keep holding your ground (ap)

[holdyourfiire]

(Today is a snow day and I'm 1000% positive I'm free tomorrow also; after a brunch out, I'm going to be doing as much writing as possible within the next few days. My absolute apologies for anyone I've fallen out of contact with over here, that is absolutely my fault, it's been a rough month or so, but things are looking up! Little status update is all and a STARTER CALL FOR NEW FOLLOWERS because I have the most amazing starters and whatnot in drafts -- MUTUALS ONLY PLEASE and you are free to IM me if you have an idea and my skype is amaddeningconstruct if you wish to add me there also. And now I frantically assemble an outfit and try and look my best at sporadic brunch, yes!)

[desperatesuggestion]

anonymously tell me what time it is for you and a secret you’re keeping.

[yourmusings]

RP starters: Flirting ( + responses to it. )

“You come here often?”

“Can I offer you a drink?”

“So.. You expecting someone?”

“Do you need a place to stay for tonight?”

“I gotta tell you… you look incredibly hot.”

“Do you want to dance with me?”

“Look at us… we are basically a couple already.”

“I bet you would look even better without your clothes on.”

“Are you single? Just asking.”

“You’re the most beautiful person I have ever encountered.”

“What would you say if you and me would go somewhere else?”

“I love the way you’re dressed.”

“Do I have any chances with you?”

“Do you have anything better to do later?”

“Can I get your phone number?”

“You seem like a bad boy/girl/person type.”

“I can do whatever you want, babe.”

“You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

“I bet guys/gals/people are all over you.”

“You should be a model.”

“Are you… trying to flirt with me?”

“Maybe if I get a free drink I can consider talking to you.”

“That won’t work. Try again.”

“Oh my god, did you just say that out loud?”

“I’m waiting for someone. However, you can amuse me in the meanwhile.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“I thought you were taken.”

“So, have you flirted with every girl/boy/one in this bar yet?”

“Do I look like someone who seems interested in you?”

“Compliments won’t pay my drinks.”

[dxlfinos-blog]

 HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER SENTENCE STARTERS

❝  I don’t kiss and tell. ❞ ❝ Why is your penis on a dead girl’s phone?❞  ❝ We are so, so screwed. ❞ ❝ Smile or go to jail. ❞  ❝ And you call me immature? I’m the most grown up grown up ever compared to your dumbass.❞ ❝ See, sexting pays off. ❞ ❝ Someone woke up in a mood to fight this morning.❞ ❝ Whatever it takes, isn’t that what you said? ❞ ❝ Wow, someone has daddy issues? ❞  ❝ You should have worn a condom. ❞ ❝ Bitches be crazy. ❞ ❝ You call it crazy, I call it winning. ❞ ❝ I can’t sleep without having nightmares. I’m scared I might be going crazy. ❞  ❝ Thank god I don’t have a gun or I’d shoot her myself. ❞ ❝ Let the slut shaming begin. ❞  ❝ Get me some chocolate chip cookies. I hate all this healthy food! ❞ ❝ Shouldn’t I be getting some credit for trying to be a good person? ❞ ❝ You said you wanted to know me. Even the bad things. ❞ ❝ We’re bad people. That’s the only thing we have in common. ❞ ❝ You taste like my sauce. ❞ ❝ Men lie, that’s all they’re good at. ❞ ❝ Honestly? I’ve got like six guys on my jock right now. I need to focus. ❞ ❝ Seriously, just because my facial hair isn’t as luscious as yours, doesn’t mean I still can’t kick your ass. ❞ ❝ I don’t do boyfriends. ❞ ❝ You’re a misogynistic ass. ❞ ❝ I think about you all the time. It’s freakin’ annoying. ❞ ❝ Keep lying that good and you might actually get away with this. ❞ ❝ Afraid we’ll kiss again if we’re too close? ❞ ❝ Like I’d ever want to screw you. ❞  ❝ What’s next? We change our relationship status on Facebook? ❞ ❝ No woman wants to be on the receiving side of that. ❞ ❝ I’m so freakin’ mad I wasn’t born gay! ❞   ❝ But here’s the thing: I love me. ❞ ❝ This could take a while, wanna sneak upstairs? ❞  ❝ I look nice, I know, but that’s just my face. ❞ ❝ This works on women as well as men. ❞ 

[actiasteeth]

“You’re so helpful with your words." 

"I think maybe this is our fault." 

"We have failed so many times at so many tasks, but at this, we will not fail." 

"Seems uninteresting and human." 

"Gently talking solves a lot of things." 

"I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for your feedback." 

"You do not scare me." 

"I feel as though the universe is unraveling." 

"I haven’t seen you in weeks!" 

"We should go." 

"I will do my best. Or, well, actually maybe not my best, but some level of effort." 

"Probably that’s bad news." 

"How did you get in here?" 

"That was really gross! Do it again." 

"Our time and space finally, finally meet again." 

"Do not be defined by how you can die, but how you can live." 

"As far as the laws of the universe are concerned, it is not where I belong." 

"And that is—well, I think that’s a good thing." 

"Do they not like me?" 

"Once again, it’s just you and me." 

"Be proud of your place in the cosmos. It is small, and yet it is." 

"We all take what we can get in this life, you know?" 

"I hope that we all find something—or someone—that can keep the light on a little longer against the endless, pressing dark." 

"Why did you make a big fuss about it and call us here?" 

"Are you safe? Is everything okay?" 

"Where did they get that photo of you?" 

"I, too, am starting to feel scared." 

"Choose something quieter than a gun." 

"Do you believe in ghosts?" 

"You should hear what they’re saying about you." 

"Perhaps take up drinking while crying in a quiet room." 

"I don’t think it’s safe there." 

"Nothing and nowhere is safe." 

"We can still do things together—even in absence." 

"Happiness is a fool’s daydream." 

"I thought it would be different than this." 

"I’m not saying it will definitely be fun; it probably won’t be." 

"Even if you could, you would wish you hadn’t." 

"Won’t that be dangerous. And probably illegal!" 

"Worry less about the person you once were or the person you dream you someday will be." 

"Worry about the person you are now. Or, don’t even worry. Just be that person. Be the best version of that person you can be." 

"Is this how you want to live your life? Shuffling from one trivial moment to the next, never letting anything add up to anything else?" 

"Do not think that you are going to be able to keep anything from me." 

"If you opened your eyes, I’m sure it would upset you." 

"This is me as a part of your life, trying to understand that life." 

"This is you, and I’m trying to understand." 

"Words can’t capture it, but I have only words." 

"Very little of what I have to say is true." 

"No, don’t. I don’t trust you to make anything good." 

"I hate myself, is what I’m trying to say. We have that in common." 

"It will all be over soon. And then something else will take its place." 

"No one listens when I talk. They hear, but—they don’t listen." 

"We all—all of us—so often fail at what we want to do. That’s okay." 

"People could die for knowing these things." 

"It’s not like knowing has made my life easier. Quite the opposite." 

"What more is there to say?" 

"The secret to a long life lies in how acutely you perceive time." 

"I am sometimes more doubt than man." 

"I know what this is, and it is not good." 

"I don’t think we’ll get much help from them." 

"When I think only of myself, I am scared. But knowing I am with you, I am not scared." 

"Where the hell are we?" 

"Please. Tell me. Everything." 

"We are not one person. How lonely that would be!" 

"I can feel the distance between us. And I can know that that distance, viewed properly, is no distance at all.”

[gambling-duelist-blog]

Let's play the 'Word Association Game'! Send my muse a word, any word, and they'll respond with the first word that comes into their head.

[thexoriginxofxstuff]

Bring up my muse's past. Mess them up. Devastate them. Hit them with feels. Nothing is off limits.

[holdyourfiire]

I FIXED MY PLAYLIST. IT LIVES. AHAHAHA I AM THE MASTER!!

And now back to our regularly scheduled dose of, “Jim remember you’re human.”

[holdyourfiire]

unwarranted -- not unwanted;

[brokenmagxc-a]

                  the breeze itself plays a fine tune to distract keen ears ; PLAGUE was a good word, yes, indeed. rumors fly fast, an airborne contagion erupting at his presence, but he ignores them in favor of addressing the man walking toward him. sturdy build aside, eyes certainly seemed prone to watching what BRUTAL HORRORS lurked among life, be it at war or in gotham. the agent wonders if his own look the same, but does not dwell as he is being addressed, and hand waiting to be shaken.

                  he sets his coffee down on the desk and reaches, pale fingers trembling in the slightest as they grip the other’s firmly, the shake lingering a moment before he retracts himself completely. how reclusive of him, though he cannot help it – the dying light in the middle of darkness is a shy thing ; a wavering whim of fire that is FRIGHTENED by its own shadow. 

                  “ please, sir, the pleasure is mine. ” honored ? he was but one man of course, and he would not be anything less than modest and humble about it. thin lips CURL ; his skin his cold but his heart is warm and he welcomes the other. they were in this for JUSTICE after all – he will ensure that justice is served. 

                  but FORGIVE HIM, for the other’s kindness is as unwarranted as his own may be. and as a first time statement ; arthur wasn’t so sure how to react. he was POISON himself ; he did not deserve a stranger’s tender words. “ ah – ” he exhales, shifting a bit SHYLY to the side. “ thank you. that’s – nice of you to say. ” another PAUSE. he brushes hesitance off his lips with the flick of his tongue. “ i’m – well, you probably know who i am but – please, feel free to address me as ARTHUR. no need for the special agent mumbo jumbo. and BRANHAM is – well, unnecessary. we’ll be here for a while after all. might as well warm up a bit. ”

[holdyourfiire]

Arthur, he thinks. There was a king named after him, he remembers that legend. Knights of the Round Table, his queen, Camelot, stone palaces and uncharted terrain that led to a place of primordial ecstasy, a paradise man carved out.

There is atrophy here, he thinks sometime after, in the shaking, quaking weight of the city. It’s any wonder the sky-scrapers don’t collapse under the weight of the turmoil that coats the air like oil, the toxins churning to a low simmer of green and reds and violets.

A bruised sky, the heavens are battered perhaps, because of some war of angels and devils?

And what of man?

“Arthur,” he repeats, correcting himself. “I’ll remember that; favorite legend when I was a kid. Can’t remember too many now that is, but that one was cherished.” And his smile is less tense and more playful, his shoulders loosen and he looks forward, his eyes shining with the mirth that comes upon the promise of motivation, of someone from the outside helping.

A godsend, as it is called.

“Now then, please, have a seat; I wish there wasn’t so much to go over, but this city’s fallen into some sort of cesspool of crime lately, no one’s really sure where it’s coming from, but we’re working to improve.”

Because, you couldn’t just say you were trying, you couldn’t just wish, you had to do something about it.

“Also, if anyone looks at you funny, just ignore them; in this house, no one really likes people from the outside – I used to be given those same looks but sadly, all the focus is on you. You’re like a new toy, something to play with until you’re left alone.”

Jim really hopes that doesn’t come out sounding wrong, but he doesn’t mean for it to sound as dark as it does.

“How morbid, I’m sorry – or, let them stare. Once, I did this small little hop-skip dance in front of a group of people who looked at me and they stopped caring; gotta prove to them there’s nothing to look at, that you’re not interesting.”

Though Arthur was the furthest thing from boring, he saw it in the man’s eyes, there was the fierce need to help, some sort of red-white spark against the darkness of his gaze.

That was interesting.

[trcpidation]

        Legs would cross at the man’s arrival to the room, attempting to conceal the length of her skirt but only adding to the problem by causing the material to ride up her thigh further. She’d uncross them and allow her fingers to play with the holes in her shredded tinted pantyhose — shredded by choice AND wear, not either or. He looked like the type you’d see from the crime dramas on the shows she’d watch at home, like any minute a camera crew would follow him in the room and huddle in a corner to record their interaction as though they were ANIMALS to be studied.

           She’s upset. Incredibly so, but one couldn’t tell from the look on her face. It was made of stone and withdrawn —- thank the alcohol for that. The facade wouldn’t last long, she knew, and as soon as he pressed even slightly she was certain her delicately built walls would break down before him.  Glancing up at him, she shook her head. Maybe when she felt better.  “  No, thank you.  ”   A pause.  “  Why am I here?  I don’t understand—-  ”  Audrey desired to prop her elbows up on the table casually but she would attempt to remain looking proper for show, until she knew what exactly she was being charged with.

[holdyourfiire]

There is an aplomb he aims to live, a sort of even-measured grace that will distill his temper because, despite what people believe, he doesn’t like getting angry, he doesn’t like getting worked up over things he can’t change.

But there’s so much he wants to change, there’s so much he aims to help appease, and he looks at this young lady with concern, nodding once at her inquiry, for it’s fair.

“Someone thought you were…well. A worker for hire…not that I would think that, miss, no. We can’t charge you with anything, we’re just waiting on some paper-work, I’m very sorry for this confusion.”

And there’s a red scrawl on the front of his neck now because, every young woman who was dressed a certain way wasn’t a hooker, what were his fellow officers thinking?

“If you’re cold, here’s my jacket,” Jim says, setting the material to the young woman’s left. “If anyone gives you any trouble, tell them you know me, I’m James Gordon and I’ll make sure you get home tonight, okay?”

He bites the tip of his tongue and he wonders how many people thought she made money in such a way.

“What’s your name, miss? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

[holdyourfiire]

@imcgo

There’s a lot he doesn’t understand. There’s a lot he doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t keep him from making an attempt, because, the best things in this world are the rare and unusual, the strange and the unseen.

It was a transfer that sent the entire GCPD agog, the whispers beginning from 8 a.m to now, 11 a.m and apparently, the person this was all about was running late.

He asked but all he was told was that, “this is just really odd” and “she must be faking” and the cynicism of the city was immediate and an on-set that leaves him to believe people simply didn't believe in this woman’s “ability.”

Willow Graham. That was as much as he knew, and he pictured a woman with long limbs and hair that hung like the branches from a willow-tree.

“If she can help, what’s the big deal?” he asked aloud.

If there was one thing Jim Gordon hated, it was the way his house treated transfers like outsiders, like temporary sources of help.

People weren’t tools.

[holdyourfiire]

@trcpidation She reminds him of someone, but he’s never seen her before in his life; she reminds him of a figure out of fairy-tales, so pale she nearly dissolves into the freshly painted wall behind her.

The one with white skin like snow...oh, Snow-White, yes, she reminds him of Snow-White.

From the way she’s dressed, he can only presume she was picked up for partying, and he wonders how she managed to survive the snow-fall outside in something that sheer and revealing.

“Evening,” Jim says, leaning against the wall across from the young woman. “You look cold, ah..” and off goes his jacket and he remembers at the last minute that it was washed last week and might smell like a mingling of his cologne and deodorant.

He extends it to her and there’s a smile at the edge of his mouth.

“There’s hot chocolate tonight, in honor of the snow; want me to get you some?”

[holdyourfiire]

Right then, new hover, new icon new everything let’s freaking go!

[holdyourfiire]

You’re tired now, aren’t you? There’s grave-yard soil under your fingernails, under your teeth and you want to spit but there’s death around you, the phantoms that started earlier when the eyes of your father closed just as you heard sirens – and you hate cars and traffic and the noise of engines and tires for that reason – and still you awaken each morning, filled with the promise of some form of life you couldn’t have possibly imagined.

You don’t know why you do it, you can never give anyone a straight answer. But you aim above all, to be good and honest. You can’t let yourself fall to the city and its diseased underbelly, you can’t allow yourself to be anything but what you’ve built for yourself all these years.

Everything’s changing, the souls full of sin, the people you surround yourself with, the officers who believe that making a little money on the side is alright as long as no one’s really hurt.

And still you aim to be slow to violence, slow to shoot; it was the first thing you proclaimed in your house after all.

[holdyourfiire]

Finally getting things back in proper working order! New theme/pages are complete! I’m going to toss my promo out, then help prepare the Easter meal!

[lifeinpoetry]

If I were to fall (sabotaged wax, torn pinion), I’d want to fall from the terrifying height of her, the dust of my years crazy and flashing lit up by the victory of my disastrous flight.

Ada Limón, from “The Other Wish,” Bright Dead Things (via lifeinpoetry)

[traumeriinarchive]

      Her main reason for offering is because she has been in a similar position herself. It is always a pain when she is hungry but the restaurant is absolutely packed. Add a cranky toddler to the mix and the forty-five minutes she has to wait for a table feels more like hours. For that reason when she sees someone in a similar position she likes to lend a hand.     

❝It’s nothing really. I’m sure this one would prefer to sit on my lap anyways.❞ The cherub certainly does not seem discontent. Much to his mother’s delight, he still enjoyed cuddling with her. She figures she has several more years before she has to worry about him being reluctant to have her show affections to him.

Even though he can clearly see it is the man who is making the puppet talk, Aristotle is still very amused by the napkin creature’s antics. With a small smile on his lips he waves, feeling less timid than he usually is around strangers. Sitting up a bit, he leans forward so he could better converse with the puppet. ❝It okay. What’s your name?❞

[holdyourfiire]

Small acts of kindness like this are what keep him going, are what keep him believing in the purity of mankind. His days are spent watching shadows flit over the faces of men and he’s often lost when it comes to the motive behind desperate acts and desperate tales.

His heart aches and he hopes that ache will never become frost; he never wants to be desensitized to his own work, and on that day, he knows he will never be able to look at his own reflection without feeling immediate self-repulsion.

He wants to believe in the best of people, even in a city known for its crime and sin. The Gotham River might as well be colored red.

But in this moment, he is sitting with a lovely lady and her precious child and something paternal cleaves his bones in two and he wonders, oh he wonders what it would be like to one day, have a child of his own, maybe a few.

“Simon,” he says, in the highest voice he can manage without breaking character. “What’s your name?” And Jim makes the puppet tilt its head and he mirrors it as he looks from the toddler to the woman.

“Thank you,” he says in a normal tone and he extends the hand not on the napkin puppet to the woman for a proper hand-shake. “Dinner’s on me tonight, if you’d like; a kindness gained is a kindness earned, ya know?”