#sumayyah's faves

[storytellersumayyah]

they say that if you're raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house.

what about an angry woman?

what if the first rage you knew came from the first love you had?

what happens when it is your mother who has all the anger and everyone says from the moment you're old enough to have your own being, that you are just like her?

the angry man in your house- not your home, never your home- means there are harsh words on the tip of your tongue.

the angry woman means there are mean taunts under your skin.

the angry man means you are angry.

the angry woman means you are broken.

the angry man does not know quite where to hit because he was never that attentive.

the angry woman knows exactly what to say to make you cower. and she knows exactly what to do to earn momentary forgiveness.

if there is an angry man in your house, you grow up and you search for him.

you do not search for an angry woman.

you become her.

if there is nothing like a mother's love, then there is also nothing like a mother's rage

[willlemonheadsupremacy]

10 15 16

10.) Favorite ships? (Romantic or Platonic)

Okay I have to say willifer(will and jj) because Will is just such a good husband and also they’re the only one that I like that’s actually canon ☠️ But for ones that aren’t canon, I loveeee morcia obviously, and also, a guilty pleasure ship for me is hotchniss… I used to hardcore ship them, but now I can really only read them if a certain someone (re: @whump-town) writes them lol.

15.) favorite cm accounts on here?

I know I already mentioned her, but @/whump-town is one of my favorite writers on here! @yourlocalheartbreaker is also a fave here in this house. Not only does she write some fantástico fics, I’m convinced that sumayyah is the nicest person on here. :)

Also @penemily , rose makes me nearly piss myself from laughing on a daily basis lol

16.) Top 3 headcanons you stand by. (The only ones I can think of are Hotch related I’m so sorry☠️)

Hotch is allergic to strawberries :)

In his retirement Hotch becomes an avid Gardner. Flowers, fruits, vegetables, herbs, he grows them all.

I love the idea that Hotch and Morgan were actually pretty good friends before Hotch became unit chief and had to remove himself a little!

Thank you nonny! 💛

CM asks!

[hotchley]

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕞

personal life: #sumayyah stop

all asks: #people talk to me emoji anons: 🦄 🐨 ☀️ 🌙 🐝 🐈 tagged as #[emoji] anons mutuals: tagged as [name/url] <3 ask game: #ask game

writing discussions: #sumayyah talks writing specific novel posts: #sumayyah talks thh

fanfics/drabbles/headcanons: #sumayyah writes cm #sumayyah writes 911 lone star #sumayyah writes young royals #sumayyah writes the mentalist

reading: #sumayyah reads

show live blog: #sumayyah watches [media) current: #sumayyah watches 911ls #sumayyah watches hsmtmts #sumayyah watches the mentalist #sumayyah watches young royals #sumayyah watches one of us is lying #sumayyah watches downtown abbey

queue (when it runs): #queue

photos of me (do not reblog): #hey look it's me

things that made me smile/happy: #for the bad days

favourites: #fave

all fandoms but criminal minds are tagged since this started as a cm blog and my content outside of my novel and personal life was almost exclusively cm until september 2021

all ships are tagged for the purpose of filtering

[sapphiics]

Grace you know how preparations made you cry... I’m working on something else that is arguably sadder and is probably worse (quality or angst level who knows) so errm... yeah

preparations had me crying, and i almost never ever actually let out tears about anything. when i say it made me sob and scream into my pillow sumayyah that was heartbreaking. but now i’m super excited because i love hotch/haley angst and general sadness it’s a fave

[loveruns]

Callout post for my fave mutuals

You’re all perfect 

and Aesthetic™ as hell!! 

@mysterion @misfited @solstice-snakes @glittergothdad @sumayyahs 

[storytellersumayyah]

God save our gracious Queen!

And whilst the Royal Family wave from a balcony that they do not have to pay for, a child is excited that their parent has let them take the bus rather than walk home because neither of them feel well, as that is how bad the living crisis has gotten.

Long live our noble Queen!

And as the banners and bunting go up in windows across the country, another person exits their home with the fear that they are going to be told they do not belong in this country that is built on the blood of their ancestors (eventually that fear will be proven to be valid and real rather than an exaggeration or intrusive thought.)

God save the Queen!

And whilst the people being interviewed on the news about how wonderful it is that their monarch is able to attend the events being held in her honour, another person is dreaming of the life they would have had if the atrocities of many years ago had never happened.

Send her victorious,

And as the news rants and rave about the celebrations that will be occurring to mark this landmark event, somebody else hears the shouting in the streets grow more violent and more aggressive and they hope everybody is able to stay safe because there is a darker side to these events that nobody wants to confront but everyone can see.

Happy and glorious,

And whilst her children and her grandchildren and their future children grow up in a world where everything is handed to them, simply because of the family they were born into, students up and down the country are battling their postcodes and the names of their schools to have a chance at attending university.

Long to reign over us,

And as the Commonwealth games come and go for another year along with the idea that the British Empire provided benefits and fairness, the textbooks debate how genocide should be taught as a group of teenagers learn about the inhumane ways the people whose traditions should have been passed down to them were treated.

 God save the Queen.

And whilst she enjoys all the parties being thrown for something that doesn’t need to be celebrated since it was all a matter of luck and there are still so many people waiting for an apology, the government- led by a man she has the power to dismiss- are rewriting the rules so they can avoid taking accountability and succeeding in their attempts to restrict the human rights of their citizens as the people with the power to stop them do nothing.

May she defend our laws /  And ever give us cause / To sing with heart and voice / God save the Queen.

Remember what the monarchy serve as a constant reminder of: with money that’s not really yours, you can get away with anything. Remember the power they hold. Remember that a demand for an apology is not political. Remember the pain their predecessors caused that they have never once challenged and continue to benefit from. Remember somebody in your life is paying the price for an empire that should never have been created.

- god save the queen (but in a country moving closer to ruin with every passing moment, why?) 

[storytellersumayyah]

"I love you."

It's a dark room.

You can't see his face. Can't tell that there's a gentle smile gracing his features. Can't witness the honesty in his eyes.

He can't see your face either. Can't know terror is sketched onto it. Can't imagine the dread pooling in your stomach and spreading to trembling hands.

He loves you. That much is true.

But he is a man. He will always be a man. In the same way you will always scan the room and find the exits just in case, he will always be a man.

You do not think he is lying. You cannot be sure, but your gut is usually right, so you try to believe him.

But he is a man. And you are you.

He will only love you so long as you remain palatable. So long as you do not remind him of the things he has had to give up to pursue the life he leads with you. So long as he never feels like he has lost control over you.

"I love you."

It's said with more force this time.

You switch on a lamp. You smile.

"I love you too."

It's a response, not a declaration.

But he is placated.

And you are allowed to live in a dream for a little longer.

the name of the game is love. you lose!

[storytellersumayyah]

Do not fall in the love with the hero.

They will let you burn as they save the city because they have to put everything above themselves and that includes the owner of their heart.

Do not fall in love with the villain.

They will let the city burn as they worship you because you own them but then you have to live with the knowledge that the blood is on your hands too.

Do not fall in love with the sidekick.

They will always be looking over their shoulder for when their hero comes calling because they are afraid that the one time they stay with you will be the one time it all goes wrong.

Do not fall in love with the henchmen.

They will always be scanning the room for someone that could take you away and convince you to stop loving them because deep down you both know you deserve better than a puppet.

Do not fall in love with the characters.

It will be your last mistake.

do not fall in love with any of those dreams that come to life

[storytellersumayyah]

in theory, you understand the anatomy behind the perfect breakdown. it goes something like this: eyes that are wide like a doe. eyes that twinkle, even though they’re supposed to look dead. or maybe it’s because they are. and then: sniffles that are quiet. that could almost be confused with a cold, if the season hadn’t already come and gone. after that: a voice that wobbles. it must still be easy to understand- you’re too messy otherwise. lastly: tears that fall the same way the rain does but only when it’s spitting. a perfect line down your face. you are only allowed to break in a contained space, lest you disrupt the world too much.

in practice, you do not understand how this could ever be achieved. when you break, it goes something like this: eyes that are closing to try and gain some moisture. they glimmer, but behind the stained wall of an increasingly uncomfortable lens. and then: desperate breathing from wherever the oxygen comes from. it’s much too loud. after that: a voice that is slowly going. this would be good, if it didn’t drop too many pitches. finally: tears that fall the way tsunamis crash down. you break the way a glass does- everywhere and with too much noise for such a small thing.

so you may joke about wanting to be a delicate little thing until you are blue in the face (but not too blue or you’re causing a scene), but deep down, you will always be the girl who learnt that pain is beauty. or maybe it was beauty is pain. either way.

breaking down is like a heart dissection. you must cut it open and identify the parts.

[storytellersumayyah]

Once upon a time, you wished for a love story.

You dreamt of standing on your tip toes to place a kiss on their mouth.

You thought about your favourite flowers appearing in vases.

You fantasised about your eyes meeting from opposite sides of the room and slight smiles forming on both your faces as you remembered a moment nobody else knew about.

You believed love was stored in the arms wrapped around you and the hand on your waist, or on your leg as you simply existed together.

You imagined finally exhaling as they saw the worst of you and stayed, not out of obligation or fear, but out of love and acceptance.

But you were convinced that the love of the poets would never happen. Not for you.

And yet...

You're crouching down and reaching into the cupboard for something because you know they'll like it and they haven't eaten breakfast (idiots.)

You're in the kitchen filling a glass up with water and cutting the stems of a bouquet you picked up on your way home because you deserve them.

You're looking at each other on a sofa full of your friends and you're in hysterics over a story you cannot and will not share.

You're leaning into their arms as they sit down because their shoulder was made for you to rest your head on.

You're giggling as they press a hand to your lower back to guide you somewhere because it keeps happening by accident.

You're snapping because you felt safe and they don't run.

There is no lover. There are no wedding bells. There will be no kiss in the rain. Not yet. Maybe there will be one day.

But until then, and even after then, there will be you. And all the people who love you.

breathe. the love you never stopped dreaming about is all around you. pinkie promise.

[storytellersumayyah]

You close your eyes and you think back to that time

You see them there in your mind

You take their hand with all the softness and gentleness that you fought so hard for

You hold them tightly, even as they look at you with betrayal and anger and sadness and worst of all, disappointment

You let them scream because you know how badly they need to because they used to be you

You give them a glass of water once the tears start to dry and once their voice starts to fail them- you see them tacking that onto the long list of things that are broken

You sit opposite them and you let them take in your appearance- you look older and more tired, but you also look softer and happier

You don't respond to all of their questions because you don't have all of the answers but you say whatever feels right and you know they appreciate it

You don't push them to say that they forgive you

You don't push them to say anything

You let them reach out and touch you, closing your eyes as they trace the lines on your face that have come from smiles, not frowns

You embrace them when they pull away

You tell them that you do not hate them

You thank them for doing what they needed to do in order to survive, because it allowed you to witness all the joy and all the pain of the future

You tell them it's okay if they don't like you very much because it shows that you really have gotten better

You open your eyes and you exhale because you are them and they are you and you are forgiven, now and always

how to forgive your younger self: a step-by-step guide

[storytellersumayyah]

I understand, don't worry about it.

Let me try and do it, it's no problem.

I think you are pure bottled sunshine.

Her love for me was a love I prayed for many years.

I just want you to be happy.

I don't know where or who'd I'd be without you.

You are good enough and you always will be.

You smile with your eyes.

You've taught me that's the right move to make.

I have a feeling you're going to do great things.

We'll always be here if you need us.

You're my sister.

Thank you for writing it.

Please try to be less hard on yourself.

I'll know you tried your best.

I'm proud of you.

This reminded me of you.

I wanted to say thank you.

Anything to make you feel better.

Whatever happens, you won't be letting anyone down.

Well done for being brave.

Your problems matter.

You're amazing.

You always seem really thoughtful.

You're a good person and friend.

I always smile every time I see another one of your posts on my dash.

I'm in awe of you.

I think you're cool.

You are not a burden.

You deserve to treat yourself with the same compassion you treat others with.

I will be standing outside waving a banner, screaming out your name and cheering you on.

Don't worry, I did the maths for you.

I am so happy to be your friend.

I am now going to have to explain to people why I'll be walking around smiling all day.

You are a good person and I will tell you that however many times you need.

It's possibly the most exciting 4 seconds of serotonin.

I wish your soul all the peace in the world.

I <4 you too.

I'll always tell you how amazing you are.

You remind me so much of a sunflower.

Quite frankly it is their loss.

I'm sure you'll be a great parent.

You have nothing to prove to them.

I'm glad you're thriving.

I also mentioned you.

You inspire me to keep writing, to keep hoping, to keep reaching for the stars no matter how many times those flaming balls of hydrogen burn my hands.

You remind me of a tulip.

You believe in the goodness of the world, and fight for it with your wonderful words, and I admire that infinitely.

I saw Saturn and thought of you.

I can definitely see you being a two- I thought you might be because of how caring I know you are.

Everything you write is so good I couldn't just pick one.

Thanks for choosing me.

It's yours entirely I only finished it for you.

I just hope it lifts you up a bit.

I’m thinking of you and wishing you the best because you deserve it now and always, no matter what your brain tells you.

You're so pretty.

Congratulations on the novel!

You are such a beautiful soul that should be protected always.

The world is brighter because you're in it.

If you need to take a break, go for it.

I'm glad we, all together, have been able to create this community, and you played such a big role.

You'll get through this.

They really helped me so thank you.

If you were a place in the world, you'd be this chalet.

You always had such an abundance of imaginative ideas, they had to be read at some point.

I will put it pride of place in the form room to celebrate you.

I wish you well.

- i love you, i love you, i love you (sixty-five times somebody said the words without saying them because i deserve this, now and always)

[storytellersumayyah]

The truth as always, is revealed by a single companion. That little voice in the back of your brain that only seems to break from the shadows in the ungodly hours of the morning (or is it the night), whispers it to you. You love like a combination of all the ones you ever witnessed.

It does not matter if it belonged to you. It does not matter if you had to let it go like sand trickling between your fingers. It does not matter if the weight of it made it feel like your chest was slowly collapsing in on itself. It does not matter if you now understand that it was not real.

What matters is that it existed. What matters is that it has imprinted on you. It has left a mark on your heart, whether it was flowers or ashes, and it will be branded onto your skin and emblazoned into your mind.

Which raises the question. Who do you love the most like? Even within a combination there will be varying fractions dependent on who you are. One love will always be dominant.

Do you love like your father? From a distance. With the bitter aftertaste of all-consuming guilt. The mutual understanding that he does not understand how to do this and neither do you. A sensation of deja vu, as though you are making all the same mistakes for the thousandth time over. An apology that is and isn't needed but that neither of you will voice.

Maybe you love like your mother? Too close, too much, too fast. Theatrical declarations tainted by harsh words in moments of anger. With the desire to turn back time to prevent what was supposed to be their greatest joy ever happening so they can experience a normal type of joy because that is what magic is contained in. Reminders of who they are and how they shaped you everywhere you turn. A need to never let them go lest they never need you again.

Perhaps you love like the siblings you either love, hate or long for? Without any balance- there is either everything or there is nothing. In a language nobody else understands because there are never any words, even when they are needed. With the knowledge that no matter what happens, they will come running. A strange sense of obligation despite there being none. Long searches for something you definitely messaged, and that would be perfect for the situation, but that you can only find once the moment has passed (much like your attempts to help them. Again.)

Although, perhaps you love like a memory of your grandparents? In a way that is fleeting. With a sense of doubt about whether or not it's even real. A sense of longing for something that was never part of your life. Faded like an old photo that you always forgets exist until you pick up that one specific album to laugh at (but the smile fades once you see it.) Almost like you're scared of what will happen once they remember the past, or when they open their mouth, or when you snap.

Is your love like the childhood innocence you cling to despite never quite having? Naive but hopeful. Without fear of rejection and falling. Full of confidence that things would end happily. A wide-eyed curiosity. The loud and unrestrained laughter you didn't even realise you were capable of until you're clutching your stomach and need to stop before your voice goes hoarse.

Or is it like the faith you either grew up with, forged from the desire to be softer than the world or lost then found again? With confidence and clarity. The knowledge that whatever happens will be for the best. As though you have finally experienced a sense of relief. An awareness that if things go wrong, it will be something you are more than capable of handling. Like there is something in your heart that gives it the strength to carry on beating.

But then the ungodly hours become the day again. The voice vanishes back to the depths of your brains and is replaced with a different one. The more rational one, that exists when it's time to be thinking about life.

You love like yourself. Like what has happened to you. In a way that means you are trying your best with the person you are and the things you have. With all the passion you can muster. As though you are a mosaic of all the people that have ever loved you (sometimes you do the things that they did and you are suddenly transported back in time, but that does not mean you are the same person.)

It is true that you love like a combination of all those that have loved you, and the love that you have seen. But that means that you love in a way that is unique. That belongs to you. And that touches the heart of whoever feels it, in a different way than every love they have had before. So remember that for me.

You love like yourself.

- we are a combination of everyone that has ever touched our hearts, which means we are something completely and totally new and unique

[storytellersumayyah]

You are typing the word home. and then you are going back and deleting it. And you are replacing it with something else. Anything else. You say you're back in your block. You call the walk back the walk to your accommodation. You do not call it home.

Why? Does it taste like betrayal? Does it feel like guilt? Does it look like walking out the door and not coming back? Does it sound like the laughter that comes from downstairs when you are in a dark room writing a list?

Home is wherever you feel happy. Wherever is safe. Wherever there is freedom to be everything. Maybe it's time to accept that you can be happy without them as well as with them. Maybe it's time to accept this is where you are.

Maybe it's okay to have a life scattered across the map. Maybe it's okay.

It's okay.

[storytellersumayyah]

Here is the bitter truth. Those words are never going to sound natural. Not if it’s you. Never it’s you. They are never going to ask you what you just whispered because you are never going to confess in a tongue that is more home than home. Your father is never going to be transported back in time to a simpler life when you speak because it is never going to be the words of childhood. The words, in the rare moments they come, will forever be tinged by hesitancy and the uncertainty of a novice. You’re not going to laugh at the jokes since they will always fly over your head- instead you smile as though you understood. You’re never going to cling to a phrase that cannot be translated and know that it contains the meaning of love. Your children are never going to flawlessly switch in public when they want to complain. Those words are never going to be yours. Never.

unwanted reminder (attempt to deny: you will fail)

[storytellersumayyah]

tw: body image

It is vain. It is an insult to who I am. It is a shameful secret I will confess to hundreds but never speak aloud.

But I never claimed to be good. I only claimed to be trying. And we all lie sometimes.

I want it back. I need it back. Because I am vain. Because I am just a girl. And one day that will stop being an excuse. I will be forced to confront what and who I am. That day is not today. Girlhood will take the flaw for all my weakness. Maybe that's what I love about being a woman. That it is an excuse.

I want you to tell me I'm pretty and mean it. I want to look in the mirror and believe the person looking back is worth it. I want the life-saving neutrality to bow then return to the wings. And I want the feeling of prettiness to take its place.

I want to know that there is something in me that makes me what they want. That something there is worth it.

But I need to know that nothing about me needs to change.

And thus, some would say, I have created an impossibility.

i want to feel pretty again