#tirew

[parameddic]

“Mum, I messed up,” please don’t hate him please don’t hate him please don’t hate him –  “TK–” (she could never hate him, promised her voice, and he remembered the thrill of wonder at how she knew that’s what he meant, how she put that in her voice, how she could possibly mean it right then, how could she possibly mean that about someone like him?) –  “Can we drink tea?” Silence. “God, mum, I want to drink tea.” 

“Honey.” The answer was yes, and TK lost all semblance of not crying, because of it. “You drop a pin, OK? I”m coming to get you. We can drink all the tea you want. I’m so proud of you.”  “For crying in an alley?”  “For calling me.” Yes.

i want!!!!!!! to add!!!!!!!!!! director's commentary!!!!!!!!! i have!!!!!!!!! things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! to say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[detectiveconnor]

"But you're right. Maybe stewing in it first will save you some suffering in the long run. Who knows."

when connor says You're Right, he's being A Little Shit

[clingyduoapologist]

Just landed, let’s get this bread gamers

[talktoten]

He took a sip from his glass. It was a water, on the rocks.

[moonbeammuses-a]

“Come home.” ( Miriam! )

Miriam shook her head, clutching the cellphone more tightly. Come home. She pressed further back against the doorway, as if she could hide in the entrance to the empty department store. A pedestrian slowed as he walked past, casting her a curious glance that Miriam avoided, pointedly turning away from him. 

 Home. When the man had passed, Miriam turned back, eyes raising to look at the paned glass windows of Avengers Tower. She wondered if Ashley was there now, if she was cooking something delicious as she waited for a reply that hadn’t yet formed on Miriam’s lips. Was Tony there? Maybe blowing things up in his workshop with as little explanation as “I didn’t expect that.”

….Was Marion there? Was he standing at the windows, looking down at the city like he could pick his sister out from the throngs of people that roamed the streets of New York? Was he listening with bated breath at the other end, crowded in close to Ashley like the phone she held contained the secret to life itself? Or was he nearby but acting aloof, finding excuses to be close enough that his ears could follow Ashley as he walked by, straining for any noise from Miriam’s end? 

Avengers Tower. Where they’d been a team. Where they’d been happy. Where Miriam had thought, once, she could call home. Where they’d built friendships that were so strong and so real.

“I…”

Where Miriam had thought, once, she could actually call home, only to spend the last year watching the sunlight reflect off the windows at a distance, because if she dared stray too close, they could send her back. Back to the Raft. Back to captivity and darkness and…

“I can’t,” she whispered. Because of the damned Accords. Because Tony thought that pretending to agree with them was better than making a stand for what was right. Because Marion had been okay with the idea of being kept under a virtual lock and key, when they’d spent so long in actual containment. Because it would never be the same. Because it wasn’t home anymore. Because whatever had been built there had been boken against the tarmac of a German airport. 

“I can’t,”  she said again, sliding the phone away from her face to flip it closed slowly. 

[digitizedsouls]

@wasscared​ sent a meme for Hank to panic

Mind the tags. 

Hank was a good driver. He made a point to be. But he was pretty fuckin’ sure automated cars were gonna be the death of him. 

They were self-driving, which was great if you were a stingy corporation that wanted to contribute to the unemployment rate rather than pay a driver a few measly bucks. But they were shit at recognizing off-brand cars. Y’know. The ones with people driving them. And at the asscrack of dawn they dominated the road. 

The truck came from their right. Turning left. They were going straight, to the precinct to get a head start going over a robbery-murder from the previous day. Hank was taking a drink from his coffee, relying on its blessed caffeine and the Lamb of God CD he was blasting to wake him up. 

The truck didn’t even slow down as it approached the intersection. It didn’t sense them, so it didn’t yield. Brakes squealing, Hank managed to almost stop the car in time, sending his coffee from his hand and across the dash while the truck took out his left headlight, sending the front end of the car lurching sideways. 

“FUCK!” 

Over as fast as it had happened, the car idled, mostly-unharmed, and the intersection was quiet except for the metal blasting from the radio- Hank hit buttons blindly until it shut off- and the truck slowing to pull over as it registered the collision.

“You okay?” Hank’s voice was pitched. He didn’t hear if Connor answered. The car. They were idling in the middle of an intersection. He needed to move it. Hank couldn’t feel his hands on the steering wheel as he pulled off, taking a left they hadn’t meant to take, and somehow got the thing to the side of the road. Partially on the sidewalk, but it was good e-fucking-nough considering he wasn’t sure how the hell he got there. Hank let off the brake- the car lurched- and hastily set the parking brake with another “fuck” and leaned his head back with a shaking breath, closing his eyes to avoid the darkness creeping into his vision “Jesus Christ.”

Connor was saying something, but it was lost in the white noise roaring in his ears. In the thick, nauseating heat that suffused his chest, his neck, his ears. In the way gravity shifted, slamming into him, pulling the blood from his face. He tried to heave in a breath, but there wasn’t enough air in the car, suddenly. He couldn’t breathe. He had to- 

“I- can’t- oh fuck-”

Hank stumbled out, shoving the door open so hard it tried to swing back. He almost lost his balance on the ice in his haste, catching the roof with a clammy grip. 

His feet slipped on the slick ice, hand grabbing the window frame for support as he pulled himself along the car. “Urgh... Cole?” His head throbbed. Must’ve hit it. He needed to get into the backseat-

He panted for air, too hot despite the freezing chill in the air. Run or die his brain screamed. Run or die, run or die, fight or flight, live or die- If only his legs weren’t shaky, heavy, maybe he would up and run. He made it to the hood of the car in a trek to the other side he didn’t remember starting, hand brushing the crushed metal and plastic.

The windshield had spiderwebbed. They slid sideways, so fast Hank barely had time to register they’d been hit before they connected with a wall. The side of the car that wasn’t now pressed against a building had sank in with a crunch. He was in the cold, but he couldn’t feel it. The back door didn’t want to open, collapsed into itself, and his shoulder rebelled against his trying to force it, fingers slipping from the handle and frame. He had to get in- he could see- “Cole!” 

Hank stood stock-still on the sidewalk, hands to his knees. He was hyperventilating, but he couldn’t seem to stop, so he sank to a sitting position and pressed his palms to his eyes. Wet. 

The truck driver yelled something about calling the police. Hank barely heard him, didn’t even look at him as he came over, pulling the door with him. There was no time for anger. Not yet. He had to- “Fuck- move!”  He shoved the man aside, breaking out what was left of the window with an elbow, using it to lean into the car, get his hands around- “I got ya, son. It’s gonna be okay-”

His hand hurt. He could feel where the glass had cut, the white scar on his palm seemed to sear all over again. There was a jacket around his shoulders. Why was- Connor. Right. He couldn’t do more with the information than acknowledge it. He just had to- fucking breathe. But that was hard to do when his throat hurt and his eyes burned and his shoulder throbbed and his hand screamed and he couldn’t stop hearing the screech of brakes or the silence from the backseat- 

He retreated to the dark behind his palms and waited for it to be over. 

[bobabirdd]

*taps mic and leans in* high pony tail madara I doodled this quick since I had like 15/20mins to kill before my train came :’D

[mythicalcreaturee]

IM TIREWED S

Why does the NHR HAVE TO BE FREAIJNG 60 PAGES I DONT EVEN READ THIS MYCH FOR MY CLASSES

The FUCK

[talktoten-a]

"Thing is, I dunno what you lot are up to. Wasn't paying attention. Care to share?"  "THE DALEKS WILL REIGN SUPRE-"  "Supreme, yeah. So I've heard - and good for you, honestly, follow your dreams - but let me rephrase: what are you doing HERE?

tirew

[spookylif]

i woke drunk i added his friend on fb who told to hit him up if it didnt work out im tirew i need love andappreciation and dick and good sex thanks

[parameddic]

and then one day when he was, he didn’t know, 19, and living between the firehouse and his first apartment, she’d just shown up one day with her favourite tea (lapsang souchong), looseleaf, like they’d had plans. “Mum?” because they’d been going out, because Josh wanted to go somewhere (some boyfriend; he had not lasted longer than two months when the sex had started feeling too ‘real’; but he was TK’s roommate, at the time) and get high or find a club or – “We were kind of–”  “TK,” she had stopped on her way past, her fingers just touching the highpoint of his cheekbone, touch so so gentle.  He’d been getting so lost, there, at that point of his life. Hadn’t found which way was up for years. He thought she’d see the red-rimmed eyes or the track marks or the hollowed cheekbones or the way he needed it now, more than he was just having fun, and tell him she was ashamed.  Her hand drifted down to his jaw, then down his neck, onto his collarbone, over his heart. Strong heart, she had told him, once. Courage and courage and courage. The strongest heart she’d ever known.  “Let me have tea with you, OK? I miss you.”  “I live around the corner.” How could she miss him? How could anyone-?  “You’re my son.” With a little shake of her hand over his heart, as though to affirm it. Said like a promise. (God, even thinking of it now, some lump leapt into his throat, which he had to swallow down.) “I miss you everywhere you go. And you just finished a shift. C’mon.” 

TK was pulled easily into the kitchen, gravitating after her automatically, the promise that she had, the warmth of her. God he’d needed that warmth, right then. God he’d needed his mum. “That’s really sweet, mum, but I thought–”  “Do you remember the kitchen table? When you were little?”  She’d interrupted him on purpose, and TK … something twisted inside of him, flipped over so the other side faced up, some inalienable tug, and he came to sit at the breakfast bar, both elbows on the bar in front of him, “The one in Brooklyn?”  “With the leaky tap,” Mum agreed, with a smile and a laugh. TK remembered thinking, vitally, that he did not remember the last time he’d seen her laugh like that in the morning light, with the kettle on, in a kitchen. “And you’d always try to get up early.”  “I got up!”  “You went back down,” she told him, pulling a little sloth-shaped tea strainer out of her handbag - The Tea Strainer of TK’s childhood, not ‘a’ but the tea strainer - and navigating his kitchen like it was her own. It might as well have been. Josh didn’t cook, TK had set this place up all on his own, and he’d learned the set-up from his mum.  “Hey –TK,” Josh had trailed in after him –  “Are you joining us?” Mum had always invited everybody. He didn’t remember if she knew at this point that they were dating. It didn’t matter.  “No,” Josh blanched. “Thanks. I’m, um. I’m gonna head out, OK?”  “You’re leaving?” he’d half-startled out of that quiet peace, at that.  “Yeah.” Now, looking back at it, he wondered if maybe this had been the beginning of the end for that relationship. “Yeah, I gotta - I’ll see you later.”  And then it was just TK and his mum, and they drank tea at his kitchen table, and after that they baked cookies, and she hugged him so tight when she had to leave ‘cause she had an afternoon meeting and she told him to take care and “Be safe, OK?” and touched her hands briefly over his elbows, where the track marks were just starting to appear. He’d been bouncing his leg all morning. The itch didn’t go away.  It - the need - lessened, when she held onto him like that. He’d wondered about it then. Moreso, he had thought he was gonna find the liquor when she was gone, but he’d had that little flash of, maybe this could be enough. (The immense number of frustrating glimpses of a life that could have been lived if he’d just been better – TK would not wish addiction on anyone but he could not, either, explain to anyone who hadn’t lived it the way it was obvious how surviving worked, how it looked to put down the addiction, it was obvious it could be better sometimes he just – it just–).

hums hums hums hums. tk thinking about his mother is one of the softest kindest sweetest things wow. tk loves his mum with his whole heart. i could write these about owen as well but OH he loves his mother with his whole heart. tk is his mother's son

anyway if your muse ever wants to befriend tk the hard and fast rule is just ask him about his mother and care about the answer, he will melt

[detectiveconnor]

“But you’re right. Maybe stewing in it first will save you some suffering in the long run. Who knows.”

absolutely giggling, goodness i love him

[pyrotoid]

why does twitter tell you if ......i forgot what this post abt kdjhmbdf i m tirew

[talktoten]

they had not spoken in, literally (for the Doctor), months. For Henry, maybe several years. Smelt of the same decade but you never really knew, with pirate-y people, they all just sort of … smelt.

god, i love him

[moonbeammuses-a]

“No, no, no, don’t die on me!” //IDK MY HEART HURTS JUST PICK ONE *hides*

Victor shoved Ichabod, just as he’d done the first time the horseman had appeared. This time, it had charged straight for Ichabod, and Victor wasted no time on notions of what his journal had or hadn’t said. He’d simply moved, pushing the other man away and straightening to look at the Horseman as it bore down upon him. 

He didn’t react at first when the sword hit him. He knew it had happened, knew that the searing pain in his ribcage was that of the blade hitting his lung, his spleen, likely nicking the pancreas as well. He recognized that the wound would be fatal even before the sword was removed. Blinking a moment, he stumbled backwards a step before his legs gave out. 

For whatever reason, the horseman kept riding, charging away through the trees. Victor tried to push to his feet but his hands were shaky, his legs didn’t support him, and he slid back down. 

shock, heart rate will increase, death by blood loss, it will be quick. 

Ichabod had shoved himself from the ground with a shout, pulling Victor’s torso into his lap. 

“Victor!” Ichabod exclaimed, worry lining every inch of the pale man’s face as he saw the wound. He knew. Victor could tell when Ichabod’s furrowed brow smoothed out and Ichabod’s mouth parted. Ichabod shook his head, swallowing before speaking briskly. 

“Not to worry, my friend, you are going to be perfectly fine.” 

Victor shook his head with a groan. “I am dying,” he said simply. His breathing was rapid, and he blinked back tears of pain.

“No, no, no, don’t die on me!” Ichabod said, any semblance of control lost a moment as his voice raised. 

Victor raised a hand, catching the man’s cheek, and Ichabod stilled, a half-spoken stammer at his lips. 

“I do not fear dying,” Victor said softly. “I do not fear death.” 

“No, You simply cannot do this,” Ichabod said, as though reasoning with it would make the situation change. Make Victor’s breathing easier, make his pain stop “Y-you will be f-fine, and I will-” 

“Remember me,” Victor said, tilting his head, suddenly afraid. He pulled himself up slightly, speaking through gritted teeth. “I need to be remembered,” he said insistently. 

Ichabod’s brows met again, his voice pitched as he spoke. “How could I ever forget you?” Ichabod asked. 

Victor leaned back, then, breathing a sigh as he relaxed. “I am glad I came, all the same,” he said. 

He took the hand Ichabod held over his wound and pulled it to his lips. 

“I did not find what I had come for, but I did find the piece I was missing.”

[parameddic]

“No matter what," Nancy said, "TK would have come home.” No matter what had happened before it, if he had been physically able to, he would have come home. 

YEAH