#it was those two in s10

[shortfeather]

I once, at like three in the morning, misread the name ‘the imp and Skizz podcast’ as ‘the skimp and izz podcast’ and it lodged so deeply in my brain that I get genuinely tripped up now when I see the actual channel name, spelled correctly, in my YouTube feed

[shallowseeker]

The parallels between Metatron and Crowley make me insane, ESPECIALLY the dialogue in the Dean-Metatron fight and the Sam-Crowley fights AGHHHHH

[reiding-writing]

What about a cold!reader where Spencer gets jealous this time?

Like they meet another police team and they also have a "Spencer" who's dorky and they don't really listen to his rambling so she's kind to him (in her own cold!reader way) Spencer is like "???? The fuck is this exactly?"

SILENT TREATMENT. /spencer reid/

spencer’s not sure if you made the right decision by choosing him. you know that you did.

s10!cold!reader 3.1k flangst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | i fear i missed the ‘police team’ part of the first request and made spencer 2.0 a pathologist instead, oops-

The air in the precinct is heavy with stale coffee and tension. You stand at the whiteboard, arms crossed, eyes scanning the photographs pinned to it—victims, maps, timelines.

The others are seated around the table, all mid-discussion, but you’re quiet. Not checked out. Just… precise. Listening without indulging the noise.

You speak when necessary.

“Victim three deviates from the geographical pattern. If it was opportunistic, the UnSub’s comfort zone is widening. If it wasn’t—he’s accelerating.”

Rossi nods, pen tapping against the table. “Could be staging, too. Make it look random.”

“Could be.” You don’t elaborate. You don’t fill silences. You let them speak if they have something worth adding.

No one pushes for more. They know how you operate. They know you don’t soften things. Not for comfort, not for camaraderie. You’re professional, respected—and emotionally distant, even now, even years into working with them.

The only exception to that is sitting three feet away from you, pretending to read a file he’s already memorised twice.

Spencer is quiet. Quieter than usual. His gaze flicks to you every so often, like he’s trying to time something—his words, maybe. Your reactions. Your temperature. Whatever it is, he’s trying to gauge where you’re at without having to ask.

“Spencer,” you say without looking at him, “page twelve. The blood spatter analysis.”

He’s already on it, of course. He lifts his eyes quickly. “Right—uh, yeah. The cast-off patterns indicate repeated strikes from a blunt object, likely with some torque. There's arterial spray on the west wall, so the blow that killed her came from the left side.”

You give a small nod. “Thanks.”

That’s it. No warmth. No smile. But Spencer straightens a little like it meant something. Like he’s grateful for being asked.

Emily side-eyes the two of you, not subtle in the least. “Is it just me, or has Boy Wonder been extra clingy lately?”

Morgan grins over his coffee. “You noticed that too, huh? He’s been on her like a puppy. Following her around the crime scenes, sitting next to her at lunch, hanging on her every word…”

JJ chimes in, amused. “It’s kind of cute. He’s like one of those Victorian ghosts—you know, all sad eyes and emotional repression,”

“Hey,” Spencer protests, not quite looking at any of them. “I don’t—cling,”

You don’t react. You never do when they tease him. And Spencer doesn’t look to you for help either, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders beside you.

Still, they’re not wrong.

He’s been… off lately. Not in a way most people would notice, but you’re not most people. He’s always been close to you, but recently, he’s orbiting you in smaller, tighter circles. Sitting closer. Waiting longer when you speak, like he's hoping you'll say something more.

The team has picked up on it. Of course they have. But they don’t know. Not really. They just think he’s crushing harder than usual. No one suspects what’s actually going on—because you’ve made sure of that.

You and Spencer aren’t the kind of couple who touch hands under the table or exchange soft smiles across briefing rooms. You’re not a couple that does anything in front of people, really. You’re together, but that truth stays tucked away between you and him, guarded in the quiet moments that happen off the clock.

Moments no one else sees.

“You doing okay?” you ask him quietly as the others begin packing up for the next site visit.

Spencer looks startled. “Me?”

You don’t repeat yourself.

He nods, quickly. “Yeah. Just… yeah,”

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. A flicker of something passes between you. Reassurance, maybe. Or a silent understanding.

Morgan watches the exchange from the other side of the room, eyebrows lifting. “Okay, seriously, what is that?”

You ignore him. You grab your coat.

Hotch glances at his watch, then at you. “You and Reid head to the ME’s office. JJ, Emily, and Morgan—head to the victim’s apartment.”

Spencer immediately moves to follow, a bit too fast, a bit too eager.

Emily catches your arm on the way out, voice low. “You’d tell me, right?”

You pause. “Tell you what?”

She gives you a long look. “Never mind,”

—

The mortuary is colder than usual, the sterile, humming kind of cold that seeps through your coat and settles deep in your bones. You don’t shiver. You just pull on a pair of latex gloves and nod at the technician who leads you and Spencer toward the back.

The morgue table is already prepped, and the body is covered with a clean white sheet. It’s clinical. Organised. Efficient.

Spencer walks beside you in silence, his hands folded in front of him, shoulders set in that way that means he’s wound a little too tight. You don’t ask why. You already know. He’s been tense since yesterday—since you listened to the young tech at the crime scene rattle off chemical compositions and possible causes of decomp with the kind of enthusiasm Spencer usually reserves for classical literature and obscure physics.

Now, you’re both here again, about to meet another new person excited to talk about death.

The doors swing open, and in walks a man who can’t be older than twenty-eight. Blonde hair slightly ruffled, round glasses sliding down his nose, blue gloves snapped on too tight. He’s grinning before he even says hello.

“You must be the agents! I’m Tyler, the newest forensic pathologist on-site.” He says it like he’s giving a TED Talk. “Technically I’m still finishing my fellowship, but I’ve done two post-grads already, and I’ve been shadowing Dr. Karlsen for the last three months—”

Behind him, a woman in her sixties, presumably Dr. Karlsen, sighs audibly. “Tyler,”

“Right, right,” Tyler says, waving her off. “Back on track. Let’s begin,”

He peels back the sheet with a reverent kind of gentleness, like he’s revealing a masterpiece, not a victim of a homicide. You don’t react, not outwardly. You observe the bruising around the throat, the defensive wounds along the forearms, the way one wrist seems just slightly dislocated from the rest of the body’s alignment.

Spencer shifts beside you, already piecing things together.

Tyler claps once, low but excited. “So, cause of death was asphyxiation due to manual strangulation, but what’s really interesting is the laryngeal cartilage—you see here?” He gestures with tweezers, careful not to touch. “This fracture on the right side of the thyroid cartilage? It’s called a hyoid crush. Super rare, but it suggests a significant amount of pressure, possibly done from behind. Also—if you look just under here—”

Spencer speaks up, voice dry. “That damage could also occur post-mortem if the body was handled roughly during movement. Depending on the timeline, it’s not definitive,”

Tyler blinks. “Yes—true! Great point. But in this case, time of death aligns pretty tightly with the estimated bruising pattern, which I can show you in just a moment. And did you know—” He turns toward you now, eyes bright behind his glasses. “—that the thyroid cartilage, especially in females, doesn’t always ossify the way it does in males? That’s why injuries here can be harder to spot unless you’re really looking,”

You nod once. “Interesting.”

He beams, clearly encouraged. “Oh! And even cooler—well, not for the victim, obviously—but cool from a physiological standpoint—is that the arterial pressure around the carotid sinus can trigger something called a vagal response. It can actually kill a person instantly. That’s why sometimes you see victims with minimal signs of struggle. Their heart just… stops,”

You don’t interrupt. You just let him go on, standing still, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Your face is unreadable, but you’re listening. Not because you’re overly impressed—his information is nothing Spencer couldn’t rattle off half-asleep—but because it’s rare to see someone talk about this stuff with that kind of earnest joy. It’s not affection, not interest. It’s more like watching a dog with a brand-new toy. Mildly amusing. Harmless.

Spencer doesn’t see it that way.

He’s standing rigid beside you now, arms crossed, jaw set tight. You can practically feel the radiating jealousy off him like static. Tyler’s voice is all you can hear in the room, but Spencer’s silence is louder.

Dr. Karlsen cuts in after a minute, clearing her throat.

“Tyler. You’re wandering,”

“Right, right, sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “Okay. So, other injuries: mild contusions to the upper back, inconsistent with the ligature pattern on the neck—suggests those came before the primary attack. Or from an external for e,”

Spencer murmurs, almost too low to be heard, “Or the UnSub simply pressed her down with a knee to control movement,”

You glance at him. His eyes aren’t on you—they’re locked on the mortician, unblinking.

Tyler continues without noticing. “I’ll upload full reports to the BAU’s system. But if you’d like to stay, I’ve got the next autopsy scheduled in twenty minutes. It’s unrelated, but the skull fracture’s really unusual—he fell into an industrial lathe, if you can believe that—”

“Thank you,” you interrupt, voice calm. “But we’ve got another scene to process.”

Tyler deflates a little but still smiles. “Of course. Good luck with the case,”

Spencer doesn’t say goodbye.

—

Back at the precinct, the team regroups. Photos scatter across the table, evidence logs updated, and reports uploaded. It’s a flurry of movement, conversation, caffeine.

Spencer stays quiet.

Even when Garcia calls in with a list of potential suspect matches, even when JJ reads off new victimology data—he’s present, but distant. Contributing, but subdued.

The turning point comes when you’re scanning Tyler’s preliminary report again, eyes catching on something he’d mentioned in passing—about the bruising pattern not matching the ligature marks.

You frown. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Hotch looks up. “What is it?”

You pull a photo closer. “The bruising on the victim’s upper back was dismissed as unrelated, but if the UnSub had control of her neck from behind, these could be from bracing his knee. Except the angles are wrong, which means she was restrained by someone else beforehand. Or there were multiple offenders.”

A beat.

Morgan leans in. “Multiple Unsubs? Are you sure?”

Reid is already flipping through crime scene notes, pulling up maps, rearranging the timeline.

But you know the shift started with something Tyler said. A stray, almost off-hand detail—one Spencer had dismissed. And now, it’s cracked the case wide open.

You glance over at him again.

His expression is neutral, but you know him. Know the set of his jaw, the small twitch of his fingers against the folder, the way he suddenly won’t meet your eyes.

He’s not okay.

And the silence keeps going.

And going.

Spencer doesn’t sit next to you at the precinct. He doesn’t offer up extra information unless someone asks directly. He doesn’t bring you your usual coffee without saying anything, doesn’t lean over your shoulder to glance at your notes, doesn’t linger when you leave the room.

At first, you don’t even notice. Not really. You’re used to space. You need space. Silence doesn’t alarm you—it comforts you. If he wants room, you’ll give it. That’s part of being with someone, right? Letting them breathe.

But then it starts to feel like something else.

Something heavier.

His eyes avoid yours. His steps fall behind the team, not beside you. His voice, when he speaks, sounds smaller. Not quieter. Smaller.

And the team—well, they notice.

They notice fast.

“What do you think happened?” JJ whispers, leaning toward Morgan at the conference table.

Morgan lifts a brow. “Between Doctor Genius and Miss Ice Bath?”

JJ nods. “They haven’t said more than five words to each other in two days,”

“Maybe they had a fight,”

“About what? Reid would agree the sky was red if she suggested it,”

“Exactly,” Morgan mutters, “maybe that’s the problem,”

JJ laughs under her breath. “Or maybe Spence is just tired,”

Morgan chuckles. “Either way, something is weird,”

—

You keep your head down. You do your work. And when Spencer doesn't sit beside you, you let him be.

Because you figure if he needed you, he'd say something.

He doesn’t.

Not until four nights into the case, in a borrowed office space at the local PD. It's late. The rest of the team has gone back to the hotel to get some sleep, but you stayed behind to finish typing up victimology reports. Spencer stayed too—though he hasn’t said more than three words to you all day.

You assumed he was just buried in research.

He isn’t.

He’s pacing now, just behind you, his arms crossed tight like he’s trying to hold himself together.

You finally look up.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He stops pacing, stares at the wall for a moment, then turns to you, blurting out in a rush:

“Do you want to be with me, or would you rather be with someone else who’s… easier to deal with?”

You blink, slow. “Excuse me?”

He exhales, harsh and shaky. “I—I’ve just been thinking about it, okay? Since the morgue. Since that guy.”

You’re still. Watching him carefully.

He keeps going, words unraveling fast.

“He was like me. He talks like me. He got excited about the same things I do, and you—you listened to him. You didn’t tune him out, you didn’t tell him to focus, or cut him off, or roll your eyes. You actually looked like you didn’t mind. Like you liked hearing him talk.”

“Okay—”

“And that’s fine, that’s—I get it, he’s younger, he’s less complicated, and I’m not trying to make this into something dramatic, I just—” He cuts himself off, swallows. “You could have someone like him. Someone who doesn’t have… all of the— baggage, that I come with,”

He gestures at himself. Like he is the problem. Like all the things that make him him are some burden you’ve quietly been carrying.

You stare at him for a long moment.

Then you speak, slowly.

“I have no idea what you’re on about.”

Spencer looks confused. “What?”

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the ME, and tell you that you’re being ridiculous,” You stand, stepping closer to him. “I was focused on the case. On the victim. Not on whether the guy liked explaining arteries.”

“But you let him—”

“Because I let you talk like that,” you say. “So why would I shut someone else down for doing the same?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Your voice softens a fraction—not warm, but honest. Quiet. Careful.

“You’re who I’m with.”

His brows draw together. “That’s it?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He’s still not sure how to process that. “But I’m—difficult.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

You sigh, stepping just close enough that your knees brush his. “Yes*.*”

You pause.

Then, carefully, you lift your hand and rest it on his knee. Not possessive. Not performative.

Just steady.

It’s one of the few times you initiate touch. He notices. His eyes flicker down, then back up again, and something in his posture shifts—like the weight on his shoulders finally loses a fraction of its heaviness.

He’s still spiralling a little, you can tell, but you add, gently, “You spiral. You overthink. You get jealous. You shut down.”

A pause.

“And I don’t care.”

His throat bobs.

You reach up, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of his hairline, tucking it back behind his ear. He leans into it instinctively, even though he’s still blinking like he can’t believe what just happened.

You look at him flatly.

“If I didn’t want to be with you,” you say. “then I wouldn’t be here,”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a week.

Then, finally, he nods.

And for the first time in days, his fingers curl around yours.

—

The next morning, everything is back to normal.

Or, at least, it seems like it.

Spencer sits beside you again at the precinct. He hands you your coffee, shoulder brushing yours. He leans over your notepad to make a quiet joke about the new crime scene tech who mislabeled three evidence bags, and you give a low, dry chuckle that makes Morgan do a double-take.

Emily stares. JJ narrows her eyes.

Something’s changed.

But it’s subtle. Maddeningly subtle.

There’s no hand-holding. No long, longing stares. Just… a shift in air pressure.

“You feel that?” JJ murmurs to Morgan as you and Spencer walk out of the room together, shoulders aligned.

Morgan sips his coffee. “Pretty boy’s silent treatment didn’t last long,”

“No,” JJ says slowly, “apparently not,”

They both fall silent, watching you disappear down the hall with Spencer beside you.

“You think they’re—?” Morgan starts.

JJ shakes her head. “No idea.”

But they’ll keep guessing.

They always do.

And you?

You’ll keep things exactly the way you like them.

Quiet. Private.

Yours.

[wandasaura]

RIDE LIKE THE WIND, BULLSEYE

summary — olivia had given up hope of ever getting stabler back in the squad, but then you showed up, and you’re not quite him, but you’re all the best parts

warning(s) — mention of undercover operations, blood and injury, past child sexual exploitation, reference to s10 e2 ‘confessions’, therapy, canon mental health struggles, bipolar depression mentioned, history of anxiety and depression, mention of canon character death, previous injury, shooting, alludes to past mutual romantic feelings between elliot and olivia, slight marital disputes/problems, hostage situation/negotiations, child endangerment, minor character death, gunshot wounds, stitches, mentions of domestic violence, ongoing domestic violence/sexual assault case, canon adjacent content, girl dad!elliot stabler, basically cool aunt olivia benson, angst but…not really angst

authors note — i was compelled to write stabler in some capacity and we ended up with this… very glad to have gotten this out of my system

In October of ninety-nine, a man had exploited you for the very first time in your life. You don’t know his name, or all of the details really, but you remember that your father had come home in a haste of emotional frustration and anger. He punched the wall. You remember how loud it sounded, how you’d cowered into Elizabeth and held your ears, afraid of his rampage. He hadn’t known you were listening. It was late. Elizabeth was only awake because you knocked on her door asking for chocolate milk, explaining through yawns that Kathleen had put the Nesquik powder on the highest shelf in the cupboards because she was mad at you — typical older sister retaliation throughout your childhood. If he’d known that your little ears were around, he wouldn’t have told your mother so bluntly with his back pressed against the counter and his head in his hands that some pedophile had blasted your third grade picture on his website for others to… you think the word he’d specifically used was ogle, but it hadn’t been in your vocabulary then, so in the years that it sat on your mind, you’d summarized it in other ways.

As you’d grown up, spending more and more afternoons at the 16th precinct because once you turned eleven you were allowed to walk home from school alone so long as you remembered to text your mother precisely when you stepped out of the middle school and when you once again stepped into the house and locked the door, the vague description of what happened sickened you.

You stopped by to see your Dad every day between those two events, usually with your water bottle pulled out of your backpack and uncapped. He filled it for you, and sometimes you could squeeze ten or fifteen minutes out of him before he turned you away, but those short few minutes every week opened your eyes to the reality of his world at work, to the world of Manhattan outside of your bubble of sunshine and rainbows. It only made you sicker over the potential of your picture situation.

When you were thirteen, you couldn’t take it anymore. One of your friends at school had come barging into the cafeteria saying that her sister’s best friend's cousin who lived in Minnesota — that had been a mouthful at the time and still was now — had her nudes leaked to myspace by her ex boyfriends. That brought it all back up. The sound of your father punching the wall, he’d kept you so far removed from violence before that point somehow. The way your mother had gasped at the news; laid her head down on his chest and wept. You know it couldn’t have been good, but you also couldn’t conceptualize what was so horrible about your school picture. Either way, the mental turmoil had rendered you nauseous and sickly by ninth period, and Olivia had come to save you when your mother relayed back to your father that she was stuck in traffic and wouldn’t be able to get you, so he’d sent her.

You’d cracked before she’d had the chance to ask you what was wrong, asking her through tears about the case from ‘99 that got your parents all rattled up. She told you, because Olivia never lied to you, and you’d told her that you were going to be sick after she explained why your school picture was so inviting to a pedophile. Your pigtails, pink bows to match your pink Ariel t-shirt, a purple skirt because it was a compromise made by your father who insisted you couldn’t actually wear your swimming pool tail to school even if the dress code was slightly elevated for pictures. He’d told you that it would perfectly match the color of her shells, and that everyone out know in their heads you were a real mermaid too. You’d picked into a bag they kept in the glove box of the squad car, and Olivia had shed a tear at a stop sign when she thought you weren’t looking.

That single moment had led you down a path nobody had anticipated — therapy, psychiatrists.

In ‘08, your sister had more or less spun out after getting into drugs and battling an undiagnosed mental illness. She’d tainted your family's reputation even if your father tried to pretend like she didn’t. You were in high school then, older, going to your own therapy appointments, taking your own steps to bettering your mental health. Her resistance had been like a bullet in the gut. She’d yelled insane things, pushed wild narratives and damaging accusations at Doctors just trying to help. It had taken a long time to forgive her for that, but it still lives all around you, even now, years later.

You creep down the hallways in the 16th precinct in Manhattan. They’re familiar, smaller than you remember them being as a kid coming to see your father and Mr. Munch, but familiar. They haven’t changed much at all, but then you step into the Sex Crimes hub, and it’s hard to imagine how it ever used to be laid out. Munch always yelled at you for hanging out on the stairs, but he knew he could always find you there, and when he did try to wrangle you into conversation with you and you weren’t in your designated spot, he panicked.

A pang of grief shoots through you. Munch. Mr. Munch, as you referred to him as a child. You hadn’t seen him much in the years that came after your fathers leave from SVU. You stopped by on your walks home from school for the first couple of weeks. Olivia waited with water for you instead. But then you stopped, and nobody could really blame you, and thankfully you’d found no reason to return as you grew up.

“You must be the new transfer. I’m Amanda Rollins.” A blonde intercepts your path. She’s perky, cheerful, radiant in a way that's impressive given the nature of her workload. Your father had never been any good at maintaining his attitude in this life, but you remember strikingly how Olivia had never held a candle to his impatience. She was impeccably reserved, though just as sharp and venous, perhaps more, because once she had unraveled, you’d reached a point of no return.

You utter your name, thinking nothing of your last, but then it dawns on you that she’s shared hers, and the southern twang in her speech is captivating. She’s not from here, and while you don’t assume that everyone will know who you are or have a connection to your father, it’s a very safe assumption that she genuinely has not heard of you once. “Stabler.”

A look of recognition dawns on Amanda’s face, but not anything significant to worry you. A few of the unís walking out to patrol had gawked at you like they couldn’t believe you’d show your face here, like the stories of your sisters epic crash out still lived out even with your fathers sacrifices and heroics to dissuade them. It doesn’t bother you like it had as a teenager, but rather at the fact that it’s years later and people still don’t recognize the validity of mental illness or have any kind of empathy for those struggling.

You hadn’t expected your first day on the job at Sex Crimes to be so emotionally provoking, but it’s been a while since you’ve been here, and nostalgia is a wonderful thing when you’re not face to face with active reminders.

“Stabler.” It’s a voice you’d know anywhere, and a radiant smile decorates your face as you turn to find Olivia, your new Captain. “Where the hell have you been, kid?” She asked with a breathy laugh, stalking near and going in for a hug, seemingly unphased by the box of your belongings that jabs her in what you can assume is her tit. You wince sympathetically, but still smile, because Olivia’s always had that effect on you. It’s been years since you’ve seen her, but she hasn’t changed a bit. You think if you get under her skin enough, she’ll even revert back to calling you that dreaded nickname she’d coined back in ‘07. Her familiarity and consistency is appreciated.

“High School, College, the Academy.” You prattle on, trying not to sound like your accomplishments were prideful, but you did find some level of pride in yourself when you’d thought about how much it had taken out of you to overcome what you had and get here. “ I did a year with Manhattan narcotics. The last six months I’ve been undercover.”

“That’s amazing.” Olivia gushes, her eyes reflecting her honesty. “Does Elliot know you’re here?” She asks, and you can’t decide if she sounds hopeful at the proposition of crossing paths with him, or just generally curious. After all, this job had done a number on your father.

“Um, not exactly.” You grinned sheepishly, and you’d been told often that you had his mischief. Olivia must still think that, because she scoffs knowingly. “I’ve been undercover, I think he’s undercover. There’s just not a lot of time for catching up. Mom knows though. She says that you’re welcome for dinner any time and you’re an idiot because you know that and still haven’t come out once in ten years. She says sorry for not coming out though.” You laugh, because the hypocrisy in your mothers rampage was comical, and she knew it. Benson laughs too, but it’s pained, and delusions from your childhood come rushing back.

You’ve always known that your father and your mother love each other. That wasn’t ever a question. The question was whether they were in love with each other. You know they’re not. Not fully at least. It’s never phased you. They don’t make it seem like it's a burden to be tied together by five kids and multiple decades of history and balance, and they definitely don’t seem to hate each other in the slightest considering they still sleep in the same room when your father actually stumbles home. But, you know that there’s very little keeping them connected the way they try to pretend like they are. You’d wondered for years what would’ve been of Olivia and your father if they’d ever really had a chance, not just been cursed to be passing ships in the night, best friends and nothing more. You’ll never know, or at least, you won’t anytime soon.

“Yeah, well.” Olivia brushes off your mothers apology because really she does understand. Life gets busy when there's nothing giving you a reason to stay in touch, and there hadn’t been any reason for her and Kathy Stabler to keep communication lines open when their common denominator was Elliot and he’d just up and left her. “I wasn’t aware that you were the new transfer. I can assume that was your doing?” She changes the subject and you’re grateful. It’s not that you don’t have anything to say to Olivia. Truthfully, you’re excited to finally have her opinions and her advice back in your life now that you can make better use of them as an adult, but this is work, you’ve never worked with somebody this woven into the make up of your being.

“Guilty.” Your tongue sweeps across your lip, a trait that your mother thinks you absorbed through osmosis from your father. Olivia can only think the same as she takes in your easy confidence, though it’s so much different than Elliot’s ever was, she sees him so clearly in you right now. It takes her back to the start, to nineteen-ninety-nine, Captain Cragen, and flip phones. It’s nostalgia that hurts, but she doesn’t want to go away. “Couldn’t risk it getting back to Pops.” You explain, and Olivia doesn’t question whether that’s the truth or not. She knows that within the first instance of Elliot finding out you’re working Sex Crimes, one of you is going to be getting a phone call and a fuming father already spinning out.

“Why’s he not want you on the job?” Amanda questioned, because to her, every father wanted their kids to follow in their footsteps, especially the ones in law enforcement; especially the ones who’d made a name for themselves and had earned titles and medals of honor since the start of their career.

“Because he’s an uptight, emotionally unregulated, asshole with a bleeding heart for most women and children.” You waved your hand, because as much as you adored your father and still thought the world of his accomplishments and ambition, you’d told him as much to his face once you hadn’t been so blinded by childhood innocence to see his imperfections. Your father was a doting, loving man, who was not afraid to put on a plastic crown and get on the floor with you after a day at work, but he was an emotional rollercoaster with broken lap bars. He pulled you along with him. When he was happy, the house was practically in harmony, and Kathleen didn’t hide things from you nearly as often, but when it rained it poured and it felt like a battlefield just sharing a shower let alone a single microwave. “My father loved this job, but this job ripped him apart until he damn near lost his mind regardless of his passion. He turned on Fin once, and then it was a toxic testosterone battle for a couple of months. I’m pretty sure he thinks being here is going to eat me alive.”

“Bastard did.” Fin huffed, remembering the small moment that had once seemed like an entire earthquake. It hadn’t crossed his mind in a while. He’d reconciled with Elliot because they were a family in this department, and that had been the end of it, but being so suddenly reminded of their rough patch had his eyes rolling and Amanda smirking. Olivia was trying not to laugh, because while she’d always been very kind in Fin’s regard about that entire situation, a toxic testosterone battle is exactly what she would’ve called it had she not been pinned in the middle of protecting professional peace. “Filed a transfer application and everything. Wait a minute, how’d you even know ‘bout that?”

A mischievous glint sparks your eyes, but before you can respond, there’s somebody yelling, and you only have enough time to register ‘shots fired downtown’ before Benson is cursing beneath her breath, yelling at you to go with Rollins while she and Fin go their separate ways. You know that the other members of the squad had trailed after you, trickling out of different rooms in the precinct at the announcement, but you hadn’t put names to faces nor even asked for names at all to put together who was who.

Your belongings were left on Amanda’s desk. You know it’s hers because she’d told you as much when she instructed you to ‘drop that there’. It didn’t phase you all that much to leave them behind on whim. The only thing in that box worth caring about is a picture of your father, Olivia, and yourself inside the precinct back in the early two-thousands. You can’t recall specifically what school year it's from anymore, maybe Kindergarten, maybe first, but you’re dressed up in the miniature versions of your fathers professional attire, one of his ties even hung around your neck to complete the look. You do remember that it had been career day, and you’d been adamant about attending as your father. You’d swung by after school with your mother to see him, and Olivia had fawned over your tiny plastic handcuffs and chocolate frosted donut hair clips that held the flyaways back from your eyes. That small detail had been your mothers creative touch, and it had your father in stitches for about ten minutes — it was a good day in your house that career day, you remember because you had pizza for dinner and Dickie practically broke his bedroom door down in excitement when Elliot shouted from the living room that he was home with the pies. You wish it would’ve been like that more often.

The cruiser with Amanda was comfortable. She took the driver's seat, as you anticipated given there seemed to be a personal connection to the supposed suspect if Olivia’s look of defeat was any indication after you’d gotten the announcement.

“So, you know who fired the shots?” You asked after a moment, not bothered by the silence, but wanting to prepare yourself for whatever you were about to step into.

Amanda sighed, “Well,” She droned, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel impatiently when even the lights and sirens on top of the squad car didn’t get traffic pulling out of the way. “About three weeks ago we got a case. Jennifer Moore, 27, reported a rape and ongoing domestic abuse. Her case went to mistrial last week. Benson’s been keeping an eye on her while the ADA prepares to refile charges, but she went dark two days ago. The address is the laundry mat they own.”

“So, she finally snapped.” You hummed, and Amanda made a sound of confirmation in her throat, aggressively swerving around a stubborn taxi who just wouldn’t budge enough to let you through the light. “You above yelling in Manhattan?” You asked on a whim, your head snapping to Amanda whilst your fingers toyed with the control panel on the door.

There’s a spark of amusement in Amanda’s eyes when she finally gathers what you mean. It becomes a full on smile when your head shoots out the window, half of your torso balanced against the door for support as you waved your arm. “Move it, before you’re my next stop!” It might’ve lacked the bite you packed in Brooklyn, but it was efficient, the taxi driver shook his head at you in something similar to disbelief as he slowly inched up and turned off a side street.

“I take it you’ve used that one a lot.” Amanda laughed, finally finding it possible to absorb the light energy of your mood.

“My old partner in Brooklyn. He was a real pill.” You rolled your eyes, and Amanda got the hint that while he might’ve been a solid mentor throughout your first year free from the academy, he was not an overall great guy. Nobody you’d be hoping to get coffee with at least. “He was a bit more colorful with it too.”

“You always know you wanted to work Sex Crimes?” She asks, taking a sharp right. Your body sways with the movement of the car just slightly, your core engaging to keep you from sliding. This is a practiced dance now, one that’s basically written in blood on your wrists.

“Yeah.” You tell her, not mentioning that you’d been tethered to this job, this field, this title since you were a child not even double digits. You can’t get the words off your tongue, but it doesn’t stop all the thoughts from popping up in your head — how many people had seen the picture when it was first posted, how many men had gotten off to your pigtails and Ariel t-shirt, how many still had a copy of it on a flash drive that they hide from their wives and their own daughters with Ariel t-shirts and drawers full of bows. No amount of years in therapy would ever cleanse you of the hypotheticals, and the unknown truthers hidden within those hypotheticals. You’ll never know the reach that man and his website had. You’ll never know what scenarios a pedaphile can construect in sixteen hours — that’s how long your picture had been up on the website before Cragen had demanded it be taken down. Your therapist had told you that all you can do now is move on, that you have all the tricks and tools to do so on your own, but it feels impossible to do that when there’s an inkling in the back of your head that every man you meet has seen that website, that picture, the article that laid the details of the case out clearly for anyone to see if they knew the perfect keywords to look up on Firefox. “Sex Crimes was always the goal.” You say instead.

“Narcotics your runner up?” Amanda asks, and at this point you’re almost certain she’s just trying to fill the quiet, consumed with guilt for letting this case go to mistrial to begin with. “When I was in the Academy back in Georgia, I had two plans, Sex Crimes or Organized Crime.“

”No, actually. It was a random selection excluding Sex Crimes. I told myself that I had to make it out of the Academy for an entire year before I could put in my papers to transfer. I’ve known Fin and Olivia my entire life. I don’t think they’d treat me differently because of that, but it was the mental gymnastics of combatting that and the lecture I know I’m going to get from my father that got me all twisted. So I worked the beat for three months, worked Narcotics for another three before they sent me under. When I came back I finished up my NDIT, practically threw myself into it actually, there wasn’t much I could do with a concussion and a stab wound to the gut. Let me tell you, six months undercover was probably the best test I could’ve put myself through. There wasn’t a day I didn’t want to pull myself out, it was hell, but I loved those girls that I was working with, and I wanted them out before I got to go back to my perfect little life. We got the sting, though. And well, now I’m here.”

It had only just dawned on Amanda how young you are. She’d gathered as much, but hearing that you’d taken your NDIT and passed after only a year out of the Academy was awakening so to speak. It took most patrol officers at least three years to meet the necessary qualifications to advance toward a promotion.

“My first day was a lot like this, you know. I came in with my box of stuff, ready to introduce myself, and SVU got called the scene. I met Cragen in the elevator, handed my box to some random rookie and had to throw myself into the case. It was… interesting. If you need anything, I’m here.” Amanda offered, and you smiled at her sincerity, watching her grip the wheel between white knuckles, the GPS telling you that you’re minutes away from the laundry mat. You’d probably be there already if people learned to have a little efficiency.

“Do you have kids?” You asked suddenly, because it was weighing on your mind. Her every little motion was so indicative of the fact that she’d learned what it felt like to have something to lose. Her hands held the wheel with practiced leisure, but enough precision to guarantee that she’d be able to take control if something spun out. She doted on you with warmth that was beyond kindness, twinged with something that felt like hope; hope that one day somebody would see her kids on their first day of work, and they’d take them under their wing because this world is hard and cruel enough on its own without unnecessary struggle.

Amanda’s lips quirk, and that’s all you need to know, but she opens her mouth, ready to tell you anything you want to know it seems, a radiant glow taking hold of her features as she thinks about the baby, or babies, she has at home. “Two girls.” She smiles, “Jesse and Billie.”

Your face contorts despite your will, but a tale of two sisters has always pulled at your heart strings, The Parent Trap the first instance of this happening when you were six and thoroughly obsessed with Hallie and Annie — enough to convince Kathleen to pierce your ears with a sewing needle and an apple. She was definitely only enough to say no, to redirect you to your parents and take every needle out of your sewing kit, but instead she’d laid you down on the couch and seen the plan through until you were sobbing, bleeding, and screeching for Elliot who was conveniently stumbling home from work at the same time.

“How’d you know?” Amanda cocks a curious eyebrow, muttering under her breath when you get stuck at another red light, a white mini van with its hazards on letting out three teenage boys with basketballs and backpacks. You couldn’t yell at that, because with one scan of your eyes you determined you were in fact in a drop off zone, and making her move would endanger the kids already on the street, and the ones potentially preparing to climb out of the car. Amanda seemed to relax too when she noticed what was unfolding, and you’re sure it’s an added relief that you can both see Olivia and Fin climbing out of their own squad car, approaching the laundry mat where a good number of unis and patrol officers gather. A knot forms in your belly. You already know this situation is more than you’ve been informed of.

“I double majored in college before I went into the academy. Forensics Science and Behavioral Studies with a minor in fine arts. My sister Kathleen hates when I analyze her, but it’s empowering to finally have a way to make her skin crawl after all these years.”

“Little sisters.” Amanda huffs and shakes her head like she knows this never ending dance. You’re both adults now. Kathleen has her own children, you have a career you’re happily married to. You don’t see each other very often, Christmas is the only guaranteed visit throughout the year, but you’ve never once lost your spark of sisterly mischief and competition.

“Anything else I should know about the vic?” You ask, and you don’t think for a second to call her — Jennifer — the perp, because until you know the full story, until you can see her with your own two eyes, this is just another instance of the legal system failing its people.

“Uh, got a real bleeding heart for kids. She was a school teacher, high school. Quit last year after she fell down the stairs and shattered her hip.” Amanda rolled her eyes toward you, finally inching up toward the laundry mat where it dawned on you that this wasn’t just an open shooting, but a hostage situation as cowering faces and heads bobbed behind the windows.

“Damn it!” You cursed, swinging the door open. The second your boots hit the pavement, you were in Detective mode, and Amanda observed the quiet shift in your demeanor with unease. It was slightly robotic, undeniably a learned skill through your stint undercover, but you’d been cleared time and time again by not only therapists and psychiatrists employed by 1PP and the state of New York, but also personal therapists. Amanda knows the drill, even if she’d never served so long under cover and couldn’t even stomach the thought of leaving her girls for that long.

“What do we got, Loo?” You called out, because in the two minutes that you’d been stopped at the light behind the minivan, Fin had walked around the corner on the phone and every uni on the block had cleared pedestrian traffic with a hand on their weapon cautiously.

“Eight hostages inside. One of the vics has a smart watch, Officer Jones over there is on the phone with dispatch. She’s texting 9-1-1 until we get hostage negotiation down here to tap the line. All cell phones were taken by the husband, not Jennifer, but she’s the one with the gun. There’s a little boy in the bathroom. Jennifer doesn’t know he’s there, and we don’t know if that’ll escalate the situation once she finds out, so we need to work quick before everyone in there dies.” Benson broke it down for you and Amanda, and your eyes flickered to Officer Jones, who was easily identifiable as he stood on the corner, just out of sight from the laundry mat, before they found Olivia again.

“I just finished a second round of crisis negotiation training with Narcotics.” You tell Olivia, because you don’t need to say anything else for her to know where you’re going with this. Even if you don’t have a direct line of communication to the hostages, you have one to Jennifer through the laundromat’s landline, if she picks it up.

“We can’t do anything until hostage negotiation gets here.” Olivia shook her head just as another gunshot went off, the sound of shrieking from inside the laundromat sparking your immediate attention. Olivia looks too, and you know she wants to send you in there, but she can’t, she won’t. Not only because you're Elliot’s daughter and you know she feels an immense responsibility to protect you if she can, but because you’re one of her men now, her Detectives to protect. She’s not willing to risk your life when the hostage negotiation team is minutes out.

They’re not even minutes out it seems, because as you turn away from Olivia, wanting to at least get a read on the situation through the windows, two white vans pull up, and men start jumping out. You can see the bigger vans starting to line the streets too. The black ones. The ones that carry sniper rifles and enough ammunition to take out an entire Rockefeller Plaza audience.

They get you on the phone with Jennifer just as another gunshot goes off, and you can hear indistinguishable shouting through the thin panes of glass before the line connects and the laundromat goes silent outside from the pants and hyperventilating of the hostages.

“Jennifer, this is Detective Stabler. Can you tell me what’s going on in there?” You asked softly, unassumingly. Jennifer takes a shaky breath, you can hear the safety slick on the gun, you assume she lowers it.

Somehow you end up inside the laundromat, Olivia holding your gun, Amanda holding your handcuffs because you’d taken them off in a haste, like you had experience with them leading to bad things in a hostage situation. You’d gone in with your hands raised, your face a mask of neutrality. Jennifer pulled you in with a cold grip on your wrist, and she held the barrel of her gun directly against your abdomen. A chill of fear ran through you, but you’d been in this situation a handful of times in the last six months, so long as everyone outside does their job, which right now is absolutely nothing, then you can do yours.

It’s a slow dance getting her to agree to let the other hostages out, but when you know that you have her in the palm of your hand, your fathers coaching coming back to you even if his motivator had been club softball and yours was life or death. He’d been preparing you for this all of your life, even if you didn’t know it. Because maybe you were just defusing arguments between eight year olds when he’d sat you down and told you that you never show your opponent anger or frustration unless you're prepared to be in the fight for the long haul.

You don’t let Jennifer feel your unnerved breathing against her chest as you tell her that there’s an eight year old boy in the bathroom, and that he really wants to make it to school next week because they’re having a class party to celebrate the end of state testing. It’s a total lie, but Kathleen’s kids have state testing this week in Queens, so you hope and pray that Manhattan isn’t any different, or that Jennifer won’t know if it is. She falters, and when you drive home that you know she would’ve never done this if she knew a kid was here, she crumbles just enough to have them all scrambling out into Amanda and Olivia’s waiting arms.

But then it’s just you, Jennifer, and her husband. You hadn’t seen her face when she pulled you into the laundromat. Her motions had been too quick, the change from bright daylight to dingy yellow lighting blinding you, but she steps just an inch to the left, and you see her reflection in the security mirror in the corner. Her eye is black and blue, swollen and leaking fluid. Her lip is split, her cheeks either speckled with red or dusted with green and yellow. There are marks around her neck, not handprints, but what you think is rope, or some kind of course material, perhaps a wool scarf not yet put away from the winter. This was a provoked event, even if it’s not a rational response, it was provoked, and you know that every nerve in Jennifer’s body is telling her to do it, to finish it, to finally free herself, because nothing else matters anymore.

You try to reach her, you almost do, but then her jackass of a husband who legally isn’t even her ex yet shouts a dumb remark, egging her on, like he can’t see that his life is so fragilely in the balance of seizing to exist in a single moment. Jennifer raises the gun. She shoots at him. Her arm drops right back down to where it was, the barrel pressed into your abdomen. In your head you know that this placement misses any major organs, but it doesn’t calm you down any.

Her husband doesn’t flinch, like he finds her frustration and simultaneous desperation amusing, but then there’s a look of horror on his face, a sharp sound piercing the laundromat. There’s shattered glass. Another gunshot. Jennifer’s dead. Her body slumps to the ground, a single hole in the center of her forehead — a clear exit wound. There was a second shot though, it registers when you stumble back, against a filing cabinet. You sink to the floor, your knees are weak, you can’t keep yourself upright. That second shot came from Jennifer's gun. The barrel smokes as it clatters to the ground beside her.

Her husband goes to rush for it, but Amanda and Olivia have already rushed in. Amanda takes him by the elbow, jerking him around without remorse until his hands are cuffed. She reads him his rights begrudgingly— because she’d already read them to him, that should’ve been the end of it, and Jennifer should still be alive and getting to tell people she found the strength to report her abuser and she survived.

Olivia checks that Jennifers dead, and then she yells for a uni to call the ME. She comes to check on you next, happy to see that your bullet proof vest hasn’t shifted out of position, unable to see the blood that leaks from just beneath where the vest ends, where there’s now a hole in your abdomen with no exit wound. There’s a bullet somewhere in your belly.

“I… I think she shot me.” You croak, because you’re not sure anymore, the world is fading in and out, Olivia’s voice is ebbing loud and soft. Her hands put pressure on your belly and you groan, your head thrown back. You cry out in pain when she eases you into a different position, one that opens up the wound area to her touch.

“You’re gonna be okay, honey.” She coos, her hands soaked in blood. “No, stay with me. Stay with me. Stabler!” The call of your name is an order, but you can’t register it as your eyes close and your consciousness slips.

When you wake, there’s a dull ache in your belly accompanied by the familiar tightness of stitches. You barely have time to come to terms with being awake when there are so many heavy drugs being pumped through your body when a large hand cups your cheek, warm and rough, calloused from years of holding weapons and wielding plastic lightsaber fights.

“Hey, partner.” A familiar voice coos, and tears prick your eyes in an instant as you recognize your fathers voice and his hand. You try to sit up, but he keeps you down, slowly standing up until he’s hovering over you on the bed, a hand messing with the hair on your cheeks that hasn’t been tied up.

As a kid, he always carried around extra hair ties. You have three older sisters, by the time you came around, he knew what to expect from long hair and windy days. He always corralled you into him, bear hands on your shoulders, his movement jerky even though he knew these steps easily. You remember how you used to bat him away as you got older, embarrassed by his willingness to be a doting father in public when you were approaching twelve, thirteen, even fourteen years old. You weren’t his last baby. No, baby Eli had to come around and steal all of your youngest of five attention when you were seven, but you were his last baby girl. You’re a grown woman, but you’re still just his baby girl. That’s something Eli never had going for him growing up.

Partner. Ever since that first career day when you, him, and Olivia had posed all cheekily near Cragen’s office, he’d taken to calling you partner. Olivia had always pretended to hate it, teasing you about stealing her spot, but you know she called you that behind your back. She saw you the most out of your siblings, none of them found an interest in your fathers career path the way you did, and when there was time for her to dwell on the more intimate connections of their relationship, you know partner was always how she brought you up. Elliot had told you that, finding it hysterical.

“Now what did I tell you?” He asks, and you knew it was coming, but there’s not even a trace of anger in his tone as he looks at you with damp eyes.

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away.” You argue weakly, and all Stabler can do is laugh as he swipes his thumbs across your cheeks, collecting the tears that have spilled since you regained consciousness. “I’m sorry.” You croak, because even if you have nothing to apologize for, you still walked yourself right into the very situation he’d warned you about. Maybe it could’ve happened anywhere, but it happened at SVU of all places, and that felt like a horrible coincidence to carry on your shoulders.

“No, none of that.” He shakes his head, tells you that apologies are futile, you’ve already taken the steps to where you are, and there’s nothing that can ever take this moment back, so all you can do is accept it and move on. It reminds you of your therapist. You know he doesn’t even recognize it, but it dawns on you now how much he’s absorbed over the years trying to help you, to keep you from the path Kathleen paved with permanent marker and an excavator.

When Olivia came inside, looking like an emotional wreck if the swollen and discolored skin beneath her eyes was any indication of emotional state, your father suddenly thought to get you a snack from the vending machine — vanilla wafers because they’d always been your after surgery choice.

His palm swipes across Olivia’s bicep as he passes her, and she smiles over her shoulder until the door closes. Your hopped up on about three different pain medications and an antibiotic, mixed with adrenaline and exhaustion, you stand no chance of filtering your thoughts as you lay drowsily in the hospital bed, so when Olivia stalks close enough to sit down on the edge of your bed like she’d done when you were nine and had your appendix out on the day of your dance recital, you found yourself speaking without thinking. “Do you have a crush on my Dad?”

Olivia looks shocked for a minute, before a look of absolute amusement crosses her features and she shakes her head. “You’re feeling good on that morphine, huh?” She redirects easily and you hardly notice, bobbing your head as your eyes glance at the IV pole near your bedside.

“Can’t believe I got shot on my first day.” You grumble and Olivia laughs, because that seems like the only valid reaction after the day you’ve had.

“I’d say it makes perfect sense considering you’re a Stabler.” Olivia chuckles, and you have to agree, because your father was definitely not a man with a clear injury record on the job. “You did good today, partner.” She pauses for a moment, considers whether she’s going to say it or not, but the second she does your lips split into a wide grin, and there’s the slightest flicker of light in your eyes.

“I knew you didn’t hate it!” You bellowed, before you coughed, wincing in desperate need of a drink. Olivia rolled her eyes, wondering how somebody could be so eerily similar to Elliot Stabler, but so drastically different.

[soft-pine]

I got an ask about semantics, that Dean is often branded “toxic” and that it tends to be overused. Semantics isn’t my strong point, so i thought I’d come to a Dean historian. :)

Do you think this is overused for Dean?

I find it’s a much more interesting conversation when we describe his behavior for what it actually is—whether he’s being stubborn, dismissive, hostile, or even emotionally guarded. I think some of the specific ways he copes—through joking, deflection, self-sacrifice, breaking objects, or pushing people away—are very human.

I think it was @ilarual that pointed out that Supernatural isn’t a Saturday family drama… it can’t be divorced from its religious horror fantasy roots. The characters’ struggles—whether emotional breakdowns, crises of faith, or cycles of self-destruction—aren’t just personal; they’re heavy with cosmic forces, biblical themes, and the weight of fate itself.

Anyway, it’s hard for me not to see “toxic” as a copout word. (Forgive me for dumping on you.)

Hi Shal! I'm so honored to get two asks from you!! I was carrying them around in my head all week though I didn't have time to answer :(

I'm trying to gather my thoughts about this. Because, yes, I agree that calling Dean "toxic" is a) not accurate and b) a cop-out for analysis. And I certainly agree that that word is overused by deancrits particularly.

I think I'm probably not grasping the full weight and meaning of ilarual's point but from what I'm getting, I think that's a really important element to how dean (and sam and cas and jack etc) act and how we evaluate their actions. The stakes are always so damn high for all of them.

Stepping back for a moment, when reading fic I'm often a little frustrated if Dean is characterized the way he is in canon but most of the contexts that have made him behave, react, be that way are removed. Because in some of those instances, I think some of his behavior reads as pretty ungrounded from reality and maybe more into the kinds of patterns which coalesce into toxicity. (I mean I also think fanon makes people lean into these kinds of characterizations of dean - disaster bisexual, repressed and biphobic, and various other things which are incomprehensible to me)

But in canon, I tend to personally struggle to define any of TFW et al as "toxic." I recall a conversation I had with a friend after watching Lucifer Rising where she was critical of Dean for yelling at Cas when he was trying to break Cas free of Heaven's plans to bring on the Apocalypse. She said he was being mean. I remember feeling so confused - surely if the stakes are the whole entire world, you are well within your rights to raise your voice?

I think all of TFW has moments of being not particularly kind or good communicators or steamrolling each other's emotions or various other things which are kinda yucky interpersonally. But it's pretty much always because the stakes are so fucking high; the world is in peril; there isn't time to have a conversation; they are dealing with catastrophic grief while also having to do crisis management. Most of the conflict in spn happens when the characters are going through what, for most people, would hopefully be the worst day of their lives. And for our boys that happens again... and again...

I am not saying all of this to say we can't call out specific instances of them not being very kind to each other - Sam strangling Dean, Dean aiming a gun at Sam, Cas beating Dean up in an alley, Dean beating Cas up in s10 etc etc. And I also think it's important to talk about the ways these kind of moments constitute or break from their common behavioral patterns - or don't. Eg in your post about Amara and 15.15, you pointed out that betraying and forcibly sacrificing someone who isn't really a direct threat and is learning and growing is not in line with Dean's usual morals - a break from a pattern. And people often point out Cas' pattern for trying to problem solve solo. (These are just examples and by no means comprehensive!)

All this is to say that I actually think that if they all ever got to be in safe, calm world, got some space and time, they all really really do have values around talking things out (we see this again and again) and listening to the differences in how they feel or want to handle situations. Sam and Dean alone have a staggering amount of conversations at the end of episodes where they had conflict. Dean and Cas have multiple on-screen conversations about what caused tension between them and many off-screen conversations which are alluded to. I don't think any of them are perfect communicators. I think they all have various amounts of introspective capacity and effort at various times. They all have some well-worn and not all that healthy emotional go-tos because of the traumatic lives they have all lead - which would take time and safety to unlearn, unpack, and change.

I know your question was about Dean but there's not much I really have to say about Dean which doesn't apply to the others. I am specifically a die-hard Deangirl(gn) but this logic is what would keep me from making a long post about how Sam or Cas are Toxic(tm) even when I'm seeing them exhibit a specific behavior pattern which is annoying to me.

But the last thing I'll say is much more Dean specific and that is that Dean is sort of always just supposed to absorb and roll with everyone else's opinions and analysis and choices and not react with his true or full emotions or else he gets these labels thrown at him. This reminds me of a time I saw a Casgirl(gn) claim it was okay for Cas to beat Dean up in 5.18 because he was really mad at Dean... ? Or what we were talking about a week ago with the Mia Vallens therapy where Sam's frustration and hurt and anger are listened to and validated - including him lashing out at Dean - and the grief and frustration and cornering that Dean is feeling are somehow not supposed to affect the way he's acting? I'm certainly not the first to point this pattern out by any means but I do think that that's a big contributing factor in labeling Dean toxic while having explanations, exceptions, and excuses for the others.

Lastly, you are never dumping on me though I fear this reply is at risk of being a dump <3 I also don't even know if I really answered your question...

Oh wait, one more thing. I think the way fandom can be so focused on looking for the Victim(tm) and the Abuser(tm) means that, especially in many moments in spn, they are utterly missing that one of the inherent consequences of whichever godawful shit the characters are facing is that their beliefs about how to handle it will be in tension. And that's gonna suck for everyone. But it's actually no one's fault that they're arguing or disagreeing about how to handle it.

[chiisana-sukima]

nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you for the tag, @slutsons-blog! Starting a new post because I'm autistic and therefore mostly only care about the "Current Obsession" question, and want to ramble excessively as usual in that one.

Last song: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Red Rescue Team: Pokemon Square because I'm currently playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon with my daughter. Otherwise I honestly couldn't tell you. Whatever was on in my car.

Fave color: Purple

Currently watching: Star Trek Discovery

Last movie: Knives Out

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, tart, salty

Relationship: married x 27 years

Last thing I googled: the word "dependent", for spelling assistance. which is a good thing because I spelled it "dependant".

Current Obsession: it's been spn since 2016. Truly we are the Hotel California of media franchises. I did recently play Disco Elysium twice in a row in quick succession, and I follow the DE tag. I can't recommend the game highly enough.... but I can feel my Special Interest-level obsession with it fading already. Spn has never faded even a tiny bit and I wonder if it ever will.

@slutsons-blog I feel after reading that you're watching spn for the first time, that I did you a bit of a disservice with my Sam takes to you before in that I mostly talked about Sam's evolution as a character as the show goes on and very little about him from the first five seasons.

Gotta be honest and tell you that although I liked both brothers all along, I was a Dean girl until the end of s6/beginning of s7, when the balance of who gets whumped the most started shifting and my subconscious suddenly decided to switch allegiances. It's not that I liked Dean any less; my id just loves a sopping wet pathetic kitten of a man who has been sexually abused, and Sam got suddenly way more kitteny and pathetic after the Cage. So I don't actually have a ton of takes on "what to love about Sam in the early seasons". I do love early seasons Sam too--she is my beautiful baby princess--but my early seasons takes are a lot more inchoate.

I count myself lucky about my id's sudden defection though, because I think we have limited control of who our blorbos are, and having Dean as a blorbo is a tough row to hoe as the later seasons go along. You know how you noticed that in s6, Dean suddenly gets a lot more assholey without apparent reason? Unfortunately he never gets better again, and in fact keeps getting worse and worse as the years go by, until by the last seasons he is openly far more abusive to their joint child(-in-an-adult body) than John was to him and Sam. It's a realistic picture of what can happen when trauma keeps piling up on people, but it's also honestly pretty distressing, especially if he's your blorbo.

If one is in it for the ship, there's some good destiel content in the later seasons, but if you're in it for Dean, you're left either 1) dealing with the fact he's got extremely significant interpersonal problems that he never gets much of anywhere on solving and that negatively impact his chosen family in profound ways, or 2) pretending he's the same character he was in s1 and Sam is the same Sam from s1, only more boring, and Dean is just trying to put up with him because he was brainwashed by John (or ig 3- something in the middle between those two. But that seldom seems to happen in practice for whatever reason). These two versions of the show are poorly compatible, and that's how the Sam girls and the Dean girls end up in isolated silos. A few people manage to live in both, but not many.

Anyway, I feel like without the context of how Sam and Dean change in the mid to late seasons, the two fics I recc'd as Sam character studies are going to seem insanely Dean-critical, so if you haven't read them yet, you might want to wait until s10. In the meantime, the general recs are fun reads and hopefully do a good job of showcasing both characters earlier on.

Tagging (but I would be a huge hypocrite if I didn't specify there's no pressure to respond, since I almost always fail at responding to tag games myself): @adihildilid @aliusfrater @quietwingsinthesky @sammygender @ardentpoop

@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs @schizosamwincester @normalbrothershow @jellybracelet.

[driftingdreams]

I put all my ideas in the tags but i reached the tag limit when talking about this so uhhh I'm gonna reblog again

So let’s say that, in theory, a girl wanted to write a MCYT Hunger Games AU. And in that same vein of theory, that said girl needed help, allegedly, assigning districts and roles to characters. Who would be from what district? Who’s from the Capitol? Who are the mentors and who are the tributes? Which crafters are past victors that we’d see in the Quarter Quell? Who’s our President Snow?

Any crafter from any SMP (Hermitcraft, life series, DSMP, OGs, etc) are on the table as long as their role makes the tiniest bit of sense. Go nuts

[keen-eye]

Do you have any Wincest headcanons?

would you call these headcanons? idk, but the only wincest that i'm interested in and believe would fit into canon would be this (long post):

it wouldn't be a normal relationship like they're just regular boyfriends. they are brothers first and foremost with a toxic, power imbalanced relationship and have spent their entire lives in each other's pockets

it would be one-sided with dean being as obsessive and possessive over sam as he is in the show (expanded on below). ultimately dean’s main desire has always been to own sam, mind, body, and soul, so to me it works whether he’s physically attracted to sam or not

they wouldn't have sex often and it wouldn't be just for the sake of it (unless dean really needed it). it would be about control and during times of intense drama. and also sam’s libido went way down as the seasons went on. on that, i can't imagine dean ever being okay with being a sub or a bottom with sam. how they are with women would have no bearing on how they'd be with each other. dean is the poster boy of toxic masculinity, he would consider bottoming with a man, especially sam, to be the most emasculating thing ever. and i don't think sam would ask him to

a concept i find interesting is heaven’s manipulation of their lives and sam & dean being soulmates. i would attribute some of it to them crossing that line but i don’t want to discredit sam & dean just Being Like That and how john raised them

i don't think they'd have any physical relationship before s3 (which i'll expand on), not as kids, not as teens. but i do think dean would have always had strong, passionate, and volatile emotions about anything sam related. i like the headcanon that dean knew mary was pregnant before she did and that he was obsessed with sam from then on. i think it would be plausible for dean not to realize that he wanted sam in that way until after sam left for stanford. then that adds another layer onto dean stalking sam at stanford and him waiting nervously outside sam's dorm in the pilot after they hadn't talked for two years. i do think dean is a creep (pos) and felt entitled to sam for most of their lives but i don't think he'd try to coerce/force sam into anything (at least not until after s3)

a point in the show that i think a physical relationship could begin would be in s3 right before dean is about to go to hell for possibly eternity and sam finds out somehow that dean has felt that way about him for a long time. maybe a situation similar to when veritas the goddess of truth forced dean to admit that he thought about killing soulless sam in his sleep. or maybe dean admits to sam or sam picked up on it and has known for a while. even though sam does not reciprocate those types of feelings or attraction he still loves dean and wants to give dean this one thing that he wants before he dies to repay him for sacrificing his life for sam

it would lead well into s4, the turning point in their relationship where they've come out on the other side of it as different people and tension is very high between them. and it would add another layer to it especially with dean's mistrust and jealousy of ruby. i don't think they'd have sex at all during that season, and if they did it'd be only once and dubcon, not gentle like in s3. and then starting in s5 when sam feels extremely guilty and is desperate for redemption/forgiveness and approval from dean more than ever i can imagine sam attempting to use sex to reconnect with him again just to be denied because dean is still mad at him. but dean would eventually give in because he never stopped craving control over sam and so he uses it as a way to assert dominance like in s4, just with non-sexual tactics in the show. and then so on

as for another season where it could begin, maybe season 11 or really anytime after that (unfortunately that means demon dean is never involved but if it did happen in s10 then he would just straight up tell sam). they either slowly or all at once put the pieces together about exactly how weird they've always been about each other, about all of their jealousy of each other's friends/partners, how other people have described their relationship to them. this doesn't mean it has to be sexual, as it isn't in the show (well, depending on how you choose to look at it). but if it is, it's still mostly one-sided in the sense that dean has always seen sam as an extension of himself and sam no longer fights as hard against it because it's been beaten out of him by the later seasons by things external to and within his and dean's relationship (sam absolutely has stockholm syndrome). but i don't think sam would ever stop flipping back and forth between acceptance of their unique situation and guilt/disgust. i don't think dean would care (at least within the relationship). this is also when they're deeply entrenched in domesticity and already basically acting as a husband and wife. then adding jack into the mix makes that even more overt

chuck would have known, obviously. i can see him acting understanding when he was just chuck and then taunting them with it when he was an antagonist. lucifer would have known if it happened before the cage and maybe if they started in s11, great torture material. gadreel wouldn't care. but castiel would have known for a while and he likely wouldn’t be fazed

lastly, hot take, i can't imagine them calling each other "baby" or any other pet name. "sammy" fills that role already, and i don't like "de". also the impala is already "baby" (unless you want to get into sampala...)

sorry if you wanted cute headcanons or like actual scenarios lol. i'm probably not the right person to ask about fluff or anything more specific than this, i'm more interested in their existing dynamic that blurs that boundary

[oddly-specific-hermit-headcanons]

Pokémon AU time!

Most hermits (especially those who spend a lot of time exploring / in other servers) have more than 6 Pokémon. Not all of them are for battling; in fact, Pokémon battles between hermits, while a fun recreational activity for some, aren't common. Instead, the Pokémon mostly help them at their daily jobs.

For example, Pearl has a Meowscarada, Frosmoth, and Lilligant (from Emp S1) to help tend to her plants, as well as a Pelipper for post (S10), a Cinccino for tidying up (S9) and a Malamar for pranks (mostly of an upside-down nature).

Her Absol helps warn her of risks when building (including other bloodthirsty players), and her Salamence flies her around / flies with her in addition to battling. The other Pokémon she mostly brings out for battles is her Midnight Lycanroc, Tilly. Everyone fears the Tilly.

She also has a Lunala who spends most of its time hanging upside down and watching ominously. Back in S8, there was a quarrel over the assumption that she was responsible for moon big by literally bringing the moon to earth, or that she could just control the moon to avert the disaster. Pearl and Grian set the record straight, though, explaining that Lunala is a herald at most and can't help them put the moon back.

It did come in pretty handy later, though, when the Boatem Crew travelled through the void to S9 riding on its back...Along with Grian's Solgaleo.

He actually met both Pokémon as Cosmog sometime back in EVO at the site of a portal. When Pearl joined, he gave one to her. Part of the reason he was taken in by the Watchers was that they saw him taking good care of a being from the void (i.e. the Ultra Beasts, Cosmog, Necrozma) and were impressed, so after his Cosmoem evolved during his End fight, they offered him a position to help Solgaleo reach its fullest potential.

Now it mostly helps him with admin / Watcher stuff, which means 99% of the time on HC it just lazes around his base and demands cuddles like a giant overgrown metal housecat. It works overtime during Life sessions though.

Grian's other Pokémon, in addition to the various wild bird Pokémon who keep visiting his base, include his starter Blaziken (chimken), Murkrow for pranks and 'borrowing' (remaining unevolved by choice), Talonflame to fly with, Espeon to keep a lookout (was an Eevee during EVO, before it, well), Breloom to help tend to his farms (S7 mycelium); and a Basculegion who kept following him through seasons as a Basculin before he fished it up in S10, after which it evolved with just a little encouragement. Let's just say Basculegion's lore is reminiscent of Grian's track record with allies in the Life series...

Scar has two Espurr (Katy Bee & Mr Finnegan) and a Liepard (Jellie). Among others (he has A LOT of Pokémon), he also has a Decidueye (fully evolved in S9 just in time for the rise of hOtGuY), Pawmot (Revival Blessing), Goodra (snail) and Cacturne (met in 3L, he brought it out again in DL for... reasons).

.

[delusionalwritingsofagay]

aaron (twd, post s10) taking care of twinky male reader after a long day of work. both sfw and nsfw.

asking for this because all aaron fics are for f!reader, which is very weird since he's one of the two canon gay characters in the show.

Just Let Me

Pairing :Aaron x Male reader fandom : The Walking Dead Tags: Established relationship, Fluff. Softness, no hurt All comfort Word count :1262 Note : Part Two will include Smut

The gate creaked open, a familiar sound that usually brought a smile to Aaron’s face. Today, though, it was tinged with a worry that had been simmering all day. He stood on the porch of their small house in Alexandria, dust motes dancing in the last rays of the setting sun, one hand resting on the worn wood railing. He watched as Y/N trudged up the path, shoulders slumped, the lines etched around his eyes deeper than usual.

Y/N was stubborn, fiercely independent, and sometimes wore his exhaustion like a badge of honour. It was both infuriating and endearing to Aaron. Today, it was mostly worrying.

"Hey," Aaron called out gently, his voice soft enough not to startle.

Y/N looked up, a flicker of a smile briefly illuminating his face before it faded back into a weary mask. "Hey yourself," he mumbled, his voice rough.

Aaron descended the steps, meeting him halfway. "Long day?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Y/N shrugged, dropping his pack onto the porch with a heavy thud. "You have no idea. Walkers were clustered thick near the old highway. And then the damn fence needed patching again." He ran a hand through his sweaty, matted hair, leaving a streak of grime across his forehead.

Aaron noticed the slight tremor in Y/N's hand. "Come on," he said, gently taking Y/N's arm and guiding him towards the house. "You need a shower and some food."

Y/N didn't protest, just allowed himself to be led. Inside, the house was cool and quiet, a sanctuary from the harsh realities outside. Aaron had made an effort to make it feel like a home, their home. 

"I started some water," Aaron said, nodding towards the small bathroom. "Go get cleaned up. I'll get something cooking."

Y/N finally cracked a genuine smile. "You're the best, you know that?"

Aaron smiled back, his heart warming at the simple affection. "I know," he teased. "Now go. You smell like walker guts and desperation."

Y/N chuckled, the sound lighter than it had been all day. He disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the shower starting a few moments later.

While Y/N washed away the grime of the day, Aaron busied himself in the kitchen. He pulled out some leftover stew, a hearty mix of vegetables and whatever scavenged meat they had on hand. He knew Y/N wouldn't have the energy to eat much else.

The sound of the shower stopping snapped Aaron back to the present. Y/N emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and tousled, wearing a clean shirt and a pair of comfortable pants. He looked marginally better, though the weariness still lingered in his eyes.

"That was…amazing," he sighed, sinking into a chair at the table.

Aaron placed a bowl of stew in front of him. "Eat up. You need your strength."

Y/N picked up his spoon and took a tentative bite. His eyes widened. "This is incredible, Aaron. Thank you."

They ate in comfortable silence, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls. Aaron watched Y/N carefully, making sure he was actually eating and not just pushing the food around his plate.

When Y/N finally finished, he leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. "Okay," he said, his voice still a little raspy. "I think I might actually survive tonight."

Aaron smiled. "Good. Because I have plans for you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Oh? And what kind of plans are those?"

Aaron cleared the table, placing the dirty dishes in the sink. "Later," he said, turning back to Y/N with a sly smile. "First, relax."

He led Y/N to the couch, gently pushing him down onto the cushions. He grabbed the quilt from the back and draped it over Y/N, tucking it in around him.

"Aaron, you don't have to-" Y/N started to protest, but Aaron cut him off.

"Just let me," he said, his voice soft but firm.

He sat down beside Y/N, taking his hand in his.

"Tell me about your day," Aaron said, his thumb gently stroking the back of Y/N's hand. "Everything."

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then began to recount the events of the day. He spoke of the walker encounter, the fence repair, the near-miss with a stray dog, and the constant worry about the community's dwindling supplies. As he spoke, his voice grew quieter, the tension slowly draining from his body.

Aaron listened patiently, offering words of encouragement and support where needed. He knew that sometimes, all Y/N needed was someone to listen, to bear witness to his struggles.

After a while, Y/N's voice trailed off, his eyes drifting closed. He was asleep, his breathing deep and even.

Aaron watched him for a long moment, He leaned down and gently kissed Y/N's forehead, then stood up and quietly tidied up the house.

As the night deepened, He returned to the couch, carefully settling himself beside Y/N, being mindful not to wake him. He wrapped his arm around Y/N, pulling him closer.

Y/N stirred slightly, nuzzling into Aaron's chest. Aaron tightened his hold, feeling Y/N's body relax against his.

After a while, Aaron gently woke Y/N. "Hey love... It's time to get up for the bed."

Y/N groaned slightly, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at Aaron, his expression still groggy.

"Hmm... Bed?" he mumbled sleepily.

Aaron nodded, smiling softly. "Yeah. You'll be more comfortable there."

Y/N yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Okay," he said, his voice still thick with sleep. "Sounds good."

Aaron helped Y/N to his feet, then led him towards the bedroom. Inside, the room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a small battery-powered lamp casting long shadows on the walls

Y/N shuffled towards the bed, his steps heavy. He collapsed onto the mattress with a soft sigh, burying his face in the pillows.

Aaron chuckled softly, pulling back the covers. "Come on, sleepyhead," he said, gently nudging Y/N. "Get under the covers."

Y/N mumbled something unintelligible, but complied, rolling onto his back and pulling the blankets over himself. Aaron climbed into bed beside him, turning to face his boyfriend.

"Better?" Aaron asked, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N nodded, his eyes already half-closed. "Yeah... much."

Aaron reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from Y/N's forehead. "Just rest," he said softly. "I'm here."

He snuggled closer to Y/N, wrapping his arm around him. He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He woke up slowly, the first rays of dawn filtering through the window. He felt Y/N stir beside him, stretching and groaning softly.

"Morning," Aaron whispered, his voice still thick with sleep.

Y/N mumbled a greeting, rubbing his eyes. "Morning," he managed to say, his voice still raspy.

Aaron smiled, gently pulling Y/N closer. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Y/N shrugged, nuzzling into Aaron's chest. "Better," he admitted. "Thanks to you."

Aaron kissed the top of his head. "Anytime," he said. "What do you say we take it easy today? Maybe just help with some chores around the house?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah," he said. "That sounds good. I could use a break from the walls."

Aaron smiled. "Alright," he said. "Let's get some coffee and then we can decide what to tackle first."

[vagueeyes]

alright here goes, my in9 journey & self-reflection post.

warning: this is longgg and rambly. and personal.

i'd like to start off by detailing how i got to this point - so here's a timeline!

-the first time i heard of in9 was likely during one of my random wikipedia deep dives. i was definitely one of those people who thought a show called INSIDE NO. 9 was about politics, perhaps something like THE THICK OF IT?

-the first time i actually watched it, was in january 2021. the month before, i had started watching NO MORE JOCKEYS, which was recommended by the TASKMASTER subreddit, shortly after s10 had finished airing. and, well, i basically became obsessed with tim key - he's such a scamp!! after catching up on NMJ and also watching TM s1, i was looking into his filmography and noticed INSIDE NO. 9. from what i read about him, his performance in this was a recommended watch - so i looked online, found the show, and gave SARDINES a go.

-i don't actually remember much about the first watch other than thinking tim was great, and i did go ohhh at the twist.

-since i had nothing else to watch at the time, i also gave A QUIET NIGHT IN and TOM & GERRI a go. the former i remember liking because it appealed to my interest in silent film/comedy. the latter i was really engrossed in, but that final image of migg in the bathtub really haunted me - to the point where i took a break and figured i'd come back to the show when i was ready.

-well. i moved house that summer and promptly forgot to pick it up again.

-around this time i was watching BAKE OFF regularly and always tuned in to the celebrity episodes. when reece was announced as part of the line up, i definitely remember reading people being excited to watch him, because this wasn't something he normally does? i did watch his episode, having known/recognised him from in9, but i don't think i had any particular thought/opinion on him. (oh boy...)

-iirc steve was a guest on wilty in 2022 - this was also a show i regularly watched (and still do, unlike BAKE OFF). very much like reece on BAKE OFF, i tuned in to this episode recognising/knowing steve from in9, but again i did not have any actual opinion on him. the only thing i remember reading were people's comments about one of his anecdotes, saying "anyone who knows anything about steve and reece will know that story about pretending to be dead was true".

-now let's jump to late 2023! i read spoilers on who was going to be on TM s17, and at the time i remember thinking, "ah i recognise steve & john robbins, heard of nick mohammed because of TED LASSO, maybe i know who joanne mcnally is? never seen or heard of sophie willan".

-cut to april 2024 - i tuned in to s17 and basically instantly liked steve. this clever and deeply strange man!! by this time, i had already planned to come to the UK in may for a vacation.

-during my vacation - on may 8 at 9:58pm, i was about to go to bed in my hotel room, but i decided to quickly scan the tv guide and happened to see that INSIDE NO. 9 was going to be on in 2 minutes. looking at the episode info, i googled and saw that this was the first episode of the ninth series, and apparently this was their last one! so i quickly decided to tune in to BOO TO A GOOSE.

-i remember my first watch of this ep - delighted to see susan wokoma, whom i loved in TM s16. really loved steve as wilma. funnily enough, was not paying much attention to reece, other than laughing at his funny lines. i had forgotten the show had "twists", so the twist in this one caught me by surprise!

-because i was vacationing for 2 weeks, i decided i would tune in to the next episode the following week. again because of TM, my first watch of THE TROLLEY PROBLEM was mainly thinking "wow steve is so good in this", but part way through, during the bathroom/mirror scene (you know the one), i sort of looked at reece a bit and thought "wait a second..."

-about two weeks after returning home, i decided to check when the last episode was airing, and figured i should catch up on episodes 3 and 4. MULBERRY CLOSE i instantly loved because of the static camera/hitchcock homage, and here is where my reece obsession started to creep up on me. what's really funny is it took me a while to realise who he was in this episode? for the first few minutes i legit thought damon was being played by stephen graham!! anyway, i was drawn in by that gruff but not mean-spirited aspect of the character (does that make sense?), and the way reece played him - i was especially impressed because you don't even really see him for like 80% of the time!

-over the next week following watching this episode, i started to look up reece on youtube (which is what i often do when i want to know more about someone), and saw this video (highly recommend all of misc.mp4's reece/steve/pembersmith vids):

and hellooo i instantly fell in love. i realise this is a persona and he plays it up, but he's just so funny and like, adorable??

-so then i decided to pick in9 back up from where i left off in 2021 - starting with LAST GASP, whilst waiting for the last two s9 episodes to air. and the rest is history!!

-the order in which i watched was basically: started bingeing in9 > paused at s5 to watch PSYCHOVILLE (whilst reading the wiki i decided i wanted to know the context before getting to DEATH BE NOT PROUD) > tuned in to CURSE OF THE NINTH > finished PSYCHOVILLE and in9 s5 > tuned in to PLODDING ON (you can imagine how many references i missed) > finished in9 and rewatched s9 > watched back the episodes i liked > binged TLOG

in terms of tumblr:

-during my teen years i was on Livejournal and mainly made icons, sometimes did those episode recap posts (featuring screencaps throughout - lmk if you know what i'm talking about!!). when that site went down and tumblr was a place to migrate to, i had a blog for a while in 2011, couldn't figure out what to do with it, deleted, came back a bit in 2014 to do screencaps posts - then i lost access to photoshop CS2, and basically didn't do any blogging or fandom-related stuff for a long time. i attempted to write stuff now and then (mostly "reviews" pfft), but couldn't really commit or keep it going. i always tried to come back to tumblr to do this, but never saw this as a place for text-heavy posts. (oh boy again...)

-one thing that's been constant though, was whenever i became hyperfixated on something (or someone), i always knew there would be people who felt the same & there would be posts about this on tumblr.

-so while i was watching in9, i did look at the sub but it seemed...inactive? then i looked at tumblr and quickly found blogs like @local-blog-for-local-people and basically started regularly checking it.

-and thennn when @in9-character-tournament started coming up in various blogs i was dipping in & out of (i could @ some of you but i don't wanna be a weirdo, or do i?), i thought "well i'd like to get in on this". so i officially created this blog on reece's birthday (LOL this was intentional but also easy to remember in terms of blog anniversaries 😉)!

-however, even then, i was too nervous/scared to really post anything. and i didn't even know what to post about! i got the scriptbooks in september and started reading them, at one point thinking "oh maybe i can talk about this". but what would i talk about? surely everyone knows everything and can articulate it better than i ever could?

-then in december when i read that r&s said they had no plans to record S/F, i panicked a bit. i had counted on them recording it and never even thought of going to see it live. the dates were weird imo and in past experience, winter/early spring might not be a great time to visit the UK, weather-wise. after mulling it over a bit, i checked the tickets website, saw it was nearly sold out, and decided to do some quick planning. the latest possible date & seat/price that seemed to be alright was march 27, 2025. well, i thought, "early spring in the UK could be nice?" i previously planned on coming in may, but decided to move everything up and take the plunge. this seemed like a once in a lifetime chance and i didn't want to miss out!

-when i bought the ticket and got the vacation planning started, a week or two later i saw @unreesonable rb the DEVIL OF CHRISTMAS commentary post where reece tells the story of where "you can almost see the pound signs in his eyes!" comes from. i had rewatched the episode on christmas with the scriptbook out to read along, and i remembered that that line wasn't scripted. so seeing the post i thought, "maybe i could rb and write this in the tags?" and there was the start of my blogging!

-my initial approach was to treat this as a media diary/stream of consciousness process thing, where i'd look up posts related to whatever i had just watched or was thinking about & rb that, putting any thoughts in the tags (and i guess that's what i'm still doing!). i wasn't completely sure i'd ever do "original" posts. at the beginning of the year i had started to read scriptbook 3, and had some ideas of what i could say. @insideno9bracket bracket was a terrific find - i followed what everyone was doing in terms of rb'ing to explain their vote/thought process, and here i feel is where i started to ease myself into the fandom. with @donotbelasagne's first stats post calling for propaganda posts in round 2, i thought, "well hey i can do some of that!"

-often i fluctuated between "should i post this? does anyone care? am i too boring or analytical about this?" and "wait why should i worry! this is my blog and i can do whatever i please, who cares if this gets 0 notes!" and other times i lurched from "please perceive me 🥺" and "oh god i'm being perceived, what do i do now!!"

-during the countdown to S/F i sometimes gave myself anxiety wondering whether i'd meet anyone in the fandom or whether i'd do stage door & what that would be like. in hindsight this was (reece voice/chuckle) ridiculous, given how calm & collected i ended up being on the day/days??

-S/F was not only an experience of seeing reece & steve live, it was also a chance to meet like-minded people irl. this was not something i ever thought i'd do! what's lovely is even meeting people i hadn't really interacted with much online (or even at all), it's like we all became friends the moment we saw each other!

i love how international this fandom is and that we were all brought together through our love of in9 + universe. everyone is so passionate and creative and funny!! i love (and am still a bit surprised) that steve being on tm/s9/S/F is what seemed to get people to create accounts and start blogging!

i feel like this is getting too long so i'll jump to the thanks (keeping it short tbh):

-i'd like to thank @silverview for being my first mutual (did i ever tell you you were?). reading about you meeting up with others in the fandom for S/F, i basically see you as our ambassador lol.

-huge thanks to @wintersoulwitch for running @unreesonable, what a treasure trove of a blog & i love all the digging & digital dumpster diving!!

-thank you to @local-blog-for-local-people, your blog is so organised and long-standing. i love looking through the tags/archive to see what people had posted in the past. (also i'm very flattered to see some of my own posts appear there!) sorry for spamming your activity with likes/rb's - but you know, i WILL keep doing this loll!!

-thank you again to everyone i met on april 5!! you guys are all so nice and beautiful!!! (i'm not @ing again so hopefully some of you see this lol)

and lastly, big big thanks to everyone who has ever read &/or interacted with my posts. S/F might mean the end of my journey in terms of experiencing in9-related things (& extended universe) for the first time, but i am NOT done posting about the show! as ken plume said in his pods with reece (which i highly recommend btw, if you haven't heard them - it's the most "as himself" as i've heard of reece):

ken: but, you know, there's still plenty of people that haven't discovered PSYCHOVILLE and INSIDE NO. 9 and should (reece: yeah, true) - so maybe that's it, maybe it's just building an awareness campaign for the stuff that already exists. reece: yeah. you set me thinking about the fact that it doesn't mean it's the end. it exists for people to find.

it's exciting that S/F is going on tour and that more people will get to see & experience the show. i hope this will bring more newcomers - either draw in people who have never seen in9 or the back catalogue to watch them, or even come to tumblr!

because if anything can harvest or keep a hyperfixation alive, it's tumblr. so i WILL keep posting about the show, reece & steve, the extended universe (whenever possible), until...i dunno, i run out of ideas? but i'm not even done yapping about guillem, and i've barely started on christian henson & yves. and the other directors! louise hooper, al campbell, george kane —

[mcytintros]

Hybrids

A very common thing in the MCYT community is hybrids. Due to a large number of player’s skins having mob or irl animal aspects to them, the community normally makes these players part human, and part whatever else in fanfiction and fanart. Hybrids will generally have a mix of human and animal traits, and typically have instincts as well. Some common hybrid types are listed below, and I will generally provide information about the popular hybrid headcanons for a player.

Avians

Avians are perhaps the most popular and varied type of hybrid there is. These players will have large wings on their back, and sometimes smaller wings replacing their ears. These players can be any type of bird species, modded or vanilla, and often have the most fleshed out instincets. Preening is when a trusted friend of an avian cleans through their feathers, and flock are those the avian’s instincts consider family. They sleep in nests made of blankets and clothes, and will often be preened in said nests. They will chirp and enter a relaxed state when being preened, and their wings are normally an indicator of their emotions (for example: when they are angry their wings might puff up)

Notable avians: Philza (crow, dsmp), Grian (parrot, hermitcraft), Tommyinnit (mixed, dsmp), Pearlescentmoon (mixed, hermitcraft), Jimmy Solidarity (canary/chicken, life series/afterlife), Quackity (duck, dsmp), LaurenZside (chicken, afterlife), Scott Smajor (macaw, afterlife), Ldshadowlady (parrot?, afterlife, wildlife), Shubble (bluejay, afterlife), Sausage (owl, afterlife)

Merlings

Fish hybrids, better known as merlings,  are humans with gills, and fins instead of ears. Sometimes they require water to function, other times they are fine without it. They will sometimes have fish tails or are able to speak to fish. 

Notable Merlings: Martyn (life series), Scott Smajor (life series/afterlife), Jimmy Solidarity (empires s1), Niki (origins smp/dsmp), Sally Soot (dsmp), Kathrineeliz (afterlife), GeminiTay (Hermitcrafe s10)

Atlings

Atlings are less so axolotl hybrids and more so bipedal axolotl people. They are descended from axolotls, and have webbed hands and gills. They also are amphibious, but are significantly weaker on land than in water. 

Notable Atlings: Joey Graceffa (afterlife), Kathrineeliz (afterlife), Oli (afterlife), LDShadowLady (empires s1)

Creeper hybrids

Creeper hybrids are typically green and white skinned, with black eyes. They are often depicted with fur and paws, but are normally unable to blow up. They are bipedal, and sometimes make hissing noises. 

Notable creeper hybrids: Docm77 (hermitcraft), Awesamdude (dsmp)

Zombie hybrids?

It is unclear if zombie hybrids actually exist, as we only have two potential examples, and one claimed that they used to be a villager who was just bitten by a zombie. Nevertheless, I decided to include all the zombie/zombie hybrids I could so someone smarter than me could figure it out.

Zombie hybrids have green or teal skin, and are often depicted with stitches. They do not burn in daylight but often possess a large quantity of strength. They most likely have some kind of healing factor, as of the multiple examples I found, one has their brain exposed and the other has their ribs exposed. Some of them are attacked by hostile mobs, others aren’t, I have no idea why (I do, it's because of mods but shhhhhhhh). 

Notable zombie hybrids/zombies: ZombieCleo (hermitcraft), Sloyxp (hermitcraft recap), Geminitay (afterlife), Ldshadowlady (afterlife), Oli (afterlife)

Goat hybrids

Goat hybrids typically have two large curling horns around their heads, which they use to ram people with. They will also bleat, and the horns grow in time. (Sadly they cannot make goat horn noises.)

Notable goat hybrids: Tubbo Underscore (dsmp), JSchlatt (dsmp), Docm77? (hermitcraft)

Fox hybrids

There are typically two types of fox hybrids; regular and snowy. They normally have ears, and sometimes have some kind of fur on them, said fur will be red or white. They have an affinity for sweet berries, and can hear and smell well in some cases. 

Notable fox hybrids: Fundy (dsmp, regular), Ethoslab (hermitcraft, snowy), Seapeakay (afterlife, regular), Scott Smajor (afterlife, regular), Geminitay (afterlife, regular)

Raccoon hybrids/tanuki hybrids

Mischevious creatures who have raccoon ears, sharper teeth, and a striped brown tail. They like to pull pranks on others, and are very protective and attached to what’s theirs.

Notable Racoon hybrids: Tommyinnit (dsmp), Joel Smallishbeans (hermitcraft), Sam Nook (dsmp), Ldshadowlady (afterlife)

Endarian

Endermen hybrids, or Endarian, are teleporting creatures descended from the ender dragon. They are normally black or purple due to their enderman heritage. They find eye contact uncofortable and are scared of pumpkins, as they cannot see someone when they put one on. They are damaged by water, and often befriend the nearest endermen.

Notable enderman hybrids: Ranboo Beloved (dsmp, origins), LaurenZside (afterlife), Oli (afterlife)

Moth hybrids

Moth hybrids normally have four wings protruding from their backs, and have antennae; they sometimes have the ability to heal when next to a lamp, and in specific cases fly. They have a chance to be the size of a regular player, but are often around one block tall. 

Notable moth hybrids: Pearlescentmoon (hermitcraft), Scott Smajor (afterlife), Geminitay (afterlife)

Felines

Felines, or cat hybrids, are cats. They normally have some amount of fur, and a good sense of smell. They can jump well, and will normally resemble a cat breed. They have sharp teeth and claws, and their human features sometimes come out on the new moon. 

Notable Felines: LdshadowLady (empires s2), Shubble (afterlife), Jimmy Solidarity (afterlife), Apokuna (I think, rats smp s2)

Arachnids

Arachnids, or spider hybrids typically have multiple eyes, eight limbs, and black fur. They can climb walls and make cobwebs, often using said cobweds to make bedding. They are not attacked by hostile mobs, being considered one of them. They are often carnivores, and sometimes have 3 less hearts.

Notable Arachnids: Geminitay (afterlife), Shroud (dsmp)

Wolf hybrids

Wolf hybrids or dog hybrids often are characterized by their ears, which are large and pointed. They have pointed claws and teeth, prefer the night, and can see a bit in it. They are omnivores, but prefer a carnivorous diet. They have “packs”, which are the same as flocks, but for wolves, they enjoy being accompanied by vanilla wolves as well, often talking to them and forming a meaningful relationship with them, even becoming packmates with them. If you kill a member of their pack, they will go hostile, immediatly killing any non-pack members they can find. 

Notable Wolf hybrids: Pearlescentmoon (double life, life series, hermitcraft), Jimmy Solidarity (afterlife, Secret Life), Shubble (afterlife, empires s1), Kathrineeliz (afterlife), Martyn (Secret Life)

Blazeborns

Blazeborns are blaze hybrids, and as such are most comfortable in the nether. They often have bright red or orange somewhere on their body, and as their eye color. If mad they will set things on fire, but some have fire always on their body. 

Notable Blazeborns: Tangotek (hermitcraft), 

Piglin hybrids

These powerful people are pink-skinned, and sometimes become rotten when going to the overworld, causing some of them to prefer the nether. They sometimes have tusks, and have floppy pig-like ears, they also are incredibly strong, making them very good PvPers. Piglin hybrids enjoy gold, and have a ‘hoarde’ where they keep their gold safe. They love treasure, and will often give it to people they care about. They will make various pig-like noises, including oinks, grunts, occasional growls, and in one case an overabunce of the exclamation; ‘heh?’. They are incredibly hard to kill, and speak the piglin language, which consists of more grunts, but this does cause some of them to have monotone voices when speaking in English. 

Notable Piglin hybrids: TechnoBlade (mayor of skyblock, potato king, winner of all three potato wars, Dream smp member, part of the syndicate, #1 anarchist, 2-time destroyer of L’manberg, member of sleepy bois inc, temporary bedwars record holder, winner of the TechnoBlade vs Dream duel, temporary ruler of Earth smp, leader of the Antartic empire, beloved content creator, an amazing person, and unkillable. Rest in peace friend ), Micheal_Beloved (dsmp)

Rat hybrids

These slippery fellas are a 1/8th of a block tall. They are bipedal, and have fur and large ears as well as noses. They are able to climb walls and jump rather high, and appear to have a good sense of smell. They normally live in the abandoned attics of buildings in packs. 

Notable Rat hybrids: Sniff (rats smp s1+s2), Acho (rats smp s1+s2), Scott Smajor (rats smp s1+s2), Beckyamon (rats smp s1+s2), LdshadowLady (rats smp s1), Jimmy Solidarity (rats smp s1), Apokuna (rats smp s1), Owen (rats smp s1+s2), Will (rats smp s1+s2), Oli (rats smp s1+s2), Martyn (rats smp s1+s2), Eloise (rats smp s1+s2), Tubbo (rats smp s1+s2), Shubble (rats smp s1+s2), Oliver (rats smp s1), KyleEff (rats smp s2), Mogswamp (rats smp s2), Sausage (rats smp s2), Roscumber (rats smp s2), KrowFang (rats smp s2), Imashep (rats smp s2), Watermunch (rats smp s2), Jojo (rats smp s2), Kara (rats smp s2), Graecie (rats smp s2)

Vex hybrids

Vex hybrids are magical beings with tattered wings and the ability to change their skin color from regular to grey. They are very persuasive, and will often get rid of excess magic by funneling it into crystals. 

Notable Vex hybrids: Cubfan135 (hermitcraft), Scar (hermitcraft/life series), LaurenZside (afterlife)

[dcjokerhs]

LIFE SERIES LORE RESEARCH POST (Grian-centric)

So I love research binges.

And I Adore Lore.

So here's the WHOLE GRIAN TIMELINE FOR LIFE GAMES!!

(btw "HC S[X] E[Y]" translates as Hermitcraft Season [X] Episode [Y])

3RD LIFE: Overlaps with HC-S7-E75-77, aka the end of Hermitcraft Series 7, this is AFTER Mother Spore shenanigans (HC S7 E37-E60) and during those episodes, Grian is focusing on finishing builds, doing his last S7 Charity Stream, playing games with Hermits, accidentally dropping what Actually Happened with Mumbo in front of "Grumbot Prime" as they call him in that ep. Then featuring both Grumbot and Jrumbot in the cinematic shots.

LAST LIFE: Overlaps with HC S8 E16-E21, E21 is also the episode where Mumbo says "Grian? Is the Moon Big?", Grian acts like nothing happened in following episodes, even saying "We don't know how this is happening [...] is it getting bigger or closer?"

[100 Hours happens after HC S8 ends [HC S8 E27], Grian starts the world alone, but the others come in in their own time and, after a while, decide to try and make Grian fail, though Grian dies mid-way and pretends to be "Grien" until he dies again.]

DOUBLE LIFE: Overlaps with HC S9 E14-E15, nothing big happens but you do have the Rift starting to make Lotsa Noise [Though the Rift doesn't open until HC S9 E24.] Afterwards, however, Grumbot arrives in E17, which is also when Ren is Crowned King.... (coincidentally, again, E24 is when the Rift Opens after King Ren's Defeat....) [Crossover with Empires 2 is HC S9 E25 - E32]

LIMITED LIFE: Overlaps HC S9 E35 [REUNION: Mumbo and Grian Reunite.]

SECRET LIFE: Overlaps with two episode of Guess the Build, but happens just before Grian's final Hermitcraft Episode (HC S9 E50: FINISHED!)

REAL LIFE: The First "Prank" Episode. Between Grian's HC S10 E12 & 13.

[Guess the Build & Build and Seek happen between HCS10 E13-25, but then Grian ignores HC in favour of Guess the Build, Pico Park, "Friends try to Break Into my Castle" and an episode of Among Us that itself has similar stuff on Two Much Grian.]

WILD LIFE: Comes out after the Among Us vid and overlays with not only HC S10 E26, but also the start of Impossible Craft, which itself overlays with another Guess the Build.

Simple Life: The Second "Prank" Episode, gets followed by that "Visited Sweden for the Update" episode. Then HC S10 E32.

Hopefully I'll remember to update this when the next Traffic/Life Series goes out, but cghjcghjchj ye!! Hope this Helps yall with your Plunnies!!!

[tanktopdiaz]

since there's some mayravi love going around the dash i'm going to put into words this thought. i have a buddie wedding-finale lead up to pitch. s10, main ravi, reoccurring may, guest star albert through the season and one episode wonder guest star adriana diaz. (this got long, soz)

breadcrumbs: may keeps finding reasons to not be around when bobbys around - she'll leave dinner when bobby gets off early, she'll invite athena out and about instead of going to their place, she'll come to the station but only when bobbys out, suddenly have an active social life with her new coworkers so she's always 'in a group chat' and 'has an event to go to, just this after work thing'. played off as a joke by athena that she's got a man under wraps. better be a good one, she says.

it's mentioned by chimney that albert is in town for the wedding but he's couch hoping between the hans and his friend's places. eddie says one of his sisters was staying on their couch but she ran off to his other sister and they're sharing a hotel room - which he's fine with, they still live on south bedford and she's a decade younger than everyone so he gets it, but he misses her. chimney can not relate.

ravi is really nervous and twitchy when bobbys at the station and he's like, sucking up but in this weird way where he's always volunteering for cleaning duties or the more laborous rescues. they get a very nice bonding moment after a rough shift that gives ravi the horrors and the whole time ravi looks pinched as fuck, totally uncomfrotable, but he relaxes by the end of it. one day he's scrubbing the engine and athena brings something for bobby and ravi's tripping over his feet greeting her and she's looking at him, hand on her hip, playful and teasing smile while he keeps trying to be normal. bobby comes up behind him, hand on his shoulder. 'ah, thena, leave him alone' he'll say, 'ravi's a good kid.'

two episodes before the wedding: episode opens on ravi's morning routine - he ends it in the kitchen over a cup of tea then in comes albert han. canon besties albertravi. ralbert? alvi? albert had plans but they fell through, ravi has work so they can't hang. he's like oh ill just come! then he goes and drops hints he wants to hang out with chim and jee, chim doesnt pick up on it. alarms go off, none of his people are man behind.

buck's not at work because he's going supersayain clipboard buck style on the wedding planning and this is eddie's last shit. bobby is in mother of the bride mode and barely leaving the kitchen and/or loft, chim and hen are reminiscing on their weddings with eddie, and ravi is staying Away doing Chores. in walks may. ravi tenses up where he's mopping the floor, starts pointing her around the place like 'this is the bay, and that's the ambulance dock, that's the locker room, this is the gym, you know what a loft is? we have one of those!' then they look up and eddie chim n hen are hanging over the blacony looking at them. may blushes bright red. then bobby 'hey what are yall looking at' comes to the balcony and 'may! thank you for bringing [whatever]' then he goes down to them and may meets him halfway up. eddiechimhen keep looking at ravi. smiling this specific smile. he huffs an goes back to his Chores.

albert doesnt want to be at ravis. he goes to some places he used to go to when he lives in LA but nothing is similar. night comes and he stumbles on this bar, goes in and orders a beer. cute girl to his right. she's pounding back tequila shots and muttering to herself. gorgeous actually. he overhears her muttering to herself, interjects with a casual deadpan joke to something she said. she laughs. he laughs. they talk. he's feeling put out because he misses the city he doesn't recognize, she's also from out of town. oh. talks about how she loves the city and realized once she was here that she misses her family. she's got a brother in LA. here visiting. no biggie. he says right. same, btw. no biggie. she buys him a shot. they get on really really well, he likes laughing with her. she says, we could maybe. ya know. find somewhere new here, for the both of us. fade to them making out in the elevator.

episode before the wedding: alberts back at ravis now that ravi's off shift. albert overshares about this awesome girl he met and they hooked up and she ghosted him afterwards. he's kinda sad about it. ravi's all twitchy and says it's just the adrenaline dying out from work. he's gonna catch some sleep. looking at his phone the whole time he's talking.

bucks at bathena's doing some prep. really, he's trying to get away from maddie. he's clipboard buck but her wedding kinda fell through so she's overcompensating too. it's a whole thing. he's sitting at the table waxing poetry about eddie and here comes may. she hugs buck and athena then when she notices bobby she says hi and doesn't engage. bobby doesnt mind bc he's zerod in on this food prep. athena and buck both Look At Her. she rubs her neck. ok im going to get my dress and go. (she's one of bucks groomspeople) bobby pipes up 'oh may? no plus ones, right? i want to make sure i've got enough pigs in a blanket to go around.' athena and buck turn to her with identical expressions like comically. 'i dont remember may did you rsvp with a plus one?' may goes red as a tomato. 'nope! no plus one! your numbers are right bobby! i'll see you later!'

rehearsal dinner, eddie's sisters are supposed to be there but apparently they both got in a fight with his parents so of the four only the older sister (sophia) shows, the others gone off and licking their wounds. we know his parents, buck shares that the youngest (adriana) is kind of a hot-head. 'you two would get along,' he tells may as a jokey joke. it's a big moment for eddie, coming to see this family around him, his family. a-plot shit. albert and ravi are sat next to each other and may is on the other side of the room and they never interact. albert stands behind may stands behind hen stands behind maddie on bucks side. eddies side, it's chim and karen and his sisters. oh shit, adriana isn't here. bobby, the officiant who's pairing them off, pulls ravi up and saddles him in front of sophia. 'adriana's paired with may, so just slip on in there and, uh, hold her place while we do the run through. i trust ya, kid.' lines them up behind the entrance, athena plays the the procession music and bobby starts leading them through how it's gonna go, humming and nodding and throwing around directions. chris isn't a groomsperson, instead working directly under bobby the whole time because he wants creative control and also the ability to sit back and play his switch with no consequences.

when it gets to ravi and may's turn to meet in the doorway, time stands still. the church light behind ravi has a beautiful halo-like glow on him . disney prince curls all in his face. may's hair swoops back from an non-existent gust of wind, she's got a soft blush and she looks up at him with big beautiful eyes. 'hi.' 'hi.' they're staring at each other. there's little angels singing inthe background. then ravi stumbles, because sophia shoulder bumps him, and then bobby's calling out 'ravi! may! come on!' and so ravi holds his arm out and may takes it with a 'sorry about that' and he says 'no problem, my lady,' or something equally honeybun sweet and when albert does the same to sophia he breaks his neck looking back and forth between them

wedding (finale/two parter probs knowing tim): typical creepy crazy a-plot emergency. i cannot put into words how bad i want a blizzard-type weather event emergency. so we'll go with that, sure. but also it's like not affecting them that much? this is my vision...i do what i want. they're all there and alive. and drinkin.

next time we see alvi/ralbert they're at ravi's place and albert's talking about his hookup again, ravi's not really paying attention. albert says 'so no plus one?' ravi looks to him panicked, says nothing, scene ends.

at the venue, bobby makes a joke about how ravi's been relieved of his duties since adriana showed. 'thanks for keeping may's company yesterday.' 'yes sir of course sir it wasn't a problem sir.' athenas like chilllll kid, we're not at the station. ravi says 'yes maam of course maam sorry maam' then scampers off to help. athenas watches him go, eyebrows furrowed, lips pinched. 'hes a good kid,' she says thoughtfully.

ravi runs into albert. he's like 'you gotta help me stay away, man' and albert says 'yes ravi of course. follow me. i know where we can go.'

since the wedding party is kind of all encompassing, they have a big space with separate suites at each end some everyone can intermingle. or some shit idk. may and adriana hit it off and eddie says something to hen about how it's nice to see his sister and sister in law getting on. camera cuts to may wildly telling a story and this very pretty girl laughing along with her and. we, as the audience. oh we know. we know it. dramatic irony abounds as ravi and albert stumble into the large area. may looks over. adriana looks over. they both very quickly stop laughing. ravi stops dead in his tracks and pales considerably. albert knocks into his back, stumbles. everyone else is turned to them, looking back and forth.

next wedding scene. eddies still mad, adriana is hiding behind sophia whos yelling at her too, albert is hiding behind may and ravi. buck is holding eddie back and helping calm him down, but he also believes he and eddie cant see each other before the wedding so he's got his hand over his eyes and eddie's doing the same thing to appease him but he keeps opening his fingers and glaring at albert as he yells. preferably in spanish. 'YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER???' madney and henren are eating this shit up. 'im almost glad this happened,' may mutters to ravi as albert continues to cower behind them, 'now it'll be easier for us to...' and he says 'maybe youre right' and he like. tries to hold her hand WAHHHHH oh god theyre so cute. eventually eddie is lik im fine im better. adriana we need to talk.' and he glares at albert as he and adriana walk away. buck takes his hand off his eyes and takes a really deep breath and turns to albert. 'YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER IN LAW????'

then the wedding happens. at the after party, there's a group dance and ravi and may are next to each other during it in the background. adriana and albert reconnect. awkwardly apologize. he asks if they can start over maybe, so they introduce themselves to each other again with big smiles. she buys him a tequila shot. cut to chim and maddie standing away, looking at them, chim cheesing and maddie laughing.

may and ravi are talking over drinks, much looser than they've been. may compliments his suit, runs a hand down his lapel. he undoes a button with a wink. they laugh, have a drink. make it to the dance floor. music changes into something slow. they're already dancing so they. ya know. keep dancing. a hand on his shoulder. one on her waist. looking at each other. no words. 'we should-' 'no. let's stay here.' he looks up. bobby's watching them, stone faced. looks back down. gulps. 'yeah. yeah, ok.'

at the end of the night, albert and adriana sneak away in the background. bobby claps a hand on ravi's shoulder while they're cleaning up. 'lets you and i talk'

then s11 goes craaaaazzzzy w ravi trying to impress bathena and then ravi and may r both mains and albert is reoccurring (and have adriana move to la mid-season after he finally gets over their wild three-day romance)

[oscquinn]

here's my happy belated birthday lip gallagher post, thank you to this anon for requesting! no warnings, just cute shit <3 im thinking late model lip, s10/s11. wc: around 500, little less probs

lip is up before you almost every morning, gone by the time you even think about opening your eyes. he's up at seven to be at the bike shop by eight and often leaves you with with no more than a mumbled goodbye, he always prefers to let you sleep.

but this morning was a special morning. at least, in your eyes it was. while you snuck out of bed with as much care as possible you wondered if he would even be appreciative of the gesture. lip didn't like the cacophony of it all—the cake and presents and songs—he didn't enjoy being the center of attention.

you knew that, and you heeded it well as you cooked up a simple breakfast; an omelette, some fresh fruit, and a little raspberry pastry he would never admit that he loved. but you knew. you finish it all up with a cup of coffee you know by heart—dark roast, two sugars—and added in add a half pump your favorite cinnamon syrup. you just had a feeling he'd like it.

the sun is beginning to peek over the horizon as you wash the dishes you'd used, no use in leaving them for later. by the time you're tiptoeing back into the bedroom the gentle rays are seeping through your thin curtains, and lip is blinking groggily up at you while they cast him in a gentle glow.

"i had hoped i'd get to wake you up," you say with a smile, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. lip eyes the plate, then looks back at you.

"wha's this all about baby?" he grumbles, knuckles digging into his eyes for a moment before he reaches out to touch your hand.

you gather the courage to say it, despite knowing he could never be mad at you when you were being oh so sweet. "it's y'birthday," you tell him, and hand over the plate as he sits up.

lip takes one look at the food, that signature grin pulling at the corners of his lips already. "oh is it?" he asks, and you nod in response.

the gears in his head seem to turn for a moment before he balances the plate on the nightstand and pulls you right into his lap. a surprised 'hmph!' escapes you before you're giggling at the way his arms wrap tightly around you.

"jesus, i am one lucky son of a bitch," he remarks against your skin. nimble fingers tickle your sides just to draw more of those sweet, pretty laughs from your lips.

you wriggle in his grasp, fingers clutching at him and pulling his body down with your own as you fall sideways onto the mattress. lip tucks your body into the gentle curve of his own, laying a smattering of kisses to your still sleep-messy hair.

"happy birthday baby," you tell him softly, and he beams like the sun when you do.

end.

[hiroyildiz]

SPN S10 EP5: FANFICTION

OMG OMGOMGOMGOGMGOGMGOMGGOMGOMGGMOPWOJBNG4QPIUGBTHOWIGCUWEV

WFT??!??!?!?!?!

SUBTEXT

"Although we do explore the nature of Deastiel in act two."

Tis killed me.

I'm dean

*dead

I'm dead...

Funny how those two words get mixed up....