This story belongs to the series Love Is For Children which includes "Love Is for Children," "Hairpins," "Blended," "Am I Not," "Eggshells," "Dolls and Guys,""Saudades," "Querencia," "Turnabout Is Fair Play," "Touching Moments," "Splash," "Coming Around," "Birthday Girl," "No Winter Lasts Forever," "Hide and Seek," "Kernel Error," "Happy Hour," "Green Eggs and Hulk,""kintsukuroi," "Little and Broken, but Still Good," "Up the Water Spout," "The Life of the Dead," "If They Could Just Stay Little," "Anahata," "Coming in from the Cold: Saturday: Building Towers," and "Coming in from the Cold: Sunday: Shaking Foundations," and "Coming in from the Cold: Monday: Memorial Day."
Fandom: The Avengers
Characters: Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanova, Betty Ross, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, JARVIS.
Warnings: Minor mishaps. Lingering symptoms of past abuse and neglect. Current environment is safe.
Summary: The Avengers enjoy game night. Clint and Bruce wind up playing together for much of it. Bruce gets upset easily.
Notes: Hurt/comfort. Family of choice. Team as family. Fluff and angst. Toys and games. Emotional overload. Coping skills. Healthy touch. Asking for help and getting it. Nonsexual intimacy. Caregiving. Competence. Gentleness. Trust. Creativity. Friendship. Cuddling. #coulsonlives
A note on feedback: While it's not necessary to comment on every post I make, remember that I don't know who reads/likes things if nobody says anything. Particularly on long stories, I've discovered that I get antsy if there's nothing but crickets chirping for several posts. So it helps to give me feedback at least once, even if it's just "I like this" or "This one doesn't grab me." First and last episodes are ideal if you rarely feel inspired to comment in the middle.
I also have a list of favorite photogenic scenes from the whole series for fanartists to consider, partly compiled from audience requests.
( Read more... )
on the inside, above the bone—leans closer,
breath of lime and pepper—I know I could
make love to you. She considers
this, secretly thrilled, though she wasn’t quite
sure what he meant. He was good
with words, words that went straight to the liver.
Was she falling for him out of sheer boredom—
cooped up in this anything-but-humble dive, stone
gargoyles leering and brocade drapes licked with fire?
Her ankle burns where he described it. She sighs
just as her mother aboveground stumbles, is caught
by the fetlock—bereft in an instant—
while the Great Man drives home his desire.
As the name implies, if you've ever been broke down in the middle of nowhere and benefited from the help of a kindly stranger, now's an opportunity to return the favor. If you're broke too, you can still help by boosting the signal for the prompt call. Thank you!
The car is officially dead. It needs a replacement engine. As that's not an expense we planned on, we could use some help. The mechanic is going to look around for used engines to put in, but realistically that's going to cost over $1,000 in labor, regardless of the cost of the engine.
At this moment we are in Del Norte, Colorado, still very far from home and far from any large city. If you would like to help, you can donate via PayPal (link: paypal.me/TrevorEdwards ). If you can't spare any change, you can share this post and ask others for their help.
with somebody else all night. The bad man on the moors
was only a movie you saw. Nobody locked the door.
Your questions were answered fully. No. That didn't occur.
You couldn't sing anyway, cared less. The moment's a blur, a Film Fun
laughing itself to death in the coal fire. Anyone's guess.
Nobody forced you. You wanted to go that day. Begged. You chose
the dress. Here are the pictures, look at you. Look at us all,
smiling and waving, younger. The whole thing is inside your head.
What you recall are impressions; we have the facts. We called the tune.
The secret police of your childhood were older and wiser than you, bigger
than you. Call back the sound of their voices. Boom. Boom. Boom.
Nobody sent you away. That was an extra holiday, with people
you seemed to like. They were firm, there was nothing to fear.
There was none but yourself to blame if it ended in tears.
What does it matter now? No, no, nobody left the skidmarks of sin
on your soul and laid you wide open for Hell. You were loved.
Always. We did what was best. We remember your childhood well.
Here's an interesting post about emotional labor, sex work, money, and feminism.
Emotional labor is real work. It takes time and effort. If you do it, you should be getting something for it: enjoyment, favors, cash, whatever floats your boat. Marriages generally run more on barter than cash, although the financial benefits are common too. Sex work is more pay-as-you-play ... but yes, really, men absolutely do turn to sex workers for attention, comfort, reassurance, fake love, emotional support, etc. in addition to orgasms. Some guys just want to get off, but a lot of guys want to get off while talking about how their wife/girlfriend/woman-who-doesn't-know-t
I have a linkback poem, "The Least of These" (11 verses, The Ocracies).
If you're interested, mark the date on your calendar, and please hold actual prompts until the "Poetry Fishbowl Open" post next week. (If you're not available that day, or you live in a time zone that makes it hard to reach me, you can leave advance prompts. I am now.) Meanwhile, if you want to help with promotion, please feel free to link back here or repost this on your blog.
( New to the fishbowl? Read all about it! )
What good news have you had recently?
The rule is simple: when giving a gift, think of the recipient. If the person loves gift cards, then give that. You can 'customize' it by picking a favorite store; there are cards for department stores, book stores, clothing stores, most stores these days. If the person dislikes gift cards, give something else instead.
The same applies to handmade gifts: some people love homemade goodies, while others hate them. Give what the recipient likes; avoid what they don't.
And while we're on the topic, not everyone says "I love you" the same way. Here's an introduction to five popular love languages: words, service, gifts, time, touch. If you and your family share the same language(s) then great. If not, the most loving thing you can do is learn how to express love the way other people receive it. They will be happy, and also if they notice how much work you're putting into it, they'll probably be impressed. This means that not all people focus on the gift-giving part of the holidays. A word-oriented person might prefer a long chatty letter or conversation about your year, a service-oriented person might favor being pampered, a time-oriented person generally likes doing things together, and a touch-oriented person might love snuggling by a fire. You get the drift.
Picking on people what they like is obnoxious. Don't be a dick. Especially, don't be a dick over the holidays.
Happy Chrismahanakwanzikah to you. I'm posting this note ahead of Thanksgiving because the shopping season has sprawled out this early so yes, really, this advice is already needed. Not to mention arguments over who pays for the turkey supplies and how. Ah well. Try not to kill each other.
This is a good start. For secular folks it really works and is beautiful as it stands.
I've even done one on star stuff -- as stars live, they are very far apart and everything is quite ephemeral. When they die, their bones are blasted out through space to coalesce into and around new stars. This process begets planets, which are the heaven of stars; and the life upon them, that's us, we are the angels. We are what stars become after they die. Why wouldn't we look up and think of them as home?
For me, life after death isn't faith, and it's not just memory either. It's observation. It's looking around the universe and seeing that everything exists within systems, within cycles. Nothing is lost; everything is retained; it simply changes form. Some of those changes are really exciting. Just because we can't see the whole of a given cycle from the point we're standing in doesn't prevent us from mapping the part of it we can see, and that part tells us by its shape that it is incomplete and so there must be more which will only come into view after we have moved ahead some distance. You can't see out of a womb when you're in it, either.
Faith is believing what you've been told. Extrapolation is using what you already know to predict the parts you can't get at yet.
And funerals, well, they're for the community to patch up the hole that's left behind, and to make sure that the departed energy has in fact departed and isn't going to stick around loose to cause problems. Do whatever works for you in that regard.
I have been following with great interest the study of Tetris as a preventative treatment for PTSD and a way of reducing flashbacks.
So then I got to thinking, some people dislike video games or cannot play them. But! There are stacking-block games in real life too. There are other pattern-matching games and puzzles. I'm not into Tetris. I love Bausack towers, and I also love tile sets that can be mixed around -- just handling the pieces and putting them into place is soothing. I think that these would work for PTSD similar to Tetris because they use many of the same features. You have to look at (or feel, if you're vision-impaired) the shape of the objects and the spaces to figure out what goes where. As PTSD is fundamentally a sorting error in the brain, where you can't fit the file "EVENT.fck" into the "Past" folder, any kind of sorting activity should help facilitate that so it works better. So having more options to explore for different ways to support that process should widen the pool of people who can be helped.