#i was young like the kids but i didn’t have the capacity to understand how hard it is to raise kids alone

[hazeofhearts]

“i don’t like thinking about luck because if things happen by chance then that means i have no control over what happens to you two or your kids.”

burrow’s end is a story about family, a story about loss. it’s a story about a scrappy family hanging on by their claws to survive and keep going.

but i feel that, more than anything, burrow’s end is about motherhood. being a mother, raising kids, losing a spouse. being so, so, so scared that the world is going to mistreat your children and there isn’t anything you can do about it.

tula and ava mirror each other. their grief manifests in different ways, but ultimately it means they keep going. and they’re watching viola about to start the same process. they’re going to watch viola worry and stress about her babies and they’ll be there for her. (hopefully)

#dimension 20 #d20 #burrow’s end #burrow's end #being raised by a single mother most of my life this season is really hitting so close to home for me #i was young like the kids but i didn’t have the capacity to understand how hard it is to raise kids alone #but i feel like brennan is doing a really good job of it #i can feel that i’ll be rewatching this again and again as the years go by #brennan lee mulligan #aabria iyengar #erika ishii #jasper william cartwright #rashawn scott #siobhan thompson #izzy roland

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Be Mine, Please! | Yandere Yor Forger

“Uh hi, Miss. Forger uhm I didn’t realize you were staying with us today.”

The candid question had no effect on Yor, who was still smiling at you with her hands folded underneath her chin. When you arrived at the Forger residence you were under the impression that Anya would be home alone as per the usual schedule. But Yor didn’t follow after Loid in any capacity. Not in a delayed exit or an appointment midday…she never changed out of her casual clothes. 

“Nope! I get to spend the day with you and miss Anya!” 

This was fine. You collected the remaining plates on the table, making your way to the sink. Perhaps she just wanted some help…who were you kidding Mrs. Forger wasn’t one to hide her desires about spending more time with you. You just wished she hadn’t paid you to do so. She seemed like a lovely woman and you wouldn’t have minded going out for a drink or two. But as the morning went on she sipped on her drink while watching you and Anya play. 

It was harder to play spies that morning; you didn’t mind Bond as an audience but not another adult. You couldn’t help your eyes wandering to the reflection of her crimson eyes in the window, watching you with a smile on her face.

“(Y/n)! Why aren’t you doing the sync-up dance? How will we release our powers to complete the mission?”

“Uh, Anya…can we not do the whole dance today?”

“What, why?! You said it’s important we do it every time, with all our hearts!”

“Y-yes but…Yor…is here…”

Anya doesn’t understand your plight, or rather she ignores it demanding you do the dance with her. Reluctantly you did the dance looking away when Yor smiled and giggles at your dancing form. With Anya down for a nap, you were left to deal with Yor without the distraction of Anya. 

“Ah (Y/n) you’re so lively with Anya! Do you have children of your own?”

You continued washing the dishes, watching her rise from the table to lean on the kitchen counter. 

“No b-but I had plenty of experience with young kids…uh y’know family friends and all.”

You were quick to respond, hoping your answer was sufficient enough to satisfy her. 

“Mmmm? Wow, then do you have a partner?”

You didn’t know what this had to do with your prowess with child care but you guessed this might have just been her way of making small talk.

“Uh no not right now…”

She did a little jump-twirling with her cup as she made her way to your side making moves to wash the cup alongside you. Hip to hip she moves to lean her face as close as possible to yours, you back away trying to avoid the waves of heat coming off her body. She only seems to move closer to you, oddly snuggling into you as you finished the dishes. 

“That’s a shame,” she didn’t sound sorry.” But you're such a catch! It's crazy to think no one’s snatched you up yet!”  

“W-well th-thanks Miss Forger.” 

You backed away from the sink to put the dishes away all with Yor in tow. 

Finally closing the cupboard you turned to leave facing Yor as she moves her hand upside down holding your chin with the pad of her pointer finger.

“It’s Yor.”

You nodded your head, backing away to walk to Anya’s room. Hardly making any space between you two as she follows you down the little hallway. It was like that for the rest of the day even when Anya woke once more you were forced to include Yor who seemed more than eager to be pressed into your side for as long as possible. 

Finally, your timer went off, and right on time, Loid walked into the home. Yor and Anya ran over to greet him, letting you relax for the first time today as you packed up the ‘gear’ you used for your spy games.

“Well, I best be on my w–”

“Won’t you stay (Y/n)? Please I’ve been dying to let you try my stew! It actually tastes delicious!”

Her excitement rivaled Anya’s as she turned back to you shuffling her feet up and down as she awaited your answer. You tried to restrain your grimace, having fallen for the trap of Yor’s cooking before. For assurance, you looked to Loid who chuckled hanging his hat and suit on the coat rack.

“It actually is really good.”

“Yeah! Even Anya didn’t die this time!” 

“H-hey!”

You chuckled feeling your heart sway as you tried to think about your choice. You stop when you remember the chores you had to do; so you made your case. Fully prepared for the wobbling bottom lips and tearful eyes of Anya, Bond, and Yor. It’s Loid who puts the nail in the coffin when you feel his ungloved hands wrap around your shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze. When you turn your head you’re met with the sky-blue eyes of Loid who smiles at you. 

“We’d love it if you did stay… I’d be sure to make it up to you.”

You didn’t know if it was the implication of money or the manly cologne that was fragrant around Loid: a beautiful man who made just about anyone weak in the knees–you included. You sighed exasperated as you held your hands out in defeat.

“Fine but I-”

“Yay!” “Ahhh~!”

Grabbing your hands and holding them close Yor nuzzled her nose against yours before pulling you along with her into the kitchen with Anya pushing you from behind. Loid let his eyes become half-lidded as he watched you be engulfed in his family’s chaos. He watched you fluster and give in as you let your silliness be released; he makes a note to himself.

“Well a family that sticks together, stays forever.”

#yandere yor forger #yandere spy x family #yandere forger family #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere loid forger #spy x family #spy x family yor #spy x family loid #yandere yor briar #yandere harem

[sisterfhood]

Truly blessed to be alive at the same time as Simone Biles. Just learned she’s EIGHT YEARS past the average female gymnast retirement age and she is still improving and winning against much younger athletes + she’s likely preparing to compete in another Olympic Games in 2024.

A male gymnast could never achieve Simone Biles’ feats, they simply aren’t built for it. I appreciate how gymnastics is uniquely sexed because it shows women can dominate in feats of strength and physicality if the movements are designed to play to their physiological strengths.

But I really can’t stress enough how important her story is to young girls interested in athletics. Sports were so important to me growing up, but female athletes reach a point where they can no longer ignore that the boys are drawing bigger crowds, they are drawing more attention, they get the nicer locker rooms, nicer fields, nicer training facilities. You grow up and you realize there’s no place for you at the professional level, but there’s plenty of million dollar opportunities for the males. You realize the furthest you can go is college and that level of play for women only exists because title IX demanded it. You start to question yourself and your purpose. It often feels like the rest of the world is screaming at you that women’s sports are boring and nobody cares. You understand that men have a brute strength advantage that you can never overcome no matter how hard you train. People often insinuate this means women’s sports have no value, why would anyone want to watch the weaker sex compete? And it’s heartbreaking, because you didn’t ask for this female body with higher body fat percentages and lower muscle-building capacity to support the reproductive system, you’re just a kid who wants to play her favorite game. Your body feels like a curse. But Simone Biles tells a different story. What if athletics were appealing not solely because of the strength involved? What if factors such as flexibility, endurance, and balance were emphasized more? These too are athletic qualities!! These too are exciting to watch and difficult to master!! She changes the narrative that is subtly but pervasively shoved down our throats that sports=strength. Her technical skill is almost unfathomable and I could really go on all day about all the boundaries she’s broken in sports and how important her presence in sports media is. In summation: thank you for truly being the greatest of all time 🐐 SIMONE BILES.

#also ultra marathoners like #courtney dauwalter #out here beating the men because women are suited better for extreme endurance feats #radblr

[mageknight14]

I loved how NEO pulled the rug out with Rindo’s character. At first, he generally seems much more sociable and outwardly friendly compared to Neku and then the game quickly goes "yeah, nah, he’s a huge fucking mess too." He’s a good kid fundamentally at his core but he can also be whiny, hypocritical, passive-aggressive, and kind of insensitive at times. He has a tendency to be judgemental and harsh to the people around him while not acknowledging his own faults, like when he complains about Beat joining the team even though he saved their lives beforehand because he’s not Neku or when he gives Fret shit for fawning over Eiji Oji and Kanon while falling for Motoi’s BS. He’s so pessimistic about himself and others that not even a death game that heavily emphasizes the value of teamwork can get him to fully come out of his shell, which is where his time-travel powers come in AND EVEN THEN it’s a double-edged sword since on one hand, it forces him to actively step up to the plate and survey the situation to find the best possible solution, which leads to him slowly growing out of his shell, but on the other, it also leads to him becoming overly reliant on his time travel so that he can walk back from potentially life-changing decisions without having to worry about it since he has a magic reset button. Which ends up biting him in the ass. Hard.

He’s one of those types of people who is ultimately a thinker and planner instead of a do-er, but his being young and overly impressionable takes this personality quirk to such an extreme that he's foundationally useless to most groups. He’s the type of person who you have in a group project who sits around and does nothing, but then complains with the project does poorly because he couldn't be bothered to speak.

He's so unconfident and directionless that he uses effectively Instagram as a means to listen to someone who sounds like some 2deep4u philosopher post dumb flowery bullshit that effectively has all the meaning of "Drink water when you're thirsty." and he admits to finding such "deep" meaning in these posts that it supposedly helped him through life. Because he's 15 and doesn't know anything.

However, all of this makes him interesting as a character because he’s, again, still a fundamentally good kid at his core. While he’s shown to have a fuse, he is also the kind of person who has the ability to think his emotions through. That's what we ultimately see when he and Fret finally talk and drop their beef. The game depicting Rindo's capacity for self-awareness and emotional reflection is a positive revelation of his character strengths. He proves that he's capable of recognizing when he's in the wrong and knows how to apologize, a trait he shows quite a few times throughout the story, while also doing everything he can to set things right as well as be more understanding toward how his friends feels.

He’s kind of the guy who will drop everything to help a little kid out, even when there’s no tangible benefit to doing so and he and the others are shown to be on limited time, shows empathy to his friends/fallen enemies, and feels massive amounts of guilt for his actions, even if he didn’t know better at the time.

Hell, the entire endgame is fueled by his selfish yet understandable desire to save the people he cares about most from total erasure, to the point that he’s willing to risk thousands of lives to do so. But not only is he shown to be internally grappling with himself regarding his decision but he’s also willing to take responsibility and ensure that EVERYTHING goes right not just for himself and his friends but the people of Shibuya in general, in a parallel to Neku’s own selfish if understandable decision to put the bonds he formed in the original game (particularly with Joshua) over the actual city.

Characters aren't interesting simply by switching between 2 different character traits. They're interesting when all those traits are being expressed at the same time for reasons that are consistent within their internal logic. You gotta be a good writer to pull that off and you gotta know when to show off these dimensions during your story to achieve proper dramatic effect when the time calls for it and NEO I feel does this pretty damn well.

#rindo kanade #twewy #the world ends with you #neo twewy #ntwewy #neo the world ends with you #analysis post

[aquanova99]

Hello can u write headcanons of the cullen clan with a female human s/o who can see Spirits and ghosts

Pls i love ur work❤

Carlisle

I think when you first tell him you try to make joke “oh you didn’t know? I see dead people.”

He’s and idiot who apparently doesn’t watch the classics and goes “yeah that’s what we are.”

No darling, like people who are vampires and are stuck halfway through life and death, ghosts?

Carlisle just blankly stares, he is somewhat surprised but I mean if vampires exists why not spirits?

Can he help them? No???? Probably says a prayer when you tell him you see them in hopes they find peace one day or something.

Doesn’t want to assume they’re evil but if they weren’t why are they still around???

Asks a lot of questions

Esme

She kinda just doesn’t believe you at first? “Haha. Oh okay dear.”

Like it just doesn’t process right away

I think after a while she probably has a lot of questions but her questions come from grief so she treads carefully

Does everyone become a ghost? No? What about kids do kids become ghosts (do you see where I’m going with this?)

Sometimes???

The answer is enough for her to ask you to go to where she buried her baby she wants to know he’s okay

You have to explain babies don’t really have the capacity to become ghosts they are young, they’ve never done anything wrong or have any unfinished tasks

Esme doesn’t know if she’s relieved or depressed

She’s glad the baby she lost so long ago isn’t stuck here but at the same to be able to talk them one more time even through you would be wonderful.

Esme realizes while she loves her adopted children she hasn’t allowed herself to grieve and you’re going to have to talk her through her feelings which you have become quite adept at doing since you’ve been helping people say goodbye for so long

Rosalie

She wonders if Royce is a ghost and hopes he’s miserable but other than the occasional question when you seem to see something she doesn’t press

She never stops you from saying anything

But she enjoys some of the stories you tell her from the spirits that stop and want your help

She urges you to help the kids and women who are stuck while someone who tormented them gets away scotch free

In fact if she knows how to find someone she will do something herself and tell you to tell them they’ve been taken care of. If you can help them she wants to help you

Emmett

Thinks it’s neat

Probably makes fun of some stories they’ve told you

He died how? Dude. Acts as if he can see the ghost too. You’re there with your head in your hands because you really need to stop telling him these things

Asks a few questions at first but also mostly listens to the stories you have.

Jasper

Thank god I don’t feel their feelings too

Literally first thing he thinks of. Because it sounds miserable when he already has to tolerate Edwards moods

After he gets over his relief he wonders how it weighs on you since it must be hard to see all of those people

Not really it’s not much different than you, but they can’t touch anything

This probably send Jasper into a spiral tbh

Tries not ask too many questions because he is honestly worried about dying and having to worry about a whole other world of deal with other peoples emotions

Alice

She knows

Doesn’t care

She probably relates to being the weird kid but she’s convinced she fits in perfect now and you two will be fine

You don’t tell her she is definitely not fitting in

It’s nice someone is understanding without needing to explain yourself

Edward

Worries that someone as wonderful is plagued by this

Does not listen when you say you are used to it

Worries about spirits bothering you

Because if they are stuck surely they are degenerates that couldn’t get to heaven

You ask him how it’s any different from vampires stuck here eternally

He is distraught for months

#carlisle cullen #esme platt #esme cullen #rosalie hale #Rosalie cullen #emmett cullen #emmett mccarty #jasper hale #jasper cullen #alice cullen #edward cullen #cullen headcanons #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn

[secondclassfangirl]

the touch of a hand lit the fuse

(A lil ficlet I wrote for Silverusso Day. Also on AO3.)

Daniel would be lying if he said he didn’t know what he was doing.

Though in truth, he hadn’t really known—not at first. Not back then. Back then, he hadn’t quite understood the depth of his feelings—what he felt whenever those cold eyes pierced him. What part of him knew, even subconsciously, that he wanted from the very start, and would soon become determined to get. No matter the cost.

As a kid, Daniel never quite felt in control of his own life. From shitty apartments spanning East Coast to West, his father being ripped away far too young, and his mother’s inescapable cycle of working her ass off just to live paycheck to paycheck, Daniel internalized at an early age that the world wasn’t kind to people like him. If you want something, you have to pull teeth to get it—and sometimes that isn’t even enough.

But this—damn it, he’s going to get this. Even if it destroys him.

Daniel knew from that first glance in the garden all those years ago that he wanted Terry, even if he wasn’t exactly sure how. At first it was idolization, almost: Terry was everything Daniel wasn’t. Pale eyes. Perfect body. Not to mention that quiet confidence he possessed, that effortless ability to capture the attention of everyone in the room without lifting a finger. Daniel wanted that—craved it.

But as time crawled by, and the feeling never ceased, Daniel learned that his fixation was so much more than sheer jealousy.

He wanted Terry—on a level deeper and with more ferocity than anything he’d ever felt. Beneath that smooth, perceptive gaze, Daniel felt seen for perhaps the first time in his life. He felt…alive. Every clandestine brush of their fingers, every lingering, wanton gaze, fanned a flame deep within him, lighting up parts of himself that Daniel didn’t even know existed.  

Back then, he didn’t have the capacity to understand that fire. But now—now, he does. And he’s the one with the gasoline.

Even after the betrayal, and the heart sinking realization that he’d been nothing more than a piece in some sick game of chess orchestrated by Cobra Kai, Daniel’s obsession lingered. He knew by the heat in Terry’s eyes, a mirror of his own desire, that he meant so much more than he let on; that even though they met under false pretenses, the connection forged between them was unbreakable. Daniel wanted him, and like it or not, Terry wanted him just the same.

So when Terry waltzes back into his life, so many years later, there’s no question of what to do next. Terry may have used him as a pawn once, but in this rematch, Daniel’s going to make damn sure he sees him as a queen.

It’s simple, really. Daniel’s always had a way of charming people. Captivating them. Casanova, his ma would tease, but it’s deeper than that. Daniel knows how to flirt, but even better, he knows how to get under people’s skin. He knows how to make them feel. Especially Terry.

Daniel did it back then, even if he was unconscious of it—Terry wouldn’t be so hung up on him now if he hadn’t. He’d walked into their first meeting with no intentions other than securing revenge for Kreese, but by the end of it, there was real interest in his eyes. That much Daniel picked up on, even when he was too naïve to understand the rest.

Terry always looked at him like that: like Daniel’s every breath was the sole object of his attention, everything else be damned. For someone of Terry’s standing, Daniel got the feeling that was quite the accomplishment.

Hell, Terry still looks at him like that—and Daniel wonders if he ever stopped. If in passing the billboards, in seeing the commercials, he paused, transfixed, and remembered the way it felt back then when it was just the two of them in that dark dojo, tiptoeing just along the edge of that precarious cliff without ever quite taking the leap.

It never went beyond heated glances and fleeting touches—not then. But now…

Now, things are different. Daniel’s spent too long denying himself this indulgence, and he’s going to make sure he gets a taste.

So when Terry’s around, he lets himself be coy. Flirtatious, even. Not outright, by any means—their relationship always flourished in shadowed corners, not broad daylight. Every parting of his lips, every sidelong glance, is carefully planned, as are the heated remarks that spill from his mouth during each confrontation.

Terry did always like his temper—carved it out of him, after all. So Daniel’s more than willing to let his spitfire side take the reins.

And despite his impassive façade, Daniel knows by the haze in Terry’s eyes that he’s falling right into the trap. That old tension between them, so palpable it could be cut clean through with a knife, mounts beautifully, coming to a head at last in a clash of tongues and teeth, a flurry of wandering hands and panting breaths more devastating than Daniel ever could have imagined.

And as those lips press into his, seeking not just to taste, but to devour, Daniel doesn’t miss the smirk that graces them.

Like he knew what was coming all along.

#silverusso day #silverusso #daniel larusso #terry silver #the karate kid 3 #cobra kai #daniel x terry #my fics

[tanoraqui]

replying to @aragornsrockcollection’s tags on this post separately because I need to scream back: 

#SCREAMING #CRYING #omg im fascinated by how you made Maedhros realize they now have the power to get them ALL killed #and how he immediately has to put up barriers of fear to make sure that doesn’t happen #and hey you know who else was suicidally defiant? #Turgon #and Fingolfin #so really they’re getting it from both sides #and being raised by feanorians is about to add some nurture to that nature #maedhros is like YOU GONNA STAY YOU GONNA WORK #and soon these two are going to be the only thing that keeps their crops alive #and maedhros is going to regret this because being reliant on them is MUCH more vulnerable than what he is thinking will happen here #trying to cow them with fear is actually going to backfire when powerful cocky teenagers come into that defiant legacy #if maedhros were more morally depraved he’d try to mother gothel them at this point #them caring for the feanorians is the only thing that’s going to stop them trying to break free of their influence #and destroying both parties #but since that doesnt happen they must realize as they grow that maedhros is desperately trying to keep everyone alive despite everything #elros and elrond learning early that no one is wholely evil #and you can choose to understand even if you cannot condone #is like 90% of tolkien’s philosophy and why these characters are such a force for good #if maedhros and maglor had tried happy families instead of being honest about their deeds and character #they would not have developed that and love would not have grown between them #which is why i can’t quite get on board with ‘feanorians right or wrong’ elrond #it kills what i like about this relationship #they have to organically realize maedhros’s threat is empty #(and it is they hold no silmaril and maedhros proved at doriath he desperately did not want to harm children) #in order to see the suffering that make the feanorian’s sympathetic

Because YES, YES, BOLDING MINE BECAUSE YES, YOU GET ME. First of, YES, Elros and Elrond get “willing and able to spit in the face of literal gods” from literally every part of their lineage (was, like, Nimloth normal about this? possibly, but almost certainly not.) ​The premise of their lives has is that the nightmares of their childhood (”eat your vegetables or the Fëanorians will get you”) came true, with blood and wrath, and then...took them in, and were consistently kind and caring, or at least, as kind and caring as their worn-down bright spirits could be, and became familiar and loved. By the time they’re teenagers, Elrond and Elros fear neither brood of Morgoth nor bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, and when they arrive in Gil-galad’s moving camp like a third of the way into the War of Wrath, everything authority figure who interacts with them gets the distinct sense that these twins, while consistently respectful and obedient to whatever military hierarchy they slide into, are only doing so probationarily. And somehow, being too disparaging about the Fëanorians is a black mark on that probationary judgement.

Because YES, they UNDERSTAND the Sons of Fëanor. They CHOSE to understand (no one so young should be experienced enough in the horrors of the world to be making such choices, but the incontrovertible fact is that Elrond and Elros did not have time for a “childhood.”) I don’t think it’s necessarily that Maedhros didn’t have the moral blackness to try gaslighting these kids so much as he didn’t have the emotional capacity for it - he’s attacked innocent cities and slaughtered refugees of his own people, he’s gotten friend after friend killed, loyal follower after loyal follower, cousin after brother after brother. What’s a little emotional manipulation? If it was the only way to keep everyone left alive, he’d...try.

But the only act he can consistently maintain is that he’s several safe feet from the cliff of complete mental/emotional/physical collapse, rather than walking along the edge. (It isn’t a very good act, if you know him.) And Maglor, who has a little more emotional capacity left, and who has always been a skilled actor, also has a little more moral reluctance - and anyway it’s not necessary, because from the start they’re brutally honest about what’s going on here (emphasis on brutally). All children appreciate honesty from adults. And so love grows between them in truth.

The Fëanorians are monsters, Elros and Elrond will admit that freely. They don’t flinch from any sort of slaughter - they’ve seen Maedhros kill an elf for stealing a cake of lembas with as much ease as he killed a deer for meat or an orc in battle. The first thing Maglor ever said to them as a lie, a soothing, beguiling Song to lure them out of their hiding spot and into his arms. They have done nearly every terrible thing there is to do in the world and they will do more if they must, for the Oath drives them and they take strength from it.

But the first thing Maedhros said to them was a lie, too, they eventually realized: “If your mother does not give us the Silmaril, you will be killed.” And there have been no lies since, save the half-truths adults use to shield children from the horrors of the world (and few of those. Who has time, when the horrors are all on their doorstep no matter what anyone says?) The Oath drives them and they take strength from its ceaseless fire, but only because they have so little strength to draw from anywhere, anything else. And they can still decide where to be driven - that is why Elrond and Elros are here now, with the Host of the West. “Two Silarmils are better than one,” Maedhros had finally said, after days of debate. “Morgoth cannot stand against all the Valar against him, this we know - and nor can we stand idly by while they fight our war. But there is no way Gil-galad, Arafinwë, or Eonwë himself will believe we mean alliance truly unless we give up our hostages. So you two will bear the message yourselves, and stay.”

They are terrible and fey. Maglor’s mood swings violently and his tongue is always sharp even when his smile is bright (but he usually avoided them when he felt a truly black mood coming on. Sometimes they had to seek him out to tug him gently from the depressive ones). Maedhros woke screaming in the Black Speech some nights, curses that made the very stones shiver in fear. Sometimes he woke pleading in the same fell speech, pleading for or to an every-changing variety of names in Quenya. Growing half-elves, growing at Mannish speed, because there’s time for nothing else, sleep like Men rather than Elves; each night that there wasn’t an active emergency, and some that there was, Maglor sang to them - not particularly enchantingly, just lullabies recognizably full of love. The few times he was unavailable - away on necessary hunting forays, or too injured to sing - Maedhros came and sang instead, and held them gently through the anxious fear. If his motions and melodies seemed more reflexive than truly affectionate, still they had to wonder at a monster for whom gentle care was as reflexive as the cutting of throats.

Some of their followers were the worse sort of Men or Elf, the kind eager to follow any campaign with slaughter and prizes at the end. Some had been loyal since Tirion, faltering and fraying and staying true along with their lords. Some were just throwing their lots in with the only fortress left standing against Morgoth for hundreds of miles. All were welcome so long as they stood staunchly side by side against the enemy, and Elrond and Elros did consider going back, or never leaving in the first place, no matter what their guardians decided, because they know that sometimes (often), the Fëanorians, lords and people alike, hold to them for strength, and what will become of them all without us to look after them?

(They are no strangers to that weight; they never were. Often the people of Sirion looked at them the same way. Sometimes even their mother did, though she tried to hide it.)

(A millennia or so later, Elrond is going to come back from a visit to Numenor shaking his head and admit to Celebrian, who is visiting Lindon for a few years, “[Newly crowned Great-etc Nephew] is so certain that he has to heal every hurt and mend every fault in the world... I cannot but think that it is because of how much weight his father put on his shoulders, in his grief after [Great-etc Nephew’s mother] died. I had hoped he might grow out of it, but he only seems to have grown more determined in it.” And Celebrian, young but wise, will smile and say fondly, “You hypocrite,” and Elrond will think on it for many years.)

“Guardians” they do call them, and nothing else, however they might feel in their hearts, because this was another thing Elrond and Elros discussed and decided between them: their father is missing, until he’s suddenly the one sailing a star through the sky. Either way, they have no other. Understanding and even love may both be true, but matters of principle can still stand.

The Fëanorians don’t fight alongside the Host of the West, for the most part. Nobody really wanted to cooperate that much, and why risk things started well turning to evil ends? Sometimes they arrive at battles to fill gaps in the line, then disappear again into the soon-to-be-flooded woods. Other times, the only word of them is when a scout hears distant bursts of Maglor’s terrible war-songs, or comes across fields of slain orcs. Once or twice, Elrond and Elros are called into the command tend to verify a letter. “Yes, that’s Maglor’s writing and sealing charm,” Elrond says with relief, scanning the hasty scrawl: Don’t cross the Gelion you idiots, it’s a trap. If you’re so worried about the Laquendi there, we’ll go make sure they’re alright. 

“But is it truthful?” Arafinwë asks with no small concern. “No offense, but it’s not as though Fëanor’s sons have cared for civilians before. If it’s even a trap at all - obviously they have experience in this, but we know the Enemy’s forces are divided...” 

Elros looks at him like he was an idiot. “Those were Caranthir’s lands. And if Maedhros says the Enemy is laying a trap, then the Enemy is laying a trap.”

The last time Elrond and Elros speak together with the Sons of Fëanor, there are also no lies. Technically. Maglor and Maedhros both just by unspoken agreement give them the strong impression that they are very likely to accept Eonwë’s offer of sailing and pleading their case, when in reality they’ve barely discussed it yet themselves. This is, the Sons of Fëanor both think, perfectly in line with the half-truths one tells children to shield them a little longer from the horrors of the world.

(Two hundred years later, Elros will say thoughtfully to his brother, while they watch Elros’s grandchildren play on one of Numenor’s many beaches, “I think I understand now, you know... It’s so terribly easy to disappoint your children.” It will take Elrond longer to agree - he’d believed more, walking away through the camp at the end of the War of Wrath, that their stubborn faith was going to be justified; and he doesn’t have Elros’s deadline to sort out his affairs. But six millennia later, he’ll decide that forgiveness, love, and two Ages of the world can outweigh some principles, and anyway, however he got this way, he’s too much of a healer to leave anyone so wounded behind. So he’ll give Galadriel and Mithrandir warning, though not ask for permission, and ride down the shore until he finds his foster-father, and bring him home at last.)

(And if it takes a soothing, beguiling Song to lure Fëanor’s last son, skittish with isolation and more than half lost in memory, onto a ship, or at least to a campfire to discuss getting onto a ship....well, it’s not the only reprise in the Noldolante. And it is a healer’s prerogative, sometimes, to help even those patients who resist the aid.)

#me: i'm gonna reply enthusiastically but REASONABLY quickly to this #dark kermit!me: or you could vent most of your kidnap family headcanons all at once #me: OR I COULD VENT MOST OF MY KIDNAP FAMILY HEADCANONS ALL AT ONCE! #the silmarillion #elrond #elros #maglor #maedhros #peredhil #feanor and feanor's kin #…ok maybe next ask me about my thoughts about the last followers of the sons of feanor or #the maglor/earendil 90% sane courtly romance of my heart #my fic

[spaceshipkat]

i wish there was a way to tell young people, without it sounding condescending, that they may think they know so much but you, an adult, know they really don’t bc i mean that with my entire heart. when i was 20, 21, 22 i thought i was an adult, i thought i knew what it was to be an adult, but i didn’t. it sounds so trite, so common, bc that’s said so often now it’s kinda lost its meaning, but fuck. it’s true! at age 28 i know a hell of a fuckton more than i did at age 21 (and even still have a hell of a fuckton more to learn) when i thought i knew it all at age 21 and i know that i am so glad i didn’t make certain mistakes i could have made that other young people are making (such as having kids young, or getting married young, and by young i mean early 20s) and shit i can say that until i am blue in the face but young people won’t know that, can’t really understand that to its full capacity, until they reach the age i am and see for themselves how lucky they are that they didn’t make certain irrevocable mistakes at a young age bc once those mistakes are made there is no going back that is their life they have made their bed and there are few ways to get out of it, they’ve tucked the sheets in too tight

but how do i and other people who have reached this realization and understanding and know what it really means to be an adult help people too young to have reached this stage understand that they’re too young without it coming across like you’re being patronizing when no you’re just trying to help them in a world they don’t know how to navigate yet bc they just haven’t been around long enough

#i have no idea if this makes sense #i’m just fucking upset #and i don’t know how to navigate this one #have a call planned with my best friend to hash it out but #god i don’t know #i need to turn my brain off somehow #it’s been going like this nonstop for three hours now #especially when i have been present for every mistake and problem and have had to pick up the pieces #and know i’ll be picking up these pieces too if they stay on this path #i remain just so fucking tired

[monochromeheartbeat]

what do you think about the autistic brittany headcanon?

I think this is something that deserves a lot of thought and reflection, and I’m honestly not certain I have the best answer to it. Under the cut cause it gets long:

As an individual, I’ve had a pretty traumatic upbringing — one that at a very young age put me in a very untrusting dynamic with therapy that I won’t get into because it’s sad. And then my relationship with my adoptive mom was strained because she was studying psychology and did that thing you’re not supposed to do, which is to diagnose those close to you. With everything, founded or unfounded, based on a lot of struggles I was navigating balancing this growing up too fast and out of my control with desperately wanting to just be a kid, you know? And the support just. It didn’t exist for me in the way that was what I needed. Which was kindness and gentleness and patience.

So I have a hard time with the idea of head canons in general. I have a personal disdain for when people project their ideas of what they think of me onto me. It’s why I struggle with labels. I’m already a minority in so many ways — an orphan, adopted, mix-raced, Asian-American, 1st generation, unstable home, trauma/abuse, etc, etc. Discovering (through this particular fandom) that I was queer, I was like. Great, another box! (it's honestly okay - great even - now, but I was so afraid of losing what little I had when I realized it)

Don’t get me wrong, I believe mental health is SO important. I think I'm using mental health as an umbrella term here to include just general psychology terms, as I think autism is a learning/social disorder, not necessarily a mental health one. Idk, I'm really lacking in knowledge here. Still, diagnoses help with getting treatment or routines created and can really help improve quality of life. But autism specifically sounds like such a difficult thing to navigate, because autism is one of those diagnoses that can really restrict your personal freedoms because of prejudice against it (like whether or not you can gain citizenship in other countries). So I understand why a lot of people turn to self-diagnosis as an alternative.

But from my experiences with childhood, I am torn between having seen my parental figure diagnose me in an unprofessional capacity (and therefore concerns around self-diagnosis) and professionals harm me with good intentions but lack of care or tact when dealing with a child (thus a personal distrust of therapists that yes, I've worked on somewhat, and yes, I know better to ask for what I need than wait to be told).

The short of it is… I don’t think I’m qualified to tell you if this fictional character is autistic. I don’t know a lot about autism. I love that people identify with their favorite characters, and I think if that’s how you relate to that character, it’s a wonderful and special relationship you have with them. I think if she is autistic, she suffered in the sense that… canonically, Brittany never got the support from adult characters in the show other characters got. No one took her needs seriously. I didn’t really watch the season her parents were introduced (and I won’t get into my feelings about having been raised not being told I was Asian until later in life, the racism I experienced and didn't even understand, and how I feel in regards to the casting of Pierce Pierce), but from what I did watch and remember, her only support was really, truly, Santana. 

I love that Santana was her support system. I hate that she didn’t get explored with the depth and care other characters got. I hate that she was the butt of so many jokes. Yet, I loved Hemo for being so good at being so funny anyway. And I don’t know if we have enough information about her to determine if she was or wasn’t autistic. And I’m sorry I’m not more knowledgeable about autism in general. I know that it’s a more common topic of discussion than it was when I was more socially engaged on the internet a decade ago. My coworker talks to me often about his experiences, which is the only true source I have for autism information, but he's a new friend and I'm still learning a lot. But I hope I’ve answered this with as much respect and sensitivity as I can, because I don’t want to perpetuate any harm to a community that experiences a lot of stereotypes and misinformation. 

#heebeeasks #anonymous #under the cut

[blackleatherjacketz]

Father’s Day

Peter Parker x Frank Castle (Platonic)

Summary: Set a few months after Spider-Man No Way Home, Peter goes to the last person he knows for help, someone he knows will be at a carousel on Father’s Day.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of major character deaths, Peter reaching out to Frank

Notes: I’m a week late, but it’s Cancer Season, and I’m in my feels. I’ve never written Peter before, but for some reason, I got possessed by the idea of him seeking out a father figure in Frank on the saddest day possible. This was going to be a drabble and got away from me. Forgive me.

WC: 1.7k

Tags: @letsby @likedovesinthewnd​ @genevievedarcygranger​

The tinny tune of the carousel rang through the humid air of the park, children's laughter and babies crying mixed in with the song as it created its own odd melody. Dozens of different types of families were scattered in the picnic area between him and the moving circle, those closest to the ride absorbing most of the sound before it reached his sensitive ears.

“Can I sit here?” His voice shook as he pointed to the empty spot next to Frank, the summer sun beating down on the rubber-coated metal of the bench.

Peter remembered him mentioning this place a year or so ago when they were fighting King Pin’s men on top of a roof at four in the morning. Or maybe it was a little bit longer ago than that? The current state of things made it difficult for him to remember everything that happened before he made that stupid wish that turned his life upside down. He’d get things mixed up sometimes, wracking his brain to remember if certain things he recalled happened before or after the change, or if it was nothing more than just a dream.

Frank looked up and over at him, eyes pinpoint and defensive until he saw how young he was, his lip twitching in annoyance before his face finally relaxed along with the rest of his muscles. He didn’t recognize who he was; so much for hoping that there was still someone out there who did.

“Sure, kid.” Frank’s voice always reminded him of what a grizzly bear might sound like if one ever learned how to talk. He was big and scary despite not having any ‘real powers’, but he was always nice to Peter, seeming to sort of… soften a little when he was around him.

“Thanks.” Peter sat down next to him, not too close, but just close enough to relish in the feeling of sharing a space with someone he used to call a friend.

It was the little things that he missed the most as the days passed by alone. He missed being able to recall shared memories with someone, to notice the little things about them that no one else seemed to pay attention to but him, and vice versa. He missed high fives in the hallway with Ned, hugs from Aunt May and the long warm kisses he used to share with MJ. Most of all he just missed being seen, understood and cared for in literally any capacity.

The utter devastation he felt when MJ looked at him with cold and distant eyes, as if he were any other stranger walking down the street made his heart sink into the bitter acid of his stomach. How could he convince himself to explain their situation and bring things back to normal, chopping up their years of bonded experience to a few short sentences? How could he make someone love him who didn’t even know his name? He couldn’t, and he was going to have to learn to live with that. Every time he looked at her, though, whether from across the street or on a faraway rooftop, he knew that he could never get back what they used to have. Not the way he wanted, anyways.

He tried going to support groups on the outskirts of town, ones for people who’d lost their parents or for those who lost relationships during the blip and couldn’t quite get over the loss. No matter what the degree of tragedy he shared with them, no one could quite understand what he was going through. No one had lost everyone they had ever gotten close to before, only to have their identity completely eradicated as payment for saving the world.

He couldn’t even get a respectable job without a proper ID, and all the work he’d done at school and with Tony? Wiped clean from existence, as if he was never even born. The only person who would remotely know how he felt right now would be Frank, no stranger to devastating loss, false identities or going off the grid from time to time. If Peter was going to get out of town and start fresh, he was going to need Frank’s help.

Peter opened his mouth to introduce himself, coaching himself mentally with the details of his fake identity as he paused, thinking better of his initial plan of attack. Frank was a wild animal, one who had to be approached in just the right way in order to earn his trust and not get his arm ripped off or eaten for lunch. “You lost somebody, too, huh?” he asked.

So much for playing it cool, Peter.

Frank scoffed, putting something into his pocket before leaning back in his seat. “Do I know you?” His tone wasn’t angry, but it sure wasn’t friendly, either.

Peter wanted to say yes, to geek out about all the times they fought together alongside Daredevil against the worst of New York City, but he didn’t want to scare him away. He didn’t want to seem like some kid who wore a Punisher t-shirt to bed every night before kissing his Momento Mori poster, either. He really hated having to lie all the time, especially to people he knew or cared about. Sure, he had to do it to protect his identity when he was Spider-Man, but this was different. This was a constant, every second of everyday kind of lie. One that tied itself around your ankle and pulled you down to the bottom of the ocean until you couldn’t breathe anymore, kind of lie.

“I guess I just know that look when I see it,” Peter confessed, thinking of all the pain he’s had to endure since his parents passed away, now compounded a hundred-fold. He wondered how Frank had gone so long without totally collapsing in on himself the way he did every night when the world stopped spinning.

“Yeah?” Frank continued to look ahead, his jaw clenching as he clasped his hands together and leaned forward.

Oh God, he hated him already, didn’t he? The only reason he ever talked to him in the first place was because he saved his life when he nearly fell off a ladder that one time. It was pretty obvious that he wanted to be alone, that he didn’t want to be bothered, especially by an annoying kid like him. Why did he come here in the first place thinking this was going to be a good idea? Why was he so stupid?

Focus, Peter. If you can save the world as many times as you have, you can definitely do this.

“And what look is that?” Frank brought him out of his thoughts, bouncing his knee up and down.

“The one where you keep waiting for them to come out of a crowd somewhere… anywhere, really. At a park like this one, a mall, the subway, a busy street, anywhere you go could be the last place you’ve looked until one day you finally find them, even though you know that you never will.” He faked a cough to cover up the lump in his throat, wondering just how much worse he would feel if Tony were still alive and looked at him as if they had never met.

“Yeah,” he resigned, swallowing hard and dropping his head. He took in a deep breath, slow and steady as he smoothed over his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger.

Peter had never seen Frank this pensive, but then again, they were usually fighting bad guys when they were together, not mourning their loved ones on a summer’s day in the park. “I’m sorry, Mr…” he bit his tongue, barely stopping himself from calling him ‘Mister Punisher, Sir’ like he always used to.

“I’m Pete.” He sat up straight, placing his folded hands in his lap.

“No shit,” Peter whispered under his breath, wondering if his alias had anything to do with him at one point or another. Probably not. But what if? “I’m Michael,” he lied for the twentieth time today.

“Well Mikey, that shit they try to feed you about it getting easier over time ain’t true, not even a little bit.” He ran a hand over his head, brushing his fingers through his overgrown locks as he squinted toward the setting sun. “You just learn how to deal with it better.”

“Oh,” he sighed audibly, slumping his shoulders. He’d heard the same thing from dozens of other grieving sons and daughters in his support groups, but was secretly hoping that Frank had some trick up his sleeve to help him get over this pain a lot faster. Although it was looking more and more like the only way out was through. “How did you deal with it?”

“Look,” Frank sucked the air in through his teeth, shaking his head in a pained smile. “You seem like a nice kid and everything, but I’m not the one you want to take advice from right now, okay? Why don’t you try going to a priest or a rabbi or…”

“But I’ve tried all that.” Peter cut him off, the thought of Frank dismissing him forcing tears into his eyes. “It doesn’t work. I tried getting new hobbies, going to therapy, going to group, but nothing helps.” He blinked a few times in an effort to absorb the tears into his eyelashes, only to force one down his face. “I need your help.”

“What?” He turned to face him, his features barely changing as he realized that Peter knew who he was this whole time. “You want me to kill that guy who hurt your family for you? Hmm? Make him pay for what he did? It’s not gonna bring them back, and it’s definitely not gonna make you feel better.”

Wow, he just jumped straight to murder, it’s a miracle we were able to work together at all.

“No, not that.” He wiped the stream of saline off his cheek with the back of his hand. “I need a new identity, and Mr. Murdock said that you could at least help point me in the right direction?”

“Fucking Murdock,” Frank grumbled, rolling the idea around in his head before looking back at the carousel that seemed that much farther away now. “Whose after you, anyways, kid?”

Peter thought about lying to Frank again, about telling him it was the Gnucci gang or hell, even Wilson Fisk that was after him. He thought about every single smile he’d lost over the years, about every sound of Aunt May’s laughter and sting of Tony’s snark that he’d no longer be able to keep for himself.

“Everyone.”

#peter parker #frank castle #spider-man no way home #The punisher #frank castle fan fic #peter parker fanfic

[milehighmechanic]

@feralego moved from here

“Devil’s Breath,” he repeats, his voice a whisper, a sigh. There’s relief there, in the knowledge that that horrible plague hadn’t done this. That Otto’s mad power struggle with Norman Osborn hadn’t caused such irreparable harm. But that doesn’t ease his mind entirely. Something had done this. Something, some alien by the name of Thanos, had destroyed the city. Killed people. And even if this isn’t his New York... Even if Stark’s parallel universe theory tracks--and it really does seem to make sense--he still feels it like a gut punch. On their way to Stark Tower, Peter can’t help but gawk at what the city’s become. How it reminds him of the old patchwork quilt he’d had on his bed as a teenager: half tattered and faded, half vibrant and newly patched. Neither half matching up with what it had been in the beginning. He’d agreed to go with Tony. Because where else is he going to go? Who else would have the capacity to understand what’s happened? Who else might be able to help him? ( Dr. Otto Octavius. Norman Osborn. Do either of them exist here? Surely they would, if-- ) “I’m... You expected a different Peter Parker, didn’t you?” He asks a few moments after they touch down on the roof and head inside Stark Tower. Which-- Was known as Avenger’s Tower in his New York. It makes sense. But it’s still difficult to wrap his head around. “And you seemed... disappointed. That I wasn’t him.” An unspoken question stretches out between them, but Peter has his theory about why that is now that he’s not hyperventilating on a fire escape. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”

It’s been a couple months since Tony was last in the penthouse----- Pepper has to visit the city for work more often than he does, and it’s been a long time since Tony felt truly comfortable in the city. Too many reminders. Ghosts around every corner. 

Now he just hopes there’s some food in the fridge. Tony taps his chest, the suit flowing back into the reactor housing, and glances at Peter over his shoulder, expression tight. It’s a long minute before he speaks.

“Fifty percent of the population were killed instantaneously in the Snap. Culled,” he clarifies, voice bitter, “by Thanos. Peter was just one.” 

His fingers rub against each other absently before his fist clenches, trying to ignore the phantom feeling of ash coating his fingers. 

“He was younger than you. Just a kid. My responsibility.” 

He thinks of the determination in Peter’s voice on that spaceship. Excitement, in spite of the DANGER they were all in. The fear in his eyes when Tony had been stabbed. The terror in his voice, when------

Tony shakes his head, too hard. Digs his fingernails into his palms, the sparks of pain grounding him. “I guess when FRIDAY told me there was a Spider-Man sighting, I just… got my hopes up,” he adds, a little softer. “That’s not your fault.” Not for the first time, he’s glad that May was Snapped too. He feels guilty thinking it, he always has done, but at least she was spared the pain. And this.

But this young man is still Peter Parker. Not the one Tony knew, sure, but he’s still PETER. Different, but the same. It’s so obvious, just in that apology. 

“If I can get you home, I will,” he promises. And then, a crooked smile, “not that I’m trying to get rid of you. But I guess you’ve got some people back home?”

#feralego #thread: multiverse #canonverse: juice pops and bedtime stories

[dungeons-are-too-cold]

can you make something where 16 year old spencer reid convinces the team to consult for them with something along the lines of "im going to get into the fbi anyways so it doesn't matter! its like a test drive!" the team would be the season 3 team (it can not be that team i just find rossi funny) im sorry if it bothers you that i request again-

It’s no bother at all!!! I love this suggestion and I literally can’t get enough of crazy uncle energy from Rossi and young Spence! I have them working a case in Vegas for this one, also I made him 17 cuz that’s when he got his first doctorate, and I thought that would be funny lmao, hope that’s alright. Warnings: one instance of curse words Word Count: 960

“Uh, I found this kid on the steps out front. He basically solved the case already so I thought I should just, ya know, let him tell you.” Rossi stood at the door of the Las Vegas precinct where the BAU was holed up for the last week.

“Rossi, you can’t just let a kid into an FBI investigation.”

“Speak for yourself, Morgan, he’s adorable!” Penelope squealed. She immediately started to fawn over the young man. “Hotch, can I take him for coffee?”

“I think we should let him speak about the case first, Garcia”

“Yes sir. Should I…give him a case file?” she asked, slightly confused. Penelope didn’t want to scar the young man but considering the fact he has obviously been following the case on the news, she wasn’t sure what he had already seen.

“Let’s see what he knows first. I’m-,” Hotch started as he introduced himself with a hand extended.

“SSA Aaron Hotchner. I’m a big fan of your work,” Spencer interrupted. “Also, I don’t quite shake hands, but believe me I am pleased to meet you.  I’ve been following your cases.”

“You have been?”

“Yes. I met Agent Gideon two years ago during my undergrad, and he thought I would make a great candidate for the BAU someday, so I’ve made sure to keep up with your cases, read all of your reports, I follow all of the news stories. This is the first time you’ve been in Vegas so I thought now would be as good a time as any to introduce myself and offer my assistance.” Spencer was so self-assured that he could help solve the case.

“Undergrad? Kid, you’re like 16.” Morgan could not believe what he was hearing.

“17 actually.”

“I don’t believe I caught your name?” Hotch said as he tried to get the conversation back on track. There was still an unsub on the loose after all.

“Dr. Spencer Reid Ph.D., Mathematics from Cal Tech.”

“I think you can see why I thought he was helpful,” Rossi joked.

“Hold up, how do you get a Ph.D. at 17?”

“Cal tech is very loose with its rules, Hot Chocolate, as long as you can pass their exams, its great publicity,” Garcia added

“We can talk about this later, we have a missing girl we need to find.” Hotch attempted to get things back on track one more time.

“Yes, so I was looking at your crime scene photos released to the press and all of them have pieces of an equation hidden in the messaging, and I can help solve it but I’m going to need all of the pieces.”

“Garcia, pull all of the images we have from the scenes, we’ll see if he can piece it together from there. I will let him help, but I will not allow him at the crime scenes.”

“Respectfully, sir, I can handle it.”

“Respectfully, Doctor, I don’t care. Children do not belong at crime scenes, in any capacity.”

“I’m basically in the Academy alre-“

“Please don’t test me. You may be a doctor, but I’m in charge here. When you get to the BAU, you’ll understand that.”

“You said when!” Reid said excitedly.

“Equations?”

“Oh, yes sir.” Reid hopped into a chair next to Penelope as she pulled up the work that she had been running through her systems.

“Well, that’s why your algorithm can’t solve the equation, it’s in the wrong order.” Spencer rolled his chair in front of the laptop and began to type away. “Even though this was the order that the crime scenes were found, your M.E. report should show that the third crime scene is actually from your fourth victim chronologically, am I correct?”

“Morgan? The report?” Hotch said to a stunned Derek. He couldn’t believe the work the kid was doing, and he got lost in his disbelief.

“Oh uh, yeah it came in today” he said as he gazed over the file. “The kid is right, how is he right?”

“Considering the preliminary geographical profile I mocked up from the news reports, the unsub is actually moving in a very specific pattern around the city, essentially creating a connect the dots of an image. The image, if my predictions are correct,” Reid mumbled as he moved to solving the new equation, “should create the answer to the equation: 16.”

After effortlessly whizzing his way through the equation on Penelope’s laptop, the young man bolted to the map of the city that the team had up on the board. Taking a thick black marker, Spencer connected the dots of all the previous crime scenes. The lines created the partial image of the number 16.

“The crime scenes are also all 16 miles apart, which clearly shows us exactly where the unsub will strike next.” He then takes a red marker and circles the exact location.

“Bingo.” Reid had circled a collection of college dorms as the final location the unsub would be striking.

“I mean, it fits the profile perfectly,” Emily chimed in. “We profiled he was fresh out of college, maybe a grad student, I mean the advanced math. The kid is good.”

“Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Morgan finally exclaimed. The fact that everyone seemed so nonchalant about a literal child taking over the investigation was starting to get to him.

“Oh, is someone angry that he isn’t big man on campus anymore?” Garcia teased.

“We can worry about your ego later, Morgan.” Rossi chimed in. “We have an unsub to catch.”

The team rushed out to the SUV’s out front, leaving Garcia and the young Doctor Reid at the precinct. Garcia was the first to break the awkward silence they found themselves in.

“So, coffee?”

I do realize now that I totally didn't include JJ, I hope that's okay lmao. This one was really fun to write so I really really hope you like it! Send me an ask/request here! Check my masterlist here!

#the bau #criminal minds watch through #criminal minds #stories from the dungeon #answers from the dungeon #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds au #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Wonderful World - Sneak Peek!

Hello friends, here is a sneak peek for my new series, Wonderful World! CLICK HERE to learn more about this story!

“Always hits the spot. I haven’t eaten since 11:30.” She disclosed.

“Oh god, I would be a proper grouch if I went that long without eating.” He said and she giggled.

“So you get hangry, I see…” she said and he chuckled.

“Most people do.” He said and she nodded.

“That’s fair.” She responded and he chuckled, “Being a parent often means staving off your own needs for your kids, even hunger. I will admit sometimes I forget to eat-”

“You forget to eat?” He asked in shock and she giggled.

“If I’m really busy. It’s usually during the end of the semester, but I don’t think any of my classes will push me to that this quarter.” She said and he nodded.

“Well good.”

“Yes.” She grinned. Then they called his name and he came back with his own order. He just had a regular black coffee and a capirotada - which is essentially a bread pudding.

“Ooh, good choice.” She said and he glanced up to her.

“He told me it was like bread pudding.”

“It is! They make it really good here, it’s not too sweet or cinnamon-y, it’s just right.” She said and he nodded.

“Oh good!” I just got this because it looks kind of like a dessert from England and I admittedly got a bit nostalgic.” He shrugged and she smiled.

“Yeah, I get that.” She nodded, “So have you been in the US long?”

“Yeah, I came over for med school, so I’ve been here…10 years.” He said, “Oh shit.” He then said lowly and she giggled as he realized how long he had been around here.

“Do you miss England?”

“Some things, but I really like it here. It was a fresh start.” He said and she nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, we need those sometimes.” She hummed, “But look at you now, your own practice and everything. Even teaching now!” She said and he chuckled bashfully as he reached for his coffee.

“Living the dream.” He said and she quirked her face a bit.

“You say that like you’re not convinced of it.” She said and he shrugged before he spoke again.

“It’s just like, you work so hard for something. Literally dedicate everything you are and all of your time and resources to it to get there and once you do it’s kind of the feeling of like “that’s it”?. Do you know what I mean?” He asked and she hummed pensively.

“Kind of… I mean, I hear med school is…horrific.” She said and he nodded.

“It’s definitely challenging…and I don’t know, I was just one of those people that were so focused on school and being excellent in that capacity that I don’t think I enjoyed it as much as I could have or made the good kind of memories with the people around me.” He explained and she hummed, “And well now, yes, I have my practice, but having your own business is very time consuming and it makes it hard to have my own life too, you know? I love what I do, trust me, I would’ve never gone through with med school if I didn’t, but like there are times in which I wish I didn’t have to answer a phone call of a patient in distress in the middle of a date with my girlfriend. Or have a patient go through that angry at my therapist phase and fear I’ll get sued and lose everything.” He chuckled and she did as well.

“Yeah, wow, that is…intense.” She said and he nodded.

“It is and again, I love to do it and I love to help people, but I’m still new at this so I’m just getting the hang of it. I’m sure I’ll be able to find balance with some time, but it does feel like I never will be able to start living my life sometimes.” He expressed, “Do you ever feel that way? Being a mum?” He asked and she shook her head.

“Not really… I don’t feel that I missed out on my youth or anything like that. I wasn’t all that social in college.” She said and he hummed.

“And Celeste’s dad? You guys were young, how does he feel about that?” He asked and Diana looked down at her coffee cup before clearing her throat and glancing into his eyes.

“Ummm…h-how’re you liking teaching?” She changed the subject all together, so fast and abruptly that Harry just went along with it, barely even noticing that his previous question had been completely ignored.

“It’s been great! I was dying of nerves beforehand but as soon as I got up there it just felt amazing to know that I could share what I knew like that. It’s made me fall in love with my profession even more.” He said and she smiled.

“Yeah, that happens to all the great teachers I know, at least.” She shrugged and he smiled before digging into his capirotada. 

#harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles series #wonderful world series #wonderful world #harry styles sneak peek

[melodiiesxfmadness]

memorial day, 2015.

Arlington National Cemetery Arlington, Virginia content warning: war conditions, marine deaths.

Lourdes was quiet as she stepped out of the rental vehicle, bumping the driver’s side door shut with her hip as she placed the all too familiar dress cover on her head. Light brown hair had been fixed in a french twist and held in place with a dozen bobby pins, along with megahold hairspray. Black dress shoes had been shined the night before, dress slacks ironed out properly as well so it matched the stark white dress shirt beneath the dress jacket. Crisp white gloves adorned both hands, and she could feel them shake a little while walking away from the vehicle towards the marker for SECTION 60. This is where the buried those who had died in combat during Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom, where members from her battalion were buried. She remembered getting a phone call back in 2005 while still in college about Mullen, he was the first to go.

Mullen had been the translator for them, especially after she had transitioned out and could speak multiple languages as a matter of fact. The worst part about it is that he had left behind a young wife and newborn set of twins. Something that seemed to be rather common when military personnel got killed while in combat, they were always leaving someone behind - a risk they were all taking when they signed the contracts. For her it would have been her family, she didn’t like to think about how he had died. That’s because it was all too common again for them, an ambush during a night patrol of the area where insurgents had been spotted earlier that day. Just walked right into a trap in an abandoned house. He decided to just go in first without waiting. However, a LOT of the time when out on patrol … or on a mission … plans tend to get SIDELINED because it’s a warzone. Planning often goes out the window a LOT and things get overlooked because you’re in the middle of trying to not only keep yourself alive, but your fellow marines as well as not have civilian casualties either or get hit with friendly fire.

It wasn’t any surprise to her that the cemetery was overflowing with flowers, and visitors - it was only nine o’clock in the morning too. She quietly greeted those she past by while heading for the graves of her fallen brothers, head tilting briefly at the familiar figure standing before Mullen’s grave. “Fancy seeing you here, Silva.” Her voice made the 6’5” man turn around, like the majority of those still walking around - he was battle weary and battle hardened, it was easily readable on his face. His right arm was completely gone now, having gotten blown off by a grenade during battle in 2008 so he was honorably discharged and sent home. Obviously, it was a prosthetic underneath the dress uniform and he extended his hand to her.

“At least we’re both still here in some capacity, Rasmussen. Still chasing down idiots jumping their bails I take it?”

Lourdes nodded her head, “Took a few days off from that in order to come up here. You seen Clément, Brewer and Ainsworth yet sir?” Silva actually outranked her, well he HAD stayed in longer so now he was a retired Gunnery Sergeant.

Silva shook his head, “Not yet, we can go together.” He offered her his left arm so they could walk together and find the rest of the graves of their fallen brothers. “Mullen’s former wife hasn’t been here since after he got buried, from what I’ve heard. His kids come up with their grandparents, she moved them to Louisiana three months after the funeral. Wanted nothing to do with any of us.”

This didn’t surprise Lourdes at all - it would have if she didn’t understand that significant others tended to BLAME the military for what happened to their loved ones. They knew the risk when they signed up, they still went - fought for their freedom. The blame game always happened, especially when someone was hurting really bad. “Are you at all surprised? Fairly certain she had a shoutin’ match with Brewer after the funeral ‘cause they were close … blamed him for not stoppin’ Mullen.” She shrugged, “I remember her dad pulling her away from him and telling her to quiet down - that it wasn’t helpin’ any.”

Silva nodded his head, “I remember that. Both babies were there and started crying up a storm because she was raising her voice.” They stopped in front of three more graves now, “You weren’t with us when it happened but Brewer and Clément both died from driving over an IED while on the way back from patrol one morning … Ainsworth got shot in the neck by a kid … no more than fifteen.”

Lourdes cringed a little bit when he told her that. “I never did bother asking how they died … because deaths in a combat zone tend to usually be … well, gruesome no matter what.” Silva nodded his head, wrapping an arm around her loosely to hold her in a soft hug.

“I was going to tell you after the funerals, while at the bar with everyone else but you were so excited ‘bout telling me that you had just started working with some other bail bond places so you could travel and not be stuck in South Carolina…” Silva whispered a little. “I didn’t think it was appropriate for me to tell you then, didn’t want to darken your happy cloud.”

Lourdes sniffled a bit, removing a glove to brush her fingers along the bottom of her eyes while tears fell. “It’s all right sir. I understand why you didn’t and why you are now, I would have done the same … or sent a letter.” She sniffled again and thanked him quietly as he handed her a small tissue pack, dabbing her eyes dry. Thankfully, she opted to not wear any makeup at all, it was just easier when she knew what kind of day she was going to have.

Silva took the tissue pack back and removed one for himself, drying his own eyes. “Some of the finest individuals I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving with are buried here, Rasmussen.”

Lourdes inhaled a deep breath, “Ooh-rah sir.” She managed to say not too loudly so as to not disturb anyone around them.

Silva chuckled a little bit, “Ooh-rah.” He unwrapped his arm from around Lourdes and they left the section that their fallen were buried in, walking her back to the rental car and opening the driver’s side door for her. “You headin’ back to South Carolina now or?”

Lourdes shook her head, “Back to my hotel for a few hours - flight leaves at 9:15 tonight so just going to pack up and likely sleep before heading to the airport sir.” Silva nodded his head before she closed the door and started the vehicle, driving off quietly for her hotel.

#content warning; war conditions. #content warning; marine deaths. #( original character. ) #( writing piece: lourdes rasmussen. )

[mscaitlinb]

Slow and steady wins the race

Let’s talk about teaching philosophies.

It has taken me years of training and teaching to come into my own. If you’ve read this far, you must understand that as a young dancer growing up, I was pushed to my limit and then some. While I was training to be a professional dancer, I found myself at the end of my ropes time and time again. Overworked, burned out, and beaten down. Not to mention the psychological trauma of it all too. 

Going to college allowed me to push the reset button on my training, and therein I found a fresh start. I was supported, encouraged and enlightened to be my best version with the most efficient of practices. I didn’t have to push myself past my ceiling of mental and physical capacity. I was allowed to let out the giant exhale I had been holding in for the past 18 years of my life. This propelled me into my young career post grad, which meant teaching dance. 

As I made my way into studio environments, I saw a lot of the same red flags I had personally grown up with in dance: long hours at the studio, constant fatigue and nagging injuries. And this was all happening to children 18 years and under. I knew something had to change, for the well-being of these young dancers. 

Now under equal positive and negative influence from my instructors, I knew forcing results is not ideal. It’s important for a dancer to not only understand the basic fundamentals of their dance technique, but how to efficiently move through it as well. I developed my own curriculum within my classes to properly progress the students in class. We would go from point A to point B to point C and so on. This would mean moving the class at a measured pace. We would be working on the same steps and concepts of movement for weeks to a month at a time, sometimes longer if the class needed extra practice. This idea doesn’t sit well with some studio owners, and particularly some parents. 

Let me tell you about the first group of parents who were visibly upset and confused by my teaching methods. Let’s call them The Susans. Now The Susans were a group of moms to their  4-5 years old children. They were all competitive students and I was their Ballet teacher, who they saw twice a week. Seeing as they took about 5 other classes for technique, and outside rehearsals for their competition dances, I figured what they needed was a slower paced class to focus on the fundamentals of their technique. After all, they needed to learn not only the “what” of their dancing but also the “how”. 

We would do simple exercises in the center, very little at the barre, and work on repetitive movements rather than complex sequences. What I looked forward to the most, was the fact I was going to start with a group of dancers this young and build healthy training habits early. This elated me because the older students I worked with, we toiled to weed out the bad habits and try to start fresh while still training. That wasn’t the case with these girls. My managers and fellow coworkers could see the benefit of what I was trying to do with these kids, and would go to bat for me consistently. The only group of people who had a problem were The Susans. 

They would hover outside the classroom, stare down their children and often grimace at what we were doing in class. They would ask questions after every class, which I had no problem with. I’d rather be transparent with you to let you know my methods of teaching and how I like to manage my class, pedagogically speaking. This never seemed to be enough for them to understand though. In their eyes, they wanted to see results right away. I mean, how could you? When you watch every single class week after week, you only see the slow progress working as it should. They would go straight to my managers to complain, although no action was ever taken on me because I had the full support of this company. True helicopter dance mom fashion for The Susans.

They eventually came around and could see after a year of training, their children improved their technique and continued to grow on these quality habits. They would compliment and praise my teachings at this point. While I wished I didn’t have to go through the headache of this first year training these kids, I’m glad they could see what these children gained in these ballet classes. But this is perhaps where I see the end of my studio teaching career. 

I believe I thrive in environments where I am encouraged to teach my students the way I see fit, and I feel my philosophy just doesn’t match with a studio environment, generally speaking. While most studios have changed to be more progressive in health-conscious ways, not all of them embrace it with open arms. It will always feel like an uphill battle to me, and I’m not going to give up on my professional ethics to fit in with any dance school. I’ve not only seen great results with my pedagogical practices, but great processes too. I have the power to turn my students into hard-working, curious, intelligent and mindful dancers. 

My teaching philosophy will forever and always be: slow and steady wins the race. What’s your teaching philosophies? How have they changed your students for the better? Who influenced you for your methods of practices?

#dance education #teaching dance #dance #dance teacher #nuture #dance training #teaching philosophy #slow and steady #studio dance #training children