms, you thank your lucky stars that you’d found him before disaster totally struck.

**

@goldenempyrean - finally got something written 😭 @alotofpockets @natashasnoodle @widowsistersandfriends @widowbitessting

[midnghtprentiss]

what we always wanted - emily prentiss

pairing: ssa emily!prentiss x pediatrician!reader

summary: a look in emily and reader's life with their baby coming over and their twin boys.

a/n: pregnancy, teenager adoption, emily being a cutie. sorry for any mistakes, english >is not< my first language.

Emily never imagined herself as a mother. The responsibility of raising children scare the hell out of her, especially with her job and the not so good job her parents made with her. Screwing up with a child that depends on you for everything was an easy game. Then she met you. The most happy, loveable and sweetest woman ever. When you brought up the subject she was freaking out. It’s not that she doesn’t want to make your family bigger, she wants more than anything. The feeling of failing as a mother and ruining everyone's life was insane and she couldn’t take it. 

You tried to convince her slowly, showing the simple things and the memories they can create. It took her a few months and a lot of late night talkings with Hotch, to be alright and ready to start a family. The fertility treatment started slowly, a lot of exams on you and mental preparation. The first four months were terrible. Nothing was working and you both started getting frustrated. And when you least expected the pregnancy test came positive. You were becoming parents.

Emily was over the moon with this, she was being all protective and worried about everything. What you eat, drink, how you work. She was driving you crazy. And then adoption becomes a real subject you considered. Since you both knew a lot of social workers for your jobs, her as an agent, you as a pediatrician, it was a matter of time until your names went to a list of possible foster homes. 

One day, when you were in the night shift you got a call from a social worker telling about teenage twins that needed a foster home due their family being arrested for drug possession and child abuse. You called Emily right away. Opening your house for people that really needed was a thing you always wanted to do and adoption was a real desire you shared for the moment. That was the day you adopted Charlie and Taylor. They were fourteen at the time. 

The months went by and your family was the best thing in the world. The way they felt welcomed since the start and the easiest bond was created. They absolutely loved and adored you, everything you said or did was a rule no one else dared to break. Emily felt more relaxed when she was traveling, knowing the boys would do anything for you. 

She loved when you sent her pics of whatever you’re doing during her maternity leave. Most of them were basically you three putting the nursery together and sleeping on the couch with Sergio. She loved her family and nothing was better than this feeling of feeling loved and healed. You both healed a lot of your inner child while being moms of teenagers. 

‘’How was school today?’’ You asked them when they got in the car. 

‘’It was fine, we are finishing the details of the recital for the end of the month.’’ Taylor said, leaning to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

‘’We have a game this weekend, you think mom will be able to watch?’’ Charlie gave you a gente shoulder squeeze. 

‘’I think so, we’ll call her at home, kay?’’ 

You absolutely love how they were so different. While Taylor was all about music, plays and books, Charlie was into sports and politics. Completely different but somehow remind you of your wife and the differences that made you a powerful team. 

‘’How’s the baby?’’ Like your wife, the boys become very protective over you. 

‘’She’s healthy, the doctor said she can be born anytime soon. That’s why I take my maternity leave today and I’ll be home for a while.’’ You announced making a happy dance. 

‘’You think you can be alone these days?’’ Charlie was really worried about you staying alone and ‘almost popping his sister’ off. 

‘’I can do anything, sweetie. If something happened you’ll be the first to know, I promise.’’ 

The moment you three got home you were surprised to see the SUV parked outside, imagining it was your wife or someone of her team. 

‘’I think we don’t have to call her anymore, mom.’’ Taylor waited for you to get off the car, walking with you. 

You heard the voices you could recognize anywhere. In your living room you found your wife, Spencer and Derek. Emily seemed surprised to see you earlier. Getting up to give you a hug. 

‘’Hey guys, how nice to see you!’’ You received a hug from them before sitting next to Spencer. 

‘’We wanted to see you and your champs.’’ Taylor and Charlie waved at them, giving their mom and coworkers a hug. 

‘’I love this but I can’t wait for this troublemaker to leave my body. I love her but I miss sushi and see my toes.’’

‘’It’s almost over, mama. You can do it.’’ Derek reassures you and laughs at the face you made.

They stay a little more before leaving to finally rest after this two week case. You were happy to receive a lot of love and support from her friends. It made things easier to handle knowing she wasn’t alone and you could count on them too. 

‘’You okay?’’ Your wife asked lying next to you. 

‘’Hm, just thinking about our family. We have a hockey game to attend this weekend and the recital at the end of the month.’’ She smiles watching you slowly close your eyes and caressing your stomach. 

‘’Need to put this in my schedule.’’ She loves to look at you when you are concentrating, trying not to sleep just to hang out. 

It was almost like magic, Taylor and Charlie knocked on the door already in their pajamas and made their way til the bed. They snuggle between you and your wife. It was Emily's favorite moment of the day whenever she’s home. Watching her family being together and just loving one another is like a dream coming true. 

‘’Want something baby?’’ You asked Charlie, that nods and gently hugs you. 

‘’Nah, I missed being around my two favorite people and Taylor.’’ Emily rolls her eyes and pulls Taylor closer to her, giving him a forehead kiss. ‘’See Jojo, I was the favorite until you came along and stole all of our hearts, and the worst part is that you’re not even born yet.’’ 

‘’Don’t listen to him, Tay, we love you the same.’’ Emily apprehends him and you giggle, pulling them closer. 

‘’Yeah, you both changed our lives and I couldn’t be more grateful for the family we built together. You’re having a sister that will need her older brother and doesn’t mean we’re leaving you alone. Never. In this family we love and support each other in every situation. Marjorie is just an addition to us. We’ll always love you three. Always. Am I clear?’’ You open your eyes, finding them all looking at you. 

They nod and you get more comfy in bed, getting ready to watch a movie for the rest of the night. All cozy and cuddling together as a family, a family you and Emily always wanted and finally have. 

[kooki914]

How do you think would Noelle and Ralsei interact with each other if they got the chance? What would their relationship bring out of the other?

This is something I've given a lot of thought to, and something I'm still salty wasn't explored at all in Chapter 2. So this post is both going to answer your question as well as be my excuse to write an essay about these two.

The thing is, Noelle and Ralsei are narrative foils to each other. That probably sounds weird on account of the fact that they never interact, but both mechanically and through dialogue, we see parallels form between them. They're both enigmatic, mysterious, while keeping up friendly appearances, while also being literal or figurative royalty in their respective worlds (Noelle is from a rich family and is adored, Ralsei is a prince with no subjects). They're both love interests to the leads (yes, to Kris and Susie BOTH, the snowgrave route is essentially an exploration of a toxic friends-to-lovers but I'm not getting into that here), and they're both rife with religious symbolism, as well as the fact they're both prey animals (in a world where boss monsters like Toriel and Asgore can look more lion-esque, Ralsei's decidedly goat-ish appearance is kind of striking to me). They have the same heal spell (a pray to light) and they're both "passive" in that kind of way a mage usually is in RPGs.

Noelle's arc mainly centers around agency, while Ralsei's arc mainly centers around identity. For all the struggles she faces, Noelle doesn't really have that... crisis of character that Susie and Ralsei are prone to. Even in the snowgrave route, she doesn't question herself, she questions Kris. And, while Ralsei IS an obedient doormat, it's not out of a lack of agency (he shows us as much when he puts his foot down right before the kids open a fountain), it's an active choice he KNOWS he can simply... Not Do (as evidenced by how upset he is with Susie's behaviour in chapter 1 and his epiphany about it in chapter 2, he essentially equates mean behaviour to Purposefully making people around you suffer, instead of a personality quirk or showing of emotion).

It's interesting to think about how they'd complement one another. Not even strictly in a character arc sense (I'll get to that), but just in a... character interaction sense. Noelle has this pattern of putting the spotlight on other people. Even when she talks about herself it's always framed as a way to lift up those around her, while Ralsei has this sneaky way of getting to know you without you even realising (if the rooms he made for Kris and Susie are anything to go by). I think this would result in a dynamics where Noelle (passively, almost accidentally) allows Ralsei to open up in a more genuine way, while Ralsei still tends to Noelle's needs like he does for everyone else.

It's also interesting from a worldbuilding sense. We've seen Ralsei not give a flying fuck about Anyone that isn't directly connected to the prophecy, both for humour reasons and for horror reasons (as seen in the snowgrave route), so giving him a friend that's 1) a lightner, 2) not part of the prophecy, and 3) trying to actually know him on a personal level - it'd probably cause him to actually rethink his worldview. If someone like Noelle, someone who's got nothing to do with the prophecy, can be an important person to him and a good friend to people she doesn't *need* to care about, then why can't he? Can he be someone outside the prophecy? Is his identity and purpose not confined to this, and what does that mean for him in the long run?

And, on Noelle's side of things, Ralsei would probably be a healthier outlet for that feeling of nostalgia she's so addicted to. With him around, she's allowed to just be a kid again. No appearances to keep up, no expectations to fulfill, he's a fresh start and a new friend that she's allowed to be her authentic self around because his existence is essentially rooted in tending to the inner child of all the lightners he comes across. And maybe then she'll be able to let go of the past. Maybe, though viewing her childhood through an outsider's eager point of view, she can see how far away it is, and how she doesn't NEED it to be happy. Things can't be the same, and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe they can be better.

Overall, there's also a... vague "burden of femininity" they both have. They take on emotional labour even when they don't have to, just because that's what's expected of them. I so badly want a Dark Fun Gang-esque arc with these two where they defect from the team and just decide to be bad guys on their own terms for a while. Just because they can, just to see what it brings out of them. And, they'd be complete dorks about it of course, but it'd be nice to see them breaking their moulds with people they don't feel judged by, with friends they don't feel the need to impress because they're already so similar to.

There's this one bit of dialogue I wrote for them for one of my AUs, specifically in the above scenario where they decide to be bad guys for a bit, and I feel I need to share it here because it puts into words something I can't without taking away from the feels of it:

[grandlinedreams]

omfg i did not realize ur requests were open! You're my favorite one piece writer!!!! The way you write the characters especially Law feels so canon huhu

Since Law seems to have a knack for picking up strays and taking them under his wing, may i request something platonic for Law which includes him encountering someone that reminds him of himself when he was young? Someone young and hurt and so so angry at the world, teeth bared, until someone showed them gentleness? Someone who loves like a feral dog, biting in defence when someone tries to pet it? (is it obvious i love dog references in regards to love yet?? lol).

He takes them in and they become deeply loyal to him, always following his shadow and being protective. Law gave them a home and taught them to love while Reader heals a part of Law's inner child because Law gets to help someone the way he wished to be helped as a child.

It all circles back to what Cora did for Law really. Instead of creating a cycle of abuse, its a cycle of love and care.

Thank you!!

Hiya papaya!! I'm honored to be a favorite but also I really hope that I can do this justice for you bc that's such a neat concept :(

[Heads up!: platonic relationship, some angst, more a little delve into Law as a person, Dressrosa/Law backstory spoilers]

You remind Law of himself as a kid.

Were he anyone else, it might have been a fond sentiment, wrapped in sugared memories ㅡ but no. You remind Law of himself because he understands what you're going through perhaps more than anyone.

The sullen expression and white knuckled fists, bloodied fingers and bruised skin, testifying to your wild animal ferocity in the face of a world that's been far crueler than it needs to be ㅡ he knows.

He was you, all those years ago.

And he knows exactly what will happen if he leaves you like this. He knows someone will slink out of the shadows, whisper poisoned words in your ear, sharpen your fangs and claws against the wrong people in the name of what they think is good.

He won't let that happen to someone else, not if he can help it. He feels like he owes it to Corazon, owes it to you ㅡ and owes it to himself, just a little bit.

He has absolutely no idea how this will go, but he wants to try.

ㅡ

"Why did you help me?"

The question stops Law in his tracks, finding you watching him, eyes dark and wary of the answer. You're undoubtedly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to make demands of you, set a debt to be paid back.

He knows it'll take more time before those claws truly retract, before you stop jumping at shadows and holding everything at arms length. But you're trying too, he knows that. (Bepo told him about the other day, when you'd asked Ikkaku a thousand questions about the internals of the Polar Tang, drinking in every word.)

"Because I know what it's like to lose everything." His voice is soft and low, hopes you won't lash out and demand to know what he knows of loss ㅡ because he knows plenty. It wreathes his entire existence like smoke, trailing tendrils into every aspect of who he is. "I know what it's like to be angry."

To ask why, over and over, desperate for answers from gods who choose to remain deaf and blind to those pleas. The world is hardly fair, deals cruel hands in spades and cares little for the aftermath.

"It's not fair." Your voice is a knife blade, aimed to sink into the softest parts. "What did I do to deserve this? Why am I being punished? What am I supposed to do?"

He remembers asking that, too. If he and his town were cursed, if they'd done something wrong to be taken by either disease or people afraid of them. He remembers being angry, that he'd gladly have let it swallow him whole, let himself blaze with it until it hollowed him, left him as a charred testament to who he'd once been.

But Cora ㅡ Cora, who'd owed him nothing, not when Law had sank that knife into him, hoping to kill him ㅡ had doused those flames. Put them out, raked over smoldering coals, refused to let him burn out the way he wanted to. Cora hadn't let him give up, and he's not going to let you either.

"You live," Law says. "I'm not saying that it'll stop hurting, or that the anger goes away entirely. But you take it and you find reasons to live."

"...I don't want to live for myself." Voice tiny, you curl in on yourself, shoulders trembling. "I want my family back. I just want to see them again."

He's no good at this, just as awkward as Cora had been, both men from broken homes and troubled pasts ㅡ both trying to ensure someone else didn't fall down the wrong path.

Warmth drapes over your shoulders, the tickle of feathers at your neck ㅡ and a hand on your head, trying to comfort.

"Then you live for them," he says. "Until you can find a reason to live for yourself, you live for them."

[plusultraetc]

Hitoshi and 2 and 22 for the character ask!!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Everything, I genuinely think he’s a fantastic character!! He is doing the most with the least amount of screentime and we love him for it!! If I did have to pick just one thing, it would probably be his determination & willingness to work hard for what he wants, even if no one else believes his dream is possible. It was one of the things that made me root for him—and really feel his Sports Festival loss—when I first watched the show, and one of the reasons that, years later, I heard he made it into the Hero Course and came running back to watch that arc 😭 He might not have healed my inner child but he did heal my inner angsty, striving teen.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

Oh gosh so many things. Shinsou is SUCH a side character that he really taught me to appreciate canon compliant fics in a way I never had before, because that’s the only way to expand on his offscreen arc. This is going to be another ‘try to pick one’ thing, but I really like how much his quirk has been developed through fics—the image of him ‘casting out a line’ and being able to feel that connection with someone’s mind is both so excellent and so fun to write, and I’m pretty sure that image like. Never comes up in the show?

I am Totally Blanking on something I don’t like. Aside from outright character bashing, I’m usually just happy if Shinsou shows up 😭 I know a lot of people characterize him very differently, and I def have characterizations I prefer, but for the most part I’m interested in seeing what an author will do with his character!! I am REACHING here but I do think that writers will occasionally sacrifice some aspects of his personality in the name of Angst, and then he’s kind of just there to be a punching bag, but that’s also often kinda the point of the fic so it doesn’t feel like a fair thing to criticize? Sometimes you just need to use blorbo as a punching bag, there’s nothing wrong with that.

TYSM FOR THE ASK, I love my son so much I need a read more to talk about him 70% of the time 😭

[wendyslegalwife]

HAPPY VALENTINES!!!! could you write a fluffy wendy fic where reader just spoils her in cute gifts?? i love your works!

Wendyxfemdreader

Genre:fluff

Warnings: none

Tysm anonie!! I'm so happy you love my works🥹🩵🩵

★ Eversince you and wendy had been engaged you couldn't shake off your habit of buying her tons of gifts, even she had to find ways to store her things because all of those were from you and she couldn't even store them properly as they were a lot.

It was finally christmas once again and you had decided to give her nothing else but gifts and love, walking into the giant mall going from stall to stall just to get her anything she would love and deserve, you always had to force her friends irene, seulgi, joy, and yeri just to help you with buying for wendy.

Even they were always having fun since you had always gave them something in return as an appreciation for the they have gave to you, as for the last and final shop you and the girls had decided to purchase a full collection of designer bags from chanel, louis vitton, and all the high end brands you could think of.

This was only a little amount for you, it only seemed like cute little presents that were just nothing but a spare change in your wallet, but to her it was more than that she felt like you only prioritized giving her gifts instead of giving her actual affection.

So this time you really took priority on focusing more on giving cuddles and kisses rather than just spoiling her with lots of luxurious gifts she wouldn't even dare to use because it has a sentimental value towards her.

"Thank you ladies, I appreciate the help once again, I have to go now I hope you ladies enjoy your gifts." All the girls nodded happily, joy smiled widely, "Thank you y/n! Happy holidays," they waved their goodbyes and went about their days, you waved back and got out of the mall as you drove back home.

You opened the door seeing wendy watching tv as she is laying down on the couch, she turned her head, her eyes widening in happiness as she immediately ran to hug you tight, the small girl embracing your stoic figure.

"baby I missrd you! Where have you been all day.. you didn't respond to all my calls and text-" you shushed her with your finger, "hush my darling, do not worry for I have been out with your friends for some shopping." Wendy frowned, "did you go shopping without me?" "Yes but please sit down dear I have much to show you."

You both sat down with a smile painted both on your faces, you carried a humongous box infront of her and let her open the box, as she was unwrapping the box barely reaching the top as her small figure was struggling to reach, you lifted her up making it easier for her.

She gasped in awe and excitement as there was many wrapped boxes of gifts stacked and labeled each, you let her relax as you took out all of the gifts she watched patiently, "Why so much baby? you know that I already have three rooms filled with so much presents from you" "anything for my princess, and besides gifts is the one of the things I will be giving you." "Those that mean I'm getting something else other than just materials?"

You smiled, scooping her into your arms not wasting a single second into taking her in your bedroom laying her down ever so lightly, she smiled pecking your lips which you gave back in return. "My princess let's spend this special holiday with love and joy."

And so you attacked her... With lots of smooches! All over her face and neck which made the small girl giggle in joy feeling ticklish of your lips, "Hehe oh my baby so much kisses! It tickles!!" She giggled out loud like a kid healing her inner childhood, she didn't receive much attention back when she was just a child since her parents had to work hard just to keep a roof over their heads.

"I know I've been very materialistic towards you instead of being affectionate, I'm very disappointed in myself that's why let's keep it nice and simple this year.." Wendy held your face as she looked deep into your eyes, "even if you've given me so much already?" She jokingly said which made you laugh.

Enjoying this warm special moment of embracing each other warmly, seizing the moment filled with warmth and happiness. Wendy nuzzled close up against the crook of your neck humming a beautiful melody.

"anything else you'd like to do this Christmas my princess? more hugs? Cuddles? Smooches? You name it my love." "How about a kiss?" You nodded with a smile pulling her in for a kiss, the kiss turning into something more as the night comes.

-wendyslegalwife🩵🩵

[sseanettles]

nothing grows in corpses (in the earth of me)

dream x hob gadling | mature | Finally cross-posting my take on the fandom classic of the show progresses as the comics do, even to The Wake. Until Death resurrects Morpheus and forces the choice of "redemption" upon him instead of suicide. It goes...horribly. No good. Very bad. Instead of learning the lesson, Morpheus (in his infinite wisdom) opts instead for a highly effective existence strike until one day Hob Gadling stumbles upon his ghastly handiwork and immediately decides that this just won't do. Man Who Refuses To Die vs. Man Who Refuses To Live: fight.

Dead Dove, Do Not Eat for the following: graphic depictions of starvation, illness, suicidal ideation, self-harm, blood and gore, loss of autonomy, etc. etc. This is some classic old world whump, folks! But I promise it's also supremely healing in the end.

CH. 6: the rockrose and the thistle, pt. 2 | 3 k | AO3 link | prev part | next part

(or: the one where we meet Gwen, & Morpheus finally comes inside.)

“Oh, thank fuck,” Hob gasped at the tail end of a particularly splendid ramble of affection. “We’re here, friend.”

He took the entry two steps at a time and with a groaning, heavy sigh of relief, braced himself against the column beside the door. His foot was numb enough that he didn’t feel the pain as he kicked the inky wood in a frantic tattoo and did not let up until he heard the rush of thudding footfalls down the stairs inside. A fumbling at the lock soon followed, along with the low, muffled sounds of his girlfriend’s voice as she egged herself on. Hob’s teeth began to chatter until his whole body shook. The warmth of inside was so close, yet so far—

The door jerked open and hit the end of the still-locked chain in a grating gnash.

“Shit!”

“Oh, fuck’s sake, Gwen—”

The door slammed back shut, the chain slipped free, and in the threshold stood Gwen. She was as tall as Hob, broad shouldered, curvy in a way that drove him mad and had her looking phenomenal in her Faire corsets and gowns. Her paint-spattered, polka-dotted bandana pulled her heavy head of long microbraids back from her face that had clearly been midway through her end-of-day make-up removal when he called. She was dressed down in her sweatpants with the hems tucked into her thick, wooly socks, and her lovely, baggy-sleeved cardigan of goldenrod yellow opened like wings as she took in the image before her and then zeroed in on the body in her boyfriend’s arms.

His Stranger’s rattling breaths seemed as loud as gravel now.

“Oh fuck, Robbie,” she blurted and cleared the door.

“I know, I know.” He hefted Morpheus once more in his arms as he rushed inside and winced at the strangled whimper of pain that sounded from within the coat and quilt at the jostling. “I’ve gotta get him—”

“I know,” it was now her turn to say, and she hissed as she rocked onto the balls of her feet and caught a glimpse of their guest’s face. “Up, let’s go. Bath’s ready.”

What followed was a haphazard rush up the stairs as Hob’s legs slowly regained sensation after his frigid dash through the snow and as such also began their treacherous turn to rubber. Gwen followed at his heels, practically pressed right up against him all the way, and did her best to guide his wobbling ascent with one hand on his hip and the other hovering by his stranger’s head in case they stumbled too close to the wall. He’d always hated this staircase. It was narrow, the steps were too close together, the ceiling was too low, and he felt like a human crammed into a child’s dollhouse.

He hated it even more now, and he grumbled and swore as he had to maneuver on the upper landing and heft Morpheus as high as he could manage within his burning arms to give Gwen clearance to duck beneath them and open the inner door to their flat.

Warmth, the smell of soup and fresh bread, of something cozy and sweet, the sharp, woody scent of a slowly melting candle and something else that was perhaps incense, the aroma of old paper and leather and binding glue, the faint residue of paint—the individual hues all melded together into a single amalgamation that Morpheus’ frayed, human nerves could hardly process, and he found the only name he could give it was safe. It settled over him like a final, numbing shroud of sensation that whited out much else as he was carried and maneuvered further into what he could only assume was Gadling’s home. The lights beyond his crusted eyes brightened, dimmed, and then brightened once more. He felt himself maneuvered further, felt first one grounding layer come away, then another, and he was suddenly so cold once again. His body ached to shiver but couldn’t summon the strength for so much as a twitch.

He felt himself lowered by two sets of firm but careful hands, and Morpheus screamed as the world lit on fire.

Hob had heard a great many harrowing sounds in his life. Men, women, children, animals, the very earth itself: he had heard all shriek at the hands of agonies best left to the imaginations of Hell. He had felt those very sounds grate along his own throat, had felt them shred his vocal cords to rawness and blood at the hands of man’s cruelty. He had drawn those sounds out of others himself. The sound of breath gurgling from crushed lungs—of boys still wet behind the ears dragging themselves across battlefields with severed limbs that poured their lifeblood into over-saturated earth, crying out for their mothers all the way until they stopped crying at all—the crunch of horses’ hooves on skulls and ribcages and spines, the ring that followed the deafening boom of cannons and later artillery, the spray of blood against skin and cloth as the person beside you was replaced with red mist and viscera…

…the wail of a parent over their dead children…the wail of children over their dead parents…of newly forged widowers and widows…the wail of watching your homeland disappear in blood and smoke.

Robert Gadling had heard it all.

The sound that ripped from his Stranger’s throat as he submerged beneath the hot bath water landed itself easily in the worst seven. It dragged from the depth of his skeletal chest, anchoring somewhere between his navel and his sternum, and the force of it jerked him upright and partially out of the water. His arms flailed, trying to grab to something or to beat it away with those clawing, boney hands, and Hob pushed an already retreating Gwen back with a loud swear that was lost beneath the banshee shriek of confused agony and betrayal that echoed through the tiled room. His Stranger’s eyes were now wide open, and Hob nearly retched at the state of them.

Blind. His Stranger had to be blind with eyes like that, or as good as. 

“Rob, Mrs. Williams!” Gwen cried from where she had slipped and toppled into a collapsed seat against the sink cabinet.

“I-I know, alright?!” His heart hammered in his throat, his voice trembling under the organ’s breakneck speed, and he surged forward to seize Morpheus by the shoulders as the man tried to haul himself out of the tub. Murky maroon blossomed into the water from his wounded gut as the strain ruptured his cobweb-frail tissues anew, and the more he struggled, the faster the red poured, brightening at an equally alarming rate. “Wait, stop! My friend—”

Those foggy, rubbery eyes latched onto him, and the scream choked into a strangled, desperate howl, like a doomed animal still trying to fight to its last. He moved fast, faster than Hob had imagined he could have moved in this state, and all he saw was a flash of grimy, pale skin before pain knifed across his face.

“Fuck!” he shouted, jerking his head back, but still was not quick enough. A shockingly iron grip snagged his hair at the roots as he went, and his Stranger’s nails, which had always been on the longer side, turned to talons at his scalp as he tried to slam Hob’s head down into the edge of the porcelain tub.

Hob had no doubt that if this had happened a year ago, he would have been on the floor with a shattered nose and split skull, watching with paralyzed eyes as his blood and brain matter oozed into the bathmat and onto the tiles. But that was then. And this was now.

He moved with a soldier’s instinct, a mercenary’s swiftness. His soaked hand clamped down on the tub’s edge in a flash, his elbow tightening but not locking stiff so that he moved with Morpheus’ grip without catching porcelain in the teeth or ripping his hair out at the roots. He felt his scalp burn and tear all the same, and Morpheus’ free hand raked down his face again, gouging more tracks into his cheek and temple and nose, going now for his neck, his chest, his hands—anything he could reach with all the speed and ferocity of a feral cat.

Hob snapped his eyes shut at the last second and cried out in pain as he felt Morpheus’ nails rip open the fragile skin.

“Robbie!” Gwen shouted and started forward.

“No!” he grunted and blindly caught hold of Morpheus’ wrist. The man cried out, struggling to pull away, sloshing the bathwater until it spilled everywhere, and it took everything Hob had to keep from letting go at the pitiful sound. The crack…the crack he’d heard from within the bundled layers in his arms…. “Wait outside!”

“God, you’re bleeding—”

“Please, Gwen, wait outside!” he begged. The grip in his hair tightened, pulling him sideways and down, and he stiffened the brace of his arm and winced as more of his hair tore. “I’m alright, you know I’m alright!” He tried to open his eyes and groaned through gritted teeth as blood blinded his right eye, dripping down to his beard. He screwed his eye shut against the burn and tucked his face into his shoulder to stem the flow as he tried to keep his other eye on the man in his grip. Morpheus continued to make those feral, desperate sounds, his blinded sight searching wildly for something only he knew. The stranglehold on his scalp tightened further, and Hob had never been more thankful to have trimmed his beard down to something less grabbable. He forced his voice to calm, even as the nerves in his face and skull shrieked in objection. “I just want you safe, Gwen,” he said. “Please, wait outside. I’ll call you when we need you.”

Morpheus began to quiet until only ragged, groaning breaths remained. His grip trembled but did not relent.

“…Are you sure?” Gwen asked softly from the floor.

“There’s nothing he can do to me that won’t be gone by morning, love,” Hob promised. “You, on the other hand….”

“Yeah,” she conceded and got her feet under her in the same unsteady manner. “Yeah, okay.”

He listened to her socked steps retreat, to the creak of the door opening and the click of it shutting behind her. His one non-blinded eye never left those of the undying man beneath him, and his nose burned as tears flooded his already stinging eyes. His Stranger’s eyes looked fake, like half-melted, age-fogged plastic, like an old teddy someone lost to attic storage. It broke his heart, filled him with such helplessness that for a moment, safely alone, he was not certain of the right path forward.

So, Hob Gadling did the only thing he knew how to do.

He did the stupid thing.

He let go of Morpheus’ wrist and the edge of the bathtub in a single, cautious release, taking care to keep his expression calm as he did. Morpheus snatched his hand back to his chest, and Hob kept himself from flinching in even the slightest as the man yanked hard on his hair at the same time, as if trying to pull himself from the tub by Hob’s scalp alone. He bowed under the pull, watched his friend’s body tremble with the effort of his attempt, but did not yield. He raised his hands slowly to his shoulders, fingers splayed with his palms facing his Stranger. And as he did, Morpheus sagged into the water with a heartbroken, devastated huff that left his chin trembling and his chest quaking in its rises and falls. His fingers tangled deeper into Hob’s hair.

Hob took a deep breath and the plunge that followed.

“Dream,” he called, as soft as a parent to their sleeping child. His friend’s eyes landed on him in a burst of swift, clumsy shifts, struggling to pinpoint Hob through his blindness even though he was firm beneath his hands. “Morpheus.”

His friend blinked. His parched throat worked, moistened fleetingly by the steam of the bath, and the sounds he made turned a little less animalistic, a little more human.

“Stranger,” Hob pressed.

Those air-starved pneumonia breaths shook Morpheus’ skeletal frame, his body rattling with fever shakes that Hob knew well, until both culminated in hacking coughs that brought up nothing but bits of red-tinged phlegm. The blood continued to spread through the murky, filthy water from Despair’s wound as months of grit began to lift from his clothes and skin.

Cautiously, as if approaching an injured bird, Hob lowered his hand to Morpheus’ where it was fisted into his hair. The fingers tensed, tugged his scalp in warning. But Hob let his touch settle anyway; his warm, calloused skin settled into a soothing pet along the back of his friend’s hand to his wrist, to his elbow, and back up.

Slowly…in…out….

Like the breaths Morpheus struggled to take. Like the tides that had welcomed him back to life.

“ ‘S okay,” Hob whispered. His face throbbed along every track mark his friend had left upon him. He could feel the blood gluing his eye shut, and he fought the urge to rub at it. The wounds needed to be cleaned and tended, not scrubbed into an equally dirty blazer, and any unexpected move at this point would probably undo the precarious peace they had forged. “ ‘S just hot water,” he soothed instead and hoped he didn’t look too beat up. “ ‘S just me.” His hand continued to move up and down Morpheus’ arm, his touch as warm as sunlight to the chilled skin. “Just us…”

Another breath, deeper this time, shuddered out of Morpheus in something dangerously close to a sob. Hob let his hand drift to a pause atop his friend’s wrist. He sank a bit closer to the tub’s edge, leaning against it in as relaxed of a pose as he could manage, grappled and mangled as he was. His thumb swept across the knobs of Morpheus’ bones in time with his own metronomic pulse. He could feel the other man’s heartbeat beneath the pad of his ring finger. It was as swift as a hummingbird’s, as unsteady as a breaking rainstorm.

“…D’you know who I am?” he murmured after a while.

Morpheus had relaxed into the water by infinitesimal increments, though his grip to Hob’s hair remained just as firm in silent threat. He watched Hob with glassy, overwrought eyes that remained as sightless as frosted windows beneath their heavy lids, and when he swallowed, a wincing shadow darkened his face at the pain it brought. But he swallowed again despite it, swallowed a third time. His Sahara-dry lips parted as he breathed a little harder. His brow furrowed, in confusion, in effort, and he forced his exhausted vocal cords to come to life beneath one threadbare exhale.

“…Hob?”

It was a whisper of a word, a dying croak of a syllable. It was the normalcy of an oh-so-sick voice that Hob had heard countless times over the centuries, and it shattered his chest like a battering ram.

Human. Wholly human.

He had not expected the loss of that something more beneath his Stranger’s voice to hit him quite so hard.

He forced his face to crease into a gentle smile anyway that left his one good eye shining and exuded a warmth like a restful sunrise. And when he blinked, he forced himself to re-open both eyes in the end, to beam through the tears and blood. Maybe the pain of faking it would ground him. Maybe his Stranger wouldn’t be able to see him mourning through it.

“Yeah,” he smiled, and his voice broke in the most pitiful way as he moved his hand down Morpheus’ arm to touch his cheek, his hair. “Yeah, ‘s Hob. ‘S your friend.” Another wracking breath punched from Morpheus’ chest. The grip in his hair began to loosen, and Hob began to inch his hand back down his friend’s arm to his fingers. “Your annoying, immortal drinking partner,” he winked, “and I aim to have so much to tell you in 2089. So…” Living, loved skin smoothed over Morpheus’ battered hands, its fingers tracking his until they interlaced. “Will you let me help you?”

Morpheus stared at their hands for a long time and when he finally blinked, something prowled with disquiet in Hob’s gut. It was a different sort of blink than before, just as the way his head tipped and his attention drifted was wrong, or at least more wrong than it had been thus far. It was as if he were trying to break free from something settling over him, to shake loose a dark shadow.

“I…”

The hand in his hair went slack, and that was all the warning Hob got.

Morpheus’ eyes rolled back in his head as the bath finally did him in, his near-empty blood vessels dilating with the water’s heat until there was nothing left to circulate. Hob surged forward and caught his head with a cradling hand at the base of his skull while the other plunged into the water to snag him beneath his arm. Death had come for him, again. Hob knew the feeling well. The drifting oblivion would reassemble to unconsciousness first, then to dreams and delirium, and finally once more into wakefulness. And for as horrid as the experience of dying was, it at least afforded them one small mercy.

It meant that he and Gwen could finish their work undisturbed.

“Gwen!” he called over his shoulder, taking care to keep his voice soft, though the consideration wasn’t necessary. His friend was quite literally dead to the world, no matter the agonal gasps that tugged his jaw with plummeting frequency. The door opened immediately, and she peered at him from the partially opened threshold, a heavy apron fastened protectively about her. “I just—I-I need more hands, if you….”

He stopped. Gwen was just staring at him from the threshold, a well-meaning but cruel mix of horror and pity and sadness upon her beautiful face as she took in the state of him, tears glistening in her beautiful dark eyes. He bowed his head. Tucked his bloodied face into his arm.

And Hob Gadling began to cry in earnest.

[without-school-or-style]

24 - Bar

Word Count: 664

Today’s Card: The Sentinel (determination, certainty)

“A’ight,” said Teremy, “let’s take ten.”

Immediately, Joey’s legs gave out and he slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. His gunblade slumped to the side with him. Teremy, on the other hand, exhaled and smiled after a casual swig of water. ‘How do these people last forever and never get tired?! Do they have super cardio or what?!’ Joey wondered. At the very least, even though exhaustion had seized his body into stillness except for bare minimum movement such as breathing, his working mind alerted him to that he still had a little life left in him. As minuscule amount as that was. How long had they been at it for? Joey had lost track of the hours and instead deemed the passage of time to be ‘eternity’.

On the other hand, Joey had no right to complain. He was the one who asked to be here. He knew what a day in the super-ultra-intense training life of Teremy Itsubishi was like. And Joey definitely had no right to raise a voice in protest when Teremy had graciously agreed to this arrangement in the first place.

“You’re starting to get the hang of the technique,” said Teremy. “You’re getting better at deriving power from your lower body—your experience in martial arts is probably what’s helpin’.” Another swig of water. “All that’s left is to drill in the basics and memorize basic combinations. Nothing daily effort can’t help. Here, take a drink.”

Joey took a weary glance to the side to see that the Miqo’te had perched beside him. He tried to raise his eyebrows to say does it look like I can move anytime soon, but he knew that Teremy meant well. Surrounding himself with healing magic, he felt himself bathed in a gentle light akin to an aurora. The muscles that Joey often hated admitting he had slowly relaxed—enough for him to take his own water. He held the bottle with both hands and took a delicate sip much in a similar manner to a small child.

“I just hope that one day, I’ll be able to protect others like you,” said Joey.

“That’s the whole reason you asked me to help you, right?” Teremy asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for my selfishness.”

“Not at all. There’s nothing wrong in asking for help. Why apologise?”

Joey pulled his legs to his chest and leaned his chin on his knees in a fetal position. “I guess, I just… teachers breathing down my neck telling me what to do every step of the way, I worry I’m not doing something right. But at the same time, I didn’t know who else to ask. I want to make sure I’m doing this properly.”

Teremy stared at Joey silently for a few moments as though his mind reached into the back of his thoughts to figure out what to say. Taking another swig of water, he wiped the back of his mouth with his forearm. “If you have any doubts, then at least have faith in training. Hard work never lies.”

“But what if I never get better? What if I’m just wasting your time?”

“In that case…”

Teremy rose to his feet. With a clang and a heavy thud, Joey looked up in wide-eyed horror as Teremy slung not a gunblade over his shoulder, but an axe. An overwhelming sensation of dread nearly made Joey throw up.

“… there’s only one way to find out where the bar is, and that’s trial by fire.”

“What happened to taking ten! It’s not ten yet!” Joey cried.

“Show me everything you got! You hold back, you die!” A fiery red aura surrounded Teremy, billowing his hair and clothes and causing various rocks and stones to levitate around him, as he released his inner warrior.

“What is this? Zenos the Second?!”

Joey barely had time to grab his gunblade and jump back before Teremy’s downswing cleaved the Viera in half like Teremy’s axe did to the ground.

((I originally had this idea for Duel, but real life got in the way and I never got a chance to write it. I think this idea fit Bar better though. Teremy Itsubishi belongs to me. He has an oft-neglected blog at @sworn-unbeliever in case you want to see what he looks like, since I forgot to take a picture today.))

[red-n-ded]

I’m bored so here’s my Bunny Brother AU. I’ll probably make a comic or write a fanfic on it but I’m busy with other projects. If people like it enough, I probably do it.

A year after the Makki Invasion, Auntie dies leaving a scroll and her farm, in the will for Usagi, the ninja kids and Hana. Usagi refuses to open the scroll and never left the farm for weeks. The stone hears his grieving and opens a portal which an entity from another dimension runs loose.

The entity goes around scaring people, invading people’s homes to scavenge for food and a place to sleep. After it stays for the night, it leaves a pile of ryo, currency only used in feudal Japan. It never hurt anyone or stole anything except for food. The gang (minus Yuichi who was on the way) believed for a while that it was an evil yokai planning to terrorize the city but Usagi, after seeing it’s generosity, theorizes that it’s just confused.

Every time someone in the city received a visit, Lord Kogane would be there to take the coins for “investigation purposes” which ticked the entity so much that it snuck into his house in the middle of the night to threaten him to return the coins.

When the gang came to save the Shogun, they recognize it to be Miyamoto Usagi, Yuichi’s ancestor, but a 15-year-old teenager. When Miyamoto was taken from his time, he was still in training under Katsuichi so he wasn’t a samurai yet.

While trying to find a way to help Miyamoto return home, Yuichi made it his personal mission to show his role model the joys of Neo Edo and the future, hopefully to clear his mind and move on from Auntie’s death after a month of grieving.

Over time, the two start to bond, becoming the brothers both wanted but never had (for different reasons since the closest person Miyamoto had to a brother was Kenichi, who hated his guts) and start to question whether either of them really want Miyamoto to go back.

I started reading the Usagi Yojimbo comics and realized that Miyamoto was just a much mature and patient version of Yuichi. He’s petty, stubborn, likes to play tricks once in a while, kind of dumb, naive and impulsive, especially when he was still training.

He would be the best big brother to Yuichi since both lacked (healthy in Miyamoto’s case) friendships within the same age group. Yuichi grew up on a farm for the first 16 years of his life and had only Spot and Auntie. Miyamoto had two childhood friends but one of them he had a major crush on and the other only saw him as a rival and nothing else. For the rest of childhood since he was seven, he lived with a hermit in the middle of the woods and only going to the village for samurai business.

Both are used to growing up alone so having someone so close to themselves and their age will definitely heal their inner child.

Fight me on this but after Yuichi is over his fanboy phase and gets hit with the reality that Miyamoto hasn’t achieved anything yet, that boy will activate his “younger sibling” instincts and annoy his new big brother to death. Miyamoto would pretend to not like him for a while but will definitely kill anyone on sight if his baby brother was hurt.

It is also a fact that the two will team up and annoy any enemy (and friend. Kitsune, you are not safe) who deserves it. If Lord Kogane had a googley eyes glued to his forehead for an entire week, Miyamoto would argue that he is innocent and Yuichi would vouch for him as a witness.

[viilpstick]

Barbs sweetie-

I need Yuuna content >:(

Like is there stuff you changed from the OG game?? What does she become when she grows older?? Does she have parental figures from staff?? Hobbies?? ANYTHING?!

KEHSJAUXJWHXJWJNS OKAY KKAY LET ME ANSWER THOSE QUESTIONS TO U😭😭🙏

1- I don’t think she changes anything on the game (that likes tragically affects everything around her + story) mostly just her relationship with Vil. Of course I add into the story but nothing changes the end. at least for now, I still haven’t decided if I want her to vote for Neige or not, probably not and then I will explain why. But anyway-

2- Yuuna becomes an interviewer and journalist! :3 She always had GREAT intrapersonal skills and after finally healing her inner child that she doesn’t need to copy people, she can finally show more of them ^^ (Bonus: One day she was waiting for Vil to show up in basically the red carpet, and when he does he pulls her for a kiss, in open television and everyone saw- Save to say, they had a few edits going around for the next month)

3- Divus Crewel, the fact that Yuuna is magic-less gets Crewel RLLY interested, and the more he notices simple details, like: Yuuna likes to have a vest on because according to her is comforting and also makes her look more professional. Gets his attention, he then becomes more protective over her, he makes Crowley help her around genuinely more. And every time after an overblot he will RUN to where she is checking if everything is okay. With time (around chapter 3 to 4), Yuuna stops mirroring Crewel and starts acting like her own person around him :(( Which he notices and gets comfortable to help her out around (safe to say, Crewel may have brilliants and less troublemakers students, but Yuuna will always be his favorite, she is like a daughter to him)

4- Her hobbies? Writing and reading, she is a girl who loves daydreaming, fantasies and dreams coming true (ignore the fact she loves horror books as well) so she always has a good book with her around. Another bonus, when she is with Vil, awhile he is testing new products, she will be reading the book. Their quiet quality time <33

5- ANYTHING ELSE???? YOU WANT MORE/j A sad fact now, Yuuna’s younger brother died. And btw when he did, her parents during the whole week until the funeral treated her like absolute SHIT. She would have to do everything, they would tear her up apart, make her cry silent as she screams for help. And before you wonder, nope, this never happened before. She was mistreated and miserable bc of them, but NEVER at this point. Anyway, her brother died bc when she was in school, he was playing outside and his parents weren’t paying attention, he got hit by a car. When she comes home after school and hear the news, she is crying, they didn’t seemed to even care about it. She runs to her room, and cries awhile humming the lullaby she used to sing for him, and if you wonder, the lullaby is “You’ll be in my heart”, yep. The Tarzan song. <//3 Live with that now. (bonus, again: this is why she is so fucking attached to Ace and Deuce, they are just like her younger brothers. And when they find out that whole story, they start seeing her as an older sister as well)

(@midnightmah07 wanted u to see this as well)

[cdyssey]

Ninth Doctor Era Rewatch Rankings:

1. “Father’s Day” → I think script wise, #2 on my list might be a little bit higher, but when it comes to the emotional impact that Series One episodes had on me, there can be no other entry at the top. It has to be “Father’s Day,” through and through—a story about intimate, personal grief and the utter importance that even an “ordinary” man has on an entire world. I love this story for plainly talking about how a person’s life is elevated after their death; Jackie built up Pete to be a perfect man for her young, fatherless child, someone to be absolutely proud of. And I equally love this story for briefly deconstructing that fantasy by showing us the rocky reality of Jackie and Pete’s marriage and some of his less-than-admirable traits, and yet, still coming to a similar conclusion at the end of the day. Yes, Pete wasn’t perfect—far from it, in fact—but he was still someone to be proud of. He was human, and he was good. He loved his family. He died to save them—save the entire world. It’s all so beautiful and poignantly done. Billie and Shaun Dingwell put in wrenching performances. I cry every single time.

2. “The Empty Child” / “The Doctor Dances” → Oh, these episodes will forever fuck me up in the best of ways. I STILL remember being in middle school when I first watched them and being terrified of the masked people and their insistent refrain. But this episode is so much more than the terror, or really, it’s about the terror. The terror of war. The terror of not having a future. The terror of intimacy. The terror of never being able to heal from what has been done to you—or perhaps even, from what you yourself did. The Doctor sees his own trauma echoed back at him all over these episodes—in brave, selfless Nancy, in the bombs that are slow-cooking London, in Rose’s desire to know him at a new level. And it’d be so easy to offer the conclusion that there’s no escaping the terror; there’s no healing from a critical wound; there’s no hope at the end of a long day. After all, in Nine’s adventures that we’ve seen so far, nothing has exactly contradicted that. Someone has always died despite his best efforts. But, oh, man, in this fucking episode, just this once, everybody lives, and it’s a triumph that is absolutely the defining moment of Nine for me. As he laughs in that sea of golden lights, we see the exact moment that he finds his inner joy again. We see him begin to heal. Fucking fantastic.

3. “Dalek” → Genuinely my favorite Dalek episode of all time. Christopher Eccleston’s stellar fucking acting alone sells the horror of the species—what they are and what they have done, what even a single one can accomplish if it’s let loose in the world. And as we witness the carnage, both within our terrified Doctor and in that facility full of bodies, we also immediately see the idea of a pure Dalek turned on its head through Rose, whose influence turns a literal hate machine into something else. Something entirely new. God, “Dalek” is just a brilliant episode all around, one that interrogates the effects of war in so many ways. War only creates lonely, broken creatures. Like the Doctor. Like the Dalek. The corrective is purposefully choosing not to perpetuate that violence, so it doesn’t change you into becoming something that you can’t stand to look in the mirror.

4. “The End of the World” → Okay, I don’t have the deepest things to say here, except that it’s just an iconic fucking episode of television ALAKDJAKKS. LIKE, on one hand, you have moments of just outrageous camp—“Toxic” and Cassandra the “bitchy trampoline”—but in the same space, you have existential musings about how even though the world will one day be gone, the connections that we thread with our loved ones will always be meaningful and profound. Brilliant and funny and touching. A second episode that’s already firing on all cylinders.

5. “Aliens of London” / “World War III” → Didn’t think that these two would be so high on the list, but god, if the opening of “Aliens” and the close of “WWIII” didn’t absolutely spear right through me on this rewatch. I think these episodes do the best job (in Series One, at least) of showing exactly what the personal consequences of time-traveling can be. It’s something Jackie and Mickey had to agonizingly experience when Rose was gone from them an entire year. And it was something that Rose and the Doctor have to grapple with as well upon their return and in the subsequent battle with the Slitheen. The Doctor gets it better than Rose (understandably so). He can never guarantee her safety, and that’s a fact that perpetually haunts his entire companionship with her.

6. “Bad Wolf” / “The Parting of Ways” → URGHSHDHDJDHS, I like RTD finales because they’re balls off the walls crazy, but also, it drives me crazy that the series-long lead-up to his big twists tends to be minimal. I think I would have enjoyed the Bad Wolf ex-machina far better if we could have gotten consistent references (beyond unremarked upon appearances of the phrase) to it throughout the series. I’m also never the biggest fan of when legions of Daleks are the big enemy™️ because I’m still in awe of how perfect the episode “Dalek” is in showing how just one Dalek is a considerable foe. When they’re innumerable, the threat just sort of dulls to me. BUT for all this, there is so, so, so much to love about the finale episodes. I love the game show pastiches in “Bad Wolf.” Nine sending Rose away and her theme playing over his goodbye message is a top tier moment for me. And his regeneration is just pitch perfect. Nine was my first Doctor, and he’ll always be so special to me.

7. “Rose” → God, the iconic pilot. Really, just a pitch perfect introduction to the world of Doctor Who through the eyes of someone who is inexorably pulled into the Doctor’s mad, dangerous, and fantastic orbit. “Rose” does what a good pilot is supposed to do. Get us involved with the characters and make us want to know more. And Christopher Eccleston really sets the tone of this specific series in the climax of the episode, hinting at the devastation of the Time War and his utter guilt at playing a part in it.

8. “Boomtown” → SEE, OKAY, here’s the thing. “Boomtown” has all of the elements of the things that I typically love in an episode of a TV show. It’s got camp. It’s got banter. It’s got deep philosophical examinations of the characters and their moral motivations. And I REALLY loved Annette Badland’s performance of Margaret… but I think my ultimate qualm with “Boomtown” always ends up being that you can see the seams of the finale set-up just a little too clearly. I wish the Bad Wolf climax had been introduced more gradually throughout the series. And some of the dialogue here was just a wee bit too on the nose.

9. “The Unquiet Dead” → Honestly, there really wasn’t a bad episode in Series 1 for me. Just ones that were a bit more interesting than others. I still liked this episode. The guy who played Charles Dickens was incredibly convincing, and I loved the bittersweetness of the Gwyneth storyline. Her bonding moment with Rose was so lovely and human.

10. “The Long Game” → Simon Pegg was great as the antagonist is this one. The worldbuilding was fun, too—it was cool that the Satellite V plot came back in the finale! I think I just disliked Adam that much djsjfjjsjs. Watching his subplot gave me secondhand embarrassment—though that was definitely the intent.

[strawberry-metal]

I'm gonna....get a little personal with you guys. It's something I wanna get off my chest.

I wasn't really allowed the chance to really enjoy Winx Club as a kid. I won't reveal her name but I was in 5th grade and I had a "friend" of two years in the grade with me but she was no friend. She was my abuser. She was a textbook narcissist. She would put me down about everything and show how much better she was at everything I tried to do, she would always mock me and she got everyone in the grade to hate me. (Well...maybe not everyone but it sure felt like it. You know how much it hurts to hear people talking shit about you because they have to be paired up with you in gym class? How much it hurts that no one would ever want to partner with you and a teacher would have to do it for you?) And when I made new friends she would force me to end my friendship with them. She also knew I loved Winx Club and would constantly berate me for enjoying it.

There was also a time when I made a youtube channel and called it WinxForever12. I uploaded Winx Club videos. They weren't good but they made me happy. There was a chick on there that seemed nice that conversed with my abuser and so I sent her a friend request. She also hated Winx Club and dislike bombed my videos, left abhorrent comments on every single one of my videos and you know what else she did? I fucking WISH I was making this shit up. She was a popular girl at her school and she spread rumors that I was the one picking on her, so the next day I got more disliked bombed, my homepage bombarded with threats and other horrible shit. THIS WOMAN WAS A FUCKING HIGHSCHOOLER AND I WAS AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLER. I ended up having to close my youtube account because guess what? It happened. I finally became suicidal.

I finally managed to break free of my abuser when we went onto 6th grade but the damage was already done. I would self harm and wanted nothing more than to die, and thankfully I let some adults know that. But that wasn't it, I started getting groomed by three adults around this stage as well. I never caught a damn break.

I truly wish I was making all this shit up because it sure doesn't sound legit, but it is true. I wasn't safe from bullying or abuse in real life or on the internet. (Which is why I get pissed when people say to just turn off the computer when things happen because you don't know what the hell they're also going through off the internet.)

As such... I'm going to be trying to take back my childhood that I was denied. I've already got something planned with the girls for October but maybe in between it I'll do stuff related to Winx Club and the like... so I ask that you please don't make fun of me for going back to childish interests and posting about them and just let me heal my inner child.

[sheismo]

When I tell people I’m not religious or a Christian they’re confused. Yes. I grew up Christian. But I do not claim Christianity. Im a spiritualist. A child of God. A friend is Yeshua. A healing woman.

My grandmother is actually an evangelist. She can see the light & darkness in people. She can tell you something about yourself that you don’t even know about yourself. It can sometimes be scary. And my ancestory is deeply connected to Christianity however it’s been “blindly” linked to hoodoo too for centuries. We’ve been told so many times how to shake a fever or cleanse ourselves with “homemade” remedies. 🤐

I’ve learned so much about Christianity,the world and even other religions that I cannot be blind. Especially when it comes to the oppression of black Americans. The tea is Christianity isn’t “the white man’s religion” it was westernized by white men and used as a tool to control our ancestors during slavery. That’s a wholeeee other story for another day. 😬With all that being said I understand and know how religion was used against my ancestors.

I cannot turn the blind eye to the hurt and I pain of my ancestors. I cannot dishonor them. For they came before & they’re the reason I am who I am and think the way I do ! This isn’t “new” .. in my bloodline there’s someone who felt the same way & understood things the way I did. God has put it on my heart so many times that my spiritual views & awakening was destined. I truly feel chosen. My grandmother truly believes I had an encounter with God at 5 years old once when I passed out ; I pray that God shows me that someday. 🤞🏾

Now don’t get it twisted at all .. I LOVE GOD. The creator. The higher power. I understand that God is love & light. God is both masculine and feminine. God is a celestial of extreme power. God is understanding. God is kind. God is peace. God is ONE. There’s no other God. There’s no one else to worship. Honor your ancestors not worship them.

I know Jesus. I love Jesus. I understand his prophecy. I deeply resonate with it actually. My goal in life is to be CHRIST like. WWJD is so important to me. Jesus didn’t like religion. He felt it was lots of dishonesty & hypocrisy. I get why. I want to be a reflection of Jesus’s attitude & light. I want to be the kindest and most genuine person. I want to help others & truly tap into my inner peace.I understand that repentance is necessary as well as karma. You truly reap what you sow. Prayer is essential. Faith is essential. Being back in the Bible has genuinely been healing. I’m getting closer and closer to God & I am thankful for God’s grace over my life to be back in his arms is AMAZING. I feel so content with life. I want nothing but positivity. I want my spirit to be healed and cleansed from my past transgressions. I see the depth in everything.. everything is spiritual.

I love that God made me in his image & I know that he understands me spiritually. Each day I grow & learn something new. I know that God & goodness runs in my veins. I know that part of my purpose is to truly understand who I am spiritual & to heal/expand my spirit. I must honor God & live I LIGHT. Nothing of this world can even satisfy me. I have God so I have all I need.

[jadehasvertigo]

Who Am I?

Who is this bitch Jade? Actually, no one special. I spend my days online reading/writing fanfictions and watching shows and movies. I am dreaming about a life that is too far away to reach and about a guy who is (I think) happily married and has kids.

I am a capricorn and my rising sign is aquarius. I live in germany. (so english is not my first language) and grew up in a toxic household. I am the oldest of a generation. Mentally i'm screwed. I suffer from dark humor. In the future i want to make movies. I don't give a shit what the world thinks about my dream.

One of my favorite artists is Harry Styles<3 I went to three of his concerts and those three nights were unforgettable. I felt so much joy and love in those moments. The adrenaline was pumping through my body and made me feel like i was part of something big. I am so lucky that i got to see him. Never been so thankfull for something. I will love him dearly, until infinty finds an end.

I grew up with Ariana Grande's music. I think she gave me the confidence I have today and made me a bad bitch. Harry healed my inner child.

I can say, with so much pride, that I am a reality shifter!<33333 There is nothing I am more proud of than this. I was there when it all started, I am a fuckin' OG. DracoTok and stuff like that, thats my shit.

On this blog i will share my experiences in life with u. Nothing special. Maybe it will help me a little to deal with my problems and maybe u will feel less lonely.

Long story short: I'm just a ghost that wanders around and is an insignificant part of someone else's life.

with so much love, jade^^

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

hello, i dont really know what i’m aiming for with this message but like.

is it possible to forgive yourself after years of being groomed by a man 10 years older than you online ?

is it possible to gain back your inner child and be pure of these horrible conflicting thoughts ?

i would give anything to go back and tell 11 year old me to close the tab and unfriend him

you know ? :(

coz here i am . 16 years old and nothing but a damaged psyche to show for it .

i wish i could’ve spent my early teens hanging with people my age instead of worrying if i was a 26 year old man’s “favorite”

i feel sick remembering

this is more of a dump than anything and i’m sorry

it’s been a very stressful night for me and i don’t have anywhere else to say this

thank you for reading

-spring

Hi spring,

I am so sorry about what you've been through. Please know that you're not alone, and what happened is not your fault.

Yes, though the process is not quick or simple, it is possible to forgive yourself, reconnect with your inner child, and heal from these traumatic experiences.

Ultimately, if you can afford or access it, working with a mental health professional such as a therapist could be an incredibly useful tool in your recovery journey. A therapist can work with you, providing a safe space for you to feel seen and heard, and explore some coping mechanisms and guide you in your healing. Sometimes it's a trial and error of finding someone that's a good fit for you, and therapy isn't for everyone either. That being said, I've had similar experiences as yours at a similar age, and therapy has been unimaginably helpful for me (I'm 23 now, started therapy at your age), so I definitely recommend it.

Please know that, while it may be hard to see right now, you still have a lot of time ahead of you to heal. Please also try to remember that you are more than what happened to you.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun