quadruple-aaaaa

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Mandy Patinkin can sing, so I hc that Gideon could sing too.

How the team finds out is that he’s confronted with a terrified small child and the baby/toddler won’t stop crying. Their parent is freshly put to sleep with the fishies and Gideon is the only one watching the child. He gently scoops them up, reminded of his own child, and sings to them until they stop crying.

No one mentions it to his face. Morgan and Ella talk about it, and Reid pipes in occasionally with facts about singing health and other such things.

Before he leaves, him and Hotch are the de facto baby-calmers.

I just like the idea of Gideon quietly singing to this tiny baby in a room covered in blood. Something so serene in a horrific place. Adorable.

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You’ll never guess what just fucking happened

Sometimes, I am hit with the realization that my greatest fantasy is to become someone's art piece. To be able to sit still while someone slathers paint all over my back or draws stars on my arms. Hell, even to just make-up on my face.

It seems so, so simple, yet so hard to ask for. Like, how to ask someone that all you want them to do is to paint on you? To become their canvas.

My greatest fantasy is to be something that someone cherishes, something that someone put so much love and care and gentleness into that the thing becomes so inherently beautiful. A mirror for how strongly they love their craft.

To be able to give up my body in a way that isn't sexual sounds amazing. To be able to look beautiful and be theirs but also be a thing of my own. Like the Mona Lisa. She is something all herself and yet his name is always there. And you can just see the love Di Vinci had for painting in the way he painted her eyes, nose, jawline, shoulders.

I guess, when you boil it down, this fantasy is just a way to be loved in a way that I never have been before.

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I did it. I watched and freaked out but I did it. There was no back up plans and I was terrified most of the time.

But I did it.

You only live once. You will be scared and you will miss out on opportunities, but take the tiny steps so you can take the next one.

I can’t help but yearn as I watch people do something I desperately want to do. I wish my head would let me take risks and not be so full.

The worst case scenario is constantly cycling through my head. Not just the worst case scenarios, but how I would deal with them and where are my exits and what are the risks and the consequences and how I would get hurt and why it was my fault.

I can’t help but yearn as I watch people get over their minds barrier and just do it.

I want to be able to just have fun without seven back up plans.

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I can’t help but yearn as I watch people do something I desperately want to do. I wish my head would let me take risks and not be so full.

The worst case scenario is constantly cycling through my head. Not just the worst case scenarios, but how I would deal with them and where are my exits and what are the risks and the consequences and how I would get hurt and why it was my fault.

I can’t help but yearn as I watch people get over their minds barrier and just do it.

I want to be able to just have fun without seven back up plans.

[quadruple-aaaaa]

Sometimes, I am hit with the realization that my greatest fantasy is to become someone's art piece. To be able to sit still while someone slathers paint all over my back or draws stars on my arms. Hell, even to just make-up on my face.

It seems so, so simple, yet so hard to ask for. Like, how to ask someone that all you want them to do is to paint on you? To become their canvas.

My greatest fantasy is to be something that someone cherishes, something that someone put so much love and care and gentleness into that the thing becomes so inherently beautiful. A mirror for how strongly they love their craft.

To be able to give up my body in a way that isn't sexual sounds amazing. To be able to look beautiful and be theirs but also be a thing of my own. Like the Mona Lisa. She is something all herself and yet his name is always there. And you can just see the love Di Vinci had for painting in the way he painted her eyes, nose, jawline, shoulders.

I guess, when you boil it down, this fantasy is just a way to be loved in a way that I never have been before.

[quadruple-aaaaa]

Focus on the big picture.

Unless the big picture sucks. Then focus on the details. The stuff you can control. Give the full picture a glance and then ignore it.

Basically, help those you can. Even if you can only help yourself.

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To Love Is To Live

If being able to love is what makes you human, then I must be an alien. 

An animal, a monster. 

If being able to love is proof that you're alive, then I must be dead.

A ghost, a monster. 

What does it mean to love? 

To love someone like a cool breeze on a hot summer's day. 

And what kind of love? 

New love? 

Which is an adventure full of surprises?

Or old love, which is full of knowing and comfort. 

What about the children that are taught that? 

Taught that from books and movies. 

Not understanding that romance can be something outside of fiction. 

What about the aromantic children and teens that never felt the ‘right’ love before? 

They feel incomplete, broken because they can’t feel romantic love. 

The love that is taught that everyone feels. 

They watch the world around them turn and fall in love and they don’t. 

Those kids spend so long looking for a piece of a puzzle that’s already complete. 

And if to love is to be human, then what about dogs, cats, or other domesticated animals? 

They hold almost nothing but love for humans? 

Or the animals that mate for life, like wolves, hawks, and ravens? 

They love and they do it much longer than humans do. 

And if to love is to live, then what love? 

Love for romance, love for friendship, or another type of love?

The love you feel when you open a new book or go for a hike. 

The love you feel when you take the first bite of a home baked muffin or indulging in your favorite hobby. 

Love comes in all shapes and sizes, in all different creatures and species. 

If to love is to be human and to live, then so many animals are human. 

So many lives are given based on one word. To be human is to regret.

To feel remorse and be able to fix it.

To be alive is to feel the beating of your heart, to feel pain. 

That is to live.

That is to be human.

Not being able to love, but being able to live. 

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Scream

My throat feels empty.

Something is missing and I can’t find it. 

The word that will fill the void. 

The emptiness. 

I want to scream. 

I want to scream 

And scream. 

Scream until I can’t scream anymore.

I want to scream until my vocal cords start to bleed and I can taste the blood on my tongue. 

To stretch out my windpipe and to finally breathe a breath of fresh air. 

I want to scream my anger out. 

I want to fight and destroy my room. 

My life. 

I want to pull my hair out of my head. 

Pain will ground me, 

Will bring me back down to earth. 

I want to punch something until my knuckles split open and blood stains my skin.

I want to bleed. 

I want to have my blood stain the sidewalk as people walk over me. 

As feet squash me into the ground. 

I want to be heard. 

I want people to see that I’m not okay. 

I want to see that I’m not okay. 

Screaming, 

Fighting, 

Bleeding. 

I just want to get rid of this anger but I’m scared of what it hides. 

What is underneath that anger.

What is under it?

Fear? 

Anxiety? 

Depression? 

I don’t know. 

I don’t want to know. 

But I want to yell. 

I want to yell at someone and I want to be angry at someone. 

Anyone but me.

I want to scream. 

I want to fight. 

 I want to bleed. 

 I want to be heard. 

  I want to be angry.

    I want to be okay again.

[quadruple-aaaaa]

Joint pain really is something different. I was just going down some really shallow stairs and my ankle. Cracked? Popped? Either way it did something and my WHOLE LEG BUCKLED.

Same thing when I jog. Just double pops and I’m hobbling from pain.

They don’t work right 😔

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Nerdy Prudes Must Die

The order in which Max killed the needs doesn’t match how they killed him. He went after them when they stopped feeling like losers.

Richie was killed in the locker room after saying he was happy to be alive and had friends.

Ruth was killed when she was fantasizing about her future and feeling herself on stage.

Max targeted their new hopes and dreams and turned them against the nerds. Theater killed Ruth and belonging killed Richie.

He also only tried to kill them when they were in the school. Sure, he knocked out Shapiro in the woods, but he didn’t kill her and he coaxed the remaining nerds back to the school. Then tried to kill them.

He went after Peter next because he made plans with Steph for Homecoming and he asked her out this time. Not the other way around.

Max went after Steph because she agreed and tried to shoot Max.

He never tried to kill Grace because she had the deal and he was into her, even in death. But that ultimately was the end of him.

When they tried to think of a future, Max tried to end it. Grace never talked about a future. She never felt like she had one to look forward too. That’s why she won.

Max got what he wanted and then died. Again.

What a loser.

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Who am I kidding. She’s insane now! She just completed a half marathon. After breaking her foot in two separate places. In her late seventies. Literally insane.

My grandmother was literally insane as a not-old person.

Like. She was a car racer(pretty sure Mercedes), dancer in the disco era, and had her teenage years in FRANCE (which is a whole list of things I don’t even know about).

This ain’t even all of it! Who is this woman?

[quadruple-aaaaa]

My grandmother was literally insane as a not-old person.

Like. She was a car racer(pretty sure Mercedes), dancer in the disco era, and had her teenage years in FRANCE (which is a whole list of things I don’t even know about).

This ain’t even all of it! Who is this woman?

[quadruple-aaaaa]

“If you leave, I’ll kill myself!”

Okay? Quote me in your suicide note and call it a day man.

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I live in an urban area but I’m also stupid close to farm land. Like half hour one way, you’re in a cornfield, but half an hour the other way it’s a bustling city. I seem to forget that.

So when I’m on the way home from school and I see a bean field, I always get weirded out.

Like

Why am I seeing beans? Where is the air pollution and huge buildings??

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gifted kid culture is having never learned how to study

.

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I hate emotions

I have so many emotions I need to express. So. Many. But I can’t find the right words to describe it in a conversation. I can write them out no problem, I can describe them on paper. They come to life in a way I can never do in audio form when they’re in text. In a story. When I’m not looking someone in the face.

I’m a writer, shouldn’t I be able to use words to shape how I feel?

[quadruple-aaaaa]

Character Idea:

Vampire who hates the taste of blood by itself. Instead, they cook it into things. Blood/tomato pasta. Blood instead of eggs. Coconut and blood mixtures. Think of the possibilities.