#oh and yea she's danish

[lovehypegirl]

AUTUMN IN NEW YORK

synopsis: You're a first year at Jujutsu Tech and your mentor is Nanami Kento. You try to get the man to open up a little after a visit to the bakery and record store information: reader's technique uses firearms pairing: platonic!nanami x platonic!gn!reader WC: 958 warnings.ᐟ : none

Gojo had assigned Nanami to be your mentor in attempt to get Nanami to work more with the students

Honesty, he thought that you and Nanami were somewhat similar, calm and collected but slightly classy

I mean, even your uniform looked like what he wore. Your uniform was a dress shirt, suspenders, shoulder holsters for you handguns, dress pants, and Louboutin dress shoes (that you had bought with Gojo's card)

You had just finished up your mission at an abandoned warehouse and as the multitude of curses faded away after exorcism, you placed your sniper rifle in your case and your handheld gun in your shoulder holster. Closing the clasps on your rifle case you stood up holding the case and adjusting the shoulder holster.

Nanami stood to the side wiping his hands on a handkerchief of any blood that the curses spewed

"Nanamin!" you called out "are you ready to leave? We've cleared the area of any curses"

"Yes. We're leaving now" he answered shortly as he turned around. He placed his cursed tool on the back of his shoulder holster

You followed after him carrying your rifle case out of the dark warehouse

Nanami walked on the street side of the sidewalk and you walked on the building side

You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light

"It's sunset already" you stared up at the sun with a smile "how pretty" you walked next to Nanami as you looked at how the golden glow rested on buildings

You turned to a window that so happened to be a bakery and you saw how the sunset softened your features and how Nanami's sharp features were highlighted by the sunlight in certain places

"Do you wish to go in there?" His deep voice asked, snapping you out of your thoughts

"Oh um...I don't wish to trouble you" you turned away from the bakery

"No matter, If your hungry then we can eat...you had a harsh mission today so it's best if you ate" he opened the door to the bakery with a ding!

You followed after him unsure of what to say

The girl at the counter greeted in a cheery manner

"Hello! You're back again!" she smiled (IT'S THE BAKERY GIRL FROM THE MANGA!!)

"Pick what you want" he looked over at you

You hesitated slightly unsure of letting your mentor spend his money on you

"I told you, it's no matter" he placed a hand on your shoulder "Pick what you want"

"Uhm...okay then...(favorite food)"

"Let's get that for her and...a danish for me"

"The usual then huh? Who'd you bring with you?"

"She's my pupil as of 2 months ago"

"Wow! I'm sure you're a great teacher" she smiled at you and you smiled back

"He is" you grinned as he paid for your food

He walked out of the store with you by his side taking your rifle case from your hand as he handed you the food he bought for you

You felt slight relief as you finished your food, you were really hungry but didn't want to bother him for food

You looked to the side as you crossed the street spotting a record store

Throwing out the wrapper for your food as you reached the other side of the street

"I can carry my rifle now, and you can head on back to the school. I wanna stop here for a bit I wanna buy something" you pointed to the record store

"Don't worry about it I'll go with you"

"But our mission is over..."

"The mission doesn't end until we reach the school safely. It's also getting dark soon and you shouldn't be out alone in the dark"

He placed a hand on your back and guided you into the store

The record store held a nice ambiance, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald's Autumn In New York played in the background on a record

A young woman with short red hair sat behind the counter shuffling through records

"Oh, y/n! You're back"

"Yea, do you have any new Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra?"

"Yeah, we just got Songs For Swingin' Lovers a few days ago. Should be in the back. A couple of Sade came in as well!"

"Thanks!" you called as you walked towards the section she pointed to

"Do you come here often?" Nanami asked

"I do! I really like vinyl...y'see I collect 'em. I think my first was a Beatles record...I got it for Christmas when I was...seven? Eight? I dunno, but I also got a record player the next year, so I started collecting" you rambled on as you went through the Jazz C-D box looking for a Dean Martin record that you could add to your collection

"You collect them hm?"

"Yeah! I wanna own every album from every one of my favorites one day"

"...Who are your favorites?" Nanami had begun to go through a Crooners Classics G-H box

"Oh gosh, well I love Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Louis Armstrong, ect. The classics y'know? I really like jazz...but lately, I've been into Neo-Soul...I'm thinking that this summer can be the Neo-Soul Summer 'cause during the winter I listened to a lot of Jazz...." you trained off "...uhm...am I talking too much?"

"Don't worry about it"

You nodded slightly with a small smile "Okay um...have you listened to Sade before?" you walked over to the section where Sade's records were located

"I have not" he turned towards you as you shuffled through a box

"Here we go..." you pulled out a record and handed it to him

"This one is Diamond Life released in 1984 it's uh...nine songs...one of my favorite albums"

"Mhm.." he turned the record over and read the list of songs

"My favorite time to listen to Sade is in the evening...it really fits the atmosphere...and here we go!" you picked up the Frank Sinatra record to buy for yourself

"'Kay...I'm gonna get this one...do you wanna get that record?"

He nodded slowly "Yes, why not"

"Great!" you took the record from him

"I'll get them this time since you covered our food"

"y/n I am--"

"--my mentor I know. But this is my thank you for being a really good mentor to me. Uhm...you keep me...down to Earth in a way? It's nice having a level-headed mentor...in comparison to Gojo...who's head seem to be everywhere but his neck!" you walked to the counter and placed the records on the counter and paid for them

When you exited the store with Nanami you handed him the record

"Here you go Nanamin!" You handed him the Sade record "I hope you enjoy it!"

"Thank you, y/n" he accepted the record you handed to him "you didn't have to do that, you know"

"Oh I know! But like I said, I'm thankful for having a mentor who's head is screwed on straight" you smiled as you talked to him

He huffed out a small laugh at your statement

"While we're on the topic of thanks, I've been meaning to thank you properly for the sourdough starter. I wasn't expecting it as a gift but it was a wonderful one. How did you know?"

"Gojo-sensei runs his mouth a lot"

"That he does"

"My mom also likes bread and...she has a starter to she taught me how to make one. I think that people who like bread should make their own! 'Cause then, they can have it whenever they want. Plus it's nice to smell the bread you make when I wake up on Sunday"

He smiled "I'm glad. You mentioned your first record was the Beatles, yes? How did you go from that to Jazz?"

"Wellll the Beatles is considered Madchester which really isn't my type of music so! I began experimenting and found Jazz! My parents took me to a Jazz club and I swear I spiraled from there! I even began to learn the saxophone!"

"The saxophone you say?"

"Yeah! Sometimes I play at night since it's the only thing keeping me sane at this point...curse-killing really puts a strain on the physical body and practicing an instrument helps...it really does"

"You're the one playing at night..."

"...you can hear it..? I thought you didn't stay on campus?"

"I had to stay late one night to file a mission report that I had been holding off on"

"Well, I hope it wasn't a bother..."

"Of course not, Desmond Blue by Paul Desmond is never a bother"

"Oh you knew the song!"

"You play quite well it's easy to recognize"

"Thank's Nanamin!" you smiled up at him

He returned your smile slightly and pat your back as you both walked back to Jujutsu Tech

"Now, tell me more about the songs you know..."

You shared anecdotes about your favorite songs and artists, from the soulful melodies of Sade to the timeless classics of Frank Sinatra. Nanami listened attentively, occasionally interjecting with his own insights or questions, demonstrating a genuine curiosity about your musical tastes.

As you approached the school grounds, you realized how much you appreciated these moments of camaraderie with your mentor. Despite his initial stoicism, Nanami had proven to be a supportive and understanding presence in your life as a Jujutsu sorcerer.

As the conversation wound down, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected bond you shared over music. It was a reminder that even in the midst of darkness and danger, there were moments of connection and joy to be found.

With a sense of contentment, you and Nanami entered the school grounds, ready to continue your journey together as mentor and pupil. And as the evening descended, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a steadfast ally by your side

© 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[h0nology]

For The Cameras (Part 2)

sorry, this took so long guys, had a lot going on. hope you enjoy!

read part one here

warnings: fluff, angst, crying, slight bullying, kissing, cussing

It’s been one month since that night in Pedro’s suite, and it’s never been brought up after that. But you could tell it was on his mind as much as it was on yours. He was inviting you out more, not just as his assistant either. You’ve had a few casual dinner dates, the other week you two went out for sushi, and now the two of are walking the streets of New York looking for a nice place to get coffee.

You were always worried about paparazzi catching you two out together, and how the media would make it look. But your just his assistant, that’s all you are. To their eyes at least.

“Oh, look. Perfect.” Pedro snaps you out your thoughts, pointing to a little coffee shop up ahead.

You decide to push your thoughts to the side, smiling at him as you two approached the shop. He held the door open for you and you made your way inside, the smell of coffee beans and fresh pastries taking over your nose. You two approached the counter, where the young girl working there didn’t even realize the two of you were standing there, too busy chatting with her coworker.

“Excuse us.” You say politely.

Her head whips towards you, then the man next to you. You watched as her gaze softened and her eyes grew wider as she looked at Pedro.

“H-hi, sorry, what can I get for you?” She continues to look at Pedro.

“You know what you’re getting?” Pedro looks over at you, “Uh yea…I’ll take the iced chai latte and a cheese Danish.” You tell her.

“And for you, sir?”

You know she was just some crazed teenage fan but you couldn’t help but cringe at her, you wanted to roll your eyes and walk away but then you’d be the childish one here. After Pedro ordered and paid, you two looked around for somewhere to sit.

“Want to sit outside?” Pedro asks.

Was that really the best idea? No, but you really didn’t want to deal with that girl anymore. You shook your head, following Pedro outside where you two sat alone.

“Okay, so, you have a meeting on the fourteenth and after that you have a fitting for the—”

Pedro placed his hand over your notebook, “I don’t want to talk about that. I just want to talk. To you, not my assistant.”

“But I spent a lot of time organizing this.” You frown slightly, Pedro removes his hand and looks at the neat handwriting, with some doodles here and there.

“I know, and I appreciate that.” He placed his hand over yours, “But I want to talk about you.”

You slowly close your notebook, sliding it back in your bag. You didn’t stay up past midnight for nothing, he was reading those pages in that notebook eventually.

“Okay, what do you want to know?” You shrug.

“What is it that you like to do during your free time?"

“Funny of you to assume that I get free time.” You slightly laugh.

“Oh whatever, yeah right!” Pedro laughs, waving you off, “I am not that hard to work for!”

You join in on the laughter, “I don’t know…you can be sassy sometimes.”

“Sassy?!” He was genuinely in shock.

“Yes!” You argued back, the laughing taking over, “Get this, get that. Did you do this?” You mocked him.

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You do!—”

“Here’s your latte and Danish.” The cashier from earlier appeared out of nowhere, “And here’s your coffee, sir. Enjoy!” She smiles before scurrying off.

“I don’t get how you drink that.” You cringe, shaking your head, “It’s good!” He defends, “Try it!”

“I’ll be up for three days if I even take a sip of that.”

“Cmon, you know you want to.” He says and before your even able to respond, he’s holding his cup up to your lips.

Against your will, you take a tiny sip of the absurdly strong coffee.

“Yeah, that’s disgusting.” You stick your tongue out, trying to get the taste out of your mouth.

“You just like that overly sweet shit.” Pedro mugs your chai, “Yes, yes I do.” You take a sip from your overly sweet shit.

“Back to the question though...”

“I don’t do much.” You shrug, “Watch a movie, read a book…crotchet.”

“You sound like a old lady.”

“Okay, that’s enough, old man.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him.

The two of you talked for a couple hours after that, enjoying the company and the New York breeze. You were finally able to go over Pedro’s schedule with him after damn near begging him to let you pull out your notebook.

“How are you going to stop me from doing my job?”

“You’re not working right now.” Pedro shrugs, slight smile on his face.

“I am always working, Mr. Sassy.”

Once the two of you had wrapped up your coffee date, you were walking the streets of New York again, you really didn’t know where your destination was, but you enjoyed just being there with him. The walk didn’t last long, you two ending up at a random park that wasn’t too packed. You sat on the bench, by the pond, watching the ducks go in and out the water.

You sat in a comfortable silence, the sounds of nature doing most of the talking. You hated to be one of those people, but you couldn’t help but pull out your phone, beginning to scroll through social media. Your timeline was the same as usual, boring, until something caught your eye. As you scrolled through your explore page you couldn’t help but click on the picture of you and Pedro that had been taken hours ago! How were they so quick?! Where were they even at? You knew sitting outside was risky but you didn’t even see anyone with a camera!

“Pedro and mystery woman out today in New York!”

fan1: not a mystery woman, just his assistant!

fan2: that’s just his assistant

fan3: looks like a date to me

You couldn’t help but to look through the comments, making your stomach turn and your mouth twist. Just his assistant. That’s all you were. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you continued to scroll through the familiar posts. And sure enough, there it was, the girl from the coffee shop. She had snuck a picture of you and Pedro from inside the shop.

“pedro came into my job today!!! his assistant was kinda rude but pedro was a sweetheart as usual I love him sm 😭🥹”

Your eyebrows furrow, “How was I rude?” You whisper.

“What?” Pedro asked, still looking at the pond ahead of him before turning to you since you didn’t answer, “What? What are you looking at?” He tries to peek at your phone.

You turn off your phone, “I don’t know what this is, or what we have going on. But to them, to the public I’ll always just be your assistant. That’s all I am.”

“No.” Pedro sighs, “That’s not all you are. You’re not just my assistant, you mean way more than that to me.”

“They don’t know that, Pedro!” You turn and look at him, “Does it matter if they know? You and I know that.” He says.

“Do I?!” You stood from the bend, “Pedro I’m not going to continue to do this if I’m just going to remain hidden away! I-” Your voice started to crack, “I can’t, I can’t just be your little secret.” You cry.

Oh, there's no way you're standing here crying in the middle of the park right now you thought to yourself. Pedro sat there, looking for something to say, anything to say but he knew anything he said right now wouldn’t help at all, so he remained silent. His heart breaking at the sight of you crying. How could such a perfect day be ruined?

You sat there and watched him sit in silence, waiting for his response but he had nothing.

“Right.” You sniffed, grabbing your bag off the bench before storming off, Pedro calling and following after you.

You remember that day like it was yesterday. Pedro had followed you throughout the whole park, up until you got in a cab. That was a month ago. Of course, you had to see him, which actually sucked but you kept it professional. You did your job and went home. That was it. That’s how it was, until Pedro decided that he was inviting you and the rest of the team to yet another event.

You got annoyed even thinking about it. Having to deal with him, Veronica and a whole bunch of press, cameras and social media. It made you sick, you just wanted to get it over with.

“The car will be here in ten minutes.”

“Could you help me tie this?” Pedro asks as he struggled with the tie he was putting on, “Ask your girlfriend.” You muttered.

You knew what he was trying to do, you knew. You had seen this man tie his own tie thousands of times.

“I’m asking you.”

Your mind told you no. No, just leave the room and wait for him in the lobby. But your feet had failed you, reluctantly (but really eagerly) walking over towards him. He had a toothpick in his mouth for some reason, eyes burning into your skin as you tied the tie.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?! You thought to yourself.

“You look gorgeous.” Pedro’s eyes scan over you, all you had worn was another black dress. This one was a baby doll dress, a bit longer than the other one and it had one sleeve.

You had tried a little more this time. Doing more with your makeup, you had found the time to purchase some not so mediocre accessories and you had did something different with your hair.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby, Mr. Pascal.” You finish up with his tie, grabbing your things you had put down and walking out the door.

You scolded yourself as you walked through the halls, why would you do that? Give into him like that, so easily. I mean, who wouldn’t?

You shrugged your thoughts off, standing in the lobby waiting for Pedro and Veronica to appear. You haven’t even seen her at all today, you roll your eyes, hoping she was ready because you didn’t want to be late.

The elevator dinged and to your surprise, out came Pedro without Veronica clinging onto his arm.

“Are you ready?” Pedro looks at you, then eventually the rest of his little entourage.

“Where is Veronica, Mr. Pascal?” You roll your eyes over towards his, “She’s meeting us at the venue.” He says, “Now, shall we?”

You look at his hand that he held out, waiting for you to grab it, but instead you put your hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the door.

“I’m not going out until you say it.”

You wanted to throw a tantrum like a child, this man was working your last nerve. And for what? Because he wouldn’t admit that you were just his assistant, his little secret!

“Remember, big smiles, big smiles. And breathe.” You reluctantly had said, gaining a smile from Pedro as he pushed the door open.

As soon as he stepped outside the cameras began to flick and the fans started to scream, you walked out behind him, having to stop every time he did to talk with a fan.

“We need to be at the venue in fifteen minutes.” You whispered, not wanting to keep that rude label that had been put on you.

“Let’s just pose for a photo and be on our way.”

You went to step out his way as he turned to face the cameras, but he had grabbed you before you could, snaking his hand around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Not wanting to cause a scene, you awkwardly smile, looking every and which way. After a few photos, you walked to the car together, Pedro helping you in before he had got in himself.

“What are you doing?!” You whisper yelled, not wanting to get the attention of the others in the car.

Pedro shrugs, “Taking a picture.”

You roll your eyes, turning your body to look outside the window. You didn’t even give your regular speech like you did before all of his events, the stubbornness in you wouldn’t let you. You just wanted to get tonight over with.

The ride there was short, pulling up to the little red carpet that had been set up. You all got out the car, making your way over towards the carpet. Trina, Veronica’s assistant had texted you while you were in the car letting you know that they would be a little late, meaning Pedro had to walk the carpet alone.

“Give me your stuff.” You held your hands out to Pedro, and he hands you his phone and a few other things, “Veronica is running late, you have to walk alone.”

“Walk alone?”

“That’s what I just said.” You sarcastically smile, “Walk it again when she gets here, that simple.”

Pedro went to say something, but you pushed him towards the carpet, people starting to swarm him already. You stayed behind, watching from a distance as he posed for pictures and eventually got pulled to the side for a interview. That was your cue to make your way towards him, knowing how some of these interviewers could be.

“Hey!” Veronica’s voice calls out behind you, part of you wanted to keep walking but you knew she’d just keep calling you.

You turn to face her, the beauty queen walking up to you in a silk yellow gown.

“I don’t know what little game you’re playing—”

“Whoa.” You stop her, “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me! I saw those pictures of the two of you. If you ever even think about coming between me and Pedro, I’ll make sure you won’t hear the end of it.” She threatened, stepping a little closer to you, “I’ll have you labeled as a home wrecker!” She spat.

“You g—”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Pedro’s voice says from behind you, startling you both.

He steps in between the two of you, “What are you? Crazy? We aren’t in a fucking relationship, Veronica.”

“Pedro, we have an image to protect.” Veronica argues.

“An image?” He laughs, “This isn’t real, Veronica! What we have isn’t real! It never has been, and it never will be, okay? This is all a part of a stupid contract!” He throws his hands up in frustration, “A piece of paper!” He yells.

His voice had gotten the attention of a few people, but they seemed to ignore it.

“Okay let’s just remember where we’re at, guys.” You say.

“I don’t care.” Pedro says, “If I ever catch you talking to her like that again, I will not hesitate to put a end to this and let the world know why we’re really together.”

You had never seen him so mad before. You hate to admit it, but it was really kind of hot.

“Okay…um, let’s just take a breather. You two can walk the carpet—” You began to speak.

“No, I’m ready to go.” Pedro shook his head.

“Pedro!” Veronica scolds.

“No, I’m not doing this tonight.” He shook his head once again, “Come on.” He grabs your hand, leading you over towards the car.

“Mr. Pascal!” You called out, “Stop calling me that.” He warned as he opened the car door.

You climb inside and he shuts the door, making his way over tow the other side. What is going on? Why is everything happening so fast?

“Do you know where we’re going?” The driver asks.

“Back to the hotel.” You say questionably.

Pedro gets in on his side and slams the door as the driver takes off.

“Why would you do that?!” You slightly yell, “And we’re just going to leave the others here? We c—”

Before you could finish your sentence, his hands were cuffing your face and his lips were on yours. Bolts of electricity jumped throughout your body, you melt into him as he kissed you so gently yet so passionately and needfully. He pulled you over towards him, lips leaving from your lips to kiss on your exposed neck.

Neck kisses were your weakness.

“Pedro.” You softly moan.

His lips continue to suck on your neck, obviously not caring where the two of you were at. The kiss grew more needy over time, you had completely forgotten why you weren’t even talking to him an hour ago.

“P-Pedro, we can’t.” You moaned, “We can’t.”

“You don’t understand how badly I want you.” He says into your ear.

“We’ve already been over this, Pedro.” You stop him from kissing on you, “I can’t be your little secret.”

You two eventually parted from each other, smoothing out your dress as the driver pulled up to the hotel. You thanked and apologized to the driver as you got out, Pedro following behind you.

“You’re not.” Pedro says behind you, but you continue to walk, pushing the button for the elevator.

“Listen to me.” He steps in front of you, “You’re not just a little secret, you’re so much more than that.”

“Pedro.” You stop him, getting onto the elevator that has already had people on it.

He comes in after you, quietly greeting the couple already in the elevator. He stood next to you, damn near biting his tongue as you impatiently waited for your floor. Of course, he followed after you when you got off.

“You don’t understand. Ever since I first met you, since I’ve laid my eyes on you…It’s always been you. I’ve always wanted you, and only you. I just didn’t say anything, because of the stupid contract I have with Veronica…” He sighs, “You’re not a secret, I’ll tell the whole world right now—”

“You can’t do that, Pedro.” You shake your head, “It’ll ruin both of our reputations and—”

You wished he could. You wish you didn’t care so much about what the media thought and said, that you two could be together freely.

“I don’t care about that! I don’t! I don’t care about the social media and the press, what people say! I care about you.”

Your heart yearned for his touch, for his lips to be on yours again, to be held by him. But you can’t, it’s not right.

“Goodnight, Pedro.”

reader getting on yall nerves?? part 3???

tags: @still-wanna-be-corrupted @kittenlittle24 @marchai @aestheticangel612 @southernbe @quinnsgrapejuice @writerrinthedarksblog @brittmb115 @oberynslady @ghostofjoharvelle

[alexbkrieger13]

I also feel like SVT is gonna ask P for a interview as well. Since she knows Swedish. Don’t see danish media asking Magda for one

oh yea their gonna be wanting to talk to her too

[millacm]

This week’s music recommendation: One - Tina Dico (Dickow) Tina Dickow is probably the artist I’d say has influenced and means the most to me. I grew up listening to her music and found my own special meaning in almost all her songs, that have taught me a lot. There’s two albums which i could talk about for hours but for now I’ll do with just “one” of her songs (hehe)

It fits the times. “One is all that you need, to keep you on” is so very true for me and probably others. When i feel really bad i just need to speak to one friend and all the weight and sadness will be gone. What can i say that isn’t said in the song. One light in the darkness we’re living in, one reason to keep going and wake up in the morning. It’s simple yet so impactful. one change, one decision, one event, one choice can do so much. ok I’ve written one too many times now the word feels weird but the weight of shoulder feeling is still intact. Let her soft strong voice take away a few of your troubles and listen to those guitars fly you away. I hope you have a good one today, whatever it may be.

[sylvanfreckles]

Chemistry

This is entirely and forever the fault of @angelfishofthelord and their “The Genre You Struggle With” challenge.

And thus, I present, a schmoopy, silly, rom-com style epoch of the first meeting of Sam and Sam’s Blurry Wife (from the finale). 

Summary: A coffee shop, a sprig of mistletoe, and a barista who just might be Santa’s little helper...looks like Gabrielle and Sam are learning a little more about Chemistry.

* * *

“Good morning, Professor!”

Gabrielle D'Angelo raised a hand in greeting at Nico, the morning barista at Renegade Coffee. She had to duck a little bit to avoid the excessive use of tinsel around the door, but once inside the warm coffee shop she could almost forgive the sheer ton of glitter and sparkle and twinkle around her.

Almost.

“You certainly went all out,” she commented as Nico set a tall, steaming cup of her usual morning order on the counter. “It's barely December and this place looks like a Hallmark exploded in here.”

“Well, you know,” Nico shrugged. “Gloria went a little nuts. She downsized to an apartment this summer, so we get all the decorations that won't fit in her new place.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabrielle nodded. She couldn't help but notice the row of nutcrackers on top of the display case. They were all in different little service uniforms—like a postman, milkman, garbage collector, teacher. She pointed at them, eyebrows raised. “No barista?”

“Some people have no taste,” Nico replied with a haughty sniff before breaking out in a dimpled smile. “What else can I get you, Professor?”

Gabrielle leaned down to study the pastries in the case. She liked that Nico always called her Professor, even though she wasn't teaching this year. It sounded better than “textbook revisionist”, which was her actual profession. “Cheese danish?”

“Coming up. I'll bring it out to you when it's warm.”

She raised her coffee cup in toast and left a ten-dollar bill on the counter. That would cover the coffee, pastry, first refill, and her tip...for now. If she couldn't get through Dr. Adair's notes on the taxonomy of noble gases she was going to need more than this. Not even Nico's secret whiskey flask could get her through Dr. Adair's notes on the taxonomy of noble gases.

Gabrielle made her way to her favorite booth in the corner and began unloading her rolling laptop case. Well...it wasn't actually a case. More of a plastic milk crate on a portable luggage dolly, with her laptop tucked in to one side. From the crate she unpacked three older chemistry textbooks, a half-dozen manuscripts held together by alligator clips, and a Hello Kitty pencil case that contained the pens and highlighters she'd need (shut up, it was lucky).

“Cheese danish for milady?” Nico offered, as soon as Gabrielle had unloaded and booted up her laptop. She accepted the little plate and absently took a bite from the warm danish, ignoring the fork Nico had placed at her side, and stared at the glowing logo as the computer slowly roused itself.

Her laptop was old, still a relic from her graduate days. She always meant to buy a new one when her tax refund hit every year, but something else came up. Car repairs, a friend's wedding, sewage line backing up into her bathroom...there was never enough money. If she could make the deadline on the textbook revisions, though, she should have enough for a new laptop and a new muffler. No more cable ties and duct tape!

As Gabrielle waited, computer slowly idling its way awake, she caught herself staring at the door, wondering if Hippy Man would appear today.

Hippy Man was...well, she really was supposed to be above these things. But with that hair and the little bit of stubble...hey, a girl could still dream, even if that girl had two doctorates and a Very Important Opportunity. Plus, he was probably taken. Or an asshole. Or both!

Hippy Man didn't come in as often as Gabrielle did, unless he was here the three days a week she let herself sleep past 6am. He didn't have a regular order, Nico and the others didn't know him by name, and he never stayed longer than the time he took to drink his tea of the day.

(She knew he favored Chai because he ordered it at least twice a week, and Nico put a cut little accent on when he called out a Chai latte...that was why she knew it, she wasn't snooping.)

The bell over the door jingled (and jingled...and jingled...looks like Gloria replaced the little shop bell with an entire harness of sleigh bells), and in walked Hippy Man. Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

He was in the blue flannel today, which was Gabrielle's favorite. The brown one washed out his complexion, and the yellow one was just a no. Between the flannel and the beanie he looked like some kind of beatnik poet, though the muscles in his forearms and the callouses on his hands spoke more to manual labor.

(She wasn't snooping! She was just...bored.)

“Chai latte today, sir?” Nico asked. Ah, good! Hippy Man was coming in regularly enough to start being recognized.

Hippy Man started back, staring from the board to Nico for a moment. Gabrielle wanted to roll her eyes...maybe this wasn't a small town, but it was a small coffee shop. Come to Renegade Coffee enough times and Nico would learn something about you. It happened. Just go with it.

“Yeah, uh, sounds great,” Hippy Man nodded. “Do you have any of those vegan blueberry muffins?”

“Saved one for you!” Nico replied cheerily. God, he was the best. Gabrielle ducked her head, pretending like she wasn't snooping. (Okay, so she was snooping a little bit.) Obviously Nico had noticed that Hippy Man only drank tea and ate the vegan muffins (ew). Nico had probably figured out the guy's entire backstory based on his morning orders.

The bright tones of the Windows theme alerted Gabrielle to the fact that her laptop had finally booted up. Gabrielle shook herself, crammed the last of her danish in her mouth, and started on the arduous process to getting her dinosaur of a machine to log on to the Renegade Coffee WiFi.

Hippy Guy always waited at the counter for his order, which just added to the weird. Most patrons took a seat, relaxed a little, but not this guy. He stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, bowed forward a little as though to hide his ridiculous height.

(Really, instead of Hippy Man maybe she should have called him The Moose.)

“Here you go, dude,” Nico announced, setting Hippy Man's beverage and muffin on the counter. “Enjoy!”

“Yeah, uh, thanks. You too.”

Gabrielle bit back a snort, covering it up with a sip from her coffee (Renegade's own Double Dark Dark blend, guaranteed the strongest coffee in the tri-county area. Hey, the taxonomy of noble gases wasn't a laughing matter). At least Hippy Man was as human as the rest of them.

She rested an elbow on the table and leaned her chin in her hand to watch Hippy Man blunder through an embarrassed apology/explanation for what he'd just said—even though Nico had heard “you too” so many times he didn't even react anymore—while she waiting for the little spinny thing to connect her to the internet. Dr. Adair had probably sent three more emails, each one trying to decide between “the order to which we assign these elements” and “to which order we assign these elements”.

In the corner of her eye she saw her screen go white and leaned back to look at it.

No connection.

Gabrielle frowned and tapped the WiFi icon again.

More spinning. She took a minute to straighten the manuscripts—Dr. Russel's additions to the chapters on heavy metals were probably the best she'd seen yet, especially considering Dr. Russel had her own proofreader and hadn't demanded to revise her entry dozens of times, like Dr. Adair.

The screen flashed white again. No connection.

“Hey, Nico?” Gabrielle called. She noticed Hippy Guy frowning at his phone, but ignored him for the moment (which was difficult). “Is the WiFi down?”

Nico poked his head out of the back, towel draped over his shoulder. “Sorry, Professor. It was acting up last night...guess it's still out there. Gloria said she'd call it in when she gets here.”

Gabrielle sunk down in her chair, biting her lip and staring blankly at her computer. She could always pull up the emails on her phone, she supposed. The textbook itself was in a shared online file so she wouldn't be able to work on that until the WiFi was fixed...but she could go through the manuscripts and make notes by hand. With a heavy sigh she slapped her laptop shut and tugged the first stack of paper over.

Oh shit. Hippy Man was watching her.

Gabrielle bent forward over the table, letting her dark hair fall forward like a curtain to cut him off from view. Sure, he was cute and all, but she didn't really want to get into this with him now.

Hippy Man was standing up.

Don't come over, don't come over, don't come over....

Hippy Man was walking over.

Dammit.

“Hi, I'm Sam,” Hippy Man said, holding his hand out.

Gabrielle blew out a sigh and accepted the gesture. “Gabrielle.”

Apparently that was enough for Hippy Man—Sam—and he pulled out the chair opposite. “So, you're a professor?”

“I'm not teaching at the moment,” Gabrielle hedged. Sam was looking at the books on her table, actually touching one of the old textbooks to turn it so he could see the spine. His eyebrows shot up.

Oh god. Here it comes. She could see the headline now...Local Himbo Knows More About Chemistry Than Distinguished Textbook Revisionist.

“You teach chemistry?” Sam asked.

“I'm...working on the textbook,” Gabrielle said. She braced herself for it. Every time she met a guy—at least the tall, ruggedly handsome, flannel-wearing, beatnik-poet-looking ones—they were always intimidated by her work. Or they broke it down to something less (no, it wasn't the same as his mom putting together the family newsletter...yes, she did have a degree in chemistry...no, that didn't mean she could break bad or whatever, and no, she didn't know how to make meth!).

“That's incredible!” Sam said. He actually had the textbook open, caressing the table of contents. “I think I used this edition my sophomore year—is this the one you're revising?”

Gabrielle stared at him. “Well...we're about three versions ahead, but we're going back to that edition for the section on Amphoterism, Peterson really didn't do it justice even if he did have tenure at the time.”

Sam's eyebrows had shot up even higher, almost into his beanie. Gabrielle had to laugh at herself. “Sorry, shop talk.”

“It's okay,” Sam gently closed the textbook and placed it back on the stack reverently. “I see you in here a lot, you just always seem so busy. I didn't want to disturb you.”

Gabrielle shrugged. She had a lot of work to do. Coming out to Renegade Coffee to do it just felt better than working at home, with nothing but her beta fish to distract her. “And how about you, chai-tea-and-vegan-muffin-man? What do you do when you're not telling Nico to enjoy his meal?”

Sam blushed and stared down at the cup in his hands. God, he was cute, up this close. He even had dimples. “It's just a reflex,” he said defensively. She giggled—actually giggled, like an idiot in a rom-com. Instead of making Sam blush even harder, he peered up at her through his bangs and unleashed a devastating smile.

“So?” Gabrielle insisted. “What do you do?”

“This and that,” Sam shrugged. “Mostly pest removal.”

“Yeah?” she took a sip of her coffee. It was almost cold now...this was the point she usually drank the rest of it in one long shot, but she decided to savor it this time. Nico had snuck in a pump of peppermint flavor, and while she would normally beat him with edition three of A Modern Approach to Chemistry she was willing to forgive him this time. It was almost Christmas. “So, like, mice and roaches and stuff?”

Sam gave a halfhearted shrug. “More...specialized.”

Gabrielle felt her own eyebrows rise. “Specialized pest removal? What, like...coyotes in the crawlspace?”

He held up a hand, forefinger and thumb about a centimeter apart. “Almost. It's...complicated. I'm kind of doing it on the side, taking some time off to deal with...personal stuff.”

Shit, Gabrielle could understand that. When her widowed father had gotten remarried she'd taken almost a year to work with a pharmaceutical company in Canada. She loved her new step-father, sure, but it was hard to see anyone else in her mother's place.

Nico stopped by the table, a fresh coffee in one hand and a hot tea in the other. “On the house,” he explained. “Gloria will be in in about twenty minutes, she said she already called the internet guys.”

“Thanks, Nico,” Gabrielle smiled. She threw back the rest of her coffee in one long pull and set the empty cup to one side before tugging the new, hot cup close.

Nico was staring at her. Well, he was staring from her to Sam and back again.

“What?” Gabrielle demanded.

He pointedly looked up.

For the first time, Gabrielle noticed there was mistletoe hanging from the light fixture above her head.

“Nico!” Gabrielle moaned.

“Oh, sorry, I didn't...see that,” Sam protested. He tried to scoot his chair back but Nico had stuck a foot behind it.

“Either you kiss her or I kiss you, big fella,” Nico said, winking.

Face burning with embarrassment, Gabrielle looked over in time to see Sam give a helpless shrug. He shuffled sideways into the booth next to her and gently caught her chin with one hand.

“Merry Christmas, Gabrielle,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to hers.

Her stomach did a little flip, which had nothing to do with the coffee she'd just down, and she found herself unconsciously leaning toward him when he pulled back.

Gabrielle blinked, staring up at the man who was now sitting beside her. “What was that?”

Nico snatched up her empty cups and gave her a wink. “That, my dear Professor, was Chemistry.”

* * *

The challenge:

-Must not deviate into your usual preferred genre of writing (I normally write hurt/comfort, action, and suspense, so this was romance/rom-com)

-Must be written in third-person (done!)

-For added difficulty, add an essential original character (pick between Gabrielle as the OFC version of Sam’s Blurry Wife or Nico the barista as Santa’s little helper)

-Use less than ten tags (not including character/relationship tags) (is “chemistry words” a tag? I looked them up)

-For extra added difficulty write for a ship you hate (Sam/SBW is one I hate if SBW isn’t Eileen...but I named her Gabrielle because I also hate Sabriel)

[cawolters]

December...? DECEMBER!?

What about September?

November?

October?? What did I miss??

Yes, well, no you didn’t miss any vitals updates. I have reasons for why I haven’t been active on tumblr, and the most honest reason is that I didn’t feel like writing and posting on here since spring.

The writeblr community is so so great, one of the best in the web, but the platform is driving me nuts. Flagging, shadow bans, tag dysfunction and draft erasing/crashing, have just completely smashed my love for making fun and elaborate posts.

However, lots of updates has been made and i keep seeing wips I want to tag list and people i want to hang out with, so I’ll stick around for another decade or so! Hashtag always lurking.

The more polite reason for my absence, and equally truthful I might add, is that I was very busy the last few months —COMMISSIONS! LIFE! IRL NETWORKING!

And now I’ll tell you about it all, starting by answering the Q on everyone’s tongue:

1) Is Flash Fiction Friday Getting Revived in 2020?

In short, yup.

I need it, you need it, the world needs it. We need to WRITE folks. And the lovely prompt Friday will be back with week no 30 (!!) on:

Friday the 10th of January!

I have a capable team of creative and lovely writeblrs on the job as to how we an ensure consistent posting —and just and FYI, we might even end up with giving the FFF it’s own blog.

Run free, be with the people my beautiful prompt creature, inspire! And give me something to read!!

Stay tuned for updates and tell me is you want to be added to the FFF tag list.

Now next up is my scrip update!

2) Querying ‘The Serpent Kiss’

All is well in the land of querying.

or... well almost.

Alrighty, lemme explain below.

So, if you’ve been following me for awhile, you know my third child (whom is not currently teething or using my lipstick as a crayon) is my dark new adult fantasy trilogy —The Serpent Kiss <3

If you donno what I’m talking about, here’s a quick summery of the query process:

I finished the English first draft, two and a half years ago (I think?) and started looking into querying after my fifth draft was done.

I decided very early on that I would feel more comfortable working here in Denmark, where I already have a literary network, and actually understand the cultural unwritten rules when working with publishers!!

Since then I have been rewriting, tweaking, had beta-readers, editors, a sponsored translator (who translated the script from English to danish) BEFORE I started querying seriously in Denmark.

During the time where the book was being reviewed, I’ve kept in touch with houses who showed interest in the book from the get go (encouraging me to push onward), done a lot of social media work (especially on Instagram since the publishers all mentioned the importance of that platform) and attended books cons to physically mingle (it makes a difirence —really).

Ah, and now, finally, we’ve starting to get serious replies back from the Danish publishers.

Let’s look at what they’ve said so far.

(And mind you, this is Denmark. We’re a tiny country and we DON’T have adult fantasy books written by danish authors, so their critique is based on that. YA is what’s sellable and had been for years, buuut I also know that tendency will shift, so that’s what I’m really selling. A new trend basically. Always understand what pov the critique is coming from and don’t stop at the first rejection)

3/5: ‘no thank you, there’s no marked in Denmark for your book’

1/5: ‘we love it but rewrite it to YA and we have a deal’ — I said, no thank you

1/5: ‘we love it as is and we want to give you a deal, but we have to work out the legal kinks, and we will give you final answer by the end of January!’

So I’m awaiting the final judgement!!

But not really, it’s not the final judgement. If the deal falls through, and it might, never pop champagne before signing, I still have four more houses I could send the book to here in Denmark.

And, I could still go the international route and query over seas.

Yup! That’s the update on that!

Next up? The general writing!

3) A Year Of Author

“It’s really hard being a writer... Not on the days where you’re writing, but on the days where you’re not!”

— @CAlisaWolters, Instagram confessions

My year of full time professional writing, meaning mainly relying on my text/skill/art to heave in the cash, is six months down and going — OK!!

Here’s what I’ve learned/done so far:

I’m writing 4-7h on commissions, the second book of the trilogy, short-stories, poetry and another little YA project every day. Yes. Every day. And that’s very very cool and also exhausting mentally. My advice to others: HAVE OBLIGATORY DAYS OFF! (Oh yea and I also won nanowrimo but the project is a secret shh).

I’m somewhat alone most of the time but being a closeted introvert, I don’t mind, but I miss coworkers. That’s why Café dates and write-ins with writer pals IS IMPORTAINT.

Also! Speaking of socializing, I’ve been to five writers cons/events and I definitely recommend making it a priority for all professional authors. BRING BUSINESS CARDS!!

I have a set routine and I’m really happy with it! Early mornings is the best! And Monday is where I don’t write, but keep up with social media and answer mails and run errands! MAKE A ROUTINE!

And that’s the update on THAT!! Phew I’m getting winded, are you? Fear not we one have one last thing to cover. Promise.

4) Personal Life and Drag Kings ^_^

Where to start? Ah I know! I’ll start with the drag king storytelling event because that’s really what stands out!

I’m a mom, a wife, a bisexual, a general theatrical person and a genderfluid jellyfish who uses she/her pronounces, so when someone booked me for a storytelling event, I decided to go in drag. Naturally. Tsh duh.

I’ve really been experimenting with my gender this year, playing with apperence and comfortzones, and discovering that my real happiness lies somewhere between flooofy dresses and black buttondowns. And not just the clothes, but there attitude, the demeanor, the mental space of wearing cologne!! It might not sound dramatic, but to me it’s been A RIDE!

(I’ve been dying to go full drag for a long looooong time and I should’ve gone all out on the makeup —but next time!!! Also the event went so so well and I had the best time! I’m going to do it again!)

And NOW I’m done! Hah not really, but I won’t force you to spend all day reading my updates and this post is already so loooong 💕💕✨💕

The new year looms!! May it bring you love and confidence, and lots of new opportunities!!

Hug hug hug!!

.

.

.

~Ciao

[wilccard]

☺ ♣ ♥ !! ☼ ?? ► ↕

                                     ( modern au ) ::: accepting.

☺ for a loving/affectionate text 

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  when did we turn into the third floor gays that buy flowers and leave them on the window sill for ages? 🙄

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  several poets would be disappointed in us. i won’t bother listing them here.😒 just buy new flowers THE ONES THAT DON’T DIE.

♣ for a drunk text

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  [ SPEECH TO TEXT ] hello babe why is your family cruella de vil. ville. veel? how do you spell

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  i’m getting grilled for no fuckjng sreason. Reason. why do they know my motherss name??? something abt? her not finishing college? fucking ell

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  HOW AM I AT UR FAMILY PARTY BEFROE YOU...! GET HERE 🤡

♥ for a sexual/naughty text 

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  oh my god, august, the things that does to me.

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  [ VIDEO 03:38 ]

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  okay, longer than usual, but. what’s the point in having a bathroom mirror if not this. ALSO, USE HEADPHONES. EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS AHEAD.

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  if you use this to destroy my nonexistent political career (since my life is an appendage to yours at this point, no jk) at least take it to the finish line

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]] [ IMAGE ] yea btw we need to clean the bathroom mirror.

!! for a threatening text 

[[  sutherlandslide. ]]  [ 2018 ] [ drafted ] i cannot believe you’d pull this stunt. what’s the point in bringing him to the dorm room, you absolute idiot, you have a condo in the city. yOU LEFT THE DOOR OPEN. OF COURSE I’D WALK IN ON YOU TWO. you’d think i?? what, wouldn’t catch on? wouldn’t see through the paperthinfuckingveil of it? I AM NOT BLOODY TWELVE. I’M A POLI SCI MAJOR THIS IS LIKE... COLD WAR TACTICS 101. i cannot believe you’d use up and break the heart of some random bloke just to prove a point - people are people you absolute fucking brat. you spoiled, silverspoon asshole. shit like this, august? it’s exactly the reason i need to go. i just... need some time away. a world that doesn’t revolve around this will-they-wont-they we keep doing.

☼ for a morning text 

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  it’s like i woke up and i no longer know who i am

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  or as if i just found out. yea, definitely the latter

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  cannot believe it took us this long to do this. mostly me, but shush. i’m losing it in the fucking subway i cannot wait to get back home.

?? for a strange/vague text

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  the polls close in at 10, go go go go !!! you can make it to the first interview if you drop everything right now. ed should be there.

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  i’m omw, just trying to GET A FUCKING RIDe. if central lon traffic isn’t your priority for the first quarter i’m quitting.

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  also, if this works out.... and i’m saying IF. if. we should probably get new phones for these messages??? i’m not freaking out. just... I just want to hold you right now. to be there for whatever they announce.

► for a text not meant for you

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  jonathan i have no idea what they teach you in med school but. That thing you suggested? Christ i saw stars. i’m p sure august can’t walk straight 👌

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  wait

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  SMHhhhhh no way 🙃🙃🙃. they show shit like this on twitter and i always said it’s utterly fake tosh. well GUESS WHAT? I’M BEING PUNISHED FOR MY SKEPTICISM. FOR MY HUBRIS.

[[  willem 🍑💕 ]]  i am so sorry lol.

↕ for a scared/worried text

[[  sutherlandslide. ]]  [ 2019 ]  this is a temp phone so i’m not sure if it’ll get through. thank God the contacts saved. S. Jobs looking out for me from beyond the grave i guess haha.

[[  sutherlandslide. ]] [ 2019 ] okay, okay. here’s to cutting the crap in the new year: your mom texted. actually, she didn’t, she phoned MY mom, who was already riled up for not being able to reach me, so I assume that just amped her up. cue their collective paranoia that we’re somehow both gonna die at 5000 miles from one another but in perfect sync. cue my mom phoning the EMBASSY. she cried for like an hour but i managed to get from her that you’re?? in a bad way?? on some stuff?? it still wasn’t clear. you’re using?

[[  sutherlandslide. ]] [ 2019 ] one, what, and two, what the fuck? you never did that shit. we never did that shit. i took like two bumps in fresher’s week and you had to hold my hair back as i was throwing up in someone’s garden. and then you stayed up with me literally all through the night while i kept saying i can hear my teeth speak, which, Yeah. so how

[[  sutherlandslide. ]] [ 2019 ] God this PHONE. how did you get from that to just doing lines on the reg? and what else? there better not be an else. there better not is all i’m saying. and no i don’t mean the swedish/danish/whatever boyfriend, you can go through the GQ catalogue for all i care & as long as you’re safe. i mean an ILLEGAL sort of else. God, August, what happened to you? you had plans. we had plans? just because David Cameron can be caught on camera dicking a pig or something doesn’t mean it’s a free for all in world politics. one footage of the wrong angle, the right angle, and it just. it all goes to shit.

[[  sutherlandslide. ]] [ 2019 ] I don’t even know if I’m giving you this ole slap on the wrist as your future PR or manager or... or just as me. I think it’s just as me. I cannot cope with the thought of you snorting shit off someone’s hand in a glitzy loo somewhere. I cannot cope with the fact that? This is who you are when I’m not there? Was this who you’ve always been? Where the fuck was I during it? What did I not see? It sends me bloody raving. It sends me just... somewhere so dark and so off the edge of the world.

[[  sutherlandslide. ]] [ 2019 ] I’m coming home.

[ladylynse]

Part II of Glitches: Shawn Spencer isn’t really psychic. At least, he wasn’t last time he checked. But he doesn’t usually have a real vision, either. (a Doctor Who/Psych crossover set S5 Psych, post S4 with Ten for the Doctor)

(Part I)

“Excuse us a moment,” Gus said politely before grabbing Shawn’s arm and pulling him off to one side. “I hope you have a plan.”

Shawn, for his part, still looked baffled. “You really didn’t see him?”

“Shawn, you don’t need to play games with me. Just tell me what you’re up to.” Gus could count the number of times they hadn’t confided in each other on one hand. True, sometimes Shawn confided in him and then went on with an idiotic plan anyway, despite his protests, but at least then he knew where things were going.

He didn’t have a clue what Shawn was up to now.

“Dude, he was right here,” Shawn insisted. “British guy. Brown suit, brown hair, brown eyes, about yea high,” he said, waving his hand a few inches above his own head.

“Are you serious?” Gus asked.

Shawn made a face at him. “Of course I’m serious, Gus! Why would I make something like this up?”

Gus raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Shawn sighed. “Look, I know what I saw, okay? I’m not making this up. I really did see him.”

“Okay, so you saw him,” Gus said, thinking he could argue that point later. “Why go on about the three knots in the string?”

“Because he tied the third one in,” Shawn repeated. “There used to just be two.”

“There were always three knots, Shawn,” Gus said. “There were three knots in the string when Juliet handed it to you.”

“There were two,” Shawn said stubbornly.

“If you saw two knots, dude, then you’re slipping.”

“Gus! You’re supposed to be on my side here.”

Gus shrugged. “Maybe you’re getting sick.”

“Yeah, sure, maybe that pineapple I ate this morning gave me samella,” Shawn said sarcastically, “and now I’m seeing things.”

“Salmonella,” Gus corrected, “and that’s food poisoning, Shawn. It doesn’t cause hallucinations.”

“I’ve heard it both ways,” Shawn said dismissively. “Look, Gus, I don’t care if my only ally on this is Lassie, but I know there were only two knots in that string before that guy turned up.”

“But nobody turned up,” Gus insisted, trying to be the voice of reason.

He should have known better than to try reasoning with Shawn. It never worked. Shawn shook his head. “He did. Dude, he even knew my name. What’s up with that?”

“Hold on, you talked with this guy?”

“Yeah, I talked with the guy,” Shawn said. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“When did you have time to talk to him?” Gus asked.

Now it was Shawn’s turn to give a look. “I had plenty of time to talk to him while you guys were ignoring us and he was tying the knot in the string. Whoever that guy was, he knew something. It’s not just because he tied in the third knot in the string. He knows something about this. He even knows where Cunningham’s place is.”

Gus raised his eyebrows. “And he told you all that? Why not say something earlier?” Shawn could have some pretty short conversations, usually with girls who saw right through him when he was trying to get a date, but this was ridiculous.

“Because he just told me now!” Shawn threw up his hands. “C’mon, Gus. Jules said that they were still trying to figure out where Cunningham’s place was, right?” Gus nodded, so Shawn continued, “Well, the guy said that he didn’t have that particular trouble, so he had to have already been there.”

Okay, this was beyond ridiculous. There was no way Shawn could’ve had a conversation with this guy, whoever he was, which begged the question of what exactly was going on. Gus could only hope Shawn would tell him. “He wouldn’t have had time to say that even if he had been there,” Gus pointed out. “Juliet said they couldn’t find the place, you stood there and asked, ‘what?’, so she repeated herself, and then you went on about the knot-tying guy.”

Shawn looked startled. Genuinely startled, that is, which was rare for him. “That’s what happened?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s what happened,” Gus confirmed. He peered more closely at Shawn, who was starting to look a little green around the gills—something that was more often reserved for him, if he were being honest. “You okay?”

“This is weird, Gus,” Shawn said. “I mean, I thought it was weird before, but now….” He shook his head. “I was talking to him for at least thirty seconds, and that’s me trying not to exaggerate.”

“That’s not possible,” Gus said.

“Then what’s your explanation?”

Gus, who didn’t have one, was thankfully spared from answering as Juliet and Lassiter came over. It didn’t take much to see that Juliet had filled Lassiter in and he’d found reason enough to excuse himself.  “Spencer,” Lassiter called, “what the hell are you trying to pull?”

“There were two knots in the string,” Shawn said calmly. “Right?”

“There are three,” Lassiter said, waving his little notebook in Shawn’s face as further proof, “and I don’t need you to waste my time.”

“No, I know there are three knots in the string now,” Shawn said, “but there were only two before the British guy showed up, right?”

Lassiter made a face. “Oh, yes, of course,” he said sarcastically. “How did we all miss a Brit coming onto the crime scene and tampering with the evidence? I’ll have to talk to McNabb about who he lets through. Get—”

“No, that’s a good idea,” Shawn said, interrupting Lassiter again. “We should ask him. He would’ve seen the guy, right?”

“Shawn,” Juliet said, perhaps reading the look Lassiter was giving Shawn as clearly as Gus could, “this man you saw—what did he look like?”

Shawn gave the man’s description, throwing in a few more details like the fact that the guy had freckles, and soon had Lassiter and Juliet exchanging looks themselves. “Shawn,” Juliet said again, “didn’t you feel it coming this time?”

“Didn’t I feel what coming?” Shawn asked.

“The vision,” Juliet replied, as if it were the most logical explanation in the world. Gus had to admit that if he didn’t know that Shawn wasn’t psychic, that probably would’ve been his explanation, too. It wasn’t exactly the first time it would appear that Shawn had had some sort of psychic episode. Lassiter was mumbling something about Shawn making things up under his breath, but even he didn’t seem to have a better explanation for what Shawn had seen.

“Oh,” Shawn said, recovering, and he shook his head. “No, this one was…a bit different from the other ones.”

“It seemed to be clearer,” Juliet agreed. “You were able to give us a very good description of this man. Perhaps we could call in a sketch artist and—”

Lassiter snorted. “We don’t even know if this guy is connected. You didn’t see him with a knife, did you?”

“No, but he saw him with the string,” Juliet reminded him.

“It’s just a bit of string,” Lassiter pointed out.

“It’s the only clue we’ve got right now,” Juliet retorted. “That, and Shawn’s vision.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll run his description and see if we get a hit when we get back to the station, but if he’s an immigrant, we’ll need a name.”

“He might be a tourist,” Juliet suggested. “I’ll see what I can find out.” She looked at Shawn again. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

Without hesitation, Shawn shook his head. Gus sighed, knowing that meant that they had to track down Cunningham’s house for themselves so that Shawn could have another ‘vision’ and lead the police there. At least they hadn’t been thrown off this crime scene, and at least Juliet and Lassiter seemed to believe Shawn’s story as much as they ever believed Shawn’s stories, which in Lassiter’s case was reluctantly. Still. They had a case to solve, and they’d solve it—despite Shawn’s pseudo psychic vision, or whatever it actually was.

“We’ll meet you at the station in an hour or two,” Shawn said. “I’ve seen all I need to see around here. The spirits aren’t saying anything else yet. Gus and I really must go to the bakery now, you see. Gus hasn’t had his cheese danish this morning.”

“Shawn, I don’t eat—”

Shawn, however, was already dragging Gus away and calling over his shoulder, “See ya, Jules, Lassie. Keep in touch.”

“What are you doing?” Gus asked as climbed back into the car. “We already had breakfast.”

“What, you don’t want second breakfast?” Shawn asked, raising his eyebrows. Before Gus could say anything, though, Shawn continued, “Jules has a point. This guy might be a tourist, so we’ll start looking for him in the tourist spots.”

“Shawn….” Gus trailed off, not sure what to say. This hadn’t happened before. Shawn had never actually seen something. He’d never had a real psychic vision. So this, whatever it was, had to be something else. There was a logical explanation for it.

He just had absolutely no idea what it could be.

“How much sleep did you get last night?” Gus asked.

Shawn shot his friend a withering look. “I slept like a baby, Gus. I didn’t fall asleep for a couple seconds if that’s what you’re thinking. And I’m not sick, I didn’t take any pills from your sample case like last time when I needed an aspirin, and I’m not making it up.”

Well, there went his other theory about Shawn taking the wrong pills again. He really needed to learn to read the label rather than judge a pill by its looks. Or, better yet, he could ask before he went and took something because he had such a bad headache and couldn’t think straight….

“Well, what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know,” Shawn said. “I mean, it’s not like I was the only one who was paying attention. Gus, I swear I saw that guy. He was there, and he put the third knot in the string.”

It wasn’t worth arguing. One of them was going crazy, and Gus wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t him, even if he did have Juliet and Lassiter on his side. Because as crazy as Shawn’s ideas were, as crazy as his schemes or plans or harebrained ideas seemed, he was usually right, and whatever he was doing usually worked out in the end.

Besides, he hadn’t pulled something like this since sixth grade, when he’d been trying to get out of a science test.

“We’ve got to find him,” Shawn insisted. “If we find him, that’ll prove it.”

“Shawn, I’m not sure—”

“Do you have a better idea?”

He didn’t.

“Fine,” Gus said, relenting, “but only because you already made me take the day off work. Because I should just go back to the office and get my work done before we really are working a case. That’s what I should be doing.”

“This is a case, Gus,” Shawn said. “We’ll let the police get all the evidence together, and then we’ll look it over and find a few clues that’ll lead us to more clues that’ll let us solve the case. And, in the meantime, we can track down the guy I saw tie the knot in the string.”

“Do you have any idea where to start?”

“He was in a suit,” Shawn said. “We’d better go somewhere where there’s air conditioning. The planetarium or a museum or something else that’s liable to be open.”

Considering that it was nearly ten, any number of places would be open, or open soon enough. Gus sighed. “Just tell me where to go first,” he said, resigning himself to the fact that was going to be a long day.

XXXXXX

The Doctor never did find a fruit stand. Well, he hadn’t exactly continued to look for one. He’d hardly encountered another soul after the first man he’d run into until he made it to a different part of town. Not that he was entirely sure where he was. Judging from the accent of the man he’d run into, somewhere in America. Possibly Canada rather than the United States, but he hadn’t been able to detect the telltale Canadian raising in the man’s speech if that were the case.

He could also taste the salt in the air, which put him somewhere along a coast.

He was really beginning to regret not looking at the scanner in the TARDIS before walking out the doors, especially when he let her decide where to go. The least she could’ve done was drop him off when people were about. True, there were people around now, but there hadn’t been many an hour ago. Well, there hadn’t been many an hour ago where he’d first found himself, at least; judging by the size of the city he was in, he had no doubt there would have been people around if he’d been dropped off in a different spot.

At least he hadn’t brought his coat. He had a feeling it might get warm today. Clear skies, bright sun. Well, it wouldn’t be as bad as San Helios, at least. There was water here to temper the heat, and fewer suns to begin with. And the distinct lack of impending death, which meant, at the moment, no need to run, though it would be a sight easier on pavement than it had been on sand.

He was about to turn around and go back to the TARDIS to find someplace more interesting when he noticed time skip. Just for the briefest of moments, it jumped. It repeated itself and then continued on, no worse for the wear.

It was the repetition in the first place that worried him. Even if no one else had noticed it, it had still happened.

Well, at least it explained why the TARDIS had brought him here.

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver, hoping he could find the source of the pulse. Well, he assumed it was a pulse. It had felt like a pulse, a strong enough pulse to briefly disrupt the temporal pattern, to cause it to skip like an old record.

Just the once, though, which meant that it wasn’t very strong, which meant that it probably wasn’t terribly far away, either.

It also appeared to mean that it was still weak enough that the signal had scattered almost instantly, and he couldn’t get a fix on it.

The Doctor frowned, but it was only a moment before he was grinning again. This was bad, yes. A small part of him had been looking forward to the briefest bit of relaxation. However, it was a slightly larger part that always thirsted for adventure, and now he’d be able to indulge that, too. Funny how he never had to look for trouble to find it, but he supposed he’d be leading a dull life indeed if he never encountered any trouble at all.

And if he’d favoured dull, well, he never would have run off in the first place, all those years ago. He might never have needed to, never have faced the temptation to steal away in the old, forgotten Type 40 TARDIS back on Gallifrey in the first place. If he’d always favoured dull, things would have been quite different. He might have even made a proper Lord President then. Mind you, if he’d favoured dull, there was the chance that he might never have been made Lord President in the first place….

No, he’d much rather sort out the trouble than be stuck with dull. Any day and every day, oh, yes. He rather liked a good challenge.

Still, it was much better to deal with a challenge when he knew precisely where he was dealing with said challenge, so the Doctor went about finding out where, exactly, he was.

Santa Barbara, California. Wednesday, August 4, 2010.

Well, possibly Thursday, August 5, seeing as he’d fished the newspaper out of a trash can. It might even be Friday, except that it didn’t feel like a Friday. Then again, temporal disturbance. It could easily muck about with his internal clock. If things kept repeating themselves, the timeline would start tying itself in knots, and those would be terribly hard to pick out.

No matter. He could, just this once, take a bit of time to figure out what was going on. After all, he had a newspaper now. That was a wealth of information. Surely he’d be able to find something related to what was going on that would point him in the right direction. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d read a newspaper all the way through since 1969.

The newspaper, it turned out, didn’t really help. What did help was that the second repeat was longer than the first. That likely wasn’t good in any other respect, but he managed to get a trace to follow with his sonic screwdriver. It got him started in the right direction, at least.

As far as he could tell, he needed to retrace his steps. The TARDIS, he supposed, had dropped him off a sight closer to whatever was wrong than he’d thought. He should have known there was a reason for dropping him off away from any of the hustle and bustle of the city. And, before six in the morning. She’d given him plenty of time to work out whatever was causing time to skip.

Of course, if he was right and that was why she’d dropped him off at what he was sure most of his companions of late would have called an ungodly hour, though he didn’t mind it, then he’d better find a way to keep count.

A quick search of his pockets turned up a piece of string—handy things, bits of string; never knew when you might need a bit—and he quickly tied two knots in it. It would help him keep track. Not that he really needed help keeping track, of course. But if he found anyone to explain things to, that would help.

Granted, maybe finding out the precise date would be helpful. Just in case.

The Doctor asked the next person he met, who happened to be someone who was standing in line at a café.

“Friday,” the man answered, giving him a funny look.

“The sixth, then?” the Doctor asked.

“The sixth,” the man confirmed. He smirked then, adding, “The thirteenth’s next Friday, if you’re wondering.”

“Well, I’m not exactly the superstitious type,” the Doctor commented. More to himself than to anyone else, he added, “Though I do have my suspicions about this.”

“About what?”

“Oh, just a funny little thing I noticed. Don’t worry about it, I’ll sort it out.” The Doctor waved a hand, dismissing the issue, and the man in line shrugged and accepted it as a dismissal as well.

The Doctor kept backtracking, and by the time the third jump came along, he was prepared. He got a definitive directional reading with his sonic screwdriver and headed off as quickly as he could before normal time resumed. This third jump was funny, though. It was different than the first two; it didn’t jump so much as stall and then jump. As if you’d pulled on an elastic band, letting it stretch out before it snapped back.

No matter. He’d figure it out. He always did, after all.

Of course, it would be much simpler if the signal he was trying to track didn’t fade, or if he knew the city better and could get around the dead end he was now facing. The Doctor absently tied a third knot in the string as he turned heel. He’d have to wait for the fourth jump before he could keep going. He’d gotten slightly off track between the second and third jumps, and whether he liked to admit it or not, he wouldn’t fair much better between the third and fourth jumps.

In the meantime, though, he could see if he could turn anything else up. Something was disturbing the timestream, even if it did appear to be within an isolated area. There had to be another clue somewhere that was just begging to be found.

The Doctor headed back into a more populous area of the city. Even when someone was trying to hide something, they usually slipped up somewhere, and if that slip up was noticeable enough, he’d hear of it. It might not be something the media picked up, not necessarily, but if he asked around, he just might catch wind of something unusual, something that told him, if no one else, precisely what was going on.

Of course, this could be one of those times where the unusual thing did its best to appear usual and was accepted by the masses, but he’d still figure it out soon enough.

When he found himself passing a police station some time later, he paused. It was, after all, a very good source of information. He just didn’t particularly like police stations. He’d been dragged into too many to particularly like them. Of course, he wasn’t always arrested under false pretences, and as much as he quoted the Shadow Proclamation to those bent on overtaking Earth, he’d broken a fair number of their laws, too. But, since these people certainly wouldn’t know that, he could happily fish for information without fear of being caught. Well, on those charges, at least. There was the slim chance that they might call him on impersonating an officer, but he’d take that chance. Besides, he could probably get out if things did take a turn for the worse. Security was still rubbish these days, especially when it came up against his sonic screwdriver.

His decision made, he ran up the steps to the station and nipped inside. The desk sergeant on duty was a very nice woman. He spoke with her for a minute or two before pulling out the psychic paper and spewing off a story about being an inspector with Scotland Yard. She was quite helpful, though he didn’t expect any less, given how helpful she’d been before he’d produced his ‘ID’. Now that he had, she was quite willing to discuss anything potentially odd that she’d heard about.

Of course, no sooner had she done so, gossiping about a variety of rumours that had been flying, about the whispers she’d heard, than she’d asked why he wanted to know.

The Doctor took in her dreamcatcher earrings and the assortment of crystals on her desk and said, slowly, “It’s more a feeling than anything else. I wasn’t here long before I got it, and it hasn’t gone away since. And, really, I’m rather inclined to trust this particular feeling. It’s been right before.”

The woman nodded. “I quite understand. Of course, I call it woman’s intuition.” She smiled, then suggested, “Why not talk to Shawn Spencer? He’s a marvel, you know. Don’t listen to anyone who tries to tell you he doesn’t have a gift. He tells me about my grandmother whenever he speaks to her, bless him, and he’s solved every case we’ve ever given him. He may have picked up on the cause of your feeling.”

The Doctor blinked. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Shawn Spencer. You haven’t been here long, have you? He was in the paper again last week, and on the news a couple weeks before that, and he’s even got a plaque in the museum for discovering that dinosaur fossil.”

“Ah.” The Doctor tugged on his ear. “He’s quite the detective, then, to find all that out.” Probably highly respected but outside of the actual police force, given how he wasn’t an officer or a detective or anything like that. Not unlike himself, actually.

“Well, the spirits do speak to him,” the desk sergeant pointed out. “He is simply receptive enough to listen and gifted enough to interpret what they tell him.”

Wait a minute. “Hold on, are you trying to say he’s psychic?” No wonder she’d swallowed his story so easily. Well, unless this Shawn Spencer actually was psychic, but there really weren’t a lot of people who had more than the desk sergeant herself did: intuition. And half the time, that was just coincidence. But, really, how likely was it that he’d just happen to run into another psychic so soon?

Or was he just really, really hoping that this Shawn wasn’t psychic because he didn’t want to know any more about the future? Carmen’s cryptic hints had been enough. Well, no, they hadn’t been enough at all; that was the problem: he wanted to know more. But he knew the danger of it, of knowing, and he didn’t dare try to find out too soon. Well, not much….

The desk sergeant looked startled, and her expression quickly turned to suspicion. “Why, of course! Don’t tell me you’re the sort of person who frowns on that, now, after telling me all about your own particular feeling. Shawn’s got his heart in the right place, and he doesn’t need anyone else around here who doesn’t believe him. It’s not good for the aura, and—”

The Doctor, realizing that the dear woman was just getting started, interrupted while he still could. “No, no, nothing like that,” he said. “I do believe in psychics; I’ve met a fair few. I just…hadn’t heard of him, that’s all, and it wasn’t what I’d been expecting to hear.” He paused, then admitted, “Not that I was really expecting anything in particular, anyway.”

The desk sergeant’s expression softened at that. “No, I don’t suppose anyone who’s from out of town would know. I am sorry. But you really should speak to him. Henry Spencer’s on vacation now—that’s his father,” she added, seeing the Doctor’s puzzled expression. “He’s on staff here now as a liaison. It’s his job to hire our outside help, like Shawn and his friend Gus, but Chief Vick thought we could use their services when she heard the details of this latest case. We’ve hired them again, or so I’ve heard.”

The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh? So what’s happened now?” This was certainly one of those times when it was handy to be the sort of person people talked to without realizing it; he got so much good information this way.

“I don’t really know all the details,” the woman admitted, “and I shouldn’t tell you them if I did, but I will say there’s been another murder. This city sees far too many of them, in my opinion.”

“Well, when one’s too many, there aren’t a lot of cities that can say they’ve a clean history, now is there?” the Doctor murmured. Louder, he asked, “So if I am to talk to this Shawn Spencer, where would I find him?”

“He’ll be in here soon enough, I expect,” the desk sergeant replied, “or you could go to his office. I’ve got the address for their agency here somewhere….”

“I’ll wait here for a spell,” the Doctor said, “and then try to find the agency. What was it again?”

“Psych,” the woman replied, looking through a pile of stray papers on her desk. “Hold on a minute; I know I have—ah! Here it is.” She quickly copied the address down and handed the Doctor a piece of paper. “There you are.”

The Doctor looked at it. Psych. Bit of a funny name, wasn’t it? Oh, well, it’s not like he was an expert on names…. “Thanks,” the Doctor said absently. He wandered away from the desk, found himself a seat, and waited. He’d give it ten minutes. He wasn’t a fan of waiting, and he often found he could spend time that he would otherwise have spent waiting in a much more productive fashion. Well, usually. Sometimes that involved a good deal of running, which tended to mean that the situation had taken a turn for the worse, but it always worked out in the end.

Well. Usually.

He tried not to think about the times it hadn’t too much.

Still. The world wasn’t going to end in ten minutes, or in fifteen, or even twenty. Well, not to his knowledge, at least. He could spare ten minutes this time. Wasn’t like he only had forty-two to sort everything out and save everyone. The way things were going, he had time to spare.

Ha. Time to spare. That was a laugh. He didn’t have that luxury, not right now, not when it seemed like he did. And when he did have it, truly have it, he did his best to make good use of it. Watching the twin moons rise on Belaix 9 or seeing the sun go down on Galway Bay here on Earth…. Something nice. Something peaceful. Restful. Somewhere where he could think, or not think, depending on what he needed.

But what he needed right now was to find out what was going on, and if there was the tiniest possibility that this Shawn Spencer could help, the Doctor wasn’t very well going to bypass the opportunity to speak with him.

Part III

[cadopan]

I actually like that Mia focuses on scandi players 🙈🙈🙈 especially in their leagues cause that not really that accessible to us. But recently she did a few Barca panels n stuff after that I found she has started to be a bit down on wsl 😐😐😐.

Oh yea, it's definitely good work in making these informations available to the rest of the woso world. I'm sure it's also greatly helped the influx of Scandinavian players into the WSL/other teams across Europe. Not only do these step-ups for their players strengthen their NTs but raise the profile of the Swedish/Danish leagues where young talent go to develop. But like you said, some of her opinions and judgements are misguided and I rather not pay any attention to them 😁

[woodenwedges]

1 through 100. Let's go! Answer em aaaalll!

Omg Kate you’re absolute mad!!! Thanks tho’ I love answering these things ❤️😁Hoo boy here we go!1. What is you middle name?Don’t have one! Neither does my brother.2. How old are you?203. When is your birthday?The 15th of may 🌸4. What is your zodiac sign?Taurus ♉️🐃5. What is your favorite color?Baby pink! 6. What’s your lucky number?Dunno about lucky number but my favorite number is 77. Do you have any pets?Yep! Two dogs.One sweet, blonde girl named Emsi (based on the danish word Emsig meaning officious)And a neurotic chihuahua named Henry. We got them both cause their owners no longer could take care of them and I love them to the moon and back ❤️8. Where are you from?Hirtshals in Denmark! I love my town to death9. How tall are you?Uuuh around like 1,65 m10. What shoe size are you?3911. How many pairs of shoes do you own?Too many.... we get a lot of free stuff so I have a lot. Probably around 10 pairs?12. What was your last dream about?The only thing I remember from my last dream was that I got a pimple on my forehead lol13. What talents do you have?I’m good at art, dancing and just performing in general and I’m getting pretty good with makeup!14. Are you psychic in any way?Nope15. Favorite song?Right now it’s brain damage and eclipse from The Dark Side of The Moonby Pink Floyd. They remind me of my mom ❤️16. Favorite movie?Don’t actually have one! But the last film I think I saw was carol and I absolutely loved it.17. Who would be your ideal partner?Just someone who’s intelligent and kind I guess! And has a similar sense of humor18. Do you want children?I do, but I’m probably never gonna birth any cause I have an illness I don’t want to risk transferring and also might be going on T soon!!19. Do you want a church wedding?I don’t really care20. Are you religious?Nah. I’m a spiritual atheist21. Have you ever been to the hospital?Only as a visitor. I’ve gone to the emergency room but I’ve never been admitted.22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?Nope23. Have you ever met any celebrities?My cousins a model who’s dating one of the Danish x-factor judges so yea.24. Baths or showers?BATHS25. What color socks are you wearing?White. I prefer just plain whites rn, but there’s was a time in my life where I always wore fun, colorful socks and never matching them26. Have you ever been famous?Lol no but a stranger did come up to me last week and told me she’s a huge fan of my work ❤️ a lot of the locals like my watercolor portraits27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?Honestly yea I do fantasize a lot about it 28. What type of music do you like?Music is a huge part of my life! My main Spotify playlist is 161 hours now and it’s all extremely diverse!The only music I don’t particularly like is blues and trap cause i find it boring. Right now I’m really into old grungy rock, punk, experimental stuff, rap and disco 💃🏼 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?Sure have! I did it countless times this summer at the beach. There’s nothing more freeing than swimming naked in the ocean 💙30. How many pillows do you sleep with?Just one, but it’s a really good one. Oh and sometimes and extra one just to cuddle 31. What position do you usually sleep in?Fetus position is my fav but I’m trying not to do that cause it’s bad for your back32. How big is your house?Pretty big. Two stories plus a garage where my friends and I hang out. And also a two bedroom annex33. What do you typically have for breakfast?Toast or oatmeal with nuts and berries34. Have you ever fired a gun?No35. Have you ever tried archery?I tried it a couple of weeks ago and it was really fun! 36. Favorite clean word?I like words like clean and crystal and chemical 37. Favorite swear word?Fuck.38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?Don’t remember. Pretty long. But I’ve started to be very careful with sleep cause my mental health REALLY depends on it39. Do you have any scars?Lots. Anything from self-harm to getting burned by a marshmallow lmao40. Have you ever had a secret ?Bitch my whole personality used to be a secret. So yea a lot41. Are you a good liar?Yup. I’m very creative and anxious so if I feel like I’ve done something I shouldn’t I immediately have a good lie ready. Also I’ve had some problems with compulsive lying whoops42. Are you a good judge of character?Nooo not really cause I always feel bad for disliking ppl so I force myself to keep an open mind. But I’ve learned to just follow my instincts a bit more43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?I’m pretty good at like southern American accents and also an American accent In Danish is so fun and cute. 44. Do you have a strong accent?It’s pretty strong. I used to fake a British accent out of embarrassment but then I started feeling pretentious so I let it go45. What is your favorite accent?I love a Colombian accent and French ofc. Also Indian and Chinese. Oh and a lot of African ones too, especially the ppl from Congo! But I love accents in general. They’re literally my go to ASMR trigger46. What is your personality type?INFP47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?My winter jacket... my mom wanted to buy me one that was new and when we finally found one that didn’t give me dysphoria I was so excited I forgot to look at the price tag... and she just bought it for me anyway.48. Can you curl your tongue?Yea and I can stick it between my tooth gap49. Are you an innie or an outie?Outie all the way50. Left or right handed?Right51. Are you scared of spiders?No, I used to have pretty severe arachnophobia but i worked through it and now I actually really love them! Also I don’t care how scared you are of them, don’t you dare kill them in front of me! That makes me so uncomfortable. Just let me know there’s a spider and I’ll get it safely outside for you 52. Favorite food?Love sushi with crab meat or fried shrimp!53. Favorite foreign food?Well probably sushi? Lol. Or anything Italian!54. Are you a clean or messy person?Super messy but I’m trying my best!55. Most used phrased?“Bid I det sure æble”. Basically “bite the bullet” in English 56. Most used word?Probably bitch. I use it in an affectionate manner towards friends lmao57. How long does it take for you to get ready?Very, very long58. Do you have much of an ego?Yea I think so59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?Suck60. Do you talk to yourself?Nope. 61. Do you sing to yourself?Yes!62. Are you a good singer?I’m decent. Think I could get good if I got a vocal coach63. Biggest Fear?Getting ridiculed, being misunderstood and being unwanted 64. Are you a gossip?I love gossip...65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?I don’t really know sry!66. Do you like long or short hair?Love all hair. I love running my fingers through long hair. I prefer short hair for me tho67. Can you name all 50 states of America?LOL NO68. Favorite school subject?I really liked art and foreign language classes69. Extrovert or Introvert?HUGE introvert!70. Have you ever been scuba diving?No but I’d love to try it!71. What makes you nervous?Public embarrassment is a big one. But racism, homophobia, transphobia and misogyny will also make me very, very nervous.72. Are you scared of the dark?Not at all73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?Depends on the mistakes? Never on like grammar and stuff like that.74. Are you ticklish?Very. I can tickle myself. But then again I am schizophrenic lol75. Have you ever started a rumor?Once in high school my friends and I started a rumor that I was “a hermaphrodite” and we kept it going for years. At first it was just to fuck with people but then I started getting like a kick from it. For some reason I loved the idea of people thinking I was intersex. Aaaand that was the start of me getting gender identity issues lol76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?I used to teach dancing lessons for kids at a local church lol does that count?77. Have you ever drank underage?Only a couple of beers. But the drinking age is here is 15 so that’s not a huge problem 78. Have you ever done drugs?a couple of times. Done ecstasy and Valium once which was really fun. And I’ve tried speed a couple of times but it has no effect on me. I also love weed if you consider that a drug 79. Who was your first real crush?Had a huge crush on a guy at my boarding school. And also a girl at the school... they became a couple and I remember wanting to die asdgsa80. How many piercings do you have?None! Had a septum once, but I never had my ears pierced as a child or anything 81. Can you roll your Rs?“Yea82. How fast can you type?Pretty fast!83. How fast can you run?I’m not a great runner but I’m getting better84. What color is your hair?Blonde85. What color is your eyes?Green86. What are you allergic to?Nothing. Tho I do get allergic reactions to extreme swifts in temperature 87. Do you keep a journal?Yup!88. What do your parents do?Both retired now but my dad used to be a fisherman and my mom ran a daycare and later worked with elderly people who suffered from dementia. 89. Do you like your age?Yea?90. What makes you angry?It takes a lot to get me angry but unnecessary hate and harassment usually gets me to tick91. Do you like your own name?I really like it actually! 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?I have but I don’t remember them... think I repressed those daydreams when I decided never to bear children :(93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?Idc94. What are you strengths?Intellectuality, kindness, curiosity, creativity and bravery. Also I get a lot of praise for being so open and aware of my mental illnesses and for fighting so fiercely to get healthy. 95. What are your weaknesses?Bad self criticism, naïvety, laziness and having trouble asking for help and taking initiative 96. How did you get your name?My brother decided it.97. Were your ancestors royalty?Pff highly doubt it98. Do you have any scars?Already answered this99. Color of your bedspread?That really popular, white IKEA one with flowers100. Color of your room?White, although I cover them up with posters, drawings and sometimes literal trash when i get psychotic cause white walls make me hallucinate like crazyThis was a fucking blast!!! Thanks Kate 😚❤️

[megwritesfanfiction]

Could you please do #75 Coffeeshop BBRae?

Disclaimer: Don’t own Teen Titans. Not making a profit.

A/N: This is one of those, should be a long story but cramming it into a mini shot….

One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ #75: ��I was just thinking about you.”OTP: Raven/Beast Boy Coffeeshop AU-ish

__________________

She came here all most everyday.

Gar realized that during his first day as a barista.

She walked in wordlessly, twirling her little finger around a strand of wavy lavender hair. She wasn’t dressed like their typical morning customers in business suits and corporate attire. He guessed she was a college student from her worn but well fitting black jeans, tank, oversized blue plaid shirt, and high tops. She was patient. Her light gray eyes seemed to be everywhere but the menu board, so he wasn’t surprised she was silent when we asked what she wanted.

Her ruby red lips twisted into a smirk as she raised an eyebrow. “You’re new here.”

Before he could register her comment, Victor, his manager, placed a blueberry muffin and a steaming mug of chai tea in front of her.

She smirked. “Thanks Victor.” She placed her money on the counter, picked up her muffin and her tea, and walked to the corner of the coffee shop.

“That’s Rachel.” Victor explained. “She’s a regular.”

Obliviously.

“She likes any cup of tea with any pastry, and she’s not much of a talker.”

Victor was right.

Rachel was, indeed, a regular visitor.

Victor explained that she was an art student from the local college and would always drop in before class. After she worked her way through every flavor of tea and every type of pastry, he started giving her an assortment.

Victor, also, assured him that her silence wasn’t anything personal. She just wasn’t chatty.

Gar could have guessed that. After she’d gotten her order, Rachel tucked herself into the furthest corner of coffee shop. Curling comfortably in the chair, she pulled out an old book to lose herself in. He watched her light grey eyes move back and forth across the words as she ignored the morning rush.

The next morning, she came at the same as the day before.

Garfield handed her a cheese danish and a cup of Earl Gray, when she approached the counter. “Vic told me.” He explained, a bit awkwardly.

He could have sworn there was something more behind her smirk as she placed her money in his hand. She wordlessly picked up her breakfast and settled at her usual spot.

Gar couldn’t explain why he looked forward to her visits. She never said a word to him besides the three when she’d first encountered him, but he signed up to the work the morning shift in hopes of catching a glimpse of her.

He’d mentioned it to Victor one Thursday that Rachel hadn’t visited the cafe that week. Victor shrugged his shoulders and blamed it on midterms, but he couldn’t help but feel discouraged. Granted, he was dreading his Economics final this afternoon, but he couldn’t imagine midterms being too terrible for an art major. He had recalled her coming in the previous week with paint streaked in her hair and covering her hands. He guessed she was working on some last minute art projects.

On Friday, Gar tried to push his disappointment aside as he dealt with the morning rush. It seemed like each person in a suit was ordering enough coffee for every office building in Gotham.

“Next.” He barked, sliding the four espressos and two vanilla soy lattes to the woman in the tan suit.

A pale hand covered with streaks of faded paint pushed a few crumpled bills toward him.

Green eyes locked with light gray.

Rachel smirked, patiently.

“I was just thinking about you.” Gar’s grin grew like the Cheshire Cat’s as he prepared her tea.

A delicate eyebrow raised. “Oh really?”

“Yea.” He tried not to be surprised by her response. “I was wondering where you had been.” He had been saving a blueberry muffin for her.

“I had a few projects that needed finishing.” She explained, picking up her tea and muffin.

“Well it’s good seeing you.

She smirked. “You too.” She walked toward her usual spot with a small smile still at her lips.

[alexbkrieger13]

The danish account following Magda but her not following back is hilarious. Shes truly a fan of P and that’s it from Denmark.

oh yea she doesn't want any other updates on the national team

[healthmaria]

War Poems and Letters

This year 2018 will mark the centenary of the end of World War One. Writing this, I am thinking of all the dead and wounded soldiers who lost their lives or got injured for life in the prime years of their youth.

The English poet Wilfred Owen (1893-1918) was one of them. He died in battle on 4 November 1918 a few days before Armistice. Before that at the fierce battle of Somme in March 1917, he suffered from shell shock which forced him to withdraw. (Source “The Great War in Portraits” a publication from National Portrait Gallery in London).

Wilfred Owen “The War Poems”

The Great War in Portraits Paul Moorhouse Sebastian Faulks

For us so many years later the War Poems from that time can be hard to understand, but I see that his poems are realistic and not the least romantic. From “Wilfred Owen The War Poems”:

“In the middle of March, Owen fell through a shell-hole into a cellar and was trapped there for three days with only a candle for company. This experience, compounded with the sickness (probably the result of concussion) that followed his escape, no doubt contributed to the dark images of an Underworld in many of his later poems. After a fortnight in a clean hospital bed, he rejoined his Battalion and was involved in fierce fighting; at one point being blown out of the trench in which he was taking cover from an artillery bombardment that had already dismembered a brother officer in a neighbouring trench. Owen escaped unscratched, but these experiences had taken their toll, and on 1 May he was seen by his Commanding Officer to be behaving strangely. He was probably told to pull himself together and report to the Battalion Medical Officer, who found him to be shaking and tremulous and his memory confused. In due course, he was diagnosed as suffering from neurasthenia (shell-shock) and invalided back, first to England, then to Craiglockhart War Hospital on the outskirts of Edinburgh”.

His doctor believed shell-shock to result from broken contact with real life, and sought to re-establish that vital connection using work- cure”. At the War Hospital, he became close friends with Sassoon:

“The older poet’s advise and encouragement, showing the younger how to channel memories of battle- recurring in obsessive nightmares that were a symptom of shell-shock- into poems, complemented Dr.Brook’s work-cure”.

Sonnet

On Seeing a Piece of Our Heavy Artillery

Brought into Action

Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,

Great gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;

Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse

Huge imprecations like blasting charm!

Reach at that Arrogance which needs thy harm,

And beat it down before its sins grow worse.

Spend our resentment, cannon,-yea, disburse

Our gold in shapes of flame, our breaths in storm.

Yet, for men’s sakes whom thy vast malison

Must wither innocent of enmity,

Be not withdrawn, dark arm, thy spoilure done

Safe to the bosom of our prosperity.

But when thy spell be cast complete and whole,

May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!

  War letters

War Letters from American Wars, Andrew Carroll

Edited by Andrew Caroll

An excerpt from a letter from a surviving combat pilot Lt. Lewis Plush to his parents in California, November 1918

Now that it is all over, what is there to look back upon? The fifteen months in France have been like a book with strange chapters, a book that leaves a lasting grip on the imagination……

“One of our planes did not return,” says the official report of the day and we each wonder but dare not ask aloud, “Who will be next?”

Oh, fateful vision that now appears of the three comrades, three friends that shared the same billet in the home of a French family near the flying field where we worked and played together. I am one of the three. The other two are dead.

  My good blogging friend G.P. Cox inspired me to write about young men and their ultimate sacrifice in war. Cox blogs in honour of his late father who was a paratrooper in the WWII in the Pacific. Whenever I see gravestones from the wars, I think about their short lives and that they often died alone and far away from home. Cox sent me a link to a young blogger and musician Zoolonhub who wrote a poem about dying young at the battlefields.   “Aged 19”. The writer was 20 years old when he visited a vast WWI cemetery in Northern France, and he says:

The gravestones seem to speak. They told me  thee from our soul! How lucky I was.

  The last part of Lt. Lewis C. Plush’s letter

There was a war, a great war, and now it is over. Men fought to kill, to maim to destroy. Some return home, others remain behind forever on the fields of their greatest sacrifice. The rewards of the dead are the lasting honors of martyrs for humanity; the reward of the living is the peaceful conscience of the one who plays the game of life and plays it square

  My aunt Ermegaard was three years November 11, 1918. When she saw the many Danish flags in her town that day, she saw it was because of her birthday. During WWII she took the role as a courier for the underground resistance. Luckily she was never discovered by the Germans. She never talked about it, but I am glad she did her little part in the fight for freedom. I wrote about her in a Danish blog post which can be translated.

Ermegaard and Helle in Copenhagen during the war a German soldier in the background

  Homage To The Fallen Soldiers War Poems and Letters This year 2018 will mark the centenary of the end of World War One.

[a-baleful-howl]

7.07 Thoughts

First off - the leaked scripts were real. It was actually pretty annoying. I felt like I was watching the episode twice. I hope Season 8 doesnt have a lad leaker. I really do. I enjoy watching the episodes raw. And lets be completely, dead honest here - I would not have known about the leaks or seen them accidentally if I wasnt as active on Tumblr. At least on Reddit I can choose to avoid certain subreddits. On tumblr, if someone posts a spoiler there is absolutely no way of blocking it preemptively. I dont want to have to leave Tumblr next season... My sister (the family that is visiting right now, that I posted about not too long ago that we do not get along), doesnt watch GoT because she doesnt have HBO. She keeps up via snapchat and posts on Facebook. She thought that Longclaw blinking was super important, if that helps you understand how she keeps up with GoT. In gifs and screaming southerners on facebook. Anywho, when Jon said he pledged himself for D@ny, my sister leaned over and whispered "that made her super horny." Yes. I didn't see "horniness" in Danish Pastries eyes, but that was literally what was written in the leaked script - so obviously it translated to a very VERY casual viewer. So I asked her it she thought Jon was in love with D@ny and she acted like I was crazy for even asking. Obviously he likes her. Like a boy is mean to his crush on the playground, she said. That didn't make me feel much better. Honestly, I dont think Emilia is a bad actress. I think she plays stern, cold boss bitch very well. Or screaming entitled delusional girl. (which I honestly mean because Emilia is such the opposite in real life) And when directors told her to play heart eyes, she did heart eyes. I dont think shes a bad actress. I just find D@ny as a character boring now. Up until saving the Wight Hunters, she hadnt done anything redeemable or "good" since maybe Season 2-3. Anywho- off track. All this talk about honor and keeping his word and being Ned Starks "son" really struck me. He promised to fight for the north no matter the odds. So him pledging to D@ny is his own way of protecting the north. Protecting his family. But how can he talk about honor and keeping his word if he's secretly undercover? I really think he's being sacrificial. Thats something Jon would do. Give up his dreams and personal gain to save everyone. When Cersei, the coldest, baddest, most heartless bitch in all of Westeros, talks about how seeing just ONE wight made her fear for the ones she loves - imagine how JON FEELS seeing thousands of them. He is AFRAID for his family. He will so whatever it takes to protect Sansa, Arya, Bran and the North who chose him as their leader. I dont know if Jon realized immediately, that once Viserion died the NK had him. If Jon did, then that absolutely would have put him on express mode. Now - one big thing when Jon was with Ygritte and the Wildlings, is that they ALWAYS said "burn my body so I dont end up like them." I can just imagine Jon remembering those words every time he thinks of Sansa, Arya and Bran or the coming walkers. That he doesnt want his loved ones to turn into wights - because it was even what the wildlings feared most. Its a fate worse than death. He burned Ygritte. He's burned so many people so they dont turn into wights. He is trying to save his family from that morbid fate. Then we have Theon and Jon talking. So - I think Jon's "it might look that way on the outside" is a hint at his undercover/sacrificial ways. But, whats also really interesting to me, is that Theon brings up RAMSAY. And Jon narrows his eyes like "yea, tell me more about that monster who hurt my Sansa." As if he wants to hear about Ramsay and what Theon went through - as if to understand Sansa more. To get more insight on what happened to her. Theon bringing up Ramsay would make Jon think about Sansa here. And they're talking about THEON saving his SISTER. And Jons response is "why are you talking instead of doing? What are you waiting for?" YES. YES. YES. Jon is so sure that the right thing to do is to put yourself in danger to save your family - your sister. He doesn't think about it. His answer is instinctual. Because thats what hes doing now. JUST DO - dont think. His answer is everything to me. SO MUCH. SO MUCH. Sansa didnt seem that upset when Petyr suggested Jon wants to marry D@ny. Which to me says Sansa has NOT considered a romantic relationship with Jon - YET. And what usually happens in romantic plots, is that theres an awakening moment that brings one of the interests to realize what they want. Maybe this is Sansas wake up call. That the idea of Jon marrying another leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. But we dont see full on jealously in this episode, really. At least I didnt. Okay - now to boatsex. We have a brief moment of Jon standing in front of her door before knocking. He goes TO HER. Which bothers me. I just cant imagine canon!Jon initiating sex with anyone. Hes too noble and honorable. Sex outside of marriage? Possible bastard babies? Reading signs wrong? But this could be a moment where hes deciding - welp, I have to do this to earn her undying loyalty for good. Im not completely sold on ignoring my "he'll fuck the first girl who isnt his sister" or "he has to prove something" headcanons either. I mean, I believe he is giving into D@nys affections because he has nothing else to lose. Sansa is his sister. D@ny is beautiful. And Jon might see something good in her, especially after she has postponed her quest for the throne to save mankind - but deep down their characters are so different that HOW could he really be in love with her? And the fact that their sex scene is over cut with exposition and dialogue means that this scene is more than just a romance. Its a plot point. It has to be spelled out. Its still mysterious. D@ny is in love, but Jon? Jon searches into her eyes as if he has to convince himself to stay hard. I think Jonsa is endgame - but the real question here is, does he love Sansa or D@ny? Will he love both? Or does he love neither? I have more posts about the other characters this episode, the writing, and the problems soon. This is just my quick post episode Jonsa reaction. My phone is at 4% so I will have to come back later. (OMG PLEASE DONT DIE ON ME) Lets just say that I think JonxD@ny is fanservice, and that we shouldnt trust D&DBs writing completely or write any possible outcome and plot turn off. And love each other, we have fanfiction and remember they are fiction. (but Jonsa is endgame ;) ) OH- And "the dragon and the wolf"? The writers obviously thought they were being clever to get a double meaning out of a title, about Rheagar and Lyanna and Jon and D@ny. Doesnt mean theyre a couple - theyre just the most important plot reveal this episode. :p

[dxlfhotch]

here i am giving you full lyrics and my interpretation and everything, this took so long to write so please feel free to cry with me. I did a mix of all different kind of Mitski songs from different albums and genre's shes done.

Emily Prentiss

"Me and My Husband"

of course i had to do this song, it can fit her and Doyle or if you're a hotchniss shipper I suppose you could apply this song to them too, depending on the tones, everyone has a different perspective of this song.

["I steal a few breaths

From the world for a minute

And then I'll be nothing forever

And all of my memories

And all of the things I have seen

Will be gone/But me and my husband

We're doing better

It's always been just him and me

Together

So I bet all I have on that

Furrowed brow/And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved"]

"Your Best American Girl"

lyrics and guitar just felt like it matched her tbh, it was either this or Frances Forever, but im indecisive as fuck

["Don't wait for me, I can't come

Your mother wouldn't approve of how my mother raised me

But I do, I think I do

And you're an all-American boy

I guess I couldn't help trying to be your best American girl

You're the one

You're all I ever wanted

I think I'll regret this"]

"Nobody"

this could apply to most cm characters, but after she faked her death? Yep. Cant put lyrics bc tumblr is being fruity

Spencer Reid

oh boy is this bitch mentally ILL yet again who isn't theres so many ones that can apply to him oh lord

"Class Of 2013"

AHAHHAHA yea,,,, hes mommy issues to the max. I think the lyrics apply to his thoughts of 'i had to grow up to take care of you, i wish you could've just taken care of me instead' kind of thoughts, its all self explanatory.

["Mom, I'm tired

Can I sleep in your house tonight?

Mom, is it alright

If I stay for a year or two?

Mom, I'll be quiet

It would be just to sleep at night

And I'll leave once I figure out

How to pay for my own life too

Mom, would you wash my back?

This once, and then we can forget

And I'll leave what I'm chasing

For the other girls to pursue

Mom, am I still young?

Can I dream for a few months more?"]

"Why Didn't You Stop Me"

Again fairly self explanatory, season 2/3 Reid with his drug problems and him having to get over Gideon leaving, boy oh boy

["I know that I ended it, but

Why won't you chase after me?

You know me better than I do

So why didn't you stop me?

Why didn't you stop me

And paint it over?

I look for a picture of you

To keep in my pocket

But I can't seem to find one

Where you look how I remember

Look how I remember

Look how I remember

Paint it over"]

"First Love/Late Spring"

theres way too many songs that relate but just read these fucking lyrics man

["Lately I've been crying like a

Tall child

So please hurry leave me

I can't breathe

Please don't say you love me/And I was so young

When I behaved

Twenty five

Yet now I find

I've grown into

A tall child

And I don't wanna go home yet

Let me walk to the top of the big night sky"]

Penelope Garcia

oh my sweet girl garcia,,,,

"Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart."

If you think about when she got shot by that guy she met at the coffee shop, she said something across the lines of "guys like that don't look at girls like me and think I'm beautiful" and hhahahhahahah broke my heart

[" So I don't blame you

If you want to bury me in your memory

I'm not the girl I ought to be, but

Maybe when you tell your friends

You can tell them what you saw in me

And not how I turned out to be

There is some kind of burning inside me

It's kept me from falling apart

And I'm sure that you've seen what it's done to my heart

But it's kept me from falling apart"]

"Strawberry Blonde"

THIS SONG IS SO PENELOPE like ugh last one was sad but shes just so sweet and tries to be happy and hgh i love her also ooh sad song happy beat who knowssss >:)

["I love everybody

Because I love you

When you stood up

Walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay

Left a bed in your shape

I looked over it

And I ached/ You tell me you love her;

I give you a grin

Oh all I ever wanted was a

Life in your shape

So I follow the white lines

Follow the while lines

Keep my eyes on the road

As I ache"]

Derek Morgan

"I Will"

i actually found this song from an edit of Morgan and Spencer's friendship, and i cried a bit. I feel like this song is his need to take care of his loved ones, same with Hotch, that protective nature he has to make sure everyone's okay.

[" So stay with me

Hold my hand

There's no need

To be brave

And all the quiet nights you bear

Seal them up with care

No one needs to know they're there

For I will hold them for you"]

"Door"

oh haha you thought it was gonna be a happier song? no fuck you (ily) ahhah remember in season two they talked about his childhood? I think you know where this is going. C*rl B*f*rd. Yep. its really fucking sad and he deserves better and the lyrics hurt.

["There is a door to me

I've never seen it

Sometimes I get closer to it

But I've never found it

At twilight I almost had it

But then the night fell

I looked out at the dark and wondered

How could I have lost it?

Then one night at the park

I saw it with my cheek in the dirt

I couldn't move underneath the dark

But at least I finally found it

It cried out a creak and opened

To show me what's beyond it

A hopeless, a violence

I named it love"]

Aaron Hotchner

good lord all the shit they hinted at his childhood and his dad, plus everything that happened in the show oh boy oh boy

"Washing Machine Heart"

while i really believe this song could fit legit aNYONE on the team it reminds me of hotch the most. him going through his divorce, strauss giving him shit and just everything,, jesus

["Baby, though I've closed my eyes

I know who you pretend I am

I know who you pretend I am

Do mi ti

Why not me?

Why not me?"]

"Last Words of a Shooting Star"

after haley died he was probaly sad as fuck and ahhahahha lyrics oh boy

["And I am relieved that I'd left my room tidy

They'll think of me kindly

When they come for my things

They'll never know how I'd stared at the dark in that room

With no thoughts

Like a blood-sniffing shark

And while my dreams made music in the night

Carefully

I was going to live"]

"A Pearl"

the lyrics,,, i have a hard time explaining but just listen to it smh

["Sorry I don't want your touch

It's not that I don't want you

Sorry I can't take your touch

There's a hole that you fill

You fill, you fill

But it's just that I fell in love with a war

And nobody told me it ended

And it left a pearl in my hand

And I roll it around

Every night, just to watch it glow

Every night, baby, that's where I go

Just to watch it glow"]

Jennifer Jereu

she lost her sister at a young age and she definitely feels a lot of empathy for families of victims, especially with her own kids at home

"Pink in the Night"

jemily vibes? yea if you want tbh

["I could stare at your back all day

I could stare at your back all day

And I know I've kissed you before, but

I didn't do it right

Can I try again, try again, try again"]

"Fireworks"

remember when she got kidnapped and they didnt pay much attention to her trauma? yea this just reminds me of that

["One morning this sadness will fossilize

And I will forget how to cry

I'll keep going to work and you won't see a change

Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye

I will go jogging routinely

Calmly and rhythmically run

And when I find that a knife's sticking out of my side

I'll pull it out without questioning why

And then one warm summer night

I'll hear fireworks outside

And I'll listen to the memories as they cry, cry, cry"]

i definitely will update this later and do this with more artists, theres a lot I missed and feel like i need to add more AHHHHHHH

EDIT: LMAO WHOOPS I FORGOT ROSSI whatever ill add him and Alex and other characters like that later bc nnmmnhhjm MISTKI

i should kin assign criminal minds characters Mitski songs 😁 see how you hoes feel about that

[dontshootmespence]

Standing Saturday Tradition

A/N: Okay, so this a one-shot idea from my own brain. Alex Blake never gets any love, so I wanted to change that. My head canon is that she and Spencer get together every Saturday they are home to grab a cup of coffee and do crossword puzzles together. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @teatimewithtiya 

                                                              ----

Alex sidled up the table she shared with Spencer every Saturday morning, a sleepy smile on her face and a crossword puzzle book (which Spencer had a duplicate of) under her arm. “Morning, Alex!” Spencer said happily, sitting across the table. 

Since Spencer craved routine and Alex really didn’t mind either way, it went the same every Saturday. She would get there first (her internal clock not allowing her to sleep past 7AM) and grab a seat at the table they both liked. It was right near the window, so the natural light of the morning sun would shine in as they ate. After about 15 minutes, Spencer would arrive and sit across from her and then, leaving their jackets at the table to hold their places, they would get up and grab coffee and breakfast - a sugar with some coffee and a blueberry scone for Spencer, and a coffee with half and half and one sugar, and a piece of plain pound cake for Blake. 

Then the crossword fun would begin. 

Once, Rossi had stopped by for coffee on the way to see his publisher and made fun of them for getting together on a Saturday morning for crossword puzzles, but neither cared. Although Spencer had needed time to warm up to her, Emily’s departure not sitting well in his stomach, he had a special relationship with Blake he couldn’t quite describe - a perfect mixture of mother and best friend. 

After getting their customary breakfast and beverages, they sat down at their table. “Okay,” Alex said. “I’m switching it up. First things first, we pick the same puzzle out of the book and time ourselves. Which one can finish it the quickest?”

“Are you ready to get embarrassed?” Spencer asked with a laugh. This was one of the reasons she loved seeing him outside of work. In the bullpen, he was serious Spencer, spouting facts and figuring out the unsub’s next move before they could themselves, but here, he was relaxed, playful - it was another side of him she enjoyed seeing, and so she tried to bring it out as much as possible. 

“You’re on, Reid.”

They settled on a puzzle, which took nearly fifteen minutes, and then they set a timer. “Go!” Reid said, his face animated as the pen (not pencil) flew across the paper. Occasionally, he would look up to see how Blake was doing, her pen flying at equal speed. It would only coax him to go faster. Smote. Stravinsky. Yaffingale. Guglielmo Marconi. Nothing could stop him now! But Alex was keeping pace. That was part of the fun; she was a linguist after all.

Looking down, he continued to glide his pen across the tiny boxes, his messy handwriting illegible to pretty much everyone but him, Blake and maybe Hotch, and his mother of course. “Done!” Alex smiled, sitting back and turning the crossword puzzle book toward Spencer. Dammit, she was good. “I am the queen. I’m pretty sure my mother would haunt me from the grave if I didn't beat you.”

He challenged her again and again, but she beat him every time. “Yield, I must,” he smiled, taking the last sip of his coffee. “Let’s just do them without timing ourselves.”

“Good decision,” she laughed. For the next two hours, the two of them finished puzzle after puzzle, occasionally taking breaks to talk about James and his work with Doctors Without Borders. He was fascinated with the way their relationship worked so he was constantly asking questions. And sometimes, just for fun, they would ask the other for help with an answer, even though they didn’t need help. “Danish physicist, contributions to atomic structure and quantum theory, four letters?” Scientists weren’t here strong suit.

“Bohr,” Spencer answered almost immediately. “Niels Bohr. Did you know Bohr developed the Bohr model of the atom, in which he proposed that energy levels of electrons are discrete and that the electrons revolve in stable orbits around the atomic nucleus but can jump from one energy level (or orbit) to another?”

Now that hurt Alex’s brain. “I did not and honestly, even as a linguist, I have no idea what you just said.”

Spencer smiled and went back to his puzzle, thankful that Blake was still willing to listen though she didn’t understand. After another hour, both of their stomachs started to rumble. “Wow, I’m hungry,” Alex laughed, her stomach sounding more like a bear than a human organ. “Wanna go grab something to eat at the diner?”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, placing the pencil in between the pages of his book and standing up. “I’m not going to lie, I’m probably going to finish this puzzle before we order lunch.”

Alex just smiled and allowed Spencer to walk in front of her in the direction of the restaurant. “Oh yea, me too.”