#David and Aubrey

[shopboughtchaos]

Don't mind me, just using the space to throw up a little side project/character study for an OC who's being an awkward git and also for some accountability. Anyway, it's become a chapter story now somehow - so here's chapter one! (Set in England in 1943 - I haven't history rabbitholed this (yet), I'm running on pure vibes for this one; M/M romance - nothing explicit (yet?). CW: c/PTSD and related concerns (checking for self-harming tendancies, nightmares, etc) unapologietic swearing) ***

It made no sense at all if Roberts stopped to think about it, how the same sun looked so different going down over German trees, and English. English trees were… thinner, somehow. Pulled apart from their brethren and forced to stand alone against anything the world had to throw at them. German trees grew close, limbs tangled together as though no force of God or man could tear them apart - an impressive show of force in defiance of the march of time, remaining a place of ancient wild-land that made stories of witches and other monsters far more believable than the children’s stories of quaint fair-folk England had been left with. England’s sparse nature had no threat - no bears, no wolves, no soldiers; no coverage thick enough to shield them. Perhaps that was the difference. Forced to grow so far apart, English trees were harder to abuse, and harder to rely on. Dear God, even the trees had stiff upper lips, each tree for himself. No wonder there were so few left, in comparison. Easier to pick off, just like men who had to stand alone, exposed to the world. Nothing wild left. At least these trees on the Camberly estate were doing their best to look old and impressive, as though they still held a little Old Magic somewhere, as forests should; and the same neutral sun that had made German trees seem otherworldly did its best to bathe these ones in the same golden light before night and all its dangers crept over the land. Before all the things the darkness held woke up and chased Rogers down again. This was why it was better not to stop and think about things at all. Doing that was why Roberts was here in this nowhere part of the country; stopping to think let all the devils in his mind loose. Stopping to think past sunset brought back the memories of that same indifferent golden light behind enemy lines heralding the end of the last day he could safely say he’d held on to his sanity.

In a way, Roberts was lucky. The doctors had hope he would find it again. He’d already been miraculously extracted from German territory and brought back to English shores, what was one more miracle of recovery on top of that? And they believed he was the delusional one. Like fuck was God handing out miracles these days. It hadn’t been a miracle that landed him here, and it wouldn’t be a miracle that declared him sane enough to be shipped back to Hell to face what was under those united German trees, basking in that uncaring sun that shone as if every part of the world was the same. As if every wretched creature under its light deserved such brightness. Perhaps the burning was the point, in which case - it did not burn hard enough to wipe the worst away. Yes, they were all full of folly and fools hopes, but at least they hadn’t shot him at dawn, as they had for his father’s generation. Some days, when the darkness was too much to overcome, he had to wonder if that wouldn’t have been less humiliating than being ferried from hospital to hospital until he’d been shunted to Camberly House in Briarwell with its God-forsaken forest crowned with God-forsaken summer sunlight. That was unfair, it wasn’t an unpleasant place, this old stately home turned hospital for men like him. It was one of those houses where the age of it steeped into the very air, and the evenings brought a chill that was apparently common in these places, though it was still more tolerable than the barracks had been. And it wasn’t in the same ugly shades of grey and green as most military establishments - painted to match the concrete they’d been rapidly built from. Apparently the owner - a Mr. Bronsfeld-something-or-other had wanted the money the ministry of defence had offered for the use, but fought like stink to keep the army from interfering too much, which made it no use for tactical headquarters. Ergo, better to use it to shunt the unwanted broken soldier toys until they glued themselves back together.

At least Roberts was offered a modicum of privacy and independence. Most of the house was accessible, and the nurses had planned extensive walks in the manicured grounds to help the men’s physical health. Roberts didn’t much care for that, honesty. To himself, he’d stay in his room with a good book borrowed from the library, but the collection here was older than he dared to imagine, and his clumsy fingers would only destroy them the way they destroyed everything they touched. And the nurses got concerned when he decided instead to simply stay in his room for too many days. He did not like doing that to them. The men at Briarwell Rehabilitation were meant not to need the lingering presence of a nurse at all hours - though all the men knew they were there, in case the devils won. As such, there weren’t many nurses here. Most had been shipped in, like the Matron, more formidable in the care of her patients than the strictest commanders back at base, or the sweet, but overwhelmed, Nurse Bridget. They did ask for local women to come and help, but Briarwell was small, barely more than a village, and most of its women were bussed away at dawn to work the munitions factories and workshops in nearby towns, only arriving home after dark most days themselves. Or they were busy with the care of the city-folk’s evacuated children. Busy, hardworking, upstanding people in a good, upstanding part of the country but it did not offer much to a man trying to run from his own mind. What Roberts wouldn’t give for some proper entertainment to serve as a good distraction. Maybe he could approach the Matron about it, a good show. It wouldn’t be the same as the ones back at camp had been; the barracks had been chaotic, and an unexpected torment, but every good superior knew not to let frustrated young men get too out of hand before they’d even seen the enemy and so they’d allowed shows. The gunners, especially, had known how to really make a good time. They’d known all the pretty local girls to come sing and dance, and had no qualms about joining the ladies too, standing on stage in frocks and wigs for the laughs. The men had liked the ladies, sure - but there’d been a gunner, Arthur Ryan, who’d looked particularly convincing in his show get-up, and oh, the freedom that had given him and Roberts for a time even though they’d both know it would never last. Ryan was dead now, had been almost a year. Roberts didn’t know specifics. Better that way, really.

Better not to think on any of this stuff at all, but goddamn, it crept in around the edges. No, it wasn’t that insidious, that sneaky. It was blatant and tangled and sharp, like the wild dog-roses that grew around this Camberly House, scaling the walls almost to the lead-lined roof, as thick and verdant and encompassing as the best German trees - a true feel of the old world about them, somehow. They were in bloom at the moment, soft pinks and whites against the red brick of the House and the greens of their own woody stems. Jesus, somehow, it always came back to the damned trees. He’d only been lamenting how little there was for broken soldiers to do. Then again, the poor bastards he shared this sentence with might learn about the world in a way the Matron deemed improper - using the soldiers’ health as a means to keep them imprisoned here. Letters, few and far between as they were, were scanned and censored before the soldiers got to read of their homes, or of friends and brothers shot down and dead, or captured, or locked away in camps. Listening to the wireless was strictly controlled; hells, Nurse Bridget had to fight her own fear of Matron to even risk smuggling the men newspapers, always at least a week old. Matron did not want news to hinder the recovery of her patients by upsetting delicate nerves, as though they were prone to hysteria and in need of nothing more than smelling salts and a fainting couch. Three months a guest of Camberly House and the only way Roberts knew the war continued outside of the old walls was the air raid siren in Briarwell at the bottom of the hill that necessitated the rapid march to the bomb shelter to sit with the women and children, and the home-service men too old, or wounded, to fight. This far from anywhere important, raids weren’t as common as elsewhere, so Roberts still felt the sting of humiliation sitting with the locals, and he kept his head down, afraid to meet the eyes of the people he’d signed up to protect, now giving up their precious space to protect him instead.

That judgement would have kept him from visiting the village anyway, regardless of Matron’s embargo, even though Roberts longed to stretch his legs in places where he wouldn’t always be watched as though he planned to run off and cause himself trouble - trusting him to be an adult about returning to his comfortable prison, army-quality beds and blankets aside. Unable to explain his failures, his weaknesses to the people of Briarwell he indulged this need by turning the only resource he had in spades; time, into a game of sorts - what places around this Camberly House could he find where Matron would never think to look? Today it had led him to the roof. The lock on a set of balconette doors had been easy to jimmy open with a hairpin one of the nurses had dropped, and the pin of his belt buckle, and from there he’d managed to pull himself up and into a little recess in the roof, a perfect sitting spot, with warm tiles at his back, and a view over the land, and most importantly, freedom. Roberts had hoped he’d find the chance to see further than ground level would have gifted him some clarity. Instead, he’d been met with nothing more than the uncaring sun casting its twilight across the world - some things inevitable and unchanging. And in that same spirit of inevitability, with the dying light came the memories forcing their way in to more than one mind in this strange little compound. From somewhere deep in the house, Roberts could hear one of the other inmates begin to scream again - Vickers, from the sounds of it, Pertleigh’s were usually higher in pitch and interspersed with pleas for his mother, poor lad. Both of them poor men, really. Vickers in particular was dreadfully afflicted with screaming terrors in the dark hours that lasted most of the night. Roberts and the others had begged Nurse Bridget to save the corks from wine bottles or anything that they might fashion into ear plugs, some had torn into their blankets for strips and scraps to stuff their ears with, or their mouths when they felt their own demons approach.

Roberts didn’t scream. Maybe it would be better if he did, less embarrassing somehow. He didn’t know the cause of Vicker’s nightmares, and the man would rarely speak of them when he was lucid and present but he had been getting worse these last few weeks and he often grew frustrated when it transpired that none of the other men could see the shadowy menace he claimed tormented him most often - always given with the most frightening description: a menace shaped like a man, but made of shadow and with no features a man should have, but with the trickery to borrow loved faces for a short time, and leaving Vickers with the unshakeable conviction that it was somehow waiting for him. Personally, Roberts wondered if such a conjuration of the mind were not the very things the men here were trying to avoid, yet left to manifest, festering and rotten, in the absence of reality - the media block-out perhaps doing worse for some of the men’s delicate nerves than the Matron would ever admit. “Ah, my apologies. I didn’t know someone was here.” Roberts almost lost his perch. It would be a long tumble down. The speaker was a man with long dark hair, tied back to keep it from his face almost as long to match who had half-clambered onto the roof from the balconette before he’d spotted Roberts. Clean shaven and in a shirt and waistcoat, the sleeves of the shirt rolled up to his elbows. No hat. He wasn’t one of the patients, and not a doctor with that languid demeanour and casual dress - no, not casual, those clothes were a quality Roberts hadn’t seen in a while, like a country gentleman playing at work. He had a book under his arm. Roberts had needed both hands, and knees, and wished for a second set to be sure he wouldn’t fall when he’d made his way to the recess, yet this man - thin as a reed now Roberts could see more of him - held no such fear. “No, it’s alright. I likely shouldn’t be up here.” The man continued to haul himself out and up close to Roberts - not that there any other option on this narrow ledge. “Why not? Are you planning to do something stupid?” “No! Good god, no. I just wished for some fresh air and gardens can feel… enclosed.” The stranger glanced at Roberts and then gave a small nod and leaned against the warm tiles, entirely at ease. He opened his book, but did not start reading. “Then please, take your ease and stay as long as you wish. I shan’t disturb you. It’s a beautiful sight, no?” Roberts nodded; it was, if one ignored the heavy tree-tops and the bright sun, and the ugly concrete block structures being built in Briarwell that sprawled itself across the ground at the foot of Camberly House, as if in worship of the land it held. Like a lover showing his willingness, waiting for attention.

The stranger turned to his book, and for a few moments, as the sun sank lower, gold turning crimson, Roberts was intimately aware of the space they both held. Both clearly wanting to be alone in the same place. “I know you,” Roberts said, more to drown out the sound of the birds calling in the approaching night than because he actually knew more of this man than a vague idea. A hermit unfit for service, he ran Camberly House as though he owned it while the actual owner resided mostly in London. He had little to do with the running of the hospital, and so their paths hadn’t much crossed before. Even the marches to the bomb shelter were only the patients and nurses, and any visiting doctors at the time, the hermit clearly making his own way down to the village. “Then I believe you have me at the disadvantage, sir,” the stranger said without looking up. “Roberts,” Roberts said. “Private Roberts.” “Well, it’s that personal, Private Roberts, I shan’t ask if you have a given name.” Roberts blinked. Then gave a short bark that was the closest he’d come to a laugh in a while. “Do you, sir?” The hermit looked up, and in the dying sunlight, Roberts noticed the depth of his eyes, so dark as to be black - infinity in a gaze. Roberts regretted asking, as though a thing as a name was an intrusion he had not earned the right to risk. “I thought you knew me, Private.” “I’ve seen you here and there, but I’ve never known your name.” The hermit put a long finger between the pages of his book, closing it, and held out his other hand. “David Loval, custodian of this fine house. It is a pleasure to meet you, Private.” “Aubrey,” Roberts said. He had almost forgotten it, as strange as that was to admit - but he had gone almost entirely from school to the army, neither place caring much for given names. Even Arthur Ryan had only ever called him Roberts. Sensibilities had replaced any sentimentality of his own name. It was nice to hear it out loud again. “A pleasure, Aubrey Roberts. It will be night soon if you wish to avoid trouble with that harridan of a Matron of yours on her pre-bed checks.” “I pity the poor fellow who ever calls Matron that in her hearing,” Roberts said. “Oh, I have, many times. She knows I mean it as a compliment, but that doesn’t make it any less true, and not every man wishes that attention on him, especially if he craves freedom.” It wasn’t subtle, the hermit clearly asking Roberts to concede this space on the roof as politely as he could. It sparked a rebellion in Roberts, a determination to deny the man’s request, for sounding as though Roberts was a child playing up at bedtime. But the hermit was right. If Matron learned of this little ledge she would barricade the balconette doors more thoroughly than any bunker, and the night was creeping in. If Roberts wanted the light, that meant inside.

He sucked his teeth. “I suppose it would be wise not to rile Matron.” “If you are going inside, may I trouble you for a favour, for Lance-Corporal Vickers? I would go myself, but in compromise with your Matron, she doesn’t turn Camberly into a drab medical unit, and I don’t wander her wards and clutter up the space or worse, put uncensored ideas in the heads of her patients.” The hermit stretched his legs out, long, they almost reached over the edge of the ledge. He reached into a pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small sprig of the wild dog roses that grew up the walls of the house. It even had a bloom and a bud on it. “But, it was me who convinced Alex - sorry, Mr. Bronsfeld-Yates - to offer Camberly as a house of healing and I regret that Lance-Corporal Vickers is struggling with that. It’s perhaps a tad trite, but perhaps when this latest fit passes, he might appreciate a token of growth and beauty in unexpected places. God, that is trite. It seemed a better idea earlier…” He began to tuck the rose back in his trousers. There was nothing trite about such a well intended symbol of perseverance, a little sign to say someone had seen you, someone knew, and someone cared - even from a distance. Roberts held out his hand, beckoning for the handover. “I’ll do my best,” he said as Loval hesitated, before letting Roberts take the rose - the thorns sharp and unforgiving, how the hermit had kept it un-crushed in his trousers without pain was a question for another time. “It can be hard to reach Vickers’ rooms when he’s in his way, the nurses don’t like gawpers, but I shall try.” “Thank you. They’ll accept gawping from a fellow patient more than they’ll accept me in their way. It’s refreshing at times, to have no responsibility over their decisions, but it does make it hard to help. And screaming tends to echo through the House." Mr. Loval was looking at his page again, but his eyes weren’t moving, and Roberts realised he had not yet turned a single page, and it seemed that the shadows crept in under his dark eyes, too. Yes, the screaming did echo through the house so. The bird song died down as the light faded and Roberts shivered in the drop in temperature, and the danger of memories surfacing in the cold night. “I should- I should go. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Loval.”

Roberts didn’t dare stand, not in this dimness, not this high up, so swapped dignity for safety as he scooted past on his knees and his arse, feeling the flame of humiliation as Loval simply curled his long legs up, making the way easier. “Will you not consider returning too? You can’t use a light to read outside during Blackout.” “It’s a full moon tonight, that is light enough for me, I assure you. I will not light anything that may put anyone here in danger." “You aren’t planning on doing something stupid, if I leave you alone here?” Roberts asked as he slipped back inside the house, legs in, head out. Mr. Loval just smiled. “I plan to read a most ridiculous book full of nonsense, by the light of a full moon. Many would call that stupid, but I don’t plan myself any harm save some mild eye strain.” “Oh. Well then. Goodnight, Mr. Loval.” “Goodnight, Aubrey.”

[that--funny--feeling]

We should just kiss like real people do.

Mulder's journey and the Truths that he found along the way.

The X Files 1x01 / 1x02 / 2x12 / 4x02 / 4x13 / 4x14 / 4x18 / 4x23 / 5x14 / Fight the Future / 6x05 / 6x06 / 6x19 / 6x22 / 7x02 / 7x04 / 7x11 / 7x17 / 7x21 / 8x17 / 8x21

My TXF posts and videos.

[illuteridae]

really enjoyed demonology by @mouseonamoose , drew this to tie me over until the next chapter of angel-centered therapy

[more-relics]

Rick Wright, David Gilmour, Roger Waters & Nick Sedgwick Backgammon backstage at the Usher Hall, Edinburgh, British Winter tour, November 1974. Photos: Storm Thorgerson/Aubrey Powell

[natleedr]

Victoria is god 🙏🏻🙏����🙏🏻

I’m praying 🛐🛐🛐

[shelbgrey]

Can you please do one with Seeley Booth with the writing prompt being 0.7 (“he's not my boyfriend” - “I think you better tell him that” - “what?” - “only love makes you that crazy”) tumblr is starting to run dry on bones imagines and I think you would make a great story with this prompt. Please?

In the name of love (Seeley Booth)

Paring: Seeley Booth x Hodgins!Reader

Prompt: 0.7) “he's not my boyfriend” - “I think you better tell him that” - “what?” - “only love makes you that crazy”

A/n: sorry this took so long and that is got pretty long. Also I had to switch the roles in the prompt for it make since.

MasterList

In the end I couldn't really tell you how we ended up in this situation, all battered up and in fear what the Bureau would say when they find out me and Lance let the perp go. But most of all I was afraid what Seeley would say when he saw the both of us. I got the shortest end of the stick, busted face and knuckles and my ribs were aching somthing fierce.

Fear in Lance's eyes only intensifies when Seeley's name pops up, trying to call me. “it's Seeley”

I hand Lance the phone so he could talk to him. “he'll know something is up if I talk to him” my voice was horse already and I was shaking from the resent beat up.

Lance gulped and took the phone to talk to Seeley while he drove through the city. “H-hey b-booth we got a situation” I sighed as Lance immediately cracked pressure. Do to the lack of music or sound in general in the car I could vaguely hear Seeley on the other side of the phone.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. What’s going on, what the hell happened?” Seeley asked from the other side of the phone.

I quickly shook my head no at Lance as he continued to talk to Seeley through my phone. Lance gulped and continued to drive while talking to Seeley on the phone “this isn't really phone conversation material... Are you at your office?” Lance asked with a hint of nervousness.

There was silence on both ends of the phone, Lance glances over at me nervous as Seeley hesitates on the other side of the phone. “Yeah, I am. What are you talking about? And where the hell did you go? We were supposed to bring Fredrick Batmen in today”

Fredrick Batmen so that's this name, at least I know the name of the guy who put a couple of dense in me. I looked over at Lance, shaking my head. We weren't supposed go out by ourselves. We both only just got our license to carry a weapon when we assisted the FBI.

“umm...” Lance said looking at me quickly then back at the road. I threw my pounding head back on the head rest of the car as Lance continued to lose his cool.

“hang up the phone lance” I said softly so Seeley didn't hear me on his side of the phone.

“umm....” Lance said as Seeley spoke on the phone, he looked at me in a panic. Huh, I've never seen a psychologist lose their cool before.

I could hear Seeley getting frustrated on the other side of the phone “Hey, Sweets. Just tell me what the hell is going on?”

Lance took a deep breath and regained his composer “I'm almost the Bureau... I'll explain when I get there” he said through the phone to Seeley.

“No, no, no. Listen... you want to tell me what's going on and you want to tell me right now” Seeley says as bit louder, making the conversation clear to my ears.

“Umm...” Lance and I both prayed that Seeley didn't ask for me.

I could hear Seeley sigh in frustration on the other side of the phone “Come on, Sweets, you are starting to piss me off here.”

“This is something you don't want to hear on the phone and as a psychologist I should have the right to say on behalf of your temper and mental health” Lance thought he was gonna win this conversation I on the other hand had been best friends with Seeley for a long time and I knew Seeley doesn't give up especially if phycology gets thrown in.

“Yes... He definitely gonna listen now” I sighed as I wrapped a hankerchief tighter around my bloody nuckles. “we're doomed” I mumbled as I heard Seeley saying Lance shouldn't bring up phycology now. I thanked God when Lance got closer to the Bureau.

Seeley then started shouting at Lance, which was rare thing for him rase his voice at me or Lance. “you are making this worse! Just tell me what is going on right now!”

I slapped my forehead in frustration, as much as I cared for lance and he was indeed like a little brother he was being pretty stupid. “For Pete's sake” I sighed and weakly snatched the phone “Seeley! Hey buddy, like Lance said we're on our way and you making Lance nervous isn't helping the situation... I'm gonna hang up now and we'll fill you in when we get to your office”

“No, no, no. Don't hang up!” Seeley started, he then hesitates. “I know you are hiding something, I can tell by your tone. Just tell me what the hell is going on so I can stay calm”

“Just stay calm anyway” I said softly and hung up the phone before Seeley could protest anymore. I hung up the phone and looked at Lance “your terrible at lying, especially to Seeley” I sighed as Lance pulling into the Bureau's parking lot.

“sorry” Lance mumbles as he puts the car in park. I winced at the pain in my ribs when I tried to clime out of the car. I sighed and slouched back in the passenger seat, it felt like dozens of kitchen knives beening stabed into my side.

I terned to Lance with pain in my eyes “Help me will ya?” Lance quickly nodded and climed out of the car, racing to the passenger door. “easy, easy” Lance mumbles as he slowly helped me out of the car and supported me by puting on of my arms on his shoulder as we both slowly walked into the FBI building to Seeley's office.

Lance walked me to Seeley's office and enters without knocking. With the windows suronding the door of the office Seeley could see us limping in before we even entered the small room.

Seeley quickly shot up from his office chair and raced to the both of us “What the hell happened to you, n/n?” asked softly as he helped Lance set me down in the leather chair infront of his desk.

“Oh you know the usual” I winced when I tried to relax in the chair. “I'm gonna get the first-aid kik” Lance quickly said and left to get the supplies from his office.

Seeley leaned against his desk, standing in between the chair I was seeing in and his desk. Fear plastered his face as he stared down at me “what the hell happened to you?” you could tell he was trying not to freak out, which was an emotion he hated having.

Lance quickly came back to Seeley's office and handed the first-aid kit to Seeley. “thanks Sweets, I got this” he said motioning that he's clean up my cuts himself. Lance nodded and gently padded my shoulder before he left.

I sighed and looked a Seeley, I took a deep breath and started to explain everything. “me and Lance left to get the guy in custody, the Batmen dude... We got in a fight and he got away” I looked down at my busted knuckles as tears pooled my eyes, it stinged when I rubbed my hands together nervously “I'm sorry I let him get away” a tear fell done my cheek quicker then I lost my cool.

Seeley's eyes softened as he knelt infront of the chair I was setting in, he gently takes my bloodied hand in his massive ones. “it's okay” he whispered softly she wipe a splatter of blood off my chin. “Don't worry about that. I'm just glad you two are alright. We'll catch him another time. It's okay.”

I looked up as his soft eyes and let out a shaky breath. I could tell he was hiding his anger as he cleaned my cuts. I knew he wasn't mad at me but at the guy we've been chasing, I could see his jaw clinching as he cleaned up my face with the stuff from the first-aid kit “I'm sorry Seel” I mumbled again.

Seeley take's my chin and slowly lifts my head so we're looking at each other. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. You. Hear. Me?” he said, making tears prick my eyes once they met his brown ones.

Seeley softly smiled and wiped the tears runing down my face “It's going to be okay. I promise. How bad are you hurt?”

I didn't want to worry him anymore, so I shook my head and nervously chewed on my busted lip. Seeley gently pulled my bottom away from my teeth as I responded “not bad”

Seeley smirks softly but still gives me a 'yeah right' look “You have blood on your shirt, blood on your face, bruises on your face. I mean Lance is the psychologist, but I'm pretty sure that counts as bad” he said as he cleaned the cut on my forehead “Where else you hurt?” he asked again.

I tried to reassure him, but when I tried to adjust in the chair I winced when the sharp pain in my ribs came back. Out of instinct my hand fell to my waist trying to put pressure on it.

Seeley looked down as after he put a bandge on my forehead. “your rib? Is it your ribs?” he asked softly.

“Let me see” Seeley mumbled and gently lifted my shirt up just a little bit. I winced when my shirt and his fingers brushed up against it. I also couldn't help but blush when his large hands pushed my shirt up reveing my bruised body.

He sighed softly as his eyes held nothing but concern or disappointment. “yeah... you are hurt pretty bad” he look at me and all my injuries, then look down and away. You could see the red tint in his skin as the anger boiled in side him at. He was Really, Really, Angry now. Seeley sighed.

“I'm okay Seeley” I said in a serious tone, I knew he didn't believe me and honestly I didn't know if I believed me either.

“Iet me see your hands” he mumbled as he grabbed a fresh cotton ball and the bottle of alcohol. I wined softly as he cleaned my knuckles. “i know, I'm almost done” he whispered, he looked like he was trying to bottle up every negative emotion possible right now. I could only imagine what he'd do when he crosses paths with the perp.

After he cleaned my knuckles, he gently wrapped the up and then kiss my hand. I blushed at the small gesture. It felt different then the other times we've touched, I'd admit we're pretty touchy as best friends go and it was probably no secret to anyone that I had a crush on him, but I couldn't stop but melt when his lips touched me.

“Look at me, alright? Can you look at me?” Seeley asked, taking my bruised face in his hands”

“hm?” I asked, looking into his eyes.

I don't think either of us were prepared for what happened next. Seeley slowly lean in, with his hand on my cheek then kisses me on the lips softly. It took me by surprise, but once I registered what was happening I melted into the kiss, placing my bandage covered hand on his jaw as I gently deepen the kiss dispite the pain in my busted lip. I never wanted the kiss to end, but the sting in my lip made me pull apart gently.

Seeley look at me with a dopey smirk. “you don't know how long I've been waiting to do that” he whispered as he rested his forehead on mine, breathing hard. He looked at me, all bloody, swollen face, then kisses my lips again once more, softer than the first, but just as passionate. I leaned into the kiss My hands run through his hair.

“Your not gonna let me in on a case for a while, are you?” I joked as rested my forehead on his and I nuzzled my noise against his.

He shook his head, slightly smiling. “Never in a million years. I'm not letting you get hurt on my watch again.”

“guess that's what a squint gets for leaving that lab and doing FBI stuff” I joked.

Seeley chuckled and rolled his eyes. “anything eles hurting?” he asked softly as he rubbed my arms in a comforting way.

“I'm okay” I kissed his nose softly “you patched me up pretty good already” I smiled, but I couldn't hide the wince I made due to my ribs hurt after I shifted in his lap.

Seeley notices immediately. “What is it? Your ribs” he asked, I nodded softly. “It's just bruised... I'll put some ice on it or something when I get home” I said looking down.

Seeley takes my chin and our eyes locked. “y/n, I'm your best friend. So please, listen to me for a minute, okay? You hurt your ribs pretty bad today. You need to let the med techs look at you, please?” his eyes held so much plea and his voice was laced with pure desperation.

I sighed and rested my forehead on his. I kissed his lips softly and quickly. “you know I don't like doctors” I mumbled... He knew that, that's why I chose to come to him instead of the med clinic after I got beat up.

“know, n/n. I know, But It'll just a quick check-up. don't worry. Please?” he stared at me with brown puppy eyes as he softly held my face in my hands. I couldn't ignore his silently beg for me to get help at the clinic.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “I guarantee my ribs are just bruised... I'm a doctor too ya know”

“your a Forensic Entomologist... A bug girl” Seeley said in a serious tone as he helped me stand up, slowly and easy. “It's still a doctor though” my argument ended with a wince.

Seeley looks at me sternly for a moment. “Promise me, y/n, that you'll listen to the medical staff at the Bureau. Okay? Promise me.”

I sighed and looked at his brown eyes, I loved them so much. “promise....”

Seeley gently helped me walk to the door so I didn't irritate my ribs anymore. “aren't you the one who went to work with a screwed up back even though the doctor told you to stay home?” my joking tone turned into a wince when I held on to his bicep as I walked towrds the med clinic with him.

Seeley looked down and playfully rolled his eyes “Okay, you got me there... But, in my defense, I was going a little stir crazy being at home after a week.” I chuckle as he kiss me on the forehead to ease the pain.

“We're here, n/n. Let's get this over with and I'll take you home, okay?” Seeley mumbled as we exited the elevator that led us to the floor that had the med clinic.

the doctor came out of her office and smiled softly “Come on in Dr. Y/n Hodgins” she lead me and Seeley to one of the rooms, Seeley helped me up on one of the examination beds as the doctor looked at her clip board.

The doctor examined my ribs, I winced when she hit the wrong spot “a couple of your ribs are broken... But I'd like to take in x-ray” the doctor said. I looked over at Seeley and he looked angrier than before.

“I guess we'll get you an x-ray and some pain meds in ya” Seeley said. the doctor looked up and gave the both of us a soft expression.

“I'm afraid so” she looked up at Seeley “you'll have to wait in the waiting room unfortunately” the doctor told Seeley.

“okay, sure” Seeley said and then gently take my. “I'm gonna be right outside that door if you need me, okay?”

I nodded and Seeley kissed my forehead before going outside.

-------(Seeley's pov)-------

Before I exit the room, I smile at her. But then once I am out of the room, my expression turns serious as I sit down in the waiting room and anxiously await the results of her xray. I leaned forward in the chair and tapped my foot anxiously. The more I thought and tapped, the angrier I got. My jaw ticked and I covered my face with both of my hands.

“How is she?” Sweets asked, walking up to me with his hands in his pockets. I removed my hands and looked at him, I just now noticed he had a few cuts and bruise of his own, he wasn't as bad as y/n though.

“her ribs are broken, the doc is getting X-rays now.” I don't look up at Sweets as he looked just as worried. The panic in his eyes made me think about how I always thought she would choose Sweets inset of me. I never have thought she'd feel the same way I feel about her, that kiss changed everything and it couldn't have happened at a worser time.

I think Sweets could see the anger boiling inside me as I sat there. No amount of psychology could help the anger I was feeling. Sweets sighed, I knew he was hiding something. I looked up at him waiting for him to share whatever he was hiding. “they cought the guy... The guy that hurt y/n... Aubrey just brought him in” I immediately dart up from my seat, running on nothing but anger, Sweets grabed the sleeve of my suit jacket, pulling me back “don't do anything stupid” he said in serious tone. I didn't know why he said it, Sweets knew I would do it anyway.

I jerked my arm out of his grip and turned my back on him and head towrds the interrogation room. “I'm definitely gonna do something stupid” I mumbled as speed walked down the hallway.

I take a deep breath and walk into the interrogation room. I look up and see the guy, sitting across the table from me, with a huge smile on his face. He looks cocky, arrogant. I glare at him. And for a moment, I don't see what I can do to the guy. And then a smile slowly creeps across my face, He's not leaving this room. The interrogation has just begin.

“I'm getting tired of seeing you guys sniffing around my life” the guy says in a gruff tone, he gave me a creepy smirk. “expect for the girl... She was a cute little thing” he mocked as he referred to y/n. The man was twice her size, meaning he probably had no problem beating her. But that didn't mean he didn't look like hell, y/n put up one hell of a fight. His face was all busted up, worse than y/n's was and he was holding a gallon bag of ice on his groin.

When I look at the guy and I can barely contain my anger. I lean forward on the table and put my elbows on it. “Look, pal. Here's how it's gonna be. You hurt my partner, My best friend. You broke her ribs. I could care a less what you did before this. But you did this And for that, you're not gonna see the light of day ever again”

The guy just smirked and let out a laugh. “You think you scare me?” I glared at him, he just didn't understand the hole he dug himself in.

“You don't scare me, man” the guy said in a gruff voice, he leaned forward and smirked. “why get interrogated by you when I could get questioned by your cute little partner”

I scolded myself when the guy now knew y/n was my soft spot, my weakness and if he wanted to get under my skin he knew to bring her up. He knew what he did to her and he didn't care.

My jaw clintched with rage. “Hey. You shut your goddamn mouth when you speak about my partner. Do you understand?” I say, not breaking eye contact. The guy continues to smirk. He knew he was pushing my buttons and he was loving it. I can feel the anger boiling in my veins.

“She's got some fire in her and put up a good fight but it wasn't hard to get her to the ground” the guy chuckled darkly.

I stand up out of my chair. “you think you're funny, huh? I said for you to shut your goddamn mouth. I ask the question!” My hands clench into fists. I look like I am about to snap.

“If it means seeing her again I'll do it again” the guy leaned forward expressionless. “maybe next time I'll get my hand around her pretty little throat”

“I have had it.” I said threw my teeth, can't take it anymore. I grab the guy by the collar, pushing him against the wall and start to beat his face in. One, two, three punches directly to the nose and the jaw. I look into his eyes with rage and hatred. “That is for hurting my partner.”

Three more punches land on his face, making him fall to the chair in his own pool of blood. I stare at him. “That was for threatening to hurt her again.”

that's when Sweets and Bones came rushing in and separated me and the guy, I struggled in Sweets' arms trying to swing another punch towrds the guy “Booth stop” Sweets grunted as he and Bones tried to pull us apart.

I tried my hardest to get loose from Sweets' grip. “Let go of me! Let go of me!” I scream. But Sweets had a tight hold on me.

My anger had blinded me. I was out of control. “let's go” Sweets pushed me out of the interrogation room “your gonna get in a lot of trouble, you relize that?” Bones said. I didn't give a damn especially since it involved y/n.

“I don't care! I do NOT care right now. This guy was threatening to kill y/n!” I scream out, still fighting to break free from Sweet's grip “I would do it again in a heartbeat. You hear me?! You hear me?!”

“Booth, I understand your anger, but right now the best option is to calm down” Bones said calmly.

tears fall down my cheeks and anger bored in to my eyes as Sweets pushed me out of the interrogation room. My knuckles were bruised and bloody from the fight. But I didn't even notice them.

Sweets and Bones shared looks “Dr. Brennan, please tell Caroline what happened... Explain y/n was asulted and Booth acted strictly on self defense”

Bones immediately leaves the room as I continue trying to break free from Sweets “Please, Sweets. Just let me go. I don't care about the God-damned consequences. I just need to let this out. I just need to let my anger out.” I look angry but then I look sad and scared at the same time. I don't know what to feel at this point.

Sweets pushed me towards his office where he did most of his therapy sessions. I was bigger then Sweets but some how he manged to shove me into his office. “your girlfriend isn't goona like it when she leaves the med clinic and finds out you lost your FBI license because you beat a guy to death”

Sweets set down in his chair and pointed to a shelf with a bunch of books and fidget stuff. “break what you want...take your anger out”

I walk over to the shelf and grab a stress ball and a book. And then I come back to the chair. I sit down and start squeezing the stress ball. I don't say anything as I continued to squeeze the stress ball harder and harder. The stress ball is about to pop.

“she's not my girlfriend” I mumbled, as much as I wanted her to be it wasn't the time to bring it up... Even if we did kiss.

Sweets rested his cheek on his as he watches the stress ball pop in my hands “I think you better tell her that”

“what are you taking about?... What?” I asked confused as I grab another stress ball and squeeze it. I continue to squeeze the stress ball as hard as possible.

“only love makes you that crazy” Sweets replies. The stress ball popped in my head. “you said I could break stuff not get a therapy season” I said.

“Your not gonna get in trouble Booth. The guy as multiple accounts of asulting woman and now murder is on his track record... There's no fights it's our word against his” Sweet said.

I crushed another stress ball, this time I throw it on the ground in frustration. “he hurt y/n and you were making sure it never happens again... The guy already has life in prison for the murder case we were solving” Sweets says softly.

I throw my stress ball against the wall and I grab another one. I squeeze harder and harder. “But, you know I could've handled this differently” I squeeze the stress ball as hard as possible so much so that it hurts my hand. “I mean, I did not have to beat him up like that. He did not need my knuckles buried deep in his face. I could've shown restraint.” I grumbled.

“Booth, no one blames you”

“I should've handled it differently... I could've controlled my anger.” I squeeze the stress ball harder and harder to the point that my knuckles are bleeding. “I didn't do the right thing. I let my anger get the best of me” I am squeezing the stress ball so bad that I don't even realize the blood on my hand.

My phone suddenly rings, so I take out my phone and answer it. “Hey, y/n” I say, sounding worried and anxious. “Are you okay? How are you doing?”

“I'm alright, but I have to stay home for awhile because of my stupid rib... Are you okay? You sound weird” she asked through the phone worried.

“yeah, I am... What's up?”

“Can you come back to med clinic and get me please?” she asked softly, she still sounded worried though.

“Sure, no problem” I say through the phone. “Just let me finish up here and I will be right there.” I look over at Sweets. I feel guilty for taking my anger out.

“I'll be about... fifteen minutes. Okay?” I hang up the phone and immediately left Sweets office with a quick goodbye.

-------(1st pov)-------

I'm waiting for Seeley in the waiting room outside of the med clinic, as I am I stare at my pain meds with a bord expression.

“Hey n/n. How are you doing, sweetheart?” Seeley asked walking over to me slowly. I get up and wrap my arms around him, trying not to disturb my ribs. “I'm so happy to see you right now” Seeley mumbled against my shoulder.

“What happened to you?” I asked worried as I noticed his knuckles were all red and bruised. He quickly shook his head no. I gently left his arms and gave him a stern expression “what happened to your hands? And don't tell me nothing”

Seeley look down at his hands and then back up at me. “Well, I am not proud of this... But I beat up the guy that hurt you. You know, the one that broke your ribs”

I let out a deep breath and gave him a soft look. “oh Seeley” I looked at him with no judgment as I placed my bandaged covered hand over his cheek and rubbed it softly with my thumb.

Seeley nuzzles into my touch and take a deep breath and slowly open his eyes. “Look, n/n. I... I was wrong... I shouldn't have done that. I am not proud of it in any way. It just happened and I didn't think I could control it.” Seeley mumbles as tears pricked the corner of his eyes.

I quickly wipe away the tears as they fall, I kissed his forehead and wrap my arms around him, hoddling him tight not caring about my broken ribs. “Shh... It's okay” I whispered as I ran my fingers through his short hair.

“I love you” he blurts out. I leaned out of his arms and looked up into his eyes suprised. “I'm s-”

“I love you too” I whispered and pressed my lips to his, not caring if anyone saw us.

[fullyclothedlunch]

i’m giving up on trying to be normal, i will instead be her

[metaforadohomeminvisivel]

[mekonaut]

Randomly made Legion stickers for Telegram https://t.me/addstickers/legionfxshow

[moonflowerxox]

here's an edit i've been working on for the past few hours!!! i'm pretty happy with it??

[dxhxe]

Random people out there: Who’s your type?

Me: I don’t have a type

Truly I don’t >

[goodsirs]

[nezoid]

"Hope", live reading of a romantic comedy written by Karen McCullah and Kristen Smith.

The cast was Aubrey Plaza as Hope, Alanna Ubach as Debbie/Patty, David Krumholtz as Reuben, Glen Powell as Owen, Nicholas Dagosto as Bill, and Camille Hyde as Sasha. Narrated by Mamrie Hart

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Monster Arrives!

Day 30 with Possession @ailesswhumptober's event

[more-relics]

Pink Floyd 1968

[angelfirewalker]

I tried to make this post last week on 3rd of May, but it completely disappeared into the ether. On the 2nd of May, I had started to read the book Stardust by Neil Gaiman. I chose Stardust (simply by word association with my wacky mind... Ziggy... well, I had no clue where to start).

Sorry Neil, they are 2nd hand. I like to recycle and reuse to help save trees. I did buy a brand new Good Omens script book, though.

My Aubrey Beardsley bookmark, and the Crowley T shirt I am working on.

I have dyslexia and put up lots of reasons not to read more than is necessary in everyday life. After I had read along to the audio with Good Omens, I felt I should attempt to read more by Mr Gaiman. A long-term friend I have known since 1979 who worked in the music industry back then and signed Bauhaus to 4ad records suggested I read them all. It seemed like a sign.

On the 2nd May, I read one chapter in the morning and a second in the afternoon. It was a joy, I didn't seem to be dealing with dancing sentences and words. I did miss a few paragraphs and had to read a couple of pages more than once. But I was actually really enjoying reading.

This line made me really laugh out loud, if you know you know!

The next day, the 3rd was the Heavenly Birthday of Lindsay Kemp, (he was the mentor to David Bowie and Kate Bush). So before I got ready to read some more, and I was excited about the prospect. I was sorting a post to celebrate his birthday on the The Lindsay Kemp Company page I run. I made the post, then caught up with some admin on the page. I posted a drawing I did last year of Lindsay. Now this page is visited by Kemp fans from all around the world, so most are used to my bad grammar at times. I don't always realise why I have got things wrong due to the dyslexia. I grew up in a time where if you had problems reading, you were thought Thick and Stupid. I was ridiculed, laughed at if I struggled to read out loud in class called Beetroot for going a lovely shade of crimson.

I got a notification, the grammar police had visited the page and corrected me. I had put 'OF' instead of 'HAVE'.... FFS! The grammar police turned out to be a bloody teacher. I can only hope in the future she will think before correcting grammar. I wanted to answer with this, but it wouldn't have been very professional, and I do my best to behave professionally.

It bought up so many hidden feelings that had been repressed since being bullied at school. In fact 3 different school, starting at age 6 though to 16. (I am the same generation as Neil, but he's 27 months older lol). Suddenly, my mood swung so low. I couldn't pick up the book to read that day... in fact, 5 days later, I still haven't ! That keyboard warrior teacher reduced me to my teenage emotions once again. So if any of you out there are correcting people grammar, think twice before doing so. You don't know what the person posting has been through. It might be a big deal for them to actually post. I am shocked how hard it has hit me. The ridiculous thing is I spent years at Art College and had to write a number of Thesis, which I managed quite well, getting a couple of merits. At senior school, I even took the voluntary Shakespeare module and received good grades.

If only it was that simple Master Crowley.

Not everyone has a brain that works the same, mine is creative and not academic. I have found that being dyslexic means you can also be bad a languages... which explains so much... In the Kemp Company most were fluent in 3 to 4 languages.... me I could read a menu...lol, but still everyday I use my Duolingo app... God I am crap! I went back to painting one of my many hand painted Crowley T shirts to lift my mood, but it even took the enjoyment away from that. I haven't touched any of them since the 4th.

The process of Crowley in Hell T shirt, it takes many layers...still a work in progress.... still a long way to go.. they take forever with the drying time between layers.

I couldn't even be arsed to watch Good Omens.... that's how low I felt. But today I feel better, and defiance is high... so I have been painting FFS! & WTF! on a headscarf and T shirt.. lol. Tonight, I will watch Good Omens. Tomorrow I will read chapter 3 of Stardust and get back to my Crowley T shirts.

I read my post, to which Neil wrote this... it all helped again. Then this quote turned up on my Facebook newsfeed... Divine intervention, maybe? Because it is the best quote that could have come my way, (nearly wrote of again.... but hey ho!)

So yet again @neil-gaiman has come to my rescue with my mental health. I think he is actually my new mentor. For decades, it was Lindsay Kemp who gave me the wings to fly and taught me to listen to my heart. I think Neil is helping me with the mind and words.

So thank you once again Mr Gaiman, for coming to my rescue.... and which of your delights do you recommend I should I read next after I finish Stardust?

*Edit.... I read another chapter....wahoo!