#was just reminded that I still have this in my drafts

[lavenderspence]

unexplained sadness | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.5K

Content warning: pre-established relationship, depression, mental health struggles, mentions of therapy, angst, supportive!aaron

Summary: you've struggled to find a way out from under the darkness for years, but you were thankful he offered the final push you needed.

A/N: I drafted this a few days, contemplating if I should even post it. it's very self-indulgent. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't able to understand my own feelings, and im still not sure how. I think this is the realest my writing has been, but i do think I'm posting this with the most vulnerability as well. I want you all to remember, just in case you're struggling - you're amazing, you're enough and I believe in you. Life is crazy, but it will get better, allow yourself to be patient, and most importantly, take the greatest, most gentle care of yourself 💕

You looked around, well aware of the amount of relief that should be flooding your body right now. It usually did at the end of a case, where another monster was put to rot in a cage much appropriate for its’ sins. 

But even knowing what you should be feeling, the simple truth was - you weren’t feeling anything at all, and you hadn’t for a while. 

And even when you did feel something, you could never explain it. It was a mess, where many emotions fought a battle, but in the end, all it came down to was an endless void where the darkness and despair of the unexplained won out.

The only thing you could feel at that moment was the pressure of the vest compressing against your chest. It stole the little amount of oxygen in your lungs in favor of an overwhelming amount of hidden sadness. 

Even with the sun high up in the sky and the warmth it was supposed to spread all over your skin, you felt cold - no warmth actually penetrated the top layer of your skin. And the chatter - EMTs, police officers, and outlookers, you couldn’t process anything at all. 

It was like you were standing there, like a statue, a headstone to remind everyone of your presence once upon a time, but not anymore. Physically, you were alive and aware, but mentally, you’ve been fighting a battle you could confidently admit you were losing. 

Your thoughts were deeply wrapped in a cobweb of confusion and melancholy, a never-ending cycle that couldn’t stop repeating itself. It felt like you didn’t exist outside the realm of your own despair. Each day the shadows around you persisted in their pursuit of you, dragging in with them this empty feeling, designed to leave you feeling like a loner. 

The string holding you tethered to the person you’d been before was tinning each day as the distance between you grew bigger and bigger. You no longer even felt her presence at all. For weeks you’ve fought a silent battle against your own mind, and even your body sometimes. 

You tried to hide behind a mask of fake smiles and nights spent around the people you trusted most, hoping you’d feel better, but you never did. You only felt this state you were in, as it gained speed and grew in volume. 

But there was a certain pair of eyes that saw the subtle changes in you, straight into a place even you couldn’t see. Warm chocolate, sometimes shining amber in the sun - somehow strict but also oh so soft. 

You thought you hid it well, but you could never hide yourself from him, and you should have known. 

Your hotel room was dark and quiet, safe for the gentle light and sound that came from the TV. A movie was playing, an early 2000s song in the background. The duvet felt heavy over your body, and you longed to kick it off in an effort to feel less trapped, but you couldn’t find the strength to. It was like your whole body was paralyzed in a fatal position with your muscles locked and your eyes open but unseeing. 

Case after case came, and each day it got harder. You had to try and perfect a mask you were getting tired of wearing, tired of hiding behind. You couldn’t skip work, lest you wanted to feel like more of a failure than you already did sometimes. 

You felt scared to admit to your struggles, half unsure what your struggles were to begin with, half unwilling to unload on others. You were willing to suffer and fight this on your own until you either had nothing left to fight against or no strength left to fight at all.

Your mind was working overtime, half empty and dark, half full and constantly spinning, you didn’t even process the foreign sound at first. Only it wasn’t so foreign - a series of gentle raps or someone’s knuckles against the door. Knocking. They were just enough to alert you of a newcoming presence but not disturb you or others in any way. 

You didn’t move a muscle. Even when two more knocks followed, even more gentle than the first, all you could do was blink. Even with the soft call of your name that came seconds later, you couldn’t find the strength to answer or even get up. You couldn’t even twitch. 

You stood there frozen in place, in time. Frozen between the walls of a prison of your own mind’s making. 

The knocks stopped, as did the voice calling out your name, maybe finally resigned to the fact you weren’t answering at all. 

Giving up on you the way you’d given up on yourself. 

You would be surprised if you didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief at being left on your own. Too bad the relief didn’t actually last long - just seconds after the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked, and the door was slowly opening, bathing the room in the hallway light. 

Even with the small, hesitant steps this person took, you were instantly able to tell by the sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor who it was. 

“Did you know it’s actually illegal to break into someone’s space?” Your voice came out raspy from misuse. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed since you made it to your room, but if you had to guess, probably several hours had gone by.

“I do know that actually, it’s criminal law 101.” He retorted before you felt the mattress dip close to your feet, “You missed dinner.” He mussed.

A part of you couldn’t handle having a conversation with him, not right now. Not in the complete darkness, and the quiet stretched between you both. 

“I wasn’t hungry.” You answered simply. You waited for him to say something, and you waited and waited, and he wasn’t saying anything. It was like he was looking for the right words to use, so as not to offend you, or set you off. But you wouldn’t feel any of it if he did - just as the night was dark outside and so was your mind. 

“Just spit it out, Hotch.” You finally used a part of his name, unintentionally closing the distance the smallest bit even when you tried to stay away. Maybe subconsciously you knew you could trust him, if a little.  

“You’re not doing well.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. “Wow, way to show you aren't actually a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to...” You could almost see him shaking his head, so in tune with his reactions from years of working alongside him, “I’m worried about you.” It left him in a whisper, like he was afraid to admit it. 

“I’m okay, there’s no need.” You denied it like it was your biggest defense against his accusations. Except they weren’t that, genuine worry dripped along with his words, but you had a hard time accepting it. You couldn’t, didn’t want to. Being vulnerable, especially in front of him, could cost you a lot, and with the way you’ve been living, you couldn’t afford it.

Even when deep in your heart you trusted him with everything, even yourself. 

You felt him place his hand on the duvet, enclasping his palm around your calf. “You were okay five weeks ago, and you haven’t been since then. I’ve been watching you wear a mark and barely holding yourself from falling apart. I don’t think ‘okay’ applies right now.” 

“I thought we promised not to profile each other.” You muttered brokenly, feeling parts of the mask he was talking about cracking in places. It was like having him so close, peeling your outer layers slowly, and leaving you exposed, finally making your emotional reactions coincide with your lack of understanding. It was like he was exposing all of you both to himself and you too. 

“Not at the expense of suffering in silence, we didn’t.” He answered with conviction, no hesitation. He was making it apparent your wellbeing was more important to him than any promise he might have made to you or others. He was letting you know he was prioritizing your health over everything else. 

He understood you even without you having to say anything. Just by watching you try to swim to the surface of the ocean and still being pushed by the crashing waves, he could already feel that you were struggling. 

He could see you were self-isolating, even when you were being surrounded by people. He picked up on the signs in the subtle subject changes you made whenever someone asked anything about you. You were unwilling to share, even though you loved sharing any little detail about your interest, allowing others to do the same. 

You let Garcia talk about her software and cute animals and allowed Reid to share any little fact with you he could. But even when you listened, it wasn’t hard to see you really weren’t. Staring into spaces or faking an interest, even though he knew you would be interested in the first place, had there not been anything amis to begin with. 

And slowly piece after piece had started falling together, like a puzzle started, yet left abandoned. 

In the darkness of the hotel room, miles away from your home and mere doors down from the rest of your team, a piece deep inside you started longing for the understanding he was offering. It started building up with worry over the reality of the words you knew you needed to say but were too scared to. It started wishing for a new slate, where the overwhelming amount of confusion and empty darkness no longer followed you like a shadow. 

It slowly started coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t enough to fight this on your own and that maybe you needed help to do so.

For the first time in weeks, months, who knew, maybe even years, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to admit to your state of mind where reality got mangled with your deepest darkest thoughts imaginable, where self-doubt and the feeling of worthlessness took over. Where giving up sounded so much better than trying out again. Where any positivity was instantly turned into negativity whether you liked it or not. 

For the first time you craved being helped, you wanted to understand your own struggles and get better. You wanted to thrive in the life you were leaving instead of settling for simply existing. You wanted to talk, and you wanted to tell him all that. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth before you bit down until you tasted blood. One of your hands barely made it out from underneath the warmth of the duvet before you grabbed into the bedding with a tight fist. 

“I don’t think I’m doing okay, Aaron.” You whispered into the darkness. The bed dipped and groaned as he moved closer, settling just centimeters away from your cocoon this time. You were so busy looking over the skyline that you didn’t even see his hand move until you felt his warm palm overtop your skin. He held onto you, trying to prompt you into releasing the bedding, tapping his fingers in a gentle manner. 

He was offering you comfort without really saying or doing anything. He was letting you try and put your thoughts together before you entrusted him with the truth. 

“One minute I’m good, and the next it feels like I lose all touch with my own self and my feelings - It’s all empty, or an overwhelming amount of sadness I couldn’t begin to even understand. I can’t even grasp what prompts this sudden change. I’ve tried fighting it for so long, years maybe, and each time it comes back, I’m left feeling more hopeless than the last.” You explained in a small voice. 

A wave of relief, if small, rocked your whole body. There was something freeling about saying it out loud, ignoring the fear of admitting that had followed you for years. 

“Have you ever told anyone about it?” His voice was just another shadow in the room. A timbre so calm, quiet, and soothing that you knew he was listening with no reservations and no judgments. Just a pure need to help.

You went to shake your head, but remembered you were both still looking towards the window. “I’ve always played it off as a joke. I’ve never let it sound like I really mean it. Not like I do right now.” It was one of the many truths you’d admitted to that night. Even when you played it off, you knew deep inside it was a small cry for help you didn’t want to. You were unwilling to take the right steps in order to get the help you needed. 

“Why joke about it?” You thought about it for a second, trying to clear out the fog of the past.

“I guess…” Your fingers clenched underneath his own. “I guess I just wanted to see if anyone cared enough to ask if I was serious. They didn’t.” Realistically, you knew you shouldn’t wait on other people or expect them to see something amiss before you looked for help. But a part deep enough inside you wanted the reassurance that someone loved you enough to notice.

“But you want to get help?” He mumbled, still tapping his finger against your own.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. You owed yourself that much, and all the help possible you could get.

“Okay.” He exhaled in relief, “As soon as we get back, we’ll start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. You felt his hand squeeze your own in reassurance. You turned your palm up, enveloped his own hand, and gave him one back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

A few minutes of looking at the starless sky passed before he prompted you to move, if just enough to walk into the bathroom and wash your face - and you did. When you came back, he’d made himself comfortable leaning against the headboard, legs stretched on the mattress. 

He spent the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes, trying to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t left feeling lonely. 

You knew there was a long path ahead of you - the path to self-understanding and acceptance of your own flaws and struggles, as well as the changes you may need to adapt to moving forward. Something you were undoubtedly going to have a hard time with. Where you’d need to fight against the days when you questioned whether it was worth it. Where you’d slowly have to come to terms with the fact that as long as you were making yourself happy and keeping yourself afloat, there wasn’t anything worth more. 

The path to recovery was never supposed to be easy or linear, but you had him to thank for being the final push. You had to be thankful for each minute of the time he gave you. And each grain of love he showed you in the process. 

You needed the help - for yourself, your past, your present, and your future self. And for every second you spent failing to understand the person you were and the feelings you held onto.

[occasionallyprosie]

"Hiding Behind Plaster and Ceremics"

Chapter 3

Wind reveals something. This marks the beginning of something new.

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Finally actually just ending this one, I've had this chapter drafted so long I feel bad not posting it but I really don't think there's much more to be added to this fic.

----

Legend really didn't like the new status quo. Twilight was very defensive of him, which he was on the fence about to be honest, and Warriors just kept giving him weird looks. Contrast that with the fact he couldn't get any space because Hyrule and Sky were trying hard to get close and he'd promised Twilight he'd try not to be as mean.

Which really just meant he couldn't force the others to just leave him alone. Even after he got over the sickness, they stuck close and he could feel his nerves turn to fire as he couldn't get time to himself.

He was biting down on his tongue, trying desperately to avoid them without breaking his promise to Twilight. Now, not only was he trying to avoid getting attached, he was also just trying to not snap as every nerve, every coil, every spring prepared to get set off because everything was just too close.

They were just starting to make camp when Wind chose his chore for it.

"I'm going on patrol!" He declared.

"Fine, but take someone with you," Warriors reminded him, the usual rule for leaving the larger group.

"Come on, Scholar!"

Legend startled as Wind grabbed his sleeve--not his arm, his sleeve--and dragged him off. He quickly pulled himself free but meeting Wind's eyes--Ocean's eyes, bright and expectant and far too smart--meant he was following him.

Wind happily moved across the rainforest floor, seemingly accustomed to brushing aside underbrush as tall as they were.

Legend decided not to ask why and just followed, letting a distance form between them and letting himself just... relax in the silence and space.

They did a number of expanding loops around the chosen campsite, only coming across some tektites at a nearby river and some Deku Babas here and there. As they turned to go back, having been silent the entire time, Wind spoke up.

"You need more time?" He asked, facing him with an overly knowing expression.

Legend frowned. "What?"

"More time alone and away from everyone?" He clarified, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. "Don’t tell me our ever-aware spitfire didn't notice I dragged him off so he wouldn't explode on everyone."

Spitfire. He'd been called that before by exactly one person, the kid in front of him. Not that he'd say it first.

"Oh," he responded, definitely with the eloquence of the scholar he was nicknamed for. "Why?"

Wind laughed. "Please, I could tell you were getting antsy, I just didn't want to find out if you getting overwhelmed by people is the same now as it was in Hytopia."

Legend stopped in his tracks, Wind noticed immediately and looked at him, a wryness in his eyes.

"You--"

"You think I couldn't recognize you?" Wind scoffed, as if insulted. "I recognized you when we met, but, well, you never said anything, and then you snapped at everyone and cursed out the Rancher when he tried to scold you for your language 'cause of the Smithy and I." He sighed. "It wasn't until you got sick and--" he grinned a bit, "you were hiding behind the Rancher, and his pelt-cloak thingie made you look so much smaller, that I knew I was right. You just didn't say anything."

Legend stared at him but Wind just smiled brightly.

"Which is okay," he said, still just as warm as when he'd asked if he was ready to head back. "I get things change... I get that you've changed and I can tell that something about all of this scares you--you haven't changed that much, Apple."

Legend grimaced. "I'm not scared."

"Can't be courageous without a bit of fear," Wind retorted with a still-wry grin. "But my point is, I noticed you were getting antsy and needed some time away from everyone. So do you want more time, more space, or what? We probably have another hour before we need to get back."

Legend ended up just backing up into a tree and slumping down to the ground, Wind hummed lightly as he followed and sat in the grass in front of him, a solid three feet of space, if not more, between them.

Silence settled, and if Legend closed his eyes, Wind was somehow so silent that as long as he ignored his magic, he could pretend he was in complete solitude.

They stayed like that for a while until Legend broke the silence. "Why aren't you mad at me?"

Wind made a confused noise. "What'd'ya mean?"

"I mean--For not telling, for not saying anything, why aren't you mad?"

Legend wouldn't admit he probably would've completely shattered if Wind was ever genuinely mad at him, Forest was their big brother, yeah, but it had been Ocean who he'd stared at and tried so desperately to mimic during Hytopia, from the casual singing of work songs to the way he fought. All of that had been Ocean, and even the blue cap he still wore to this day was the one Ocean had given him when they'd separated, sure it had been mended and resewn and altered to fit his larger head, but it was the same cap.

Wind laughed at his question though. "Why would I be? It's been years for you, I don’t think you realize how obvious it is that you've been through a lot, and what's probably only obvious to me is that it all hurt."

Legend opened his eyes and looked over at him, Wind gave him another warm smile.

"It's been years for you," he repeated, "but just over one for me. I think you've forgotten how well I know you, how well I can read you, and how little you've actually changed."

Legend stared at him. "It has been years, I'm not the same kid anymore."

Wind raised an eyebrow. "Well you have all the same tells as you did before."

"I do not."

"Oh yeah?" Wind leaned forward to poke his arm. "Then why did I know you needed to be away from everyone? It's almost as if you've been introverted since the day I met you and Hytopia was constantly getting on your nerves because of it, hmm?"

Legend couldn't help but smile a bit as he huffed and swatted him away. "I wasn't doing a very good job of hiding anything."

"And yet Forest didn't have a clue, the oblivious dumbass. I don’t know how he found out but I'd bet a gold rupee that it wasn't until you called him by his name or something."

Legend snorted. He couldn't even argue because Wind was exactly right!

For the remainder of the hour until Wind's necklace chimed with Wild's voice asking after them, they just talked and Legend didn't realize until that evening, just after dinner, that he hadn't even thought about his fear, about what was to come.

He'd reconnected with Ocean, he hadn't even thought twice about it either, which made it worse. He'd just forgotten exactly why he had been spending this whole quest sharpening his edges.

He'd forgotten that it was useless to reach out for them, as they were just going to be ripped away.

And as much as it hurt... he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not when Wind joined him in his corner of the campsite and just laid down beside him, not chatting his head off, but quietly humming.

His heart felt softer, lighter, but even if he couldn't bring himself to regret it now, bringing his ocarina to his lips and putting a ringing tune to Wind's hums, he knew in his mind that it wouldn't last.

The quest would end and he'd be all alone again, whether or not it would be his breaking point was a different question, he thought Marin had been the breaking point but he still hadn't reached it even after her and then Ravio. What would he do then?

He didn’t know, but he’d have to concede here, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t be able to fend off both his brothers, which meant… well, it meant he was done. It meant this was the beginning of a new chapter, at least with some of the other heroes. It meant he couldn’t keep running, and once this was over, the pitfalls of grief would catch up to him… but he couldn’t stop it, and he had to just accept that.

[zer0brainc3lls]

I have no clue what to post so take this shitty post that was collecting cob webs in my drafts 😭

Newt: IF YOU CANT HANDLE THIS, THEN TURN AROUND AND DROP ME OFF FIRST!!!

Thomas: WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO?!?! YOU GONNA WALK BACK???

Newt: I WILL DO ANYTHING IF I GETS ME AWAY FROM YOU.

Minho: CHILDREN CHILDREN CHILDREN!! This interminable bickering was amusing at first, but it’s getting very stale. And we’ve still got a longgg walk ahead of us so why don’t you two cut the horse shit and admit your sexual feelings for one another?!

Thomas: WOAHHHHHH

Newt: YOU ARE WAY OFF BASE BUDDY.

Minho: OH SPARE ME SPARE ME spare me. *talking to Newt* he’s a brute I know. Probably reminds you of a bad relationship, and gosh! You’d really like a nice man to settle down with, but admit it! You’re real curious to know what he’s like in the sack! AND YOU. *talking to Thomas* HA! Well you’re just a big man baby who’d rather act tough then show his true feelings, because the last time you opened your heart you got hurt! Owie.

Thomas & Newt: …..

Minho: and now, rather then admit these feelings you’re dancing around one another with this mind numbing and frankly boorish mating ritual, so PLEASE for my sake, either quit your bickering! OR STOP WALKING, TEAR OFF THOSE CLOTHES AND GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY.

(I’ve got a few shitty posts just resting in my drafts collecting cob webs as I type this so I decided to dust this one off cause I can)

[sp1resong]

remember my name - mitski

[batsplat]

i will be in permanent agony next year when marc squeezes pecco like a bug, unless it happens aragón 2021 style, where the unstoppable force (marc) meets an immovable object (passing pecco bagnaia), and marc has to really throw everything at it to come out on top. mostly because marc has a twinkle in his eyes when he looks at pecco, like he sees some sort of a challenge he’d enjoy to take on, and pecco just refuses to look at him 💀

also, martin said pecco plays the most amount of mind games, and i need to see that in 2025 before coming to a conclusion, otherwise it’s just jorge writing fanfiction about bagnaia as the ultimate bad guy of his life (i get it, jorge, next time pecco dnf’s i’ll choose to start stanning you, unlike the ducati bosses)

I think pecco does play mind games! admittedly if you're setting the standard at 'valentino', sure, he's pretty harmless, but pretty much every top level athlete will do a little of this! he does put some thought into how to manage expectations, what he's saying about his own chances and his opponents' chances going into weekends, that kind of thing. generally he might not outright attack his rivals, but he's not opposed to dropping the occasional snide remark. that being said, of course it's quite funny and revealing that jorge zeroed in on pecco as the mind games guy. pecco's very much his personal antagonist... such a good figure to externalise all those knotty feelings of being under-valued and under-appreciated and underrated... it's fairly natural that if you're fighting someone for a title, you get a bit of tunnel vision for them, so it's not that surprising a pick from martin. still fun! I absolutely buy martin's built pecco up a bit too much in his mind, is prone to reading malice into stuff where it probably wasn't intended on pecco's part. sometimes you end up playing mind games on yourself and the other guy doesn't really need to contribute

anyway, about the pecco/marc thing - yeah, look, obviously marc is the favourite in that title battle. that being said, if you look at marc's historical record, I wouldn't be all that surprised if aragon 2021 and jerez this year aren't the outliers. it's completely plausible marc wins that teammate battle quite comfortably but continues to lose in their actual one-on-one duels... because that did often happen during his prime. in 2013, sure, he won that early battle in jerez (which was just kinda building throughout to that one overtake), but he lost the rematch at silverstone. 2014 is the one where he was just kinda winning everything - so this one's kinda the exception, where he might lose some scraps like brno and misano but the extended battles in qatar, mugello, silverstone all go his way. from then on, the most memorable one-on-one duels with his big rivals are pretty often not working out in his favour. 2015 obviously a few with valentino, though he also doesn't win the title there so let's skip that, but 2016? the two duels everyone remembers from that year are mugello and catalunya - both go against him, both are defeats inflicted by his two main title rivals in jorge and valentino respectively, but it doesn't matter because afterwards the rest of the season goes his way. 2017 you've got austria and motegi where he takes on dovi and loses both times - but it doesn't change the momentum of the season and marc still wins in the end. 2018 doesn't really have a title fight, but again he's losing austria to jorge (before winning thailand so that's something). 2019, again not really a title fight, but he loses austria and silverstone before winning a couple of duels against rookie fabio at misano and thailand. in both those seasons, he's not really being challenged for the title - but if you looked just at the duels, you'd think the competition was a lot closer than the reality

none of this is to say that marc is bad at wheel-to-wheel racing, because he very obviously is not. (which by the way you can tell the moment you stop looking just at one-on-one's and include dogfights - sure, he's not won all of them, but pi '15 pi '17 assen '18 are all super memorable for a reason.) it's just an interesting pattern in his career: when he gets himself involved in extended duels with a single rival, he loses quite frequently, but it still doesn't hurt his title campaign. that's excellent mental resilience! it does, however, show that he doesn't really build his title campaigns around those big dramatic victories, around inflicting a dramatic and demoralising defeat on his rival in one-to-one combat. in this sense, he is obviously different from valentino: for instance 2004 is a title campaign that was built entirely around that trio of races early in the season (mugello, catalunya, assen) where he reclaims the championship lead and dulls sete's confidence by winning successive tight one-to-one battles. (also of course 2008/09, but those almost feel too obvious to mention.) when you look at marc's title campaigns, what they really rely on more than anything else is... well, consistency. the fact that he's basically always fast - and that generally speaking, he's finding himself in last lap duels at circuits where he shouldn't be able to contend for the victory at the last lap in the first place. (obviously qatar and austria, but also for instance honda was having a rough one at misano 2019, which is traditionally one of his strongest tracks but can be quite quirky.) (just saying, misano's a really good pecco track too... wouldn't that be fun...) it's relentless, intimidating pace that he's using to win all those titles... if you look at the races that changed the momentum in his various title winning seasons, it's not actually ever one-on-one duels, it's races where he won or was even just on the podium where all his rivals for one reason or another weren't there. maybe jorge and dani are injured, or maybe his rivals are having some horror show flag-to-flag races, or maybe ducati's having an off-weekend, or maybe everyone who isn't marc just refuses to stop crashing, or maybe jorge's decided to skittle the field

with the one-on-one battles themselves, sometimes it's kind of like... 'okay, sure, you won, but the fact I was even there probably isn't great news for you'. this is what jerez this year was about, right - of course, that was an important win for pecco, but also the fact that marc is fighting with him this early into his ducati career on a year old bike is certainly... a concern. obviously marc does want to win those duels, but he does also seem pretty capable of bouncing back after losing them. some of them have bothered him, sure - the worst was probably assen 2015, where there was obviously a lot of other stuff going on... and because it was that bit of the year where he was finding his feet again with that honda and they headed to the sachsenring next, his on-track performances didn't take a hit. you can argue that argentina 2015 did negatively affect his results... but that was also just a bit of the panic of 'I need to make up points now' in response to his first real adversity in the premier class - and anyway, everyone knows that wasn't a perfect marc season, the point is he was a lot better at managing this stuff going forwards. in 2016 and 2017 in particular, he really does do an excellent job of taking these close defeats in his stride

this is a long way of saying, look, I could easily imagine a version of 2025 where pecco wins a dramatic duel against marc at catalunya and then another one at mugello, and yet marc still wins that season pretty comfortably. that's basically the season I'm expecting... I'd quite like to have something different, because honestly I do enjoy it when the on-track battles actually affect title fights a bit more substantially! that being said, marc definitely wants to beat pecco in a one-on-one duel (though I'm sure that lovely le mans last lap pass will have gone a long way towards cheering him up) - and hey, interpersonal emotional stakes are a lot of fun too. hopefully even if there isn't much of a title fight they can still snap at each other a bit... as a treat

[theotherrichardpapen]

...because any moment may be our last. everything is more beautiful because we're doomed.

[redspecialandclogsandcurls]

[muninnhuginn]

The homoeroticism and overfamiliarity in The Glory is so deliberately rancid.

In the past, it was used by the bullies (and especially Park Yeon-jin) towards Dong-eun. Inviting themselves to her home (a place where she should be safe), saying her legs are pretty (before shoving an iron to them). Superficial compliments used as they steadily destroy her life.

For Dong-eun, love and hatred intermingle. They always have. Park Yeon-jin taught her that. Her own mother taught her that as she signed her away.

As Dong-eun plots her revenge, she speaks of longing for Park Yeon-jin. A burning desire to see her consumed in flames. And when she's face to face with the bullies, it's all "Yeon-jin ah" and "I'm glad you never changed". She turns it back on them. Smiles in their faces as they once did to her. Words of love soaked in an undeniable coat of hatred.

[hes-a-tough-kid]

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Spider felt when he hit puberty and started growing facial hair, making him even more different to the Na’vi. I wonder if he hated it.

Also the inherent tenderness of a boy trusting someone else enough to help him shave for the first time… something about it makes my chest hurt. I really tried to capture it in Foreign Body but there’s so much more that I wish I’d left space for.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Yeah... I remember seeing the architectural design majors at my uni having this breakdown each semester...

[byanyan]

still alive ftr just... struggling to get myself to do stuff again bc ofc I am ajdgks

[caramellody]

Suite Life Au Ken and Akechi through the events of the first 3 seasons

[idiaa-shroxd]

Your cat cafe au is so much fun and so soft I adore it but hearing that Malleus and Leona's cats are friends is so funny to me and spawned the worst idea XD Prefect: Leona, Nebula is pregnant Leona: ...By who? Prefect gestures to Oatmeal and Nebula cuddling.

we share the same brain!! actually working on the cat au ask right now, but have a few irl emergencies that prevented my writing, and here’s a little bit of it! but first let me just say this is 100% my thought process if you and rook have yet to neuter the kitties. oatmeal and nebula have a romeo and juliet love story! \(//∇//)\ more under cut! this isn’t canon in the au or anything but a fun concept!!

“Nebula has never looked better, he scooped her up in one arm and held her firmly against his bicep, smug as she meowed up at him and purred loudly. He had zero hesitation to hold her while walking to his fated rival, looking him and his cat up and down before scoffing. The two proceeded to argue over who’s cat looked better wearing their dorm uniform for a bit, as the two cats seemed content in their arms without hostility to one another. - Leona Kingscholar

Malleus Draconia - As Leona argues with him half his brain has melted to this is the greatest cat. Cat precious. My firstborn is the best in this world. The other half of him smugly picks up his son in his own arm, the cat against his own bicep as he begins talking about how regal he is. Honestly, his cat is just happy to spend time with him and begins playfully nipping at him after not getting enough attention.”

anyways back to the ask!! I’d like to imagine if that actually happened then leona would freak out at malleus, while malleus is shocked he is getting his first grandchild with you already as you reiterate that is a cat, and you both are not married. he’s not listening, to you or leona. they end up being that in law family that despise one another thoroughly like my child is too good for your child but i don’t want to lose custody of my grandchild. cats tend to have multiple kitties at once so im thinking depending on the amount the may definitely mean the boys now live ay Ramshackle with the kittens, with Nebula nipping at her dad proudly showing him her babies and Oatmeal showing his dad his babies too, forcing the two men to bond despite their prominent scowls, but they avoid being too loud because you remind them kittens are sensitive to noises. (。-∀-)

they’d definitely end up trying to adopt the kittens when you graduate.. but that custody battle is a talk for a different day. on the bright side Oatmeal and Nebula finally get to stay with each other openly as they raise the kitties.

for anyone curious ( ^ω^ ) been busy these past few weeks with art fight, and my cat needed a vet emergency, still have to return to the vet later this week, but i’m also working on a r-18 birthday leona fic! friendly reminder my navigation does say mdni and you are responsible for the content on my profile that you view!♪

Σ('◉⌓◉��) actually haven’t written r-18 works for social media in a bit, but i will try my best to make the fic! if anyone does not want to view the content, please block the tag “shrouded in desire.” which i will be tagging the fic, and all r-18+ fics on my profile for those who do not want to see the content!

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

First Sentence Game

I promised you I'd do this, @sisterofficerlucychen. It's only been 10 days, which is kind of a record for me.

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Tagging (hopefully I'm not misremembering that any of you write fic) @chenlucys, @violetsandmagpies, @daisyejones, @whitesunlars, and @electricbluebutterflies.

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Bearing the Unbearable Weight (The Rookie):

In the days immediately after the break-up (the collapse of her world) Lucy logs a record number of hours at the LAPD shooting range.

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Nothing More Than His Wife (The Rookie):

The new Mrs. Tim Bradford is haunted by a ghost. It follows her everywhere, popping up in the most random spots. The ghost is at the nearby Korean food truck, in her husband’s car, hanging out in the park they had a picnic at. The ghost is not a particularly malicious one, but Mrs. Bradford can’t help but feel like she’ll never measure up against it, against the specter of Lucy Chen. 

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i used to know my place was the spot next to you (now I'm searching the room for an empty seat) (The Rookie):

The hardest part of Lucy’s day is going to bed. Two weeks earlier, before the breakup, when going to bed meant making funny faces at Tim as they brushed their teeth together and slow kisses and cuddling, it had been the highlight of most days. She had looked forward to bed. Now she brushes her teeth alone and crawls into a bed that is just hers. Or almost just hers. 

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How I Show I Love You (The Rookie):

Tim doesn’t know the last time he spent time doing something solely because he enjoyed it (other than watching a couple hours of football each week). Never mind doing something fun with another person. And certainly never with a rookie who hadn’t even passed their one-year mark. But he also hasn’t trained someone like Chen before. 

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i get along without you some nights (Prodigal Son):

The Christmas tree was already up when Martin was… (Jessica was still trying to find the polite term for it, trying different ones on) taken away. Normally Jessica insisted on no hints of Christmas in the home until the Thanksgiving dinner had been cleared from the table, but Malcolm had campaigned valiantly to put it up early. As per usual, Ainsley had joined in, asking Jessica to make an exception to her rule and then Martin had given Jessica that look, the one that had been crumbling her resolve since the day they met. 

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Cotard's Delusion (or the Process of Being Resurrected) (The Rookie):

I am dead. It’s the only thought ringing in Lucy’s mind as she closes her eyes, leans her head forward, finding no place to rest in the barrel Caleb has determined will be her last resting place.

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Dirtying the Slates (The Rookie):

So, Bishop and Lopez, or mostly Lopez, rig the roundup so Tim wins. Interesting , Lucy thought. She twirled her ring on her finger for half a moment, considering if it was her place to comment or not, before throwing caution to the wind and interjecting. “Wait, uh, are you guys trying to rig it so that Tim wins?” (Rule one of getting information in an interrogation: start with a question you already know the answer to.)

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Wrapped Around Your Finger (Like a Ring) (The Rookie):

Chen would not stop messing with her ring and Tim was a matter of seconds from using his TO Voice to go and confiscate it. Even winning the round-up (again) hadn’t put him in a good enough mood that the reflection from the light of the food trucks bouncing off the opal ring wouldn’t annoy him. Chen clearly was not aware that her rhythmic movements meant he was hit in the eye by a reflected ray of light every four seconds. 

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In Search of Air (The Rookie):

During her sophomore year of college, Lucy had had to memorize all of the symptoms of a panic attack as listed in the DSM-V. Technically the assignment was just to learn four or five of the 13 listed in the manual, but Lucy, ever the perfectionist, had been determined to memorize them all, to always be just that much better at psychology than the people around her. So, when she found herself once again locking herself in one of Mid-Wilshire precinct’s utility closets, it was that list of 13 symptoms she thought back on. 

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Through a Glass Darkly (Prodigal Son):

Malcolm Whitly's favorite color has always been red. It’s warm and bright and passionate, just like him. It’s the first color you notice in any crowd. It calls out to you and then pulls you headfirst into its world. His father had a red sweater when Malcolm was about 10. It was the softest thing Malcolm had ever felt. Martin said he had had to throw it out one night after spilling tea on it, but Malcolm had always loved that sweater. He still does. He has spent the intervening years searching for one that was similar so he could buy one for himself. He has loved the color for almost three decades now with absolutely no sign of his opinion changing any time in the near future. Red reminds Malcolm of his father and he loves his father. 

Malcolm Bright's favorite color has been blue most of his life. It’s calming and stable and peaceful, all the things he strives to be. It’s a color that can fade into the background when needed but also draw your eye if you’re looking for it. It’s always there to be beside you when you need it. 

[grocerystoreanxiety]

watching a tv-show that’s done in my country and fuck it’s got me sobbing. Forgot how much more things hit when it’s like in your culture & language; every american tv-show has that distance bc can relate like maybe 50%. So idk, if you’re in need of a good cry; watch something sad that’s from your country, it hits where it hurts so much better !!