#Let's keep this us for this season as well

[empty-like-my-soul]

I feel like I need to add a bit on to this. Normally I Don't do this, but I feel like this concept is so cool that I have to.

So let's talk about the other season with a tiny bit of an economy twist: Season 7.

Now, I'm not gonna talk about how this came to be for reasons, but in season 7 the hermits had to buy space in the shopping district. I think it was 9 diamonds a chunk?

Anyway, they had to put those diamonds into a stack, and later a throne. And unlike the other two, it didn't crash the economy/make it worse.

And that is partially because it didn't mess with the core foundational structure of the Hermitcraft economy. And that structure is abundance. Abundance of diamonds, abundance of suppliers, abundance of supplies.

Yes, sure, it limits some things by the inherent limit of space, and also technically removes some diamonds from the economy, but it encourages that abundance more than it detracts. Albeit less explicitly than other things.

In the scarcity of lots, someone would have to think very hard about what they put on their plot. It needs to be something they really want to put the work into gathering and is generally profitable enough to afford how much they paid for it. If you really want to sell something but it isn't that profitable, just add on another thing to sell of about equal value so you can make the most out of the space! Or, now that the shopping district is full, Sell the extra space on the new real estate market!

More things to sell= more abundance. Plus more likely restocks= more abundance.

The system also encourages variety in two ways: You can either have a lot of small shops with things to sell (more shops=more variety with what they sell+ more competitors for other shops+ more resources to buy) or have a huge shop with lots of variety inside, with possibilities to rent out space. A bigger store generally also means more resources to buy as there is more storage space for them. You also want the prices to be competitive because otherwise nobody will go into your shop and have the possibility of buying other things.

How does it do this? Well, because of the real estate market, you want to get the most bang for your buck! Either way, both of these are very good for abundance.

Finally, it encourages adding more diamonds to the market, what with having so many more things to buy as well as having to pay 1 diamond block for a chunk. You need to mine diamonds to even get started, and you might as well grab some extras while you're at it to buy things with!

More diamonds= more abundance!

Plus there's the other parts about it: the diamond throne never really gets used so it cannot remotely effect the economy. The government that was elected to keep charge of it is a glorified, elected infrastructure company, as that's all that it really does, so it doesn't effect the economy at all. And the limited space encourages the stores to be close together, so people are more likely to shop at multiple because "they're right there".

Effectively, that twist of the Hermitcraft economic system slightly benefited the economy by adding a new market and subtly encouraging people to act in a way that benefits it.

Also, I think it's funny that the real estate market, famously bad, can actually benefit the hermits minorly.

Alright, I think that's the end of my rant. Hopefully this isn't too confusing, and thanks op for reminding me about my thoughts on this. I'm going to be thinking about this for a while now. Sorry for the long addition to the post!

Anyone else thinking about how odd the hermitcraft economy is?

in season 9 they had a minor economic recession after the diamond ore war because there were far too many diamonds in circulation making them (hypothetically) worth less than normal and ren stepped in as the king and did what has been done in the midst of a lot of irl economic depressions; he created a government so they could employ the policy of Keynesian economics (basically more gov't intervention to stabilize the economy, it mostly worked in 1930's japan!), he took control of diamonds and even introduced a new currency, royal emeralds (much like Germany after WW1! they had some hyperinflation because of the war reparations they had to pay and the gov't not understanding that printing more money makes the money worth less resulting in the mark [currency] being so worthless they started burning it because they couldn't afford wood for fires. a new gov't came into power and they replaced the mark with rentenmarks which did a lot of fixificating for the economy). Ren's gov't also introduced a lot of gov't funded projects like the quests (the irl equivalent for this would be Roosevelt's New Deal which introduced policies/projects called the Alphabet Agencies (among other things) such as the AAA, CCC, TVA (do you see why they're called the alphabet agencies?) that would adjust the value of grain so farmers could start earning money for produce again and create work that would support a growing economy, projects like building roads and bridges)

so basically, all the policies ren's government introduced were very logically sound and worked in real life to fix the economy (except that irl the Great Depression only fully ended because WW2 started-), the issue is that hermitcraft is not real life and hermits do not behave like real people, they behave like hermits.

lets start with the hermitcraft economy. unlike the real economy, hermits rarely adjust prices according to how many diamonds are "in circulation". i say this despite the fact grian in a recent-ish episode says that "everything costs more this season because diamonds are more common". that can't be true because the caves and cliffs update literally made diamonds more difficult to acquire. I will circle back to this point made by grian later

hermits not adjusting prices by server-wide abundance of diamonds (because they cant really know how much anyone has, much less the total amount of diamonds in circulation, they just know who has a lot and who is broke) means that more diamonds doesn't make them worth less like it did with German marks, it just means hermits have more expendable currency and can spend more money and less time gathering materials for projects. It is also notable that diamonds are constantly being added and taken out of circulation because they're an actual useful currency rather than real life currencies which are symbolic slips of paper. diamonds can be used for armour and tools and it can be acquired by mining. so because of how hermits spend money, taking diamonds out of the economy in s9 did nothing but make them poor and angry at the government. the hermitcraft economy is actually stronger with more diamonds in circulation and is worsened by gov't intervention.

so already the use of real life strategies is utterly useless in hermitcraft economy but there are a few other reasons as well

the hermits tendency to resist government as well as the flawed and greedy government itself are a couple but also the fact that all the hermits are self employed (in real life but also in universe). they own and stock their own shops meaning all profits are more or less direct; its not passed through hands of big corporations so the person producing the product gets mere cents. the hermits are essentially small business owners (which becomes a bit of a problem come season 10 but we're still talking about season 9). The important part is the self employment. the season 9 gov't introduces the quests which mimic and echo real life government funded projects but because they're all employed and the quests gave small amounts of diamonds back, they did very little for the hermits

I'm sure theres more to say but i think its time to move on to the very interesting season 10 economy

if you've missed it you must be living under a rock but hermits are all using permits this season meaning only one shop in the shopping district is selling any given item/material and as a result of this prices have gone sky high. at one point a single stack of mangrove logs cost 7 diamonds when in previous seasons you could get at least 1 stack of wood for 1 diamond if not more

So what is causing this economic depression and hyperinflation?

well, circling back to the point grian made about resources costing more because of abundance of diamonds, I would think it actually costs more because of the permits.

grian thinks the diamond prices are fair because he has middle of the road permits (and is one of the hermits who designed their shopping district, permit and economic system this season so he's biased), there is enough demand to keep him afloat when he's stocked but its nothing people are clamouring for and buying him out. on the other hand, joel made a lot of shops that no one shops at because his objectively weighted permits have not been selling as well as they anticipated when making the permits (also some people like etho and pearl have additional income from their not as fabulous permits because they've made a pay to play game to go with it) and finally there are hermits like mumbo whose gold, iron and item frame shops were constantly getting bought out so he was frustrated with trying to restock despite getting lots of profit

(another interesting dynamic to think about is permits like cleo's book permit which lost value as the season went on because everyone needed books early on but now that they're all playing late game Minecraft, everyone is pretty stocked up and buying from cleo less often)

Basically, grian is satisfied with the pricing because he's middle class and couldn't afford it if they were more expensive but appreciates not being constantly out of stock, joel is unsatisfied because he is lower class and never has enough expendable currency to fund his projects because materials are too expensive and his permits aren't worth enough to sell them for more, and mumbo is unsatisfied because he is higher class and is constantly out of stock because his materials sell out too often and he wants to sell them for more to stay in stock more (classic supply and demand, he doesn't want to stock them as often making the supply lower and the demand proportionally higher making them worth more and therefore more expensive)

the reason i say the permits are to blame for the high prices is because they cause the responsibility of constantly stocking something to fall on one person (in past seasons, if one persons sandstone shop was out of stock you could go check someone else's sandstone shop). the threat of taking the permit away if they arent stocked along with the difficulty of constantly stocking some of these materials raises the cost.

a great example of this is skizzleman because his mangrove and cherry wood shop was one of the first shops to be built in the shopping district, meaning he somewhat set the prices this season. now, mangrove and cherry are both difficult trees to harvest because of their unconventional shapes and the fact that they are more recent additions (and skizz's stubborn desire to design his own farms...) so because of the time required to gather them the prices already were hitched up. add that to the fact that they are trying to constantly be in stock and therefore low prices that allow hermits to completely buy out the shops are unfavourable, and you get sky rocket-ing prices. (it is also difficult because skizz had no prior experience with hermitcraft pricing)

in conclusion... hermitcraft needs a laissez-faire economy (f. a. hayek) to function and not go into economic depression. Between the nature of the diamond currency, hermits' tendency to rebel against governments, the way they use the concept of supply and demand to price their goods, and the restrictions permits put on supplying products, hermits have proven that extensive structure and government intervention have not improved economic wellbeing the way that it does in real life

thus, hermits do not behave like regular humans, they operate on fae laws of its funny so lets do it and therefore must be governed as such (aka not governed), thank you for coming to my ted talk

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Sideline Chemistry

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Sports Media!Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: As a sports media intern, having to interview Paige for a class project and games should be fun right, but she takes it as an opportunity to shamelessly flirt each time.

As far as internships went, I had a pretty good one. Covering UConn sports for SNY as a student journalist meant I got to attend games, interview players, and build a solid portfolio. But it also came with one huge downside—my current assignment.

Interview Paige Bueckers.

For most people, that wouldn’t be a problem. Paige was an easy-going interview subject, known for her charm and humor. But I wasn’t most people. I was also in her friend group, which meant I had to deal with that version of Paige—the one who lived to tease me, held eye contact for way too long, and always found a way to make me flustered.

I’d prepared a professional approach. Keep it short, ask good questions, and don’t let Paige’s antics get to me.

Too bad she had other plans.

By the time I arrived at the UConn practice gym, most of the team had already left. A few players were still getting shots up, but Paige was leaning against the scorer’s table, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up when she heard my footsteps, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite journalist,” she said, slipping her phone into her hoodie pocket.

I sighed, setting up my camera. “Don’t start, Paige.”

“What? I’m just stating facts.” She stepped closer, resting a hand on her hip. “I feel honored. You could’ve interviewed anyone, but you chose me.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to focus on adjusting my tripod. “I had to choose you. It’s an assignment.”

“Mm-hmm.” Paige rocked back on her heels, watching me work. “Admit it, though—you’re kinda excited.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, totally. This is the highlight of my week.”

She smirked. “See? Told you.”

I shook my head, refusing to let her get under my skin. “Can you just stand over there so I can frame the shot?”

Paige moved to the designated spot, but instead of standing normally, she put her hands in her hoodie pockets and tilted her head, eyes locked on me.

“You’re staring,” I muttered, adjusting the camera settings.

“You look cute when you’re focused.”

My fingers fumbled over the buttons, nearly knocking the camera off its mount. Paige’s quiet laugh filled the space between us.

“Paige,” I warned.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “I’m just being supportive.”

I took a deep breath, trying to reset my brain. Focus. I hit record and lifted my notepad.

“Alright, let’s start. Name, year, position.”

Paige grinned. “You already know all that.”

“It’s for the recording, genius.”

She huffed dramatically but answered. “Paige Bueckers, red shirt senior, guard.”

I nodded. “So, this season’s been a big one for you. Coming back after injury, new team members, leading the team—what’s been the most rewarding part?”

Paige leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on her knees. “Honestly? Just being back on the court with my teammates. The rehab process was tough, but it made me appreciate the game even more. And, you know…” She flashed me a smirk. “It’s nice having my favorite reporter covering it all.”

I kept my expression neutral. “I’m sure you say that to every reporter.”

“Nah. Just you.”

I clenched my jaw, fighting back a smile. “Next question.”

Paige chuckled, clearly enjoying herself.

I went through a few more, mostly straightforward ones about team chemistry, goals for the season, and her personal growth as a player. And, to her credit, Paige answered them seriously—at least, until the end.

“Last question,” I said, scanning my notes. “What’s something people don’t know about you?”

Paige pretended to think. “Hmm. That I’m a great flirt.”

I blinked at her. “Paige.”

“What? It’s true.” She leaned back, giving me a slow once-over. “Want me to prove it?”

I pointed at the camera. “I will put this in the final cut.”

“Oh, please do,” she said, grinning. “Maybe it’ll finally get you to admit you like me.”

My breath caught in my throat. She wasn’t just playing around anymore—there was something different in the way she said it. Confident. Sure.

The air between us shifted.

I looked at her, really looked, and she met my gaze without hesitation. Her blue eyes held mine, steady and unyielding, a challenge wrapped in warmth.

I swallowed hard. “Paige—”

“Say the word,” she murmured, stepping closer. “And I’ll stop messing with you.”

The way she said it—low, teasing, but undeniably sincere—made my brain short-circuit.

A sharp whistle from the other end of the gym shattered the moment. I jolted back, turning off the camera.

“We’re done,” I said quickly.

Paige chuckled. “For now.”

I spent the next couple of days editing the interview, but no amount of technical work could erase the way Paige had looked at me. It didn’t help that our friend group noticed something was off when we met up for a post-practice dinner.

“You’re quiet,” Azzi noted, sipping her drink.

“Just tired,” I lied, stabbing at my fries.

Paige, sitting way too close beside me, leaned in. “Or you’re thinking about something. Or someone.”

I elbowed her. “Stop.”

Kk, sitting across from me, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Paige smirked. “She interviewed me. Got all flustered.”

I groaned. “I was not flustered.”

“Yeah?” Paige tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “So you didn’t almost drop your camera when I complimented you?”

Azzi grinned. “Oh, this is good.”

I shot Paige a glare. “You’re the worst.”

Paige just laughed, draping an arm over the back of my chair. “Nah. I’m your favorite.”

Kk snorted. “Yeah, this is definitely a thing.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Can we change the subject?”

“Fine,” Paige said, nudging my knee under the table. “For now.”

But as the night went on, she stayed close—casual touches, lingering looks, little comments only I could hear.

By the time I left, my heart was pounding.

A week later, my professor praised my interview, and my editor asked if I wanted to do a follow-up feature on Paige.

I hesitated.

Another interview meant more flirting. More of those looks. More of whatever was happening between us.

But before I could think too hard, Paige texted me.

Pb5🙄: So when’s our next interview? Gotta keep my favorite reporter happy.

I stared at my phone, exhaling.

Then, against my better judgment, I replied.

Me: Next home game. Try to behave this time.

Pb5🙄: No promises.

And somehow, I knew she meant it.

The next home game came so quickly, I wasn’t even mentally prepared.

So, when the first half of the game had been intense, UConn leading by only a few points against a tough opponent. Paige had been playing lights-out, and I knew she’d be the one pulled for the halftime interview.

I ran over my questions in my head, reminding myself to stay professional. But when Paige jogged over after the buzzer, sweat on her brow and a grin on her face, I knew I was in trouble.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, eyes glinting as she took her spot next to me.

I swallowed hard, forcing a neutral expression. Professional. Focus.

“Paige, great first half from you,” I started, keeping my voice steady. “What’s been working so well for you and the team so far?”

She wiped her forehead with her jersey before answering. “Honestly, just playing together, trusting each other. The energy is great out there.”

A solid, textbook answer. Good. Maybe she’d keep it normal.

I nodded, moving to my next question. “You’ve been on fire, leading the team with 15 points already. What’s your mindset going into the second half?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, her smile just a little too amused. “Stay aggressive. Keep making plays. And, you know—keep impressing my favorite reporter.”

My breath hitched.

I knew she was doing it just enough to be subtle—flirty, but professional enough to avoid getting in trouble. Still, my ears burned.

I cleared my throat. “Right. Well—uh—” I cursed myself for stumbling, but Paige’s smirk only grew.

She lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Daring me.

I quickly recovered. “What adjustments do you think the team needs to make in the second half?”

Paige took pity on me, answering normally. “Just tightening up on defense, getting stops, and taking smart shots. If we do that, we’ll close this game out strong.”

I nodded, feeling my pulse return to normal. “Thanks, Paige. Good luck in the second half.”

She leaned in slightly, voice lower but still audible on the mic. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

I barely held back a reaction as she jogged off, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

And then I heard the announcers laughing.

I turned my head slightly, realizing the game commentators had been watching the whole thing.

One of them chuckled, “I don’t know about you, but I think Paige might have a favorite reporter for real.”

The other commentator joined in. “She’s got the confidence on the court and off it. That was smooth.”

I wanted to die.

The interview wrapped, and the second half started, but my phone was already blowing up.

Fuzzy Fudd: No way you just let that happen on LIVE TV.

Hey Arnold: Paige Bueckers is NOT real.

Icey B: Not sweetheart on a broadcast—BE FR.

Kayla Wayla: girl. GIRL.

Me: you three shouldn’t even be on your phone rn, like listening to coach fudd about the two man pick n roll p and sar been doing all night.

I groaned, clicking send before stuffing my phone in my pocket. I am never living this down.

UConn won. Of course they did. Paige went on a scoring tear in the second half, finishing with 27 points, and the team dominated the fourth quarter.

By the time I finished post-game coverage, I was exhausted—and dreading seeing our friend group.

But Paige had other plans.

As I packed up my things, she walked over, still in her warmups, a towel draped over her shoulders. “Hey.”

I glanced up, wary. “Hey.”

She grinned. “So, since I was on my best behavior tonight—”

I shot her a look. “Best behavior?”

“Okay, decent behavior,” she corrected. “I think I deserve a reward.”

I sighed. “What do you want, Bueckers?”

Paige shifted closer, lowering her voice just enough that it sent a chill down my spine. “Go on a date with me.”

My brain short-circuited. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” she said smoothly, blue eyes locked onto mine. “A real date. No interviews, no sideline reports—just us.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

She smirked. “You thinking about saying no?”

I exhaled sharply, glaring at her. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” she shot back. “So? What do you say?”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “Fine. One date.”

Paige grinned like she’d just won the national championship.

“Oh, and don’t think you’re off the hook for movie night tomorrow,” she added, nudging my arm. “Kayla said we’re doing a marathon, and you’re not skipping.”

I groaned. “Paige—”

“See you there, sweetheart.” She winked before jogging off, leaving me stunned for the second time that night.

I should have known I wouldn’t make it through the night without getting clowned for the halftime interview.

Kayla’s apartment was packed when I walked in. UConn’s entire women’s basketball team, plus a few extras like me, Sam and Kariny had claimed every available couch, bean bag, and blanket-covered floor space. The lights were dimmed, popcorn bowls were already half-empty, and The Lion King was paused on the screen.

But the second Paige walked in after me, all hell broke loose.

“Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Ice called out, her smirk way too satisfied.

Caroline flexed dramatically from her seat on the floor. “UConn’s power couple has arrived!”

Azzi, the only one who usually kept it low-key, still shot me a knowing look. “I hope you’re ready for tonight.”

Paige just grinned, completely unbothered. I, however, was already regretting this.

We barely made it to an open spot on the floor before Ice turned to the TV. “Hold up, before we start, let’s go over tonight’s highlights.”

She grabbed her phone, tapped something, and suddenly, my own voice echoed through the dorm.

“Paige, great first half from you…”

I froze.

No. No, no, NO.

“ICE, I SWEAR TO GOD—”

“Oh no, let it play,” Paige interrupted, smirking.

The entire room erupted when we got to the part where Paige smoothly said, “Keep impressing my favorite reporter.”

Aubrey wheezed. Kayla facepalmed. Ice was on the floor.

KK pointed dramatically. “AIN’T NO WAY.”

I wanted to die.

“Okay, fun’s over,” I rushed, reaching for Ice’s phone, but Paige just casually leaned back, enjoying the chaos she created.

Azzi chuckled. “Nah, because the announcers even backed her up—‘I think Paige might have a favorite reporter for real.’”

Allie snorted. “THEY WERE ROOTING FOR HER.”

I groaned, sinking further into my spot on the floor. “This is actual harassment.”

Kayla nudged me. “It’s what you get for flirting on live TV and expecting us to ignore it.”

“I WASN’T FLIRTING.”

The entire room answered in unison: “YOU WERE FLIRTING.”

Paige, the devil herself, finally took pity on me. “Alright, alright, let’s focus on something important—like how I carried us to victory tonight.”

That successfully derailed the conversation, as the team started debating plays from the game.

But Paige?

She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “You were flirting, by the way.”

I turned my head sharply, ready to argue, only to be met with those damn blue eyes already on me.

Paige smirked. Held the eye contact.

I swallowed hard.

This girl was going to be the death of me.

Kayla clapped her hands. “Alright, we’re starting the movie! No more flirting in the corner.”

“We’re not—” I started, but KK cut me off.

“Shhh, let them have their little thing.”

I gave up. Completely.

Paige just threw an arm around my shoulders as the movie started, completely unbothered by the attention.

“Hope you like long movie nights,” she murmured.

I huffed, but I didn’t move away.

I was doomed. So, so doomed.

And, somehow, I didn’t mind one bit.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[boycottnocturneop55n1]

DOUBLE LIFE || part 1

You’re the heiress of a wealthy family, a well-known member of Monaco’s world of the rich and famous, but you have a secret job you do mostly for fun–you’re a high-class escort. After Max hires you for an event, things get out of hand and your best friend, Charles, finds out about your double life.

pairing: client!Max Verstappen x escort!reader || tags: high-class escort!reader, bff!Charles || wc: 3.1k

note: I decided to break this story into a few parts. I hope you’ll like it, see you next time

The things that happen in luxurious hotels and penthouses around the world are the best kept secrets in your life. Discretion is a must in your line of work, and Monaco is the perfect place to operate without an issue.

No one bats an eye if they see someone rich and influential at an event with you. You’re just a spoiled, social butterfly heiress with an expensive taste in clothes and men. Simple enough, isn’t it? 

In reality, you provide your company to men who are willing to pay enough for it. Yes, to put it simply, you’re a high-class escort. It’s just a job that happens to be fun too if you can be picky with your clientele. There are only a handful of men you’re willing to be with to make sure the press and nosy gossip girls don’t suspect a thing.

There’s only one man you would never go out with, yet some gossip sites tend to write about your secret relationship. No wonder, Charles and you have been attached by the hip since your younger days, and you’ve been there by his side during the biggest milestones in his life.

Now that the season is over, you hide in his apartment for a few days to cocoon under a blanket on the couch while you binge-watch movies and TV shows. 

“How about the John Wick movies next?” you ask when the last episode of Money Heist: Korea ends in your Money Heist franchise marathon.

He lets out a thoughtful hum as he browses the Netflix catalogue. “Why don’t we stay in Korea? Maybe Squid Game?” 

With a sigh, you slide a little lower on the couch. “Getting ready for the next season?” you ask with a humorless chuckle. Charles shrugs with a cheeky grin, then starts the first episode anyway. 

Two episodes in, your phone beeps. Then it beeps again. You pick it up from the coffee table to mute it, but when you see the encrypted app you use with your clients, you realize this is something you should deal with now. 

Careful not to let your friend see it, you open the app, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep a straight face upon seeing the name of the sender.

Max: Hey. We need to talk. Can you come over tonight?

Max: I need a favor. A special favor.

Okay, so if this was just a friendly request, he wouldn’t use the app, the very channel that only clients know about. 

You: I’ll send you a message when I have an ETA. 

Max: Okay.

Before locking the phone, you take a quick look at the clock. You still have a few hours left, but you need to get ready so you can meet him in top form in case he has plans for tonight. 

You hear a scream from the TV, but your gaze is fixed on your friend, your brain kicked into overdrive as you try to figure out what excuse to use. Normally, you would say you’re meeting a friend, but this time it’s Max, so you can imagine his reaction if he found out.

“Charles, I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go,” you spit out eventually as you peel off the blanket.

A crease forms on his forehead as he watches you with narrowed eyes. “Where? You said you’re free until the end of the week,” he points out.

True. You did promise to stay with him while his girlfriend is away for work, but you have work to do too. Your job isn’t exactly predictable, clients show up quite unexpectedly sometimes.

Forcing an apologetic smile on your face, you lean over to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “But you love me, and there will be no hard feelings if I leave for a few hours, right? After all, you’ll leave for the gala too.”

“Promise you’ll come back tonight,” he says, giving you the puppy eyes even Leo would be jealous of.

For a few seconds you only watch him as you bite your cheek from the inside, but then you nod. “Fine. If I don’t return before midnight–”

“I can call the cops.”

“No. I’ll send you a text to let you know I’m swinging by tomorrow morning to say goodbye,” you clarify. 

A groan leaves him as he puts up his hands in defeat, but then his trademark boyish smile is back in its place. “Alright, but if there’s no text and you’re not here, I’m gonna break into your apartment,” Charles promises with a shrug.

You wave goodbye and head to the garage where you left your car, ready to return home for a quick makeover. Hair and makeup, then a longer process to pick the right pieces of clothing. You don’t want anything revealing, but you can’t be serious either. Luckily, you have the perfect set in mind by the time you enter your apartment.

The last time you were riding the elevator to the floor he lived on, you were surrounded by the happy chatter of friends, but tonight was different, the silence that sat heavy between the metal walls was slowly suffocating you. Halfway up you glanced at your watch and saw that your heart rate skyrocketed in the past minute or so, giving away just how nervous you were.

You had mutual friends; friends you didn’t want to know about this double life of yours. Now that Max knew your secret–the very man who was known for not being good at keeping them–the danger of being exposed was bigger than ever. 

Even though the door opens with a high-pitched ping, you remain inside, deliberating what to do, but then you take a deep breath to brace yourself and step outside. Just a quick conversation, nothing more, and you can say no if you don’t want to do it. Right now? Right now you’re sure you’ll say no. His relationship with your best friend changed a lot for the better over the years, but if you showed up on Max’s side anywhere, Charles would surely lose it.

Then again…

He’s a client, not a friend. He’s a client, not a friend. He’s a client, not a friend.

As you approach his door, you keep repeating this sentence like a mantra. You need to separate the Max you know from the Max who’s waiting for you inside. He contacted you through the secure app, so he talked to the agency that gave him the details. He’s a client, not a friend.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” you hear his familiar accent from the end of the hallway. 

With a smile, you quicken your steps and slip inside the apartment when he moves aside to let you in. You don’t go to the living room right away, you stop a few steps from the door and wait there for him, your hands clasped together in front of you with your nails digging into your skin to fight the nervousness. 

There’s silence between you, even after he turns the lock on the door, but neither of you hurries to break it. He looks unsure, as if he didn’t know just how to start this conversation with you, but you can’t blame him, it must be just as weird for him as it is to you.

Suddenly, you feel something soft bumping into your leg, which is followed by loud meowing from behind you. Even his cats decided to speak sooner than him, you think. Your lips part just a bit so you can suck in some air, then you put an award-winning smile on your lips.

“Maybe we should go inside,” you say, deciding to guide the conversation so he can ease into it. 

He nods, then leads you into the living room you’ve been in several times in the past, but this is a new situation, this is the first time you’re here for work. Once you both sit down on the couch next to each other, you reach for the glass of wine he prepared and turn back to him.

“So, you wrote you need a special favor,” you begin calmly as you swirl the wine in the glass. “Could you tell me more about that?”

“It’s been a bit over three months since I broke up with my last girlfriend–but you already know that, I guess. With all the recent drama, my publicist thinks it would be a good idea if I didn’t attend the FIA prize-giving gala alone,” he tells you, carefully choosing every word.

A thoughtful hum leaves your lips, although it’s not a sign of your brain processing his words, its purpose is to make him go on. 

“Since I’ve been single since then, he suggested this escort agency where I could hopefully find someone who can pose as my girlfriend for a few weeks.” He stops for a moment, and a cheeky grin spreads across his face as he watches you. “Imagine my surprise when I saw your profile.”

“So, you’re looking for the girlfriend experience? Well, fake girlfriend experience,” you correct yourself before taking a sip of your wine.

“Yeah. I picked you because I’ve known you since we were kids. You’re Charles’ best friend, we can say we got closer during the races you attended this season,” he points out, then looks down at the gin and tonic in his hand. “I’d rather not pick a stranger for this job, you know?”

Nodding, you take a deep breath as you consider this gig. It’s already bad that he knows your secret, but being seen on his side would put the rumor mill in action. The reigning world champion dating his childhood rival’s closest friend? Yeah, that could be big. Maybe a bit too big to your liking. 

“Are you one hundred percent sure this is what you want?” you ask with a pointed look, but he looks confused for a second. “If you picked some random girl from the agency’s database, the press and the fans would file the girl as another influencer or model and move on in a day or two. But we don’t know how they would react to me.”

“Because of Charles.” You nod, and he lets out a sigh at this. “I know it’s risky, I know how bad it might look for you if we ended this after two or three public appearances, but we can always say it didn’t work out and we remained friends,” he tries. 

A short laugh escapes your lips upon hearing him say this. It’s kind of adorable how much thought he has put into this already. “If I understood you right, I would attend the FIA Gala with you,” you begin, holding a pause to let him nod in confirmation. “What else?”

A big, boyish smile appears on his face. “I already decided that. Christmas and a short trip between the holidays. The official story would be the two of us agreeing to start the new year apart,” he explains the plan with a shrug.

Slowly, you put the glass on the coffee table and stand up to walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to look at the coastline. When you arrived, you wanted to say no. Well, you still want to say no. But seeing how alive he became the moment he presented the other two dates for the public appearances, you kinda began to feel bad for him.

He actually spent time figuring this out, and what he said made sense, there was no real reason to say no. Your friendship wasn’t even that strong, you wouldn’t suffer that much if the two of you decided never to speak to each other again. 

Maybe Charles wouldn’t be happy, but he wouldn’t turn his back on you for good. Well, at least you hope he wouldn’t. 

“Alright, let’s do this,” you say when you finally turn back to him.

Max quietly celebrates with a wide grin on his face, then raises his glass. “Thank you. Seriously, you’re saving my ass with this one,” he adds.

Nodding, you walk back to the couch and pick up your bag. “I’ll call the agency and tell them I agreed to take the job. You’re taking the jet to the gala, right?” 

“Of course. Why?”

“We’ll discuss the details of the other two occasions on the plane tomorrow. When and where should I meet you?” you ask, turning the conversation to a more practical direction.

“I’ll pick you up at eight in the morning. You know, I have some community service duties tomorrow,” he adds with a roll of his eyes. 

Even though you nod with a smile, you’re not entirely happy on the inside. At this time tomorrow, you’ll be at the gala on Max’s side, which won’t go unnoticed by your best friend. But Charles can keep his cool, he’s not going to make a scene in front of the cameras. No, he will wait until you make it back to Monaco, then he’ll corner you to get an answer out of you.

Or you could try to do some early damage control and give him the heads up about the plan. 

Yes, that’s what you should do. 

“Do you mind if I tell Charles I’ll be there tomorrow?” you ask hesitantly. 

Max gives you a surprised look. “If you’re not telling him I hired you, then sure. But why do you have to tell him?”

“Because Alex is away for work, and he asked me to go with him, but I said no,” you begin to explain. “It would be weird if I randomly showed up and bumped into him there, don’t you think?” 

“Sure, that makes sense.”

You flash a thankful smile at him, then pat him on the shoulder gently. “See you tomorrow, then,” you tell him sweetly, then walk out of the apartment. 

“Charles?” you ask hesitantly after you step inside.

The apartment is covered in darkness, but if he has gone to sleep, why did he leave the front door open? It doesn’t make sense, he’s not that irresponsible. For a moment, you wonder if there’s a blackout, but then you remember the whole apartment building is swimming in light.

Then what’s going on?

When you turn around to reach for the light switch, though, you hear loud footsteps behind you before a pair of strong arms wrap around your body to pull you against a firm chest. You yelp from the surprise, but when you hear the familiar laughter in your ear, you let out a groan.

“Charles, dammit!” 

He playfully bites your neck, then lets you go. “That’s what you get for coming back so late,” your soon-to-be ex best friend says with a playful grin. 

Because you’ll either kill him for this stupid joke, or he’ll simply go no-contact after finding out about you and Max. Either way, no cell in your body wishes to have the upcoming conversation, but you know he has the right to know. 

“Late night snack?” he asks you when he reaches the kitchen and begins to open the cabinets to find something that catches his eye.

Instead of answering, you go after him and hop on the kitchen island. “Is this compatible with your diet?” 

Charles snorts, then he shrugs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “The season has just ended, I can cheat every once in a while,” he replies before he stuffs a smaller muffin into his mouth. 

It’s truly fascinating how he can do that, but you’ve already seen him look like a chubby-faced hamster several times when you were small kids, so you’re not that surprised to see such a stunt. When he reaches for the box to get another one, you decide to pick the one he’s been eyeing.

“Hey, I wanted to eat that one!”

With a laugh, you shrug, but just a few seconds later your good mood melts away and you let out a sigh. When he gives you a questioning look, you gather the strength to speak up and tell him what’s about to happen.

“Charles, there’s something you should probably hear now, so you won’t find it out tomorrow evening along with everyone else,” you begin hesitantly. 

“What is it?”

“I’m going to the gala too,” you say quietly, then add, “with Max.”

He slowly puts down the muffin he has just bitten into, his eyes fixed on you the whole time. “For real? Why?”

Because he pays me to play his girlfriend, you think, biting back the sentence that wants to slip out. Instead you take a deep breath before speaking up again. “He asked me out and I agreed to join him,” you say simply. 

Charles sits on the counter across from you, squinting at you as if he wasn’t sure you weren’t kidnapped by aliens. “This is unexpected,” he notes slowly, suspiciously, but that doesn’t bother you, you were expecting it. 

The silence that settles between the two of you isn’t as awkward as you expected it to be. As you’re watching your friend, you eventually realize that he’s not mad, he’s just surprised, and he takes this time to process what he’s just heard. So, you decide to remain silent and wait for him to think this through before saying his final verdict. 

After what feels like an eternity, he picks up the half-eaten muffin and takes another bite. “You know, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes,” Charles tells you casually, his good mood suddenly returning. “I mean, you talked a lot during the last few races of the season, I should have seen it coming.”

You let out a sigh as you think about it, and in the end a quiet chuckle leaves you. Thinking back, you really did talk a lot, although it was usually Max explaining something and you listening carefully. Either way, this time, it was nothing more but a job. He’s a client, not a friend, you repeat your earlier mantra.

“So, you don’t mind?” 

He shrugs and jumps off the counter, but his green eyes don’t leave you for a second. A minute or two passes in silence, but then a wide smile spreads across his face. “All I know is that if he hurts you, I’ll punch him so hard his nose might break,” he states with a shrug, then walks to the living room and gets comfortable on the couch with the remote in hand. “Come on, we still have most of the season ahead of us.”

And just like that, things are back to normal.

For now, at least.

[rockabyedaisy]

Respectfully in saying this, it wasn't just because he SAID it, it was also the because the show in Season 1 made sure to SHOW Silco treating Jinx as a daughter. Arguably from all the way back at the end of Act 1.

When he let her scribbled things on his desk, when he was patient enough to talk to her about what happened at Progress Day, keeping Vi away from her, cradeling Jinx's burnt body at the bridge, carrying her all the way to Singed's office by himself, the kiss on her forehead. All these may not mean much in context, but people are allowed to still interpret their relationship as parental because those moments speaks to us as parental love. A writer's interpretation can and even will be very different to the reader's, as encouraged to do so.

What Linke is saying here is that Silco didn't necessarily think of Jinx as a daughter. This implies this at some point he finally did when he first took her in but there is more to it from the times Jinx was working for him . He sees her as his soldier, as a confidante ("You're the only one I can trust with this Jinx"), a weapon to utilize against his enemies, even a trophy to show off on how he conquered against Vander's influence and leadership in Zaun.

Silco did see Jinx as his daughter, but with him being an unreliable narrator, he also saw her as much more than that. Their relationship was messy, codependent, toxic. But so are many loving relationships in real life and in fiction as well. That's why it was easy to believe him saying that he did because it did not come out of nowhere. Besides, Linke wasn't the only write in Arcane so it's possible other writers would disagree with him.

Someone get Christian Linke off the mic please im begging

[lotties-ashwagandha]

IT FOLLOWS

lottie matthews x fem!reader x natalie scatorccio (adult timeline)

although you’re looking for a fresh start, you reconnect with your favorite married couple at the wellness center (plane crash reader). 2.6k words. NSFW at the end. im taking it back to season two rn oopsie poopsie I miss the cult!

“Don’t,” Lottie throws open the kitchen window. “Not inside.”

Natalie makes no move to put out the cigarette. She takes a drag, savoring the bitter smoke. It’s an old habit, one she has failed to drop, though cigarette supply is meager here.

Lottie pulls the cigarette from her hands. She moves to put it out — yet after a moment she pauses, leans back against the kitchen counter, and takes a drag herself.

“What?” Nat tilts her head. “Ashwagandha can’t fix this, too?”

Lottie doesn’t respond. She turns her gaze out the window to the wellness center beyond, to the cabin that you’ve been set up in.

“You didn’t kidnap her,” Nat tries again for a reaction. “You have that going for you.”

The cigarette burns between Lottie’s fingers. Her gaze is still fixed on the cabin.

Nat sighs, stepping forward and taking the cigarette back. She puts it out on an ashtray Lottie has told her an excruciating amount of times is unsanitary to keep in the kitchen, takes Lottie’s hands in her own and at last finds solace when Lottie’s eyes meet hers. She runs her thumbs over the rings adorning the woman’s hands. The newest addition: a band on Lottie’s ring finger with a small diamond, courtesy of Natalie herself.

“Go talk to her,” Natalie urges.

“Talk to her?” Lottie echoes. “And say what?”

Natalie shrugs. “It’s been years. Ask her where she’s been, what she’s done.” Natalie smiles, “explain the benefits of maca root.”

“I never knew you were so socially adept,” Lottie snaps. “Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“Am I looking out the window woefully?”

You’re given a start by a knock at your cabin door. You stand over the bags you brought in the small bedroom, now deprived of any clothing that’s not heliotrope, organizing your belongings in the bare space.

Another knock at the door — you abandon the mess, preparing yourself for another neighbor coming to welcome you.

Lottie looms over you in the doorway. She bears a look of unsureness, uncharacteristic of her usually tranquil manner, and it only seems to grow when you welcome her inside.

Lottie scans the cabin — everything is in place, untouched, yet it holds a different air now that you occupy it. It smells of your perfume, and the curtains have been opened to let in the sharp afternoon light.

You sit down at the small dining table by a window, but Lottie stays standing. She looks you over. The years have changed you, sharpened your features with age and put new wisdom in the way you watch her. She wants to know where it comes from.

“We haven’t gotten a chance to catch up yet,” she starts. She feels the silence heavily between you, years lost and alienating. “I haven’t seen you since…”

Since we were rescued.

“How have you been?” Lottie asks, a more casual way of saying: What have you done with your life?

“I started my own business,” you try. It’s anything to sound extraordinary, as if your grand enterprise wasn’t a shitty coffee shop that had barely scraped by until you closed it a few years ago and moved on. “I’ve been working, trying to move past what happened, like the rest.”

“Is that why you’re here? Are you still trying to move past it?”

You can’t answer. You don’t have a good reason yet for why you’re here, why you have come back to a remote location at the edge of the wilderness in an attempt to escape from it. You can’t tell her either that you never realized she owned the wellness center, and that the whole reason you came here was to evade the rest of your life in the closest portal to isolation.

“It will never leave us,” Lottie says. You try not to hear the reverence in her voice. “As long as you run, it will follow.”

The cabin door opens again, and someone else joins you.

“Natalie,” you stand. You don’t know how to speak to her, either of them, or how to comprehend how small you feel in contrast — you remember the harsh winter they led the rest of you through. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“This doesn’t seem to you like a place I would naturally be swayed to?” Natalie asks playfully. “I don’t look like the smoothie-sipping type?”

You catch a flash of her wedding ring, and instinctively you scan Lottie’s hands as well — a matching ring, and if it weren’t enough for you to draw conclusions with, Natalie confirms your suspicions.

“Lottie roped me in,” she says. “Turned me into a hippie.”

“You’re still a long way from tree hugging,” Lottie retorts. The way she gravitates towards Nat is natural, domesticity reflexive when she takes Natalie’s hand. Something aches in you at the sight.

“How about you?” Nat asks you. “Why a wellness retreat?”

“I wanted a fresh start,” you say. Yet as you consider them, symbolic of every haunting remnant of your past, you know a fresh start won’t find you here.

Natalie has read your mind. “This hasn’t turned out to be the best place for a fresh start so far, has it?”

You look between them anxiously.

“If you give up on that,” she continues, “on wanting a fresh start, then come by sometime. I’ve figured out a system of smuggling liquor in here.”

“Look at me,” Natalie orders. As they lay together Nat holds herself up on an elbow, looking down at Lottie. “What are you thinking about?”

Lottie reaches up, a hand trailing over Nat’s features, pushing a strand of short brown hair behind her ear.

“For someone who runs self-reflection, peace and love, express-yourself-openly programs, you’re not much of a communicator,” Natalie murmurs.

Lottie smiles softly, brows furrowing. “What does that mean?”

“You’re thinking about her again.”

“You have been thinking about her, too,” Lottie says, tone newly defensive.

“I have,” she agrees. Before she can speak again, Lottie weaves a hand into her hair and pulls her down to kiss her. Nat shifts, straddling her waist, breaking away from the kiss to nip at her jaw and neck.

“She hasn’t mentioned anyone,” Lottie says, gasping when Nat bites down particularly hard on a previous and fading mark on her chest from the other night. “A wife, a husband…”

Natalie hums in response, moving back up to kiss her. Her hands trail along the other woman’s body, casual as they map their way down, almost domestic. Comfortable — yet she still feels her own heartbeat pick up in the way Lottie’s breath hitches at her touch.

You take Natalie up on her offer of ‘smuggled’ alcohol a few nights later. You last through one group meditation at the wellness center before you’re meeting her in the cabin at sunset with a bottle between you. It’s not your proudest moment, the best coping mechanism — but after attempting Lottie’s for an hour, Natalie’s is worth a try.

“Group meditation isn’t your thing?” Natalie asks. “You don’t like to… what does she make you do? Count sheep?”

“How are you evading the meetings?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink. “You’re married. I would think Lottie would have you signed up for everything.”

“Marriage condition,” Nat smiles. “I get to make fun of her wellness center. She gets to shame me for smoking and drinking.”

It’s that rhythm you find yourself drawn into — meditations with Lottie, drinks with Natalie, finding space with them together in between. Over the weeks you grow closer to them, a fate you rue and one you feel inexplicably whole in. Your desire for a fresh start has been nearly abandoned under their attention.

You suspect it is far from one-sided, however. Lingering touches catch your breath. The way they always seem to hover over you, studying you, drinking in your presence as something new to indulge in.

It comes to a head after you join them for dinner one night, a few weeks into staying at the wellness center. Drinks are passed around as you sit at the dining room table, an expensive wine Lottie opened in a celebration of your time here.

“After the first couple of weeks, most people find an excuse to leave,” Lottie explains. “They’re scared of what they will find in themselves if they stay. You persist.”

“Like you always used to,” Natalie says, a soft smile gracing her lips.

You take a sip of your wine as you try to formulate a response — you don’t want to talk about the past, but it chases you. It is represented in the two women in front of you, whom you feel closer to now than ever and have found a home with again. It comes natural to you to share your life with them — it did in the wilderness, and it does now.

“It brought you here,” Lottie says suddenly.

You shake your head. “I don’t believe in it.”

“You don’t have to.”

Even if you were brought here by divinity, you are blind to it. Maybe that is why you are here: to find it again, to feel it in the love they gaze upon you with, to reconnect with what you have been running from, to see it in the eyes of the two who led you through the wilderness and know that to some extent it has chosen you, too.

“It’s all bullshit, right?” Natalie smiles, standing and coming over to lean against the table next to you, between you and where Lottie sits at the head of it. “Who believes in divine guidance?”

“That’s not fair. Divine guidance is different from the wilderness. In any case, you don’t believe in any of it.”

She shrugs. There’s too little skepticism in her face to really convince you of your own claim. She sighs, looking between you and her wife wordlessly.

Lottie stands, and so do you. You are not entirely sure what’s happening, but you want to be on your feet for it.

“What do you believe in?” Lottie asks. She stands too close, watches you too profoundly, reads you in a way so intimate — your thoughts are laid bare and betrayed by your own eagerness for the unnameable thing that grows between the three of you. She already knows.

You kiss her. Gently but with desperation until a wave of panic rushes through you at the possibility of her disapproval and you pull back — but then her hand loops to the back of your neck and demands you back to her. Hunger burns in her touch, less restrained than yours, pulling you against her and doing all she can to persuade you to stay.

“Infidelity!” Natalie exclaims. You pull away and look beside you. She still leans back against the table. She catches your gaze and raises her eyebrows. “You just kissed my wife.”

“No,” you panic, “I didn’t mean—”

“I should divorce you right now, Lottie.”

“Fuck, Nat,” Lottie steps back. “Stop it, you’re making her nervous.”

Natalie comes toward you, and without a second thought she kisses you, hands planting at your hips. In the force of it you falter back a step but she follows, guiding you into a state of mindlessness as her lips claim yours.

“Infidelity,” Lottie’s claim breaks up the kiss and distracts Natalie just long enough for her to pull you back to her. She is less gentle than last time, only breaking to guide you into their shared bedroom.

You’re so blinded by them that you’re not sure who pulls off your shirt or unclasps your bra or who pushes you down onto the bed, but it doesn’t matter — your only concern is them, that tonight you make up for a lifetime of feeling so distant from their love, and that finally it washes over you.

Natalie nearly shoves Lottie off of you to take her place straddling you, hands roaming your body as she kisses and bites down your chest, sucking one of your nipples into her mouth and eliciting a soft gasp from you.

When you glance at Lottie beside you, her expression is displeased — she is used to being the one to guide and demand, and to be shoved to the side in Nat’s pursuit of you has stirred something in her. Yet your attention is pulled away from her by the way Natalie moves down further, kissing down your abdomen in a hurried but still reverent manner that has a new boost of adrenaline coursing through you. You don’t notice Lottie get up from bed as Natalie reaches your thighs, sucking and biting marks into them as she tries to hold you still beneath her.

“Hold still,” she threatens, “or I’ll stop.”

“Good,” Lottie says from somewhere across the room. “Stop and let me have her.”

Natalie bites down hard on your inner thigh before her restraint is broken and she can’t resist the craving to taste you, tongue running through your folds before focusing on your clit. Her tongue against you pulls a sharp moan from you, and you try your best to keep from squirming, but every moment you spend beneath her lets your euphoria grow. She works a finger into you, and then another, working you with her hunger.

You register Lottie coming up onto the bed beside you again. Instinctively you reach for her, but instead of joining you she shifts over to Nat, and that’s when you notice the harness around her waist and what has been strapped to it, bigger than you can usually handle.

Lottie runs a hand down Nat’s back, giving her pause, and you release an impatient sigh. Lottie meets your eyes, pulls Natalie up by the hair until she’s sitting up on her knees, and kisses her. She moans into it, tasting you on her wife’s lips, until in a not-so-subtle motion she pushes Natalie aside in the same way Nat had done to her.

Lottie comes up to kiss you, bathed in new serenity now that she has you to herself. “You’re ours, now,” she murmurs, before repositioning to line up to you with the strap-on. Her hands run over you softly now that she has what she’s wanted, pushing into you gently and savoring the moans you bless her with.

When morning comes, you find yourself tangled in the two of them. No one took care to shut the curtains before you went to bed, leaving the sunrise visible when you sit up from between them and look over Natalie’s shoulder. Deep crimson shades burn onto the horizon as the sun claims a new day, and as you watch its ascent an overwhelming sense of peace takes hold of you.

You unwind yourself from the two of them. Carefully you slide out your legs, and though it’s hard to find a way out of bed with them on either side of you, you manage to slip away into the hall without waking them. You tell yourself they won’t mind you using their coffee pot to brew you a cup or ten, and once you’ve borrowed a mug you find your way out to the back porch.

The porch faces the woods, quiet in the morning apart from the birds calling through the trees. You were right in coming here, you suspect — these woods are nothing like what you knew before. These trees are peaceful, they do not scream.

After a while you hear kitchenware clinking from inside. A minute later the glass patio door slides open and Lottie joins you with her own cup of coffee. In the face of your exhaustion she looks rejuvenated, at peace as she takes a seat in the wicker patio chair beside yours.

She takes a sip of her coffee before turning to meet your gaze. “Are you still searching for it?”

You tilt your head in question.

“Your fresh start.”

You smile. You sigh, and though your resolve has been broken a thousand ways, you shake your head. “No… Not anymore.”

HI thank you for reading :) im so happy yellowjackets is back to post for wtf???

and now my favs ever the yellowjackets taglist: @webism @chaithetics @ahauandthesun whenever I add a taglist to smut I feel like im standing naked in someone’s house but we persevere.

that’s all that’s all comments and reblogs are always appreciated and pls send any yellowjackets thoughts in my inbox it has awakened my autism once more!

[thania002]

——————————————————————————

Ultraviolence - F.W

- ‘Ultraviolence’ by Lana Del Rey -

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

warnings : fluff, overprotective!fred, no use of y/n

summary : Before his Quidditch match, Fred Weasley noticed Cormac McLaggen watching his girlfriend a little too closely. Not one to let things slide, Fred strode over and, without a word, slipped his oversized Quidditch hoodie over her head. As Cormac scowled in defeat, Fred placed a soft kiss on her temple and grabbed his broom,leaving her wrapped in his scent and warmth, grinning as she decided she’d be keeping the hoodie on all night.

AN : i just can’t stop writing fluff for both twins, i swear they hold a special place in my heart. anyways, thinking ‘bout posting fics bout marauders!

“heaven is on earth”

The raucous hum of the Gryffindor common room reverberated against the ancient stone walls, a medley of excitement and last-minute strategizing for the impending Quidditch match.

Fred Weasley, ever the embodiment of infectious confidence, lounged with an effortless charm that belied the electric anticipation surging through his veins. The scent of well-worn leather, broom polish, and the crisp autumn air drifted through the open window, mingling with the warm flicker of the hearth.

Among the sea of scarlet and gold, Fred’s gaze unfailingly sought one singular presence—her. His girlfriend, radiant as ever, nestled on the plush couch, entirely unaware of the way his heartbeat faltered whenever she so much as shifted in her seat.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one watching her.

Fred’s jaw clenched as he caught sight of Cormac McLaggen across the room, the arrogant tilt of his head and the smarmy glint in his eye making his intentions painfully clear.

The way Cormac leaned against the armrest, the unsubtle glances he kept tossing in her direction—it all sent a slow burn simmering in Fred’s chest.

Oh, absolutely not.

Striding over with the ease of a seasoned strategist, Fred didn’t hesitate before plopping down beside her, one arm draping across her shoulders in a way that was both nonchalant and unmistakably possessive.

She looked up at him with those enchanting eyes, a smirk already tugging at her lips as she took in his expression.

“Freddie, darling,” she purred teasingly, tilting her head. “You look a bit... ruffled.”

He scoffed, pressing a fleeting kiss to her temple. “Ruffled? Nah, love. Just making sure my girlfriend isn’t being pestered by some overconfident sod who fancies himself charming.”

Her chuckle was a melody he’d gladly listen to for eternity. “You mean Cormac?” she asked, feigning innocence. “He’s just being friendly.”

Fred narrowed his eyes, a playful glint of challenge dancing within them. “Friendly, my arse. He’s eyeing you like you’re the Snitch, and trust me, I know exactly how that looks.”

Before she could tease him further, Fred straightened, a sudden idea illuminating his freckled face.

With the exaggerated air of a man making an exceedingly important decision, he pulled off his Quidditch hoodie—the very one emblazoned with Weasley in bold gold lettering across the back—and, with a flourish, tugged it over her head.

The fabric, infused with warmth from his body and the lingering scent of his cologne, cocooned her immediately.

It was oversized on her, the sleeves falling past her fingertips, the hem reaching mid-thigh, and Merlin, did she look good in it. His name. His hoodie. His girl.

Her brows shot up in amused surprise. “And what exactly is this for?”

Fred leaned in, voice dropping to a murmur only she could hear. “Marking my territory, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

She giggled, tugging the hood up dramatically. “Oh, so now you’re the jealous type?”

He grinned, waggling his brows. “When it comes to you? Always.”

Just then, Cormac’s gaze flickered toward them, and the way his expression twisted into barely concealed disappointment was delightful.

Fred smirked in satisfaction, wrapping an arm around her waist before planting a rather conspicuous kiss against her cheek.

“You’re insufferable,” she murmured, though the adoration in her tone betrayed her words.

“And you love it.” He grinned, then tapped the bold lettering on her back. “Now be a good luck charm and keep that on, yeah? Gotta win this game for my girl.”

She rolled her eyes but tightened her grip on the hoodie’s soft fabric, inhaling the familiar scent of him. “You’re ridiculous.”

He grinned. “Ridiculously in love with you, maybe.”

As he stood, grabbing his broom and preparing to head to the pitch, she watched him go, her heart thrumming with an undeniable warmth. Fred Weasley, for all his mischief and bravado, was utterly and irrevocably hers.

And as she caught Cormac’s resigned expression once more, she decided—maybe she would keep the hoodie on for the rest of the evening.

“i would do anything for you, baby”

[joeliz99]

"You, Always." - Danny Ramirez

Warnings: Slowburn, RPF Fic, Multi-part series

(In case you missed the first chapter, click here)

Part One

Time to start over.

Second Chapter

February 20. Three years prior. Two different people. 

Nobody expected them to become such close friends. Sure, both (Y/N) and Danny had naturally easy-going personalities, and they were good at making friends, but it wasn’t obvious at first why they clicked so well. Time passed, and somehow, they just fit.

They only had one class together, but they shared a solid group of mutual friends.

(Y/N) was a couple of years younger than most in their circle. She'd transferred from abroad to attend NYU Tisch, pursuing her passion for the Institute of Recorded Music.

Danny, on the other hand, had transferred from Miami after realizing he wanted more than just picking up random acting gigs for cash. He wanted to perform. But that didn’t mean giving up sports. If anything, sports had always been his first love. So, he joined the football team.

There were only three games left in his final season before graduation. That Saturday, everyone gathered to watch him play in one of them. The field was packed with fans, both sides screaming as the second half kicked off.

You could see the players weaving across the field, coordinating in real-time, dodging tackles as they pushed forward. Danny was in his element, shifting his body to avoid opponents, eyes locked on the end zone. He stretched his arms wide, ready to catch the ball as it soared toward him—and he did.

The roar from the NYU crowd surged around him. His friends cheered from the stands, urging him on, though the noise barely reached him over the rush of adrenaline.

“Come on, Danny! Let’s goooo!”

Everything was perfect—until it wasn’t.

It came fast. First, he felt the impact. A collision—his body slammed against a larger, heavier frame. Everything blurred for a moment as his body crashed to the ground, dragging the other player with him. The ball slipped from his hands.

A tense silence followed before a sharp scream cut through the air. Danny's hand shot to his shoulder, his face twisted in agony as pain exploded through his body. His teammates rushed to him, but the crowd’s energy faltered, replaced by uneasy murmurs.

On the bleachers, Yason’s face twisted into a frown, his body tensing.

“Something’s wrong.” (Y/N) stood up, eyes fixed on the field as the medical team rushed toward Danny. “Guys, he’s not okay.”

“Come on.” Yason was already moving, the rest of the group following suit.

Chaos broke out. Some players argued with the ref, accusing the other team of a dirty hit. The assistant coach had to step in to calm things down. Meanwhile, Danny was carefully lifted onto a stretcher, his arm and shoulder stabilized.

It wasn’t looking good. The decision was made. He needed immediate medical attention.

The paramedics, already standing by, exchanged positions with the athletic trainers. They spoke in hushed tones as they assessed Danny. A fracture could be involved. He was out for the rest of the game.

“Can one of us go with him?” Amelia’s voice cracked as she asked, her face twisted in worry. She followed the group down the steps toward the field, urgency in her step.

“One of the trainers is going with him,” Yason replied, not missing a beat. “We’ll meet them at the hospital.”

“And how are we supposed to get there, Yason?” someone asked, their voice tight with frustration. (Y/N) didn’t answer. Instead, she fell into step with the paramedics, keeping close behind them as they made their way off the field. Danny lay on the stretcher, his face pale, sweat clinging to his skin, his features twisted with pain. His eyes were shut tight, his frustration evident, but he still didn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Hey, Danny. It’s okay.” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet but firm. He didn’t look at her, his jaw clenched tight. The anger, the pain, the sadness swirled together on his face. But she didn’t need him to answer. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll see you at the hospital.”

It didn’t take long before most of the group piled into an Uber heading to the hospital that had been chosen to treat Danny. The atmosphere was thick with tension; everyone was on edge, worried about his condition. Getting any information out of the nurses was a challenge—they only spoke with the assistant coach, who, for now, was the one legally responsible for Danny.

Hours passed before they finally got an update. As expected, his shoulder was fractured, but thankfully, it was a closed reduction, and the area was immobilized to allow for healing. He’d be sent home soon, but the recovery time meant he wouldn’t be able to finish his final season. It was over for him.

(Y/N), who had interacted with Danny’s mother more than once, was the one who had to break the news. Of course, she was concerned—this was the second time he’d been injured like this—but (Y/N) made sure to reassure her that he was okay and that they would take care of him. After all, this was the family he had in NYC.

Danny was discharged and sent back to his apartment, the reality of his situation setting in: his passion for football had just been ripped away, again. Why did this have to happen to him? Why again? He was furious—at himself, mostly—even though no one could have predicted the injury.

Nearly two weeks passed, and Danny barely left his apartment, only going out for classes and work. He didn’t want to see his team; he couldn’t bear the thought of them treating him like some fragile charity case.

One night, he was lying in bed, reading a book, when someone knocked at his door. He barely moved, his eyes flicking to the door but remaining silent, waiting for the visitor to announce themselves. The guys never knocked.

“Uhh... Are you gonna let me stand out here waiting?” (Y/N)’s voice rang through the door. He hesitated for a moment before answering.

“It’s open.”

Her head popped through the door as she opened it, her eyes quickly scanning both him and the rest of the room before she stepped inside.

"Had to make sure you were in decent shape before I came in," she said, her voice light but with a hint of concern. Danny glanced at her, still confused, and then noticed the items she was carrying—food, along with a few other things he couldn’t quite make out.

"Aren’t you supposed to be at a rehearsal?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but it got canceled. I figured we could hang out since you seem to want to be MIA."

He settled back against the pillows, placing his book on the nightstand just as she walked in, dropping everything she’d been carrying and casually sitting down beside him with a quiet sigh.

"So, did you miss me?" she asked, her voice light but with a spark of mischief in her eyes. Danny rolled his eyes, purposely avoiding the way she looked at him with that teasing smile, or the gentle nudge to his good arm. She was the one person he didn’t mind being around—but he wasn’t about to let her see that.

"You just came here to bother me, didn’t you?"

"Maybe," she replied, her grin widening as she relaxed beside him, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. A subtle smile tugged at his lips, despite himself. "But seriously, you don’t mind me being here, right?"

He sighed, his tone softening without him quite realizing it. "You know I don’t, (Y/N/N)."

Her smile deepened, and she stood up to grab the takeout food from the table.

"Good. Let’s eat, then. Maybe watch a movie. You can pick whatever you’re in the mood for."

Danny nodded, reaching for the remote. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for anything in particular, but she’d made the effort, and he appreciated it. 

Soon, they found themselves lying in bed, full from Chinese takeout, with a movie playing quietly on Danny’s computer, positioned between them.

The only sounds in the room were the occasional low comments they made to each other and the soft hum of the city drifting through the window. The night hadn’t quite settled in, but the room was darker than usual—thanks to the heavy curtains that shut out the chill of the lingering winter air on a typical March afternoon. Their shoulders brushed occasionally under the large blanket that covered them both.

(Y/N) glanced at her phone now and then, tapping out notes as they popped into her head. It was a habit—she noticed the little things, let them simmer in her mind, and later, they’d find their way into her music. Whether the outcome was good or not didn’t matter much. It was just how she kept her creativity sharp and her mind awake.

Danny glanced at her screen and smirked before turning back to the movie—one he wasn’t really paying attention to anymore.  

“Do you even want to be doing this?”  

(Y/N) blinked at him, confused, until he nodded toward her phone.  

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to forget what I’m thinking now.” she admitted, setting it down.  

Danny hummed, his gaze steady. “I know how your mind works,” he murmured. “I just want this moment to be about me, you know?”  

A teasing smile played on his lips, making her roll her eyes before nudging his shoulder.  

“Please, you’re not that special.”  

He grinned. “Am I not? Look who you chose to spend your afternoon with.”  

His confidence was effortless, but she didn’t quite match it this time. Instead, she glanced away before shifting in her seat.  

“Are we really going to pretend like everything’s fine?”  

Danny’s jaw tensed. For the first time, he broke eye contact.  

“I’m not pretending.”  

“Danny.” 

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “What? You want me to say I’m pissed? That I feel like I wasted my time? That I don’t know why this shit keeps happening to me?” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “I’m not the type to complain, (Y/N). It’s over. That’s it.”  

A quiet pause stretched between them before she spoke again, softer this time.  

“Life’s not over just because you didn’t finish this goal, Danny. There’s more to do after this. You just have to figure out what’s next.”  

He turned toward her then, their faces inches apart.  

“And what if I don’t know what that is?”  

(Y/N) exhaled, tilting her head slightly. “Then thank God you decided to pursue acting instead of football. Or soccer. Or whatever else you’ll be obsessed with in the next couple of months.”  

For once, he didn’t have a comeback. 

Instead, he just looked at her, his head resting on the bed frame and just mere inches away from her. Both stayed silent, not really having anything else to say. She was right, and he knew it, but instead, he could only now concentrate on the fact that he was thankful to once again have a moment where there were only the two of them. 

Danny stayed quiet for a moment, his gaze lingering on her before he looked away, his head resting against the bed frame, just inches from hers. There was hesitation in the air, the weight of their conversation still hanging between them. After a beat, he nodded slightly, as if coming to terms with something unspoken.

"Thank you," he murmured, the words soft but sincere.

They both fell into silence then, the tension easing as they were left with just the quiet presence of each other. She was right, and he knew it, but for now, he didn’t even care—thankful for this rare moment where it was just the two of them, with no distractions or complications.

His head dipped slightly, forehead nearly brushing against hers. The touch was barely there, but somehow, it felt like everything.

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

There it was again—that look. The same one they’d been avoiding for a while now.

(Y/N) swallowed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Danny exhaled, his breath fanning over her lips as he shook his head lightly. “You know, (Y/N)...”

Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak. The weight of the moment pressed down on her chest, heavy and real.

Danny let his head rest against hers fully now, his touch featherlight, hesitant in a way that made her stomach flip. His hand—his good one—lifted, fingers brushing against her jaw, barely touching. It had been happening for months now—longer, maybe. The glances that lingered too long, the way their conversations drifted into something quieter when they were alone. The way he always found an excuse to touch her, whether it was knocking his knee against hers under the table, tucking her hair behind her ear, or the way his hand had found the small of her back at an event a few weeks ago when he guided her through a crowd.

And then, the park.

That was the moment she had known—really known.

They had been sitting on a bench listening to music, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows, when he reached up, almost absently, and ran his thumb along her cheek. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And she let him.

She let him because, deep down, she wanted it. Just like she wanted this.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, her lips pressing together as she finally forced a breath out. “I—”

But he didn’t let her finish.

His fingers tilted her chin slightly, just enough to make her meet his gaze head-on, and before she could talk herself out of it—before either of them could—he closed the space between them.

His lips brushed hers, a question rather than a demand. 

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t an explosion. It was quiet, hesitant, like the moment itself was holding its breath.

 And then, it happened. A soft inhale, a shift, and the slow press of lips meeting lips.

(Y/N) felt her hands curl into the fabric of his hoodie, grounding herself in something, anything. Danny sighed against her mouth, his hand settling along the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing the skin there as if he wanted to memorize it. For a moment, they lingered, as if neither of them wanted that moment to end. It was too good, too unreal.

But the world around them came rushing back, and (Y/N) slowly pulled away, her breath shaky. She didn’t want to admit it, but the words slipped out before she could stop them. 

After a beat of silence, she finally whispered, "What are we doing?”

_____________________________________________

March 24. 1,095 days later. A long way to go. 

It was the day before the wedding, and the air was thick with the rush of last-minute details. Amelia and Yason were both stressed, so their loved ones were either trying to help or staying out of the way.

(Y/N) was on a mission to buy Amelia some comfortable shoes for the wedding reception, having forgotten them back at her house. As she walked out, she bumped into Danny, standing with a coffee and a book in his hand, looking completely at ease.

“Oh hey! Glad to see you survived last night,” he joked, a smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah, been awake since the crack of dawn, trying to help with this wedding,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m heading out now. Need to find some stuff for Ame.”

“Want some company?” Danny asked, not even overthinking the proposal.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’re coming with me to buy shoes?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, glancing down at the book he was carrying. “I was gonna go for a walk anyway.”

“Okay... Then let’s go.”

After navigating shoe stores, coffee breaks, and a few rounds of aimless window shopping at thrift stores they used to visit back in the day, they found themselves at a quiet little park. The sounds of the city faded into the background for a moment, the sun high in the sky, casting a golden glow on everything. Neither of them felt the need to rush back to the hotel just yet.

They sat on a weathered bench, their backs leaning against the rough wood, shoulders brushing lightly every so often, but neither acknowledged it. There was something comfortable about the silence, something that wasn’t forced. It felt like they were picking up where they had left off—only now, there was something different. Something they couldn’t quite name yet.

Danny took a sip from his coffee, looking out at the patch of green in front of them, fingers tapping the side of his cup absentmindedly. (Y/N) kicked her feet lightly, the tips of her sneakers brushing the ground.

“So…” he began but stopped himself, glancing at her, then back at the park. “It’s funny, you know? I always thought if we saw each other again, it would feel like... like we were complete strangers. Nothing left of who we were.” 

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze still on the half-full coffee cup in his hands. "The people we were? " she said, a dry chuckle escaping.

Danny’s lips quirked up at the corner, a little embarrassed but not backing down. "Yeah… I just thought time would do its job." He turned to face her fully now, his tone softer. "But I guess I never really imagined it would be this easy to talk to you again."

She glanced at him, holding his gaze for a beat longer than she intended. "You think it’s easy?"

He smirked, setting his coffee down next to him. "I don’t know. Maybe ‘easy’ isn’t the right word." He paused, his smile fading a little as he looked out into the park. “It’s just... surprising, I guess. How normal it feels. Like, it’s been years, but you’re still here. And I’m still here. Like we were never gone, you know?”

The simplicity of it hit her—this was what they had. A kind of unspoken understanding, wrapped up in years of lost time and unresolved feelings.

(Y/N) kicked the dirt lightly with her shoes and looked down, trying to brush off the heaviness in her chest. "Yeah, I get it. It's like... nothing really changed, even though it did.” 

Danny chuckled softly, but it wasn’t the teasing laugh she remembered. It was warmer, more grounded. " Mhm… I guess we’ll have to talk about that too. I don't know it now's the right time, though.”

They both sat there in silence again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just them, existing in the same space, figuring out what it meant to pick up the pieces after everything that had happened.

Still wanting to read more? Here are some other Danny's shots to read. You're welcome!!!!

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello amazing fandom :) Ooh man this episode. I think it is my fav of the season so far. Which I know sounds insane considering what we got last week. But if you know me and been following me last couple years with my reviews, you know how much I LOVE me some Tim growth and depth. This is chock full of it so buckle in for the analysis and joy of that.

Other than our beautiful ship which I adore as you know. This is the other thing that makes my heart so happy. Plus it's pretty intertwined with their future as a couple this ep. Which excites me to no end. The episode as a whole was incredibly good too. The writers have really tapped back into the ensemble cast of it all. I adore it. I love this show as a whole and s7 is crushing it with that. Let us get started.

7x07 The Mickey

We hit the ground running with Tim at group therapy. Not only that but thinking about Lucy and their night together. Excuse me while I freak out 30 seconds into this episode. Oh my word the raw cut of his memory has me fanning myself. The look on her face and hearing his belt buckle being undone. Holy hell. A whole week later and this scene is still ruining me in the best way lol

Look at my boy in group therapy. Not only that but one for veterans. This is the perfect setting for him. I’m so proud I could cry. I damn near do this entire episode. We see Tim just jumping right in when prompted. Definitely has been going a long time because he looks very comfortable. ALSO they know about Lucy.

This is huge. I can’t get over this. In my heart of hearts I knew he would keep going to therapy. Keep working on himself. But seeing the results on screen.*happy sigh* It brings my soul a happiness I can't quite put into words. He’s taking care of his mental health. Bettering himself by putting the work in. I could have an entire impressions just on this cause it excites me so much. Other than Chenford, Tim growth is my show crack. It excites me like no other.

Tim sharing how far he’s come with Lucy. That he felt he had earned his way back in. Both professionally and personally. How hard he’s worked to get there. Now he's worried he's ruined it. I love his group leader nodding along and understanding him. It's so important to have that support. Just look at him so mad he gave in before he finished doing the work. Tim being so self aware is amazing to witness.

Saying he was being selfish. That he had't finished fixing what he broke with her yet. Is this a dream? This is what I’ve been WAITING for. Holy cow. Tim owning what he did to Lucy, knowing he had done it and most importantly knowing he broke them. What they had. That it's on him alone to fix it. I'm delirious with the continued growth shown in this scene.

What's that Lizzie McGuire song? ‘Hey now, hey now. This is what dreams are made of?’ My millennial is showing and I’m ok with it LOL How I feel about this opening sequence though. Encapsulates it perfectly. Cathartic and satisfying to watch after s6. After analyzing what he had done and what he needed to do in order to move forward. It's the best feeling to watch it unfold on screen.

‘I couldn’t help myself....’ Oh my Timothy. Neither could she. That inexplicable bond wasn't to be ignored last ep. It was too magnetic in that moment. He's being SO vulnerable with his group. It's making my head spin with happiness. Telling them his first shot at being with her again broke his own boundary; That he went for it anyways. This is so good. Well done writers. I’m giddy. Love the person running this and their reply. My god it’s good. So spot on. Stating Tim’s using a lot of ‘I’ language.

Saying Lucy was a willing participant. As she always is with you my love. No one ever forces her to make the decisions she does about you. It's all her. Telling him he’s taking away her agency when he does this. *mic drop* Hot damn this is fantastic. That they made the mistake together. Not just him. It's true. She wanted him as just as badly. She too couldn't help herself. Lucy is the one who grabbed his face for that kiss. She's the one who went for his belt asking him to take this further. They did this TOGETHER. No coercion.

Takes two to tango as they say. He needed to hear this. This wasn't something he did to her. They chose it together. I love how receptive he is to this advice. Just look at his face above. Eric killing it like he always does with his expressions. He is absorbing it and internalizing what he is learning. I mean he's clearly doing this meeting before work. To get his head right before he goes in. My god how he’s evolved and the strides he's taken. I can’t even you guys. I’m feeling high off this opening section in the best way.

Ooooh yes Lucy thinking about it too. Of course she is. Ooof love these raw shots and noises we’re getting in their thoughts. Reminds me of when Lucy was dreaming about kissing Tim in 5x01. She tries to shake it off and it comes right back to it like a boomerang. Can't keep her mind off the carnal delights she gave into with TIm. Gah I love this.

Saucy thoughts just keep rushing back to her. The first 90 seconds of this episode have me reeling in the best way. Sweet baby James. Also kudos to Melissa and her ability to convey so much with just her eyes. Her and Eric have this glorious ability to convey so much with so little.

Lucy is trapped in her thoughts and I'm here for it. I mean I can't say I wasn't in a loop watching that scene over and over the last week. heh. Celina scares the shit out of me and Lucy. Snapping Lucy out of her heated revere. God damn little lady lol She gave me a heart attack. Lucy messes up her lipstick and I’m cackling.

Celina pointing out she put on new lipstick….Dressing up more than usual. I wonder who that’s for? hehe. Girl you could wear a paper bag and you would have Tim panting after you. But I do love her wanting to put in extra effort post 7x06. Those actions proving it was more than just 'Ex-Sex.' for her.

I mean we all know why she put it in that box. She isn't ready to handle that and I don't blame her. As I've stated before. Tim is going to have to put the work in to get her there. Until then, it's going to remain complicated af for her as she muddles through her complicated feelings for Tim. Our girl is doing her best out here everyone.

I loved this scene with Nolan and Tim so much. Tim saying cops gossip more than middle schoolers. lmao accurate. Also ugh I remember this with post 6x06. I am LOVING post-therapy Tim helping Nolan out. Legit adoring it. Giving him some solid advice. "Feel like you don't believe yourself.' Nailed it.

Then of course turns back into being Cop Tim with how to handle it with some action. Not really John's style babe. Reminding me of s1 Tim looking for fights. With a biker gang…One the future love of your life had to wake you up from Timothy. But I do love them having a bonding moment over this.

It's cute how excited Tim is when Nolan agrees to his idea. I adored this scene so much more than I expected tbh. Pretty great watching them bond. I don’t always dislike Nolan lol I do tend to like him better when he’s with Tim LOL Or Lucy. But with Tim it’s extra good cause they don’t often share scenes. This one was gold.

Hot damn this episode has it all for me. We get to have some protective Tim with Seth as well. *grabs ice water.* Protective with hint of feral. Yum. Gimme gimme. Always happy to have a slice of that pie. Don’t put his girl in jeopardy with your stupidity Ridley. You will answer to him if you do anything to put her at risk.

Also If this cancer ends up being a lie and Tim finds out? Phew boy he will legit end you. You think he's scary now? There will be no safe place for you to hide if that happens. That is a guarantee good sir. He will destroy you. And I will sit there with popcorn enjoying it.

The tension inside the shop with Lucy and Seth is unreal. Palpable to say the least. It seems to only escalate and not cool off. Even with his time off for his 'treatments.' Lucy not so subtly rooting around to see if he’s lying about that. I love it. The timing was fishy af and he knows it. So he deserves this. His face when she says she might do that about his medical records. Oh my lord. Called her bluff and she rose to the occasion. I wonder if she will?

Yay Tamara is back! My girl. I missed her. I can't believe the flirty nature between her and Seth. Last thing Lucy needs with this kid....Don’t look at her that way Seth. Lucy will strangle you to death. That is not the way to get back into her good graces you turd. Blatantly flirting with her pseudo daughter.

Appears she's reached out due to drugs on campus. Not great…..But hey UC time. Lucy says she can look like a college student for the buyer. Tamara isn’t sure and Lucy is so offended lmao I’m dying. I’ve missed their banter.

Sadly Ridley has to be used instead of Lucy. Tamara suggesting that Seth be her fake BF..... Lucy's protective mama alarm bells are going off so hard. Lucy's face when Tamara wraps her arm around him. This is gold. Well done Melissa. I'm laughing so hard. This would be cute if Seth wasn't sus af.

Oooh teacher Tim always makes me happy to see. Ok that came out dirtier than I meant it to lol I just love to see him in his element. He observes Miles is riled up and asks why. Knowing it's more complicated than just not liking their suspect. You know Tim is far more emotionally intelligent than people give him credit for. This scene right here is proof of that.

The way he spots Miles having an issue. Handling it right then and there. Does a good dose of logic with empathy. It’s fantastic. He doesn’t eviscerate Texas for his outburst. But wants him to understand the consequences of his actions. I love watching him in T.O. mode for this reason. Man is so perfect for the job. This right here is exactly why he's such an exceptional T.O.

It's exciting that Lucy gets the go-ahead from Grey. The not so great part is she won't have stellar backup. Poor Lucy it’s Smitty or no one. LOL Already has to deal with the flirt fest and now she has the worst backup ever. Cool beans. Just what she wanted. The day continues to get better for her....

Lucy in UC mode is always a delight to see. Reeling Smitty in while prepping Seth. 'Tam? eww. ' Lmao Of course Smitty thinks it’s cute. Eating his damn licorice while he pops off lol Lucy's reply has me laughing so hard. 'No, it’s not.' haha Smitty is being the complete antithesis to everything she is feeling right now. She is SO unsettled and I don't blame her.

'You’re together we get is geez.' 'Mama bear Lucy is none too pleased with this scenario. Not holding her cards to her chest at all with this. But that's our girl. Said this many times before. She's a ten but terrible at hiding her feelings. I can’t believe Smitty giving Lucy parenting advice. I’m dying. 'Do you have kids? ‘Do I.? Oh I love him. Always the comic relief. Lucy's reaction has me laughing so much. I loved this scene of levity.

Of course Seth pushed it… He’s just lucky it worked out. Well For the the moment. Friggin Smitty praising him when Lucy is far from thrilled about all this. She is channeling Tim in this scene. The way she scolds him and asks for the product. Her gesture signaling how over his bravado she is.

Hot damn Tim in streets with his gun/badge on display with tight jeans? Excuse me while I drool a bit. This ep gonna kill me in the best way. I'll always take Tim in non field clothes anytime. Tim and Nolan standing side by side isn’t fair to John lmao

Tim is just exuding sex appeal and authority. While Nolan exudes midwestern dad scolding his kids. LOL I'm sorry John really I am. I actually like you in this episode. So my apologies sir. That is just my fav Tim pose and no one does it better than him. Forearm porn when he does that stance too. *phew lord.* Mmmm.

As I stated earlier I'm really enjoying Nolan in this episode. He is more human. More realistic in his failures. If they wrote him like this more I wouldn't be so hard on the guy. I used to love Nolan. Back in s1-2 he was written really well. I did start this show partly for Nathan. Eric being the other. They've been writing him better this season. With some humility and consequences for his mistakes. I'm digging it.

This scene was hilarious. John had no idea about the ring. That’s so funny. Also a friggin trip The Hammer is a softie for love. I didn't see that one coming at all. Just shows you the right person is worth fighting for or you live with the regret of it. That is the theme going forward for sure. Tim being so nonchalant about fighting The Hammer for the ring has me rolling. What makes Nolan's reaction so friggin funny.

I’m all for Tim leaning on stuff every episode looking like a damn snack. Feral Caitlin is here for it. Cause hot damn show me those forearms all day. I'll be a happy girl I'll tell you that. Tim suggests John actually sleep if he needs it. Since he looks like a damn wreck. Ugh Tim’s face when he says ‘Hard to sleep when she’s not there.’

Rip my heart right out there Eric. Tim understands far more than you can ever know John…. *sad sigh* The pain train continues to roll through this season. With a side helping of 'hurts so good' to go with it. I'm sure Tim has had many a night where he couldn't sleep without Lucy since they broke up.

I mean they scarcely had a night apart when they dated. Only times they did was 5x21 and the fight at the end of 6x01. Other than that he lived with Lucy at his side nightly. That man feels the loss of Lucy by his side in more ways than one. You can see how it haunts him as he agrees with his statement. Gah this episode is just so damn good. I can't get over it. This scene of theirs is my favorite of the episode.

John asking if he can ask a personal question? 'Usually I'd say no, but I've been working on being more emotionally available.' Be still my damn heart. Knowing pre-therapy Tim would've said no. But wanting to continue to put the work in he says yes to Nolan. This ep has me floating on cloud 9 you guys. Oh my Timothy, how you have grown so damn much. I'm misty and squeeing.

John eagerly pulls up a chair next to Tim. I do love Tim helping Nolan sort this mess out. I really do. It's creating a bond I never expected to love this much. The advice he is giving. Holy hell. Color me impressed. Look at how this man has emotionally evolved. How he can speak of his ex-wife with such emotional maturity and clarity.

That had he tried sooner he would've seen the broken mess of his marriage. Telling Nolan he can't just ignore this and hope it goes away. Because if he does he will end up same way his marriage did. That if he doesn't try now he's only going to fracture their relationship beyond repair. This is such SOLID advice he is giving John. It's insane.

I am blown away by his emotional depth in this scene. His clarity sharper than it's ever been. Tim continually sees and is reminded of what he did to Lucy. Using it as a cautionary tale for Nolan. Giving a piece of himself to drive home his point. Telling him not to make the same mistakes he did with Lucy. Side note, look at how soft his eyes are when he speaks about her btw. Eric killing the game as always. I love that Isabel is what is brought up but Tim ends with Lucy. This is where the growth is momental.

And if you can't get excited about this. About how huge this is for his character. For their future as a couple. Then I'm doing a bad job of explaining why. Because this is HUGE step in the right direction. Tim is telling John he gave up long before he should’ve. That he left mid-battle. Left Lucy holding the emotional bag of it all in that battlefield. Basically telling John he regrets how he handled it all. How he handled his treatment of Lucy and their relationship. The way he went about their breakup. Regretting the breakup all together really. That he gave up and retreated before he should've.

Fandom. I’ve had dreams about him saying this kind of stuff. To hear him acknowledge what he did to her. That he still has work to do. And why he still does. The next battle is getting him to relay those things to Lucy. It would un-muddy those waters so quickly if he did. Give her the clarity she’s been yearning for since he left her in that parking lot in 6x06. Clarity we’ve all been waiting for her to have. But as they say patience is a virtue. Tim even tells Nolan one step at a time. We gotta heed that same advice. This is no small fix Tim is undergoing here.

Tim is tormented by the decision he made in 6x06. It's written all over his face at the end of this scene. Telling John that he is gonna spend the rest of his life wondering if he could’ve done more. Been better. I adore the writers taking their time with this all. With Tim, their relationship, and Lucy. Because as forever grateful I am for s6. For getting a shortened season win on the heels of the writer strike reconciliation.

It didn’t have the time to flesh out everything and let it breathe the way this season is doing. Honestly I am grateful the heartbreak was in a shortened season. Or we would be dealing with that now instead of a s7 if we didn't get it. It would’ve hurt even more in a longer season. S7 is taking what couldn’t be fleshed out and delved into with s6 this season. I am personally loving the delayed gratification. It’s lending to wonderful scenes of growth like this.

Also like to say how proud I am of how far Tim and Nolan’s relationship has come. This a massive far cry from the s1 pair up they had watching a convict. Tim has grown so so much for this scene to take place. I keep saying how I could cry at how happy this makes me. But it's because this is what I hoped for with this season. This level of depth and growth before a reconciliation. It's going to make when they do that much sweeter. I guarantee you it will. The writers are crushing this season. It's a legit a joy to see come to life.

Oooh I love Lucy calling Tim needing his help. Her go to. Shows he's still her person. *le sigh* Tim was clearly was giving himself some time to decompress after that heavy convo, but he immediately picks up knowing it's his girl. Her reaching out will always make me happy. Tim tells her he will get himself replaced to go help her. God I love these two so much. Always have each others back when they need them. Never change you two.

I love Lucy Chen so much. BAMF level of bad assery in this scene. Doesn't turn around for most of this scene. Wants him to understand the gravity of this situation. To know he is VERY lucky this worked out the way that it did. That it had nothing to do with his skill in this case. She is cold as ice with his mentioning of Tamara. I love it. She has learned that hard edge from her man. Once again embodying Tim. Especially with telling him she had no keys LOL Classic.

The scene with Tamara and Lucy made me so bummed. Seth is infecting her world in more ways than one. I legit had zero idea the writers would go this route. I love that they've surprised me so much with this kid though. Lucy going into mama mode saying she can't date him. When teenager 101 says you do that they'll go running toward that choice. *sigh*

Tim coming in while Tamara shuts her down made me giddy. Asking right away what that was about? Going into protective dad mode himself when he hears why. Mmm. Asking ‘Want me to put the fear of Bradford in him?’ Heh I was all for it. Lucy too. She honestly considers it by saying 'Yeah.' I love the look he gives her following that. Knowing that isn't actually what she wants. Because the man knows her so damn well.

That it's just a gut reaction to knock some fear into this guy. Lucy responds to his knowing look saying no.... That it'll just make things worse....That it will. Sadly. This is not going to end well. But's Tamara's mistake to make. Look at them co-parenting Tamara like the good ole days though. my heart

Oh my word that episode was SOOO good. The growth alone had me buzzing. I an enjoying this season so very much. I can't wait to see what next week has in store for them. Thank you as always to those who support these. Without fail means so much to me. Every like, Comment ( come chat with me I love it) and reblog are noticed and appreciated by me. Shall see you all in 7x08 :)

Side notes

Of course Smitty has been divorced three times lmao

Damn look at James pulling one over on Nyla to talk. Loving the realness of this season. He just laid down the gauntlet with her whew lord.

Holy crap that shelter lady was a bad ass. She didn’t win but gave him a good fight. Run for his damn money that's for sure. Loving the empowered women in this season.

Celina you cannot flirt with the bad guy omg lol The hammer is back. Loving this call back.

‘Tough woman often come with dark stories.’ I felt that deep in my soul.

Nolan getting actual consequences this season. I’m digging it. Like a lot. Grey reminding him how many times his shop been stolen before. Yikes John...

What a bad ass Celina Juarez has turned out to be holy cow. I love her. Just sprayed his ass she closed the door lmao Don't got time for that macho fight.

Man never thought relate to Bailey on something. But that hospital scene I did. Her saying emotional isn't the same as physical. I hate that for her. Because I know what that is like. Some people do treat it like it’s not as bad when it is.

Emotional abuses is just as scarring as physical. If not more because it’s harder for people to see your scars. To see what you’ve lived through mentally and survived. Writers are doing a very good job this season. You got me to empathize and relate to a character never had a connection with. Well done.

'He cannot help you heal if he’s doesn’t know what’s still alive inside you.’ Damn if that isn’t true for Tim as well with Lucy.

The Hammer helping them oh my lord that was amazing. Because he wanted a clean slate and new chance at love.

Texas my word. What a man offering up his services to her shelter. Loving this kid more each week.

I love Harper’s new group this is awesome. Look at her listening to James. Also Wopez got her there. That was really good. Working together to making policing better. I love it sfm. Very them. They have the same common goal just had to tweak how they handled it. Yay they have good depth this season. Excited to see where they go.

[atwhughesversion]

canucks management can claim that petey isn’t injured all they want, and they can leak info to reporters to corroborate this message as well, but that doesn’t make it believable.

keep in mind that during this regime’s tenure we’ve had jason dickinson play nearly an entire season with a broken hand that he didn’t know was broken until he was traded, demko play through a knee issue that resulted in a groin issue (back in 2022-2023), mikheyev play much of a season on an acl that he tore in training camp before ultimately having a season-ending surgery (he said it was his decision but if you as a medical staff are letting a player do that then???), and botched tanner pearson’s hand injury so badly that quinn hughes himself said that he thought it was mishandled. arguably, they rushed demko back before the playoffs last april, which is how a knee injury ended up as the first-ever nhl popliteus injury.

remember in late 2021 when pettersson wasn’t playing as well as usual and lots of people thought he looked injured? and everyone denied it? and then it turned out that he’d had a wrist injury? lol!!!!

pettersson’s current performance issues started around feb 2024. he said himself that his knee started becoming painful in january and kept getting worse from that point. in training camp, he admitted that he had to train around his knee in the offseason. given the weird situations that have happened under the canucks’ medical staff, why exactly would canucks fans look at petey (who very clearly isn’t moving as well as he used to), look at his skating data (which proves that he isn’t moving as well as he used to), listen to what the player personally has said, and think “idk he probably just doesn’t try hard enough anymore”?

add in that canucks management apparently were unhappy that he had been honest about his knee at the end of last season (iain macintyre said this in a canucks central postgame show fairly recently — i believe after the miller trade?) and i just quite simply have zero reason to believe that they’ve handled this situation well.

maybe his knee isn’t really injured anymore — maybe — but even if that’s the case, it is so difficult for players to build up strength during the season that they didn’t have going into the season, and we know he had to train around his knee this summer. personally, i just sincerely hope that all this public tough love, criticism, urges to “move his feet,” etc. aren’t the only thing that management/coaching are saying to petey in private, but they seem to have some “back in my day we’d play through an amputated foot if we had to!!!” tendencies to them.

[afrsconp]

Sorry Ghosts fam, I need to interrupt the usual content for a second and get these thoughts out about a different fandom.

So I binged all of Mythic Quest really fast, then read a bunch of braddavid fic (A+ stuff btw) and meta, and I'm surprised that, of the two of them, Brad is the one that gets the most character analysis. Because to me, it's David who's much, much harder to get a read on.

I mean yeah, we get almost nothing of Brad's personal life, but the tiny glimpses of his backstory that we do get make it pretty clear that his very traumatic childhood led him to create this asshole persona to protect himself. Like it all seems pretty linear: his natural instinct to be kind and care deeply about people/things led to the trauma of what happened to Kate, so he ended up equating kindness with weakness and taught himself to ignore those instincts and go the opposite direction instead. To not caring about anything other than money and power, because that's how he could build and retain power (and by extension, protection) for himself.

But David? It's a lot harder to figure out. He's so openly clingy and needy and tries way too hard; he's the butt of everyone's jokes. But because he's used for comedy most of the time, it's easier to not notice that when he is being serious, it's revealing trauma that's on par with Brad's. Like that scene when he went up to the rooftop and it's implied that he was considering jumping off the building, and David Hornsby does some amazingly subtle work there because when Jo asks him why he came to the roof, for a second or two you see the most terrible, heartbreaking look in his eyes before the scene switches to comedy again.

And it happens over and over again. The way he was so upset when Ian and Poppy took over the Christmas party, all the hints about his shitty childhood and his ex-wife not treating him well, his extreme loneliness, how much he drinks, taking Xanax, having trouble sleeping. Like the guy is not well, you know?

So the ship is so interesting to me because both of them go to extremes to hide the same truths about themselves (not wanting to get hurt) but they do it in completely opposite ways. Brad went the uncaring asshole route, and David went the oversharing, overly desperate route. It's all just surface level though, and whenever they get rejected they can just blame it on those surface level things instead of deeper insecurities (I'm worthless, I'm fat, I'm a waste of space, I'm old). But like, I get the feeling that Brad almost convinced himself that he really is the uncaring asshole he spends so much time pretending to be, whereas David is a little more aware of the fact that he's lying to himself. Idk.

And then there's the stuff we're getting in the current season, where their character arcs weirdly mirror each other. They started off as opposites - Brad prioritising money/himself and David prioritising other people/relationships - and now they're starting to meet in the middle.

That's why it seemed like such a huge deal to me that Brad actually acknowledged, out loud and to another person, that he's capable of changing due to meeting the right people. Anna tells him that that statement left him exposed, and it really did - and I think part of Brad's arc this season will be realising that being exposed like that isn't necessarily a weakness.

And David's whole breastplate thing, facing his fears, putting himself out there, and coming to terms with certain truths about himself... I keep thinking about the way he shut down Ian's bullshit about the movie so quickly. We've seen him be incredibly effective when he doesn't panic, and I hope we get a little more of that.

I don't think braddavid will ever become canon, but I do hope the show lets them be friends. Because I really do think that they have the potential to understand each other in a way none of the other characters ever could.

[zummmii]

Calls | S.R

Pairing: S1!Spencer Reid X Reader (use of yn, kinda had to)

Summary: After years of not calling Spencer shows up at your police department to help with a case, you avoid eachother until you can’t.

Wc: 2.5k (wow)

Warnings: Kidnapping, victim gets burned alive, murder by gun, weapons, death, sassy Spencer, the case they are working on is heavily influenced by Hannibal Season 1 Episode 4, ‘Oeuf’, not proof read

The bullpen flooded with life, with officers running in and out with new insights connected to the biggest case in the precinct. The case was a big one, in fact it was the biggest one since Gacy, or better known as The Killer Clown.

But with it being a big case, the media breathing down the Police Departments neck, and the public panicking about their safety, it brought in the professionals. Which you would have been fine with, you had no problem with the FBI, you had no problem with profilers.

You only had a problem with him. And it was quite obvious he had a problem with you too.

It’s not that you left each other on a bad note, because you did, but that is not the point. You and Spencer go way back, all the way to Nevada where you were both well into your late teens, doing stupid teenager things without thinking. But despite a few moments that were spent with little to no thought you had no intention to be friends or even friendly towards each other. Though towards the end of your school years you both vowed to keep in touch.

Spencer was always better than you, always one up-ing you, and making sure to rub it into your face as much as he possibly could. You always let him, his mom was too nuts to acknowledge his achievements and his dad- well you never actually met his dad. So you figured he just wanted someone to listen to him.

Though that’s not what annoyed you when he walked into the bullpen, his team in front of him as he tailed in, head down and reading a pamphlet in his hands which he would have picked up from the entrance of the PD.

It was the fact he acted like he didn’t even know you. You’d sent a small smile his way but he just put his head down and gave his undivided attention to, who you’d learnt to be, Agent Gideon. But before you could think too deep into his ignorance and start overthinking about what you may have done in the past 7 years to cause this, your attention was snatched by a police officer.

You follow the crowd, taking a spot in a secluded space in the back, note book tucked into your arm, pen tapping aimlessly against the pages. Since you were one of the higher ups in the precinct you were allowed to take part in the pre-discussion where the unit chief talks to the higher ups before briefing the rest of the department, which in this instance, is The BAU.

But still, since the brief awkward awakening of your previous interaction with your childhood anti-nemesis you chose to keep your distance. Standing off the side seemed to be the best option, the notebook in your grip containing the basic evidence you’d gathered yourself.

In the case a series of family murders had taken place. Two families were found murdered, both with the mothers killed last and the only link between the families is that they both have sons who have been on the missing persons list for approximately a year.

In your notes you’d written down that there are at least four murderers, which the BAU already know, from which you can hear. But you believe at least three of them are children, boys. But that’s all you know so far, what else could you know?

What you did know, the one leading this, the one in charge, is a woman. A mother like figure.

“-I think we’re ready to deliver the profile.” Agent Gideon nodded, his hands placed firmly on the desk in front of him as he hunched over it. His voice held a confidence you couldn’t identify.

Your Unit Chief holds a single finger up, his chubby fingers wrapping around the top of your note book, pulling it out your grasp with a satisfied sigh when he sees the page it’s open on filled with scribbled handwriting. “Just a second agent, please.” The fake pride in his voice filled your ears with a ringing sound. “This is Y/n L/n, our detective in- well, everything.” He shrugged, flicking through the pages until he reached the sub title: Profile.

Feeling all eyes on you, you shift on your feet, hands finding their way to your pockets to hide the facts you wanted to pick at your nails until there were none left out of pure awkward anxiety. You give a small nod, your lips pulled into a tight lined smile.

The group before you were rather intimidating, all well known within the police and federal department of the jobs of the world. Agent Gideon and his genius in profiling. Agent Hotchner ability to negotiate with anyone he wanted. Derek Morgan’s speciality in obsessive behaviours. And then Spencer. You didn’t think much of him anymore, which is the decision you’d thought of out of pure petty-ness in the past 22 hours.

Agent Gideon only stands up straight, his hands coming up to fold across his chest as his eyes land on you in the corner of the room, having only just noticed you. “Huh.” He murmurs, turning to his side to look at Spencer who only shrugs.

Your unit chief hands over the note book. “Uh, there may be a few things in there you might find-“

“Why don’t we let Agent L/n tell us?” A straight forward voice broke through the unit chiefs voice, the familiarity in it breaking past the ringing that echoed in your ears. Spencer held a dismissive expression as he stared at the chief, hands clasped together in front of him.

Taken a back the chief simply closes his mouth and nods, taking a step back.

As your eyes land on Spencer you want to throw something at him. He comes in here pretending he doesn’t know you, and then defends you, against your boss?

Before your eyes could speak for you and glare with a tone that would only say hateful words Spencer turned his neck to look down at the notebook in Agent Gideon’s hands.

“It’s not much, really.” You mumble, but the words fall under deaf ears as a phone starts ringing. Morgan flicks a phone out his pocket and holds it up to his mouth with a soft sigh. “Garcia, baby girl, please tell me something I want to hear”

Looking down you shift on your feet. “You are a statuesque god of sculpted chocolate thunder?” A voice on the other end of the phone replied within a beta of a second, not a smidge of hesitation in her tone.

Your head shot up, your eyes surprisingly finding Spencer’s but instead of your shocked expression he simply shook his head and gently took the note book from Agent Gideon’s hands. He joined you at your side, placing the note book on the table in front of you both. “What makes you think it’s children?”

Looking down at where his finger was pointing you pull up a small smile, fake but still you put on your best efforts. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Genius.” The words left your mouth before you could stop yourself.

But Spencer only sighed, straightening his lips into a thin line of disappointment. He opened his mouth to reply but was quickly cut off by a sharp whistle. “She talks.” Morgan grins placing the phone on the table.

Agent Gideon looks up to the Chief. “If you don’t mind we would like to talk further into the case with Agent L/n for a few moments.” He said with an assertive tone. As if he was telling and not asking.

The Chief could do no more than nod, put his head down, and walk out, having burnt out his 20 minutes of fame.

As the door clicked close behind him the same voice from the phone sparked again. “Okay so who was snappy-snaper-son and why are they angry at our Boy Wonder?”

“Garcia.” Hotch grumbled from the sidelines, rubbing the side of his head in irritation.

There was a beat of silence before the voice spoke again. “Right, sorry, okay. Whoever you are, I like your fire. I’m Penelope Garcia, technical analysts, but my friends call me wonderful.” She spoke, again flawlessly. Her bubbly voice just made you swell and forget about the anger you held for the lanky boy who stood shoulder to shoulder beside you, his eyes focused on the notebook you had.

spencer now wasn’t your top thought, this random lady on the phone was. And all you could think about was getting to meet her and trash talking Spencer or anyone you please with her.

“Anyway, I got a video in, I sent it to you all. A convenience store just 15 miles from the last crime scene. The footage pretty much explains itself. Three boys, one woman.” As the mysterious woman on the other end of the phone, Penelope Garcia, continued further into her description Spencer’s stare only bored further into the side of your head.

“Poor boy looked terrified.” Garcia’s frown can be heard through the phone.

After the phone hung up with a few flirtatious words spewing from Morgan’s mouth like impulse all attention was on you, most importantly Spencer.

“How did you know that?” He demands, placing the note book down on the desk again.

You squint your eyes at him, every bit of dislike spiking back up and bubbling over like a boiling pot left on the stove at maximum heat for too long. “Okay.” The word leaves your mouth quietly and you turn to look down at your notes. “Two family murders, two missing boys. In both crime scenes the mothers are left till last and shot in the forehead: instant kill.” Your explanation starts off brief, the entire room going quiet as they listen to you. “The mother dies last, like some sort of ritual goodbye. But in the first family murder the body of Scott Wilkins was found in the fire place. The fourth ‘Lost boy’.” You use air quotes.

“Miss Wilkins was shot twice, once in the thigh and once in the head. I just.. guessed. The execution shot was the Unsub, Scott didn’t step up to the plate to kill his mother and take the Unsub on as his new mother so she killed him too. Left him behind. And since that footage came in, the only family left is 10 year old, Graham Lester’s, 30 miles away from the last crime scene. They’re probably already there.”

Spencer only nods slowly, the silence of the room crowding in comfortable understanding as everyone takes in what you just said. You fidget with your fingers in front of you.

Agent Hotchner sighs. “Well, you just single handedly solved the entire case.” He says flatly, though you could hear an undertone of respect.

With a nod of agreement Agent Gideon turns to you as well. “We’ll still give out a quick profile, and then we’ll set out to stop the next murder.” He looked around for agreement and received firm nods from everyone.

The door opened and a woman with dark hair poked her head in. “We’re getting impatient out here.” She says, a cool atmosphere holding her to the loud voices of awaiting officers in the office.

Everyone except Reid joined her outside, leaving just the two of you in the conference room alone. The silence was now unbearable. The boy who once knew everything about you, won’t even look at you.

His eyes stayed glued to the notebook, as if looking anywhere else would shatter the resistance in the room around you both.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you shake your head. “What happened to yeah I’ll call?” You murmur, a sharp edge covering your words.

He winced internally, he never meant to stop calling, he wanted to stay friends and possibly become more than that, but he pussied out. "I got caught up with the job," he finally admitted, eyes still refusing to meet yours.

You almost scoff, the calling system had worked so well for a year, and then he slowly starts to deteriorate into never calling again. Maybe a message on Christmas or your birthday. But, other than that, he won’t pick up.

“Is that it?” Your words become heavier with years worth of regret and anger seething beneath you into one big ball of pure emotion. “That’s all you have to say? It was the job? Because I thought we were doing fine. It was working.”

You didn’t take a step back and instead stayed where you were, staring up at him, shoulder to shoulder. “It’s a bad excuse.” He admits quietly, not having the courage to break the silence with a louder voice.

“It’s a-“ You pause, trying to summon the right words, your hands coming up to his chest the shove him away. “Shitty, that’s what it is.”

Though Spencer didn’t argue all he did was slowly take ahold of your fighting hands, holding b them in his own. “Very, very shitty. But now is not the time to tell me off, Y/n. We’re working.” He states with a shit eating grin and a teasing tone, bringing his face down to yours. “Time and a place.” He whispers.

All words leave your mind and you stare at him in disbelief. You try to hoard any words you can to make any sentence, but you can’t. Not when he’s this close, not when his cologne is invading every sense available. Spencer’s hands hold your own so gently you feel almost numb. You feel stupid for calling his excuse shitty, even though it was.

The door opened and your hands place firm enough to Spencer’s chest to shove him away, acting as if you weren’t invading eachother personal space like it was a normal Tuesday. It was Agent Hotchner. “Reid, Agent L/n, we’ve delivered the profile. Please Prepare to head out to the Lesters.” Agent Hotchner gave a firm nod as he spoke, reminding you both that you were in the middle of a case.

“We’ll be right out.” Spencer nods, holding a shirt thumbs up and offering a curt nod.

Agent Hotchner nods towards Spencer and turns his attention towards you. “The BAU’s Media Liaison will be in touch. Please don’t shy away from replying.” A ghost of a rare smile splashed across his lips before he disappeared again.

Standing in stunned silence you let out a huffed hum. Not sure whether to be jumping with joy or crying out of pure overwhelming emotion. “Why are you always so moody? You should be squealing.”

And just like that, within seconds your eyes widened. “Do not make me slap you in front do all those people out there.” You motion to all the officers outside in the bullpen.

Though Spencer only shrugged and walked past you, his hands running over the lower half of your back as he did. “Okay.”

Maybe you did just get offered a job, maybe you will actually get to meet that Mystery Garcia lady, or maybe Spencer is a forever asshole. Regardless, you take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand, you can deal with him later, now is not the time



[tiredandoptimistic]

What I enjoy so much about Angel's curse as a plot device is how it works to expose who he is as a person and call up questions about what it means to be good or evil.

The intent of the curse was nothing but punishment. Angel would be forced to feel the guilt of everything he'd done, and if he ever let go of the guilt enough to experience pure joy, it would all be stripped away from him. It wasn't about giving him a soul so that he could be a better person, it was all just to maximize his suffering. And well, it does a pretty damn good job. For almost a hundred years, Angel spent his time wallowing in guilt and misery. He wasn't contributing anything to the world, but he wasn't taking anything away from it either (unless you count the rats he was eating). Until Whistler comes along and shows him a glimpse of Buffy Summers, and suddenly his life has a purpose again.

In the first season and a half of Buffy, Angel tries to actually do some good for the first time in his life. He makes the choice to use his abilities to help people, and it changes everything. He lets himself fall in love with Buffy, and as a side effect he concentrates more on the positive potential of his future than the shadows in his past. Turning evil is his punishment for allowing himself to be happy, and it exposes the hypocrisy of the original curse. Guilt and punishment was effective in keeping Angelus out of the world, but it's also what brought him back. Angel lost his shot at joy, and so did Buffy and Giles and Jenny and all the others. It's such a good representation about how punitive justice cannot lead to positive change. Arguing that his past crimes make him unworthy of any hope just leads to him going back to his wicked ways. If he'd been allowed to be happy, the Scoobies wouldn't have lost one of their most powerful allies and the world wouldn't have been nearly swallowed by Acathla.

Having a soul was never meant to be a reward. It wasn't supposed to be a shot at redemption, but he found his way to Buffy and was redeemed anyways. The hundred years of sitting around being sad did a lot to shape who Angel is, but it didn't motivate him to try and be better. It was Buffy that made him genuinely strive for a brighter future and save hundreds of lives along the way. It wasn't guilt that made him a good man, it was hope.

[sammisafetypin]

itz a bit early to be doing a season-by-season lineup considering im not at s5 yet… but i wanted to draw my jons anyways :] some notes under cut

He’s an Oriental Shorthair which is why his face is shaped weirdly . I decided to make him a black cat for deir association with bad luck , and also I wanted all of teh OG archive crew to be “”spooky”” animals . Oriental Shorthairs in specific are just weird spindly little freaks which is exactly how I perceive Jon .

His eyes get increasingly brighter teh more that he Becomes .

His hair is slicked back in S1 and S2 , minus his little antenna . You’d think he would stop taking care of it in S2 , but in my mind it’s just about one of th only thingz he has any meaningful “control” over .

In S3 , he stops caring about styling his hair and lets it fall loose . It grows out while he’s comatose, and by teh time he’z up and about he doesn’t have teh time or energy to get it cut .

Worm scars are primarily on teh right side of his body . Teh ones on his hand got burnt over by Jude Perry (teh burn being hoof-shaped bc I made her a unicorn) .

He broke his tail in teh Prentiss attack . It keeps starting to heal and den subsequently getting rebroken in increasingly absurd and aggravating ways . He will never know peace .

S3 clothes are , obviously , mooched off of Georgie . That hoodie is one of teh colors that sells least on her shop . Teh markings on teh pants are supposed to be vaguely eye-shaped .

Basira bought him his S4 outfit . She knew well enough that he liked sweaters , though teh blazer got ditched .

He broke his legs in teh House of Wax explosion . Unfortunately teh super-healing kinda screwed him dis time , as by teh time anyone got to worrying about his legs dey had already healed — incorrectly . He heals too quickly to perform effective surgery on to realign them , and because of that , walking is extremely painful . He starts using a wheelchair instead .

Teh wheelchair is very , very plain — he’s not one for bells and whistles , and doesn’t really want attention drawn to it in teh first place . Teh only decoration he’z given it is a few stickers from a pack that Georgie gave him back in S3 . Makes him feel a little less alone . ( In a better world , everyone would’ve had a great time arguing over how he should decorate his chair . Unfortunately it’s S4 and he has no friends 💔)

[schizosamwincester]

You know... I've said many times that Dean has no idea that romantic attraction is even real, but upon further reflection, I think I was wrong.

Dean is extremely self-aware. It's easy to forget that he knows about his problems and bad coping mechanisms and general neuroses because he generally doesn't do anything to fix them, but he absolutely does know about them. Here. Have some quotes to prove it:

No Exit (2x06):

Jo, you've got options. No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started me in this when I was so young... I wish I could do something else.

Jump the shark (4x19):

You know, I finally get why you [Sam] and Dad butted heads so much. You two were practically the same person. I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now.

The End (5x04):

I was wrong. Dean. I was wrong. I'm begging you. Say yes. But you won't. 'Cause I didn't. Because that's just not us, is it?

There are definitely more, but these were the ones that were easiest to find because I wrote "self-aware" in my notes.

Dean has a lot of time to think. He routinely drives for twelve hours straight. He keeps a lot of his baggage to himself, and that means the thoughts are stuck rattling around in his brain instead. He can examine himself and his feelings and his problems over and over and over again. Just because he doesn't cope with them the way someone who's having these revelations in a therapy session would doesn't mean that he hasn't figured them out.

So with all that in mind, with how well Dean does actually understand himself... Why wouldn't he have noticed that he views sex and romance in a fundamentally different way than the people around him? The two biggest figures in his life, Sam and John, both loved women so much that they went on massive revenge quests after they died. They let their romantic love for people who were already dead completely uproot their lives. Surely Dean has noticed he's never felt that way about anyone, not even the hookups and situationships he liked the most.

Dean knows who he is. He knows that he's the hookup guy. He avoids baggage, strings, and feelings at every opportunity. It would make a lot of sense for him to do that because he's figured out that he just doesn't feel the same way about women as they usually do about him.

Dean Winchester is Dean Winchester on purpose. It's easy to forget that when you're someone who would never choose to be like that, but he very much did. So even if he does not have the vocabulary that we do and thus can't explicitly call himself aro, it makes sense for him to have created the "love 'em and leave 'em" part of his persona precisely because he knows he doesn't have romantic feelings towards anyone.

All that said, the pace at which he accepts it is definitely variable. He obviously knows he isn't interested in romance right from when we meet him in Season One, but he might not have come to the realization that other people actually are. It is probably a revelation that happens in stages, and I think there's a lot of wiggle room for when those happen and how he comes to terms with it. There's time for denial (I've definitely felt things for women, actually) and bargaining (other people can't possibly feel all that) and all that jazz.

The main thing is that I have absolutely said in the past that "Dean Winchester dies without ever learning that romantic attraction is real," and I do not believe that anymore. He may be stubborn, and he may not tend to actually change his behaviors, but he is too self aware to not have noticed them.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking thoughts about Abuela being back and with this backstory about her being taken in by charlatans and Eddies whole catholic guilt thing and how the two things kind of play into one another as an exploration of faith and being taken in by something.

Abuela giving all her money to the tarot card readers etc because she was searching for something - for connection (with Abuelo) - trying to recapture what she had lost, and How Eddie has spoken about trying to re-find the magic he had with Shannon - how Eddie hasn't actually fully reconciled the Shannon of it all when it comes to relationships and how his Catholic guilt connects into that.

How Marisol as a physical representation of Catholicism is part of that narrative - how Eddie is entering a place where he has to chose his path - in order to move on from Shannon he needs to fully square the hole - catholic or non catholic. And how that needs to happen first - before he can begin his queer journey!