You Know Those Characters Who Are So Insanely Dedicated And Loyal To The Main Couple Of The Show They’re

you have invited strangers into your home, helen pevensie, mother of four.

without the blurred sight of joy and relief, it has become impossible to ignore. all the love inside you cannot keep you from seeing the truth. your children are strangers to you. the country has seen them grow taller, your youngest daughter’s hair much longer than you would have it all years past. their hands have more strength in them, their voices ring with an odd lilt and their eyes—it has become hard to look at them straight on, hasn’t it? your children have changed, helen, and as much as you knew they would grow a little in the time away from you, your children have become strangers.

your youngest sings songs you do not know in a language that makes your chest twist in odd ways. you watch her dance in floating steps, bare feet barely touching the dewy grass. when you try and make her wear her sister’s old shoes—growing out of her own faster than you think she ought to—, she looks at you as though you are the child instead of her. her fingers brush leaves with tenderness, and you swear your daughter’s gentle hum makes the drooping plant stand taller than before. you follow her eager leaps to her siblings, her enthusiasm the only thing you still recognise from before the country. yet, she laughs strangely, no longer the giggling girl she used to be but free in a way you have never seen. her smile can drop so fast now, her now-old eyes can turn distant and glassy, and her tears, now rarer, are always silent. it scares you to wonder what robbed her of the heaving sobs a child ought to make use of in the face of upset.

your other daughter—older than your youngest yet still at an age that she cannot be anything but a child—smiles with all the knowledge in the world sitting in the corner of her mouth. her voice is even, without all traces of the desperate importance her peers carry still, that she used to fill her siblings’ ears with at all hours of the day. she folds her hands in her lap with patience and soothes the ache of war in your mind before you even realise she has started speaking. you watch her curl her hair with careful, steady fingers and a straight back, her words a melody as she tells your eldest which move to make without so much a glance at the board off to her right. she reads still, and what a relief you find this sliver of normalcy, even if she’s started taking notes in a shorthand you couldn’t even think to decipher. even if you feel her slipping away, now more like one of the young, confident women in town than a child desperately wishing for a mother’s approval.

your younger son reads plenty as well these days, and it fills you with pride. he is quiet now, sitting still when you find him bent over a book in the armchair of his father. he looks at you with eyes too knowing for a petulant child on the cusp of puberty, and no longer beats his fists against the furniture when one of his siblings dares approach him. he has settled, you realise one evening when you walk into the living room and find him writing in a looping script you don’t recognise, so different from the scratched signature he carved into the doors of your pantry barely a year ago. he speaks sense to your youngest and eldest, respects their contributions without jest. you watch your two middle children pass a book back and forth, each a pen in hand and sheets of paper bridging the gap between them, his face opening up with a smile rather than a scowl. it freezes you mid-step to find such simple joy in him. remember when you sent them away, helen, and how long it had been since he allowed you to see a smile then?

your eldest doesn’t sleep anymore. none of your children care much for bedtimes these days, but at least sleep still finds them. it’s not restful, you know it from the startled yelps that fill the house each night, but they sleep. your eldest makes sure of it. you have not slept through a night since the war began, so it’s easy to discover the way he wanders the halls like a ghost, silent and persistent in a duty he carries with pride. each door is opened, your children soothed before you can even think to make your own way to their beds. his voice sounds deeper than it used to, deeper still than you think possible for a child his age and size. then again, you are never sure if the notches on his door frame are an accurate way to measure whatever it is that makes you feel like your eldest has grown beyond your reach. you watch him open doors, soothe your children, spend his nights in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around a cup of tea with a weariness not even the war should bring to him, not after all the effort you put into keeping him safe.

your children mostly talk to each other now, in a whispered privacy you cannot hope to be a part of. their arms no longer fit around your waist. your daughters are wilder—even your older one, as she carries herself like royalty, has grown teeth too sharp for polite society— and they no longer lean into your hands. your sons are broad-shouldered even before their shirts start being too small again, filling up space you never thought was up for taking. your eldest doesn’t sleep, your middle children take notes when politicians speak on the wireless and shake their heads as though they know better, and your youngest sings for hours in your garden.

who are your children now, helen pevensie, and who pried their childhood out of your shaking hands?

Wet cat vibes😂😂

Only a few episodes in and love him already

okay i thought i’d try night agent and i’m so endeared by peter

I like how leverage has a genius character and an autistic character but the autistic character isn't the genius character. the genius is a 22 year old black man with adhd who becomes an expert in anything you give him within 24 hours and the autistic character is a white woman who jumps off buildings for fun and once stabbed a man with a fork because he encroached on her personal space and sense of moral conduct

I need everyone to see this because the difference between Maria gently holding Luke's hand and leading him versus Sarah Jane fully Dragging this kid by the wrist is so funny, like miss girl's commitment to Not Being A Child Person, only to adopt and treasure this boy as the center of her universe twenty minutes later??? Tears, tears running down my face

Love him

My hottake is that people are trying to fit Lockwood into character archetypes he doesn't fit, because they see "traumatized teen boy with a big ego and a passive death wish" and go "oh. emotionally unavailable asshole character" when that's.....not actually the character we're shown.

He's constantly praising Lucy and George. He's often the first one to try and apologize when he gets into a fight with them. The second he clocks Lucy as a "safe person" he becomes super touchy and holds her hand constantly. He compliments George's cooking. He's visibly proud of the people he cares about and publicly defends them on multiple occasions. He repeatedly asks his team if they're okay and tries to get them to open up when they're having issues. He makes an obvious, conscious effort to repeatedly tell Lucy he believes in her and wants her to stay at Portland Row. He smiles and jokes and laughs around with them on a pretty regular basis. He's also emotionally aware enough to tell Lucy "the reason I haven't talked about this subject with you is because it's relevant my childhood, which I don't like to talk about because it's pretty traumatic" when she questions him ahout Jessica's door, and he's kind of astonishingly open about his trauma with Lucy and George despite generally being unwilling to actually talk about the details.

And this applies to characters other than Lucy and George, too. He compliments Kipps' team during the graveyard fight and clearly respects Flo, for example. He's kind to Winkman's son, is generally polite to his clients, and is affected by the death of the undercover agent to the point of having a panic attack. It's pretty clear he cares deeply about the people around him even as he tries to push those closest to him away so they won't mourn him if (when) he dies.

Like yeah, Lockwood has an ego the size of Manhattan, has enough trauma to fill a boat, and is worryingly flippant about the worth of his own life, but he's not the Asshole With a Heart of Gold archetype. He's not cruel or deliberately mean (at least, not to anyone who's not Kipps). He's friendly and pretty kind to most people most of the time, and he openly cares about his team. And it's a little weird that I'm seeing so many people talk about him like he's not.

I bet the first time Nana meets Eliot- she sees the God fearing, flag wearing 18 year old boy. (The one that Eliot looks for in the mirror and can't find.) Nana doesn't see a criminal. Doesn't see a man who has blood on his hands. She doesn't see a warrior bleeding and crying out for mercy. Just a over tired, stressed, broken 18 year old- trying to prove to the world he's worth fighting for. That there's hope in saving him. Nana doesn't question Eliot's roaming eyes. Roaming eyes that are either looking for danger or looking for exits. The older woman simply smiles and pulls him to the kitchen. Makes him sit down and puts a mug of coffee near his callous hands. Nana doesn't react when she hears screams, moans, and groans at night. Nor in the morning does she make a remark about walking by the room and seeing Hardison and Parker next to Eliot on the twin bed. (Eliot is in the middle.)

I bet when Nana first meets Parker, she doesn't question her habits at all. Some how (Hardison, obviously,) has Parker's favorite candy and cereal. Some times, Parker will sit right in front of Nana with a brush and a hair tie. Nana will gently brush her hair while she plays with whatever child is in front of her. She doesn't slap Parker's hands away when she grabs extra food. And she definitely ignores seeing Parker sneaking into the room Hardison and Eliot share. (Nana saw it when they walked in- Parker feels safe with them.) In the mornings and the windows are open- she looks out to see Parker and Alec on a bedsheet curled up to each other. She smiles. Nor does she comment on missing things after they leave. Especially since a few weeks later- those things return outta the blue. Nana has no qualms when Eliot shows up with both Parker and Hardison behind him- Parker sick and Hardison injured.

"Sorry, Nana," Eliot apologizes, looking meek at coming to her place, "I can't get them to list'n. Can't get 'em to rest." And together- Nana and Eliot get the two trouble makers on the couch. She might not question the reason why Eliot showed up with the two. However she does give Eliot a sparing look. She see's the ragged, tired look. It doesn't take a whole a lot of brain power to know that the two so called trouble makers- got Eliot into the dog pile. (He was suppose to follow her into the kitchen- he didn't. She knows Parker and Hardison grabbed his wrist.) (What can anyone say? She has eyes on the back of her head.) (Eliot allows to get pulled onto the couch with only mild, gruff, complaining.) When she goes back to the living room to check on her charges- she finds Eliot in squished in the middle- being used as a pillow. (He's knocked out too.)

Nana doesn't mind Parker teaching her kids how to pick locks. Or watching Eliot teach them self- defense. She doesn't question it when she see's little four year old Becca with pig-tails- standing by the counter helping Eliot with breakfast. Nana hums when she opens the door on a Saturday morning and see's Eliot, Parker, and Hardison (though Hardison begrudgingly-) with a tool box. After all she had left a message to Alec that her sink was leaky.

Instead, she makes coffee and pulls out Parker's favorite cereal. She asks if They are staying for lunch and even dinner. Makes causal remarks about one of her more difficult children- and watches as Parker and her baby Alec go and find the kid.

None of them comment about Parker recruiting half of kids that come from Nana's house. They keep it hush- hush when neighbors stop by for a cook out. Many of the neighbors ask about the trio- and Nana only replies with a smile.

"They're my kids." She says fondly- watching as Eliot grills as Parker is poking and prodding the chef. And Alec is simply smirking as he's showing Isak how to hack.

I bet Nana treats Eliot and Parker like her family. Because they are Alec's family.

the feminine urge to listen to the entire soundtrack of the movie/series you've just finished.

Revisiting this point from an earlier post of mine about how much I love that Lockwood & Co. specifically does not do this to Lucy:

Can we TALK for a SECOND about how the writers wrote the whole Towel Scene (which admittedly did not make the final cut but still) and managed to make LOCKWOOD the most uncomfortable out of three?? Because he's a massive dork??? Instead of the girl who's literally standing in a towel in a hall with two boys???

Like they put the love of Lockwood's life in a towel in front of him and rather than taking it as an opportunity to objectify her and make her an object of lust, they turned it into an absolutely hilarious moment that showcases not only how much of a dork Lockwood is, but how SAFE Lucy is in that household. Yes it's funny and very awkward but it doesn't broach the sickening feeling of a girl being exposed and unsafe and objectified.

I can't even begin to express how comforting it is, the way this series lets Lucy be safe in this area. I wish I could explain it more clearly but the words aren't wording. Y'all get it.

Can we appreciate that when Parker hears from Hardison that Tara backstabbed the team- her first instinct was to throw her off the roof?

Like this is Parker. The thief who everyone claims is crazy. The thief that can't process emotions and needs help to play pretend. This thief who hasn't really known what family is like- and her first instinct when the people she cares about is being threatened- she wants to get rid of the threat.

Parker cares. She cares about Eliot. She cares about Nate. She cares about Hardison. Nobody gets to take away her family.

Nobody.