#try and kill the worst of my perfectionist urges

[marysixnumbers]

Here’s a few loose Overwatch headcanons that don’t fit anywhere else yet:

-Soldier and Ana don’t get involved in as many tickle situations as they used to, but they still somehow know everyone’s worst spots and will use that knowledge to break up tickle fights if needed. Once, Ana found herself walking past her daugher tickling the living daylights out of Mercy; one idle comment mentioning Pharah’s weak spot had the tables turned in a matter of seconds, ever since Pharah has found winning tickle fights against Mercy a lot more difficult.

-Reaper is one of the biggest lees in the cast because if you’re the Grand Prince of Darkness (or whatever) and someone tickles you, what are you gonna do? Tickle them back? Stoop to their level and end up looking ridiculous? So his plan consists of batting away his ler’s hands while trying to stifle his laughter. (It ususally doesn’t work.)

- Ever since they each found out the other was ticklish, Tracer and Kirko constantly get into no-holds-barred tickle fights. Both are competitive enough to want to win at any cost, but sensitive enough to make winning from a disadvantageous position extremely difficult. Currently Tracer is on a winning streak, thanks to a spot on Kiriko’s upper ribcage that makes her screech and punch the nearest surface, but given that the two are both massive switches, you never know how the tides will change.

-While examining Echo in her workshop, Brigitte discovered that if Echo casts her beam attack on bare skin at the lowest possible power level, it really, really tickles. What started off as an opportunity to prank a few friends quickly spiralled out of control; Brigitte spend the rest of the day chasing down a robot drunk with the newfound power to have her teammates curled up and laughing hysterically with a flick of her fingers. These days, Echo knows not to use the dreaded Tickle Ray recklessly, but she still has some fun with it every so often.

-Mei is the only person who knows that Zarya’s ticklish, finding out when she touched the Russian’s sides a little too lightly during a hug. Zarya swore the scientist to secrecy, but whenever Mei ambushes her by poking her belly or spidering over her legs, she never seems that eager to push her away. It’s not uncommon to walk past Zarya’s quarters on a bright winter’s morning and hear her light chuckles floating out from under the door.

[faint-kitten]

FK infodumping about Tony Stark in Midnight Suns (spoilers)

Tony.

Tony.

TONY.

Tony stark cannot stop being Tony in this fucking game. ||I taught him magic and his first instinct is to patent it and fucking sell it, and nepo hire me in to run the R&D Division.

I love this run of Tony Stark, because it's very much: Yeah he's a billionaire, he's trying, I know you're trying tony, and you don't get it. Everyone tolerates/likes him because they know he's trying and thinks he means well.

But he's a fucking billionaire. He's like when rich people just want's to be a little guy, hey I'm just a little guy like you! And then he just moves in and he's the worst.

Robbie and Peter start Shop because they want a place where they can get creative together without Know it all perfectionists leaning over their shoulders (Strange and Tony) and tony invites himself in, and proceeds to just run the little guys out because HE feels anxious and HE needs to feel like he's doing something. When you call him out, when Robbie calls out how he bought up a steel mill in his home town and just ruined everyone's jobs there because he never broke ground: Tony reveals he was in a pissing match with Oscorp, he bought it to beat oscorp, then found out the company was going under anyway and decided to cut his losses, and turn it into a PR spin. He fucking didn't know because it made his numbers go up, and everyone cheered, then he had a drink, and fucked off and assumed it would all be okay. He then apologizes saying he's trying to make up for it. This is AFTER telling Robbie and Peter that he liked making things as a kid and no one understood him and that's why he wants to be there. After literally being like: "pfft I can do this better, how hard could it be."

He joins the Midnight Suns and IMMEDIATELY takes over operations and muscles out Blade and Nico and Magik and robbie for control of day to day operations.

He's a fucking big rich prick, who just comes in and fucks it up without thinking about the little guys. He's so up his fucking ass.

There's so many little moments where they charactarize him as a rich guy who's just out of touch with normal ass people. It's so perfect. He can't process the world like everyone else, he can't imagine how they feel because he's so fucking rich and out of it, he can't fucking stop himself from just DOING Billionare shit.

We taught him how to do a little mysticism and he's like: "new department! new products! It's gonna be big. We'll sell it and you're gonna run it." Like, that's not why the Hunter taught you Magic. We didn't teach you magic for capitalism, we taught you because it's what we're fighting, we taught you because you're scared in a spooky house and you said you just wanted to understand, we fucking taught you because you had a mind and wanted to expand it, and were too embarressed to ask Doctor Strange. We taught you because for a BRIEF second you were a human being, and we wanted to help you and be your friend.

Like TONY we're trying to save the fucking world here. Magik invited me to limbo and I helped her with her trauma and she called me her friend. Robbie offered to let me crash on his couch, and meet his brother and hang out with him and Peter. Doctor Strange is learning to get over himself, and realize he's still worth something even if he isn't all knowing and all powerful. Blade and I discuss dealing with our darker halves and urges and made a pact to kill each other if we ever go bad, and he's trying to teach me there's more to life than "The hunt" the caretaker has drilled into my head.

Your idea of 'we're friends now' is making me head of a fucking department. Talking about taking what the Hunter taught you, and turning it into a project, a product, one of HUNDREDS of new ventures he can just piss money away on, get all excited about. One of hundreds of ventures he shits out a week in his excitement and like Peter fucking Molynuex you're pitching it and who fucking knows if it will actually go anywhere?

I love this game's approach to Tony even as it makes me hate him. Like what a way to sympathize with a human being, while also illustrating why rich people can't fundamentally be our friends. ||

The approach of: what if a Billionaire was sympathetic? He's just a little guy trying to do his best to undo his father's legacy, and he doesn't MEAN to hurt everyone's feelings step on the little guy and make billions. Can't you see he's trying soooo hard?

And the game's response is: "Great backstory, you're still a Billionaire."

Even if you turn him down and tell him that's not what magic is for he goes "Np I never take no for an answer :) " Like stop. You're the worst. (for the record, I am praising the game's take on tony, I think the writing, and acting, and themes they're working with are perfectly executed.)

[theanonymousfoxsimp]

Karl Heisenberg headcannons(sfw and nsfw)

As specific,some of these will be nsfw headcannons but I will specify when they come up with little ~~~~~~ marks after sfw.

There will be x reader headcannons too

Sfw

He has a few small tattoos in my opinion,a moon tattoo with a wolf head,a few mechanical themed tattoos. He would die if you ever got a tattoo of his crest-makes him feel a sense of ownership

He's tall-like maybe 6'3 at the minimum but he cannot be taller than alcina.

Depsite being taken by miranda at a young age,is is very smart and he could and would argue saying is smarter than most of the freak show

I believe he has lycan blood in him,I have the idea if he did have a lycan form then it would be where he's much taller-if not as tall as alcina. Alcina is a bit terrified because he could take her down quite easily at thay height. Donna has been lucky to not see his lycan wrath but moreau? Not so much

He actually once had a bond with moreau and alcina but once he realised how bad miranda was,he immediately began to plot how to kill them in a worst case scenario. Donna and him have a questionable bond,mostly her making him new clothes whenever he does shift or get majorly hurt.

Vodka man,has to be strong enough to make him a little bit tipsy which is hard considering the cadou in him.

He doesn't have a bedframe,his mattress is on the floor but the mattress is surprisingly soft enough to make up for the lack of the bed frame. He tried making one himself-it broke in the middle of the night which ruined his sleep schedule even more

He trims his beard and hair a lot but not as frequent as he used to. He's been busy with his metal army so he's been lacking on his hygiene

When you came along,he was hoping you would see the same way he did-considering mirands straight up kidnapped you after you arrived in the village.

Miranda stuck you with him,which made him rethink a lot of what he did but didn't fully Express it. He definitely had to keep you on the upper floors to avoid any soldats or haulers coming after you-he would prefer you in one piece.

Heisenberg is a perfectionist,I kinda also headcannon he can hyperfixate on things which causes him to forget anything exists besides what he's hyperfixated on(I want to say he has mild adhd) until he is done with said thing

He owns alot of women necessities, you asked him why he had ladies perfume once(nothing fancy) and he only said "smells pretty good" then left it at that.

Back to the lycan traits,I think he doesn't usually bathe alot because of how much products he does have so it overwhelms his sense of smell. I'll include some more lycan headcannons in a future fic of mine but due to him having the lycan blood inside of him,he does repress some of the urges. Like if you two were dating and someone would eye you too much? He oh so desperately wants to bite you then and there and kiss you all over in public but he has to surpress it to make sure miranda doesn't catch on to yours and his relationship. When you both are in a long term relationship and you guys are really comfy then he would scent mark pretty much everything you would own-including you to make sure the lycans know whats his.

He is an ass and thigh man,he doesn't mind tits but if you're a guy then he would lean towards looking at your ass more. Maybe even a glance here and there in public

He owned a German shepherd as a child,it was an old dog but they were best buddies. It's one of the only memories he has left before the cadou. He would 100% try and convince you to get another dog-not a small one,he dosen't like how loud chihuahuas or other small dogs can be.

If you ever pestered him to try new sweets,he would try them with a little bit of hesitation. If he likes it? He's stealing the whole package so you would have to buy more(don't worry,he would share). If he doesn't like it? He would shrug,keep it in his mouth then spit it out when you're gone or try to swallow it if you stay there. He's a picky man with what he likes since there isn't alot in the village but since he's a lord-he can afford to be picky sometimes

Dosen't remember his own birthday,if you were to ever convince him to establish his own-he would most likley do it the day you guys talked about it just to get some free cake(I say he likes any type of cake but prefer soft chocolate cake with strawberries)

One more before the nsfw headcannons. But he has a killer sense of smell,even if he wasn't a lycan-he prides himself on how he could know who's been there and who wasn't there,he could most likley know you're there without even seeing you enter the room.

Nsfw headcannons,there will be a lot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aight, lycan time. He definitely goes through the whole heat/rut thing,he's locked himself in the factory for much longer than the others are used to so he could avoid any freakouts. However,if he has a partner then there could be some pred/prey before he dives into the main course

He's rough most of the time,he's had a lot of sexual partners in the past so he has to avoid catching feelings for his and their sake. When you come along,he would be willing to go slowly rather than rough. He's very big on praise when you guys have loving slow sex

He's just big on praise in general,there isn't any way you're getting out of that. He also loves to degrade you,if you're into both praise and degradation then he will spice it up just a bit more by using both

I gotta say,he's hung. He's got a big dick so foreplay is a must unless you're into some kinky pain-unless you're blessing him by him being your first,then there's no way he's avoiding foreplay-might be a bit rougher too just to make your first more memorable. Back to his dick-I say he also has piercings hes done for himself-at the least he has a jacobs ladder. Would 100% give you piercings

He l o v e s going down on his partners. Man or woman,he is getting his mouth on you snd his tounge does wonders for the men and ladies.

Period sex? Say no more,this man has NO LIMITS besides scat and needle play. It's just a little blood and period sex does help get rid of cramps in some cases. Its just blood, he's dealt with it almost every day of his life so it won't change a bit if he goes down on you while on your red sea

Handsy fucker,literally. His hands are everywhere on you,gripping your ass? Thighs? N e c k? He loves to keep his hands somewbere on you unless he's restrained

He has a dad bod,thick thighs and ass? Grip it,be rough,he loves it. Though if you do smack his ass sometimes then you'll have a limp because he's doing the exact same to you but even harder to leave a mark

He's a switch but he's more likley to top from bottom. If you are bigger than him? Dosen't matter,hands and knees man you ain't scaring him. However,he does love a good pegging/fucking from his other half,he has an ass,he will have it used some way or another.

He very much fucked you in alcina's chair after a meeting when everyone is gone. He enjoyed it-knowing the next look alcina gave him the next meeting was priceless for you and him. This does go into him wanting to try risky sex,maybe out in the village in an alley way or some place to risk he is caught but would never act on it since it could put you two in harms way.

I believe he loves to be tied up,he could easily break out of the restraints like tearing paper but the thrill of watching and waiting what you would do to him pushes him far enough to not break the restraints. He doesn't like all of his senses taken away,maybe gag him and blindfold him but he hates it when he cannot hear whats going on

He doesn't play around with safewords. If something bad happens and its painful to a point you safeword? Everything stops,he drops whatever he has then goes to take care of you no matter what. Your saftey and wellbeing is quite important to him so he doesn't joke around

Big on overstimulation,him or his partner-it spurs him on knowing his parter could take the overstimulation. But if you tie him up and do it to him? He could go for a good while until its painful for him

Remote controlled vibrators anyone? Yeah he would so stick something in you so he could use his power to tease you at horrible times. Meeting? Get ready to struggle to stay quiet because he is going to do something that isn't just staring at an ugly bird woman. Stick one on/in him? God he's going to give you funny looks if y'all are out or he's too busy to drop what he has

He would love it if he went down on his partner and they just ever so lovingly squished him between their thighs. "Live by the thigh,die by the thigh" as we say. He could spend hours down there,he'd never be bored man.

Sit on his face,ride it like you mean it-pull his hair and he'll be quite a bit urged on to continue this. Sometimes he would spend a few with you simply sitting on his face-he'a doing nothing though,calls it his "cooling down time". However when the time is over,he'll flip you both over and fuck you senseless-major praise too.

If you praise him? He melts and turns into puddy on top of you. This goes into him being touch starved for loving contact but simple praises durring sex or any time of the day would spur him on. He wants to know if he's making you feel good-the moans are one thing but your heavenly voice? Its a whole 'nother level

He loves Face fucking you or just sitting in a chair with his dick down your throat. He's working on something that's important but you want him in your mouth? He ain't going to complain. After hes done? He loves to hear how fucked out you sound then he would give you something to drink to sooth your throat

Lycan time but he has a knot,100 fucking percent he does and you CANNOT CHANGE MY MIND. He would fuck you on his knot for hours and watch how much cum you can hold. He would keep you plugged after his knot ,he definitely makes those plugs too and most of the toys you guys own

He's much more messy when his lycan instincts take over. Though he will groom you after. Lick you clean? That's his first priority if you aren't too sensitive.

You trans? He doesn't care(in a sense he never judges you and would 100% do your surgeries if he wouldn't butcher them),if you have a dick then so be it,you dont have one? Who cares,he is a panseuxal KING and would fuck you either way. He never kinkshames or judges

I believe he himself has fantasized being fucked by a lycan(I sure have) but never acted on it. Though if you fantasized it and would want to act on it,he would do a little something something to make that fantasy true 👀

Aight that's all the headcannons for now,I'll be posting some alcina headcannons later but for now,send me some requests you guys want to see-maybe you guys will see some lycan heisenberg headcannons after alcina'a

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see.  Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and  you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue.  They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me.  I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop.  Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly.  “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday.  It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him. 

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for.  And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted.  “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation.  If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands.  But, they have to pull this off.  It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions.  Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion.  She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work.  When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out.  I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.”  My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile.  “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

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[lotornomiko]

Light Grasping Darkness (1 of 6, mostly work safe for 1)

Old, old fic of mine...touched up with tweaks to words, grammar, sentence structure that sort of thing. Nothing too major a change, just the perfectionist in me trying to make it a smoother and more enjoyable read....I got the urge to reread this, and of course, couldn’t make it through without trying to “fix” it. And someday I really need to write the sequel, Light Seducing Darkness.

I believe this was my first foray into Hook Emma/Captain Swan fanfic. It starts out i guess R rated, but by chapter two vastly becomes super smutty. This is set in season two, is an AU, has Rumplestiltskin character death. According to fanfic net I originally wrote this in July 2013..., long before season five made Hook as a Dark One a thing. XD

As such, it was written with some thoughts in my head, (I looked at my old author’s notes) where I had thought Hook wasn’t aware of what would happen if he used the dagger on the dark one. I firmly believed he wanted to get his revenge and die, and would have been pissed to find himself stuck as the new Dark One. Although in this fic, from what I remember, I don’t think I gave him much time to be pissed, between the evil queenS orders, and the lust that quickly spilled over in an effort to combat it.

Will be posting all six parts of the completed first in a series fic onto my tumblr, as well as updating it at archive and fanfic.net. Will be posting on tumblr as I finished going over each chapter. 

There are moments, all too brief respites, where everything stands frozen and still. It is a lie, the quiet that it brings giving them the illusion of the luxuries they no longer have. Chief among them is time, every moment stolen, every second bringing them closer to what just may be their deaths. However, there is no time to grieve, no time to wage protest against an unfair fate. There exists only now, the running and the plotting, readying themselves for a war they are ill equipped to fight under the best of circumstances, and that was before Gold had been killed.

There's no time to mourn him, no time to do anything more than acknowledge the fallen. Gold stands to be the first in what will become a string of massacres, the worst nightmare of many coming true as Storybrooke falls under the power of not one, but TWO evil queens.

Maybe, just maybe they would stand a chance if it had only been Cora and Regina to contend with. Maybe then they could have won, somehow backed only by the power of the savior, a power that she herself didn't understand and had barely begun to explore. But there had never been time, and Emma had never seen need to truly explore the potential within her, the magic that left her so frightened and disturbed.

She regrets that now, a million if only running through her head. Wondering if only she had made the time, if only she had put aside her duties as sheriff, if only she had taken seriously Gold's attempts to tutor her. Nothing and no one can change the past now, not Emma as the savior, and not even Gold with all the power of the Dark One at his fingertips.

All that power had done little good once Gold had lost control of the dagger. Enslaved by the one who controlled the blade, Gold had been rendered helpless, unable to do anything to ward off the death that had finally come calling.

It wasn't just that they had lost a valuable ally in the war against evil. It was the power the evil queens had gained, the magic that was now theirs to command. A power they were all to quick to use, despite the fact that their tool was a staggered weapon at best.

Emma tried not to shudder as she remembered the scream that had followed Gold's death. The scream that had been unlike anything she had ever before heard, the pain and shock of what was happening registered within it, leaving the Dark One confused, fighting against fate, against orders. That resistance to do as commanded, was the only reason why Emma and her family were still alive. Was the only reason why they were able to run long enough to scheme. Not that the Charmings had much in the way of ideas, not when the dagger was so essential to defeating that which was coming.

It was hard not to give in to those hopeless feelings. To not wonder what chance they stood, with the power of the Dark One turned against them. Even as Emma fought against despairing, she acknowledged that she didn't know enough, not to fight and not to use the power locked inside her. For all that lack of, there was hope, Emma realizing that although she didn't know much about being the savior, the young woman also didn't know enough to truly believe the Dark One was completely unstoppable, dagger aside. And she disliked immensely the pitying looks her father and mother both gave her when she had said so.

Perhaps it was because they were of the other world, and always had lived with the knowledge that there was no true way to destroy the Dark One. Even before the existence of the dagger had become known, the people who had lived in the Enchanted Kingdoms, had grown up believing in the Dark One's invincibility. They had learned first hand, the failures of those who had made attempts on the Dark One's life, had been terrorized and manipulated for years far longer than Gold had been alive.

The Dark One already so terrifying, had become something else entirely under Rumplestiltskin's control. The man had twisted the legends, distorted truths until the name Rumplestiltskin was feared, the man rather than the monster fear, and with that faded memory had gone many’s truths behind the dagger. Through his masterful manipulations, most had gone on to forget that the Dark One had once been a slave, that whoever possessed the dagger had controlled the beast. Forgotten about, it was now a painful reminder that had been slammed into them, stark and potent in its devastating truths.

It was that reminder that was snuffing the hope out of David and Mary Margaret's eyes. That and the memories of those failed attempts to kill, to corner, to even contain Rumplestiltskin and his power. They remembered well the hardships, and the sheer desperation that had led the Blue Fairy into finally discovering a way, albeit a temporary one. A  way meant to hold him, to imprison him long enough so that a single generation of people would have peace of mind.

There would be no repeating that way, even if the Blue Fairy had been capable of repeating that spell. In the realm of Storybrooke, even with magic brought back into it, there simply wasn't enough of the Enchanted Kingdoms in this land. There wasn't enough of the ingredients needed to power the spell, no time to prepare, no location secured to act as a prison. There wasn't enough of anything, David and Mary Margaret knowing this, and thus choosing not to build their daughter's hopes up.

They held back, but didn't stop their daughter from scheming. Desperate plan after desperate plan came flowing, none of them seeming plausible, none of them offering true hope of survival.  Emma wouldn't, couldn’t, give up, not even when faced with the Dark One, watching as her gun's bullets slammed into his black leather clad chest.

Was it the bullets or the pain of them that seemed to confuse him? He'd actually look down, stare at the small holes in his clothing, smoke curling upwards out of them. His hand would raise, finger fitting into one of the holes. No blood, the skin already healing, mending together as though the bullet had never torn it open.

No further proof was needed that their weapons were useless. And yet Emma kept on firing. Watching the body jerk back with each shell's piercing, seeing the expression on the Dark One's face, a lost look of a despair all his own. She didn't truly understand the expression, or the reasons behind it. Why would he allow such pain to color his eyes? Pain that had nothing to do with the bullets, or Mary Margaret's arrows. Hadn't this been what he had wanted? Hadn't he pursued Gold over time and space, in an effort to bring about his end and claim his power? Hadn't he become exactly what he had always wanted?

Emma didn't know  that she was jumping to conclusions. Didn't know, and truth be known, wouldn't have cared. She was blinded by what she saw as his betrayal, cursing herself a fool for ever even giving him a moment's benefit of doubt. She should have known better, DID know better. Once burned, you never, ever give a person a second chance to hurt you. And yet for him, she had. For him she had pushed back the betrayals, choosing to ignore how he had left her and her friends, even her mother, to die in a rotting dungeon, or of the time shortly after, where he had been set on killing her.

Nothing personal he had claimed. And she had believed him! Was it her own guilt at work there? Was it the fact that Emma had not only abandoned him, but left him trapped at the top of a beanstalk, that led her to grudgingly bear him no ill will? Was it that same guilt that made her feel responsible, made Emma think that if she had done one thing differently, none of this would have come to past? Or did she simply regret not killing him when she had had the chance?

No way to know, no time to mull over the what ifs. She was out of bullets, and he was coming, his black leather riddled with smoking holes, but his body otherwise fine. More than fine, if one ignored the anguish of his expression. Always a handsome man, that beauty had become more pronounced, devastatingly dark and seductive, all the better to lure foolish maidens to their ruin.

Emma wasn't foolish, but even she couldn't look at that dark beauty and not be affected. She rebelled against the want that fisted inside her, total defiance spurring her to fling her gun at him. His arm raised, the gun bouncing off harmlessly. She barely registered the sound of steel being drawn, the borrowed sword in her grip as she took up a new stance, readying herself to die fighting.

David was somewhere to the right of her, a sword that had slayed dragons, in his hand. Arrows came from the left of her, Mary Margaret rapidly depleting her stock of projectiles. They were catching on fire, bursting into smoke instead of striking him, though the Dark One hadn't seemed intent on defending himself.

With a challenging scream, Emma and her father both rushed the Dark One at the same time. David's sword twirled in his grip, slashing downwards one moment, then attempting to belly thrust the next. Emma's blade met the metal of his hook, the Dark One effortlessly holding her back. She didn't fight his shove back, instead rebounding, spinning round to come at his head from a new angle. But the blow didn't connect, his hook there, stopping her blade, even as David mercilessly hacked away at his sides. He came away with nothing for his troubles, save to chip away bits of the leather of the Dark One's coat.

Emma bit out a frustrated sound, lashing out with her legs. At best the target she chose would distract him, at worse leave him infuriated. Her knee connected, and for a second it seemed the breath blew out of the Dark One. Her father quick to seize the advantage, went for the Dark One's heart, intending to split it in half with his blade.

And then David was airborne, a self presevation of the Dark One sending Emma's father flying. He didn't go far, the forest too crowded with trees, one of which he slammed into headfirst. Emma heard her mother scream out, Mary Margaret running towards where David had landed. He wasn't moving, the sword slamming tip first into the ground, inches away from his body.

Emma didn't dare think that David might be dead. Didn't dare allow herself to fear she had lost a father she had barely begun to know. She just tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, grim determination in her to somehow bring down this monster.

The sword was caught mid blow, wrenched free of her hand by an unnatural force. She wouldn't let that deter her, striking him close fisted in the face and coming away with a hand that had gone numb from the contact. An arrow flew, just missing the Dark One's face, Emma hearing Mary Margaret screaming at her to run.

Even if she wasn’t stubbornly rebelling against such a command, there was no chance to flee. The Dark One had grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up off the ground. Leaving Emma choking one instant, growling the next. More arrows flew past, Mary Margaret refusing to take her own advice, refusing to abandon her husband and daughter to this unstoppable monster.

Emma felt her mother's frustration, as she kicked out with her legs, clawing at the arm of the hand that so effortlessly held her up off the ground. She didn't want to believe she was going to die like this, one hand digging her nails into his, the other held towards him in a warding gesture.

"Hook..." She barely got out his name, her voice sounded like gravel in response to the grip crushing down on her throat. "Please..." Emma hated that she was begging, but her options had run out. There was nothing left to do, but plead with a monster, hope there was enough of the man left inside him, to listen and show mercy.

"Emma..." The Dark One had hesitated, his grip relaxing slightly. Sorrow colored his sea dark eyes, an expression so unsettling on he who had once been nothing but wickedly flirtatious. Emma saw then that he really didn't want to do this, that he was truly enslaved by the dagger. That he was fighting even now, the compulsions of his mistress' command. And yet it would do none of them any good, could only delay the inevitable.

"Fight it." urged Emma, still speaking in the raspy tones forced on her by that bruising grip of his.

"I want to." He admitted, and then his grip tightened again. "But I can't..."

She tried to scream in frustration, but it came out a mere whimper. How did one fight, how did one hope to win against the Dark One's power? How did anyone do anything but lay down and die, when faced with such unfair odds.

"Help me." The Dark One gritted out through clenched teeth. Emma's eyes had widened, the woman shocked completely at the Dark One's plea. "Save me..."

All seemed frozen, waiting for Emma's answer. But how could she save him, when Emma couldn't even save herself? The familiar frustrations bloomed within her, Emma wishing she understood the power she was supposed to have. Would it have been enough? Was there anyway for the product of true love to combat such an ancient, and all powerful evil?

Her vision was blurring, the grip on her throat slowly but surely suffocating her. Wetness pricked at her eyes, but Emma refused to give in to tears. Sound echoed from a distance, Mary Margaret's scream barely more than a whisper. She saw faces of her past float before her, Neal, her son Henry, that of her parents and friends. Even Gold appeared, a ghostly vision of the past that helped remind her that the power was within her, Emma merely had to focus to find it, to know what she needed to do.

Difficult to focus when one was losing their tenacious grip on reality. Emma reached out, her hand making contact with the Dark One's chest. He felt warm, so full of life and vitality, in comparison to the cold that was streaking icy tendrils through her. Emma wanted that warmth, wanted to use it to stave off the cold. Her hand moved, doing an unconscious caress as she dipped inside his shirt to touch directly on his skin.

So focused was she on the warming feel of his flesh that Emma almost missed the look that flashed in the Dark One's eyes. Almost didn't see Hook looking back at her, the pain and surprise being eaten away by something primal. It was sin of a most wicked kind that gazed out at her, the ever flirtatious pirate longing for something she had never been prepared to give him. Emma would give it to him now, if it meant they stood a chance of surviving, if it meant it would buy Mary Margaret enough time to flee.

With the breath being choked out of her, Emma directed her touch lower, her accidental caress gaining purpose. The breath hissed out of the Dark One, Hook looking as though he was the one struggling to breathe now. His eyes were swallowed up in desire, when her hand slipped into his pants, Emma not bothering with being coy, or teasing, directly grasping hold of his cock, and giving it a purposeful squeeze.

Hook reacted immediately, the grip on her throat loosening as his erection sprung to potent life. Emma had a second to be amazed, and even made breathless and dazed, she didn't miss the cocksure smirk that he gave her, Hook proud of himself and the formidable size of his erection. He had been right to boast, and a part of her was actually anticipating feeling that length of his thrusting inside her.

Continuing to touch him, to stroke and grip the focal point of his arousal, Emma looked Hook right in the eyes, a smirk of her own inviting him to play. "What say we take this some place more private?"

It was all she had to say, Hook's arm going around her waist, pulling her against him so that her breasts squished against his chest. Emma didn't allow a second of hesitation to affect her, knowing there was no room for doubts at this point in time. This was the right course, the only course, and though it might just be delaying the inevitable, it might just buy the needed time. Time for her to figure out her powers, or time for Mary Margaret to find Ruby and Henry, and flee to where the Dark One's powers could not follow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Be Continued....

[hislittleflower-throughconcrete]

I’m gonna rant about disability services at private Catholic schools for a second

I will preface this by saying that this is my experience at both of the Catholic schools I attended growing up. If I am generalizing please correct me, let me know, but I believe this problem is pervasive in most private Catholic schools (probably not just Catholic private schools, but all private schools, but I’m not touching on that right now.)

My brother’s kindergarten teacher was the first person to identify that he had ADHD. My parents took him to the necessary doctors/professionals so see what they could do. However, the school that he (and I, as well as all of my siblings) went to only had one lady who acted as a “resource” for kids who were struggling. She was a mom, I don’t know if she had any training at all to deal with learning disabilities - I honestly think she just took kids out of class to give them extra time to practice certain reading and math skills. Because none of the teachers were trained in dealing with kids who had ADHD (let alone learning disabilities or special needs, which my brother didn’t have) there was a point where I, a 5th grader, got called out of my math class to come into his 2nd grade classroom to comfort my crying brother as the teacher said impatiently, “you deal with him.” That was when my parents decided to put him in public school because they had the resources to actually accommodate my brother.

Fast forward to high school, this time concerning myself. I was in and out of high school due to depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and an eating disorder. After the first hospitalization, I get back to school and discover that I am required to make up all of my work. All of it. At the same time as trying to complete the current work being assigned. I was so stressed and already a perfectionist that I went back tot he hospital for anxiety-induced suicidal urges directly related to being so overwhelmed with my life. This happened at least three other times - where I was hospitalized due to my inability to cope with my own deteriorating mental health on top of all of that work. My mom and I repeatedly explained this to my high school’s “school counselor” (again, not sure if this lady had any training at all, my school was notorious for hiring unqualified people just because they were good-hearted and faith-filled individuals). She and all of my teachers maintained that I must make up all of my work, months and months of tests, papers, projects, and even busywork. When we asked why this was so even though it posed a serious risk to my, ya’know, life, they said that at that present moment, too or three other students had been out “sick” for months at a time (one had mono and one had had a concussion) and if I got an exception it wasn’t fair to them. In other words: Justice, not Mercy. The fact that I could die from “some stress” never seemed to penetrate their consciousness. I distinctly remember my “guidance counselor” (as I sat in her office weeks into my summer break catching up on work from the previous year) saying off-hand when I mentioned the stress, “well, we can’t all take a vacation every time life gets too hard.”

Fast forward to college. We heard about this “disability services” thing during orientation. I looked closely at whatever pamphlet I had been handed, and it listed mental health issues as disabilities. What? My mom and I decided to check it out, saying “it would be really cool if I could have someone at this big college to talk to and goto if I am struggling with work,” thinking that that was all she could offer me - things like tutors and advice. After providing the hospital and doctor records to disability services, I find out that I qualify for extension for assignments, excused absences, extended time on tests, modified or completely excused assignments, and more, because of my mental health issues, without any professor allowed to ask me why other than “a disability-related reason.” They also appointed a disability services advocate whose job was to go to bat with my professors for me if they did not comply.

To say that we were floored would have been incorrect. I wasn’t floored. I just didn’t understand. I felt I was cheating. I didn’t even know this was allowed. How was this fair to the other students? “You have a disability, this is to allow you to do as well as someone who doesn’t have this disability.” You mean I just don’t have to suck it up and deal with my problems on my own time? I have a disability? What?

Okay. There are two points to this post. One is the obvious: Catholic schools, you are losing the opportunity for children with disabilities to be formed in the faith. Like it or not, the majority of parents and families aren’t the ones who teach the faith to their kids - either they learn it at Catholic school, or just don’t learn it at all.  I am aware this issue is heavily tied to funding, HOWEVER: disability services shouldn’t be this nifty add-on to a school, a novelty or a selling point. They should be a fundamental, integrated part of allowing students of all abilities to have the opportunity to be educated in their faith and a faith-filled environment. Parents should not have to choose, as my parents had to, between having their child grow up educated in the faith or actually being able to learn and be treated appropriately by teachers who understood him. (Yes, he still did CCD, but no, the CCD classes did not have disability-educated individuals teaching it - shocker. How much did he retain from it? A few weeks ago, he asked me what Pentecost was.) 

The second issue is more tied to my experience. You are damaging people’s perception of God and His Love. You are saying that those of disabilities - those same people Jesus healed and released from their pain and struggles in the Gospels - aren’t important enough to be accommodated using a basic section of the school’s budget. This may be controversial, but part of me thinks that a school shouldn’t exist at all if it doesn’t have the ability to accommodate children with physical, intellectual, psychological, or developmental disabilities - yes, even and especially Catholic schools. I had a severely damaged faith as a result of the attitude of my school - yaknow, the ones who taught me about God and Jesus. I graduated high school hearing about “mercy,” and hating the whole concept. I seethed every time I heard the prodigal son bible reading, because I hated the fact that the wayward son was allowed to do that without any punishment. I didn’t understand mercy and it made me angry. Everyone deserves justice, I thought, and mercy is the opposite - a hall pass for the weak and undeserving. I punished myself through self harm every time I got less than an A on a test, every time I said something stupid and felt embarrassed. The self-harming and perfectionistic inclinations were mine, but the importance of justice was fed to me by them. Self harm and suicidal ideation were listed as sins against the commandment “Thou Shalt Not Kill” without any mention about exceptions, or what to do if you felt that way. A teacher told us that the worst sin of all - above rape and murder of children - was desecration of the Eucharist by receiving it unfaithfully. I abstained from the Eucharist for years because I couldn’t stop cutting or disordered eating behaviors, and I was in a constant state of mortal sin (I thought) so I couldn’t receive. No one on staff was educated enough on mental health disabilities to point out that saying things like eating disorders, cutting, and suicidal ideation were sins could result from an illness, a disability, that was not being addressed. I told priest after priest that those were my sins, and to be fair, most asked if I was in therapy, but only one mentioned to me that he didn’t think that my cutting was “completely” a sin, that the guilt was reduced due to “addiction.” But I quickly disregarded that comment, because I was not giving myself a free pass. God deserves Justice - the least sin in His eyes breaks the whole Law. If an action hurts someone else or hurts God, the offended party deserves justice. Not excuses for weak people. Justice, not Mercy. 

But college was also the same time I was actually introduced to having a personal relationship with Jesus. The first time I confessed to a priest who immediately said that I was so, so wrong in my understanding of who God was and what He wanted of me. He rejoiced in me. In me. His unconditional love did not excuse my sins, but heal them. His Mercy was not a free pass of pity at my weakness, but the bandages in which He used to bind up my wounds. If I had learned about Mercy before this, it was not in this way. I was taught through actions, if not the words themselves, that justice for others was worth more than mercy on me. And even now I am stunned every time I am “ given a break.” Because that’s what it feels like, bosses and professors who accommodate my disability - them being generous. Not my basic needs being met.

Love the least in the eyes of the world, Catholic schools. Do better. Don’t consider yourself inclusive after building some wheelchair ramps and asking a parish mom to come in on Wednesdays to help the kids who “just aren’t getting it.” Work with families. Hire trained staff members - plural - who are equipped to deal with a wide range of disabilities, including learning disabilities, mental health issues, autism, and Down syndrome. The souls of all children with disabilities whose parents want their child to grow to know Jesus through their schools hangs in the balance. 

@patron-saint-of-smart-asses @catholicamputee @alwaysabeautifullife @hissaltandlight @tinycatholicbean and @ all other tumbler Catholics who either have a physical/mental disability or are parents of a child with one.

[werevulvi]

Time for a few updates, I think. The biggest news are: I just got my period back a few days ago! On the 28th of November. It's still ongoing. It's been a light flow all along, but for the first 3-4 days I had really bad cramps. Like they were REALLY bad. I mean double-folding and literally screaming, kind of bad. So I was popping painkillers pretty much constantly just to cope with it. Now those cramps are still happening but much milder, so don't need to take painkillers anymore.

I think the reason I got so bad cramps, which has never happened before, is because I likely still have high levels of testosterone and/or my reproductive system is still a bit roughed up by the testo and needs more time to come around. So I don’t worry about it. Just my body getting a rude awakening from its hibernation on testo.

I've not gotten my hormone levels checked again, but I'm pretty sure they're all over the fucking place since about a week before I got my period. I've been extra sad, upset, easily offended, hyper-sensitive, even more easily angered than usually. Physically I can't regulate my body temperature at all. I'm always either too cold or over-heating and it fluctuates between those two states constantly.

And I think this roller-coaster reaction is because my estrogen is storming within me due to the period thing, and fluctuating really a lot between high and low levels. I've not taken my local estrogen pills for my vaginal atrophy since I got my period back and it seems I may not need it anymore, but I'm unsure cause I still had atrophy issues up until getting my period.

I went back on the testo-blockers again. I got very dysphoric about my changes from the testo again. It actually got me to the brink of being suicidal even, so I thought going back on the blockers might be a good idea. I’ll try to not get into an on and off relationship with them.

I wouldn't say I'm truly suicidal, but damn I do wish I was dead, quite a lot. It's just sooo hard to go through with all this sadness,  pain, grief and medically induced dysphoria that it's just breaking me. And the hormonal mess most certainly isn't helping my mood. Past 2 days have been a little better, but just... holy shit, the pain of detransitioning is nearly killing me. I just feel so sad about my body, what I've done to it. I do love my body, and I want the very best for it. I never get any urges to self harm, but I struggle to comfort and care for myself and staying positive.

I feel a terrible disconnect and aversion to the changes. But it's just sadness and a calm frustration like just not knowing what to do, there's no hate or anger. Been trying to just play with the thought of possibly one day in any future get my beard lasered off, cause that thought still scares me. I'm terrified I'd regret it even though it makes me miserable to have and deal with it. So I'm definitely holding off on that and won't do anything drastic in that direction anytime soon. I know that how I feel about my facial hair has been fluctuating really a lot and that I need to give it lots more time to think about what I should do with it, so that I can come to a wise decision. I'll keep shaving in the meantime, but it doesn't feel like a long-term solution.

I've also been researching breast reconstruction a bit more as well. Looked into the two different methods (implants vs flap), gone through my concerns and questions a bit more in depth, looked at pictures, read some accounts from women who've been through that, etc. There's still a lot I can't possibly know before a consultation with a surgeon about it though, cause of my chest being it’s own unique case, kinda. And I think my biggest question in all of that is my nipples. Because they've been relocated and I've heard that means they can't be relocated again and if they might end up in a weird position after surgery due to their current location, I really don't know what could be done about that. But then having a little wonky looking nipples wouldn’t be the worst thing either.

But an idea hit me, that if it could be a viable option for me, I might actually just ditch my nipples for reconstructed ones. Because of the kinda bad state of my nipples, I think reconstructed ones would likely be better on all points. They got kinda butchered by my top surgery and the drawn-out healing process after it, and I don't really feel emotionally attached to them. They have almost no sensation, are permanently discoloured, are uneven in both size and shape, are very scarred, etc.

I dunno, I don't think they look really terrible or anything, and I mostly just shrug about them. So ultimately it doesn't really matter to me if I'd keep them or get new ones. I know this is something I can only find the answer/solution to by actually talking to a surgeon. I'm just speculating, researching, reflecting and fantasising until then as a way to mentally prepare myself for pretty much anything. So that I’ll know what decisions to make on that day. 

But damn, I'm really looking forward to having breasts again! That thought and mental picture just fills me with so much ease and awe. I don't care if they'd be scarred or a little weird-looking. That would just give them some character. What I can tell from pics I've seen, I'd be happy with a lot of very different results. I’m very far from a perfectionist, I’m a realist with a vivid imagination. I keep an open mind, and heart, to it. Then we’ll see what I’ll end up with. And in case I need to clarify: how I feel about my chest since detransition has not been fluctuating at all. If anything I just feel increasingly worse about its current state. And the more I look into those feelings and the surgery info available, the more certain I get that that's the right route for me. So I feel increasingly more confident about that, the more I learn and the better I come to understand it.

[phoenicianj]

If you are still doing the number asks: 10, 14, 15, 18 :)

Yes they’re still open :)

Re 10;  Bones by MS MR; it’s not my top song of the month (which is always fluctuating) but it’s the one I always come back to when I need music (music is my therapy)

Re 14; Minds; the ability to hold a conversation, whether it’s about nothing or about something super technical/deep. I don’t mind if it takes 30 mins to get a reply, just that when I get it, it has merit and thought behind it. Minds don’t change, looks do. I’m a very pattern recognition adept person so minds are this infinite challenge for me to unravel and understand. I want to know the inner working of what is “you”

(Normal biological triggers work but they don’t interest me on psychological levels and they don’t last. I won’t be up at night thinking of your body, I’ll be trying to understand your mind)

 Re 15; favourite TV show of all time; has to be Scooby Doo. That show was amazing as a child, and it’s still good to watch every now and then for nostalgia. It’s solving problems through reason, planning and it’s funny and has monsters. What’s not to like

Favourite show ATM; How to Get Away With Murder. OMG this show is amazing. Viola Davis slays as Annalise. It’s on midseason break for 4 more days and it’s killing me. I need to see what they do with S3 pt2!!!

Re 18; Biggest Pet Peeve; Things being done wrong or illogically (or worse, slowly).  This is the worst!

Eg; 

Me - “This could be done so much more efficiently, look, let me do this, then this, then that, ta da, 1000x more efficient!”

some twat - “But I like it this way”

Me - “That’s great, but this makes sense, and it fucking works, and people can read it”Things being done illogically, I just, I can’t deal. I’m a total perfectionist. 

“Why are you not trying to be perfect, even if you aren’t you come out better than you otherwise would be”

*hands over nose, closes eyes and exhales slowly* 

*resists urge to slaughter class room for being inefficient*