#or in case they might just be useful to anyone!

[grave-writingref]

Ooh, I have some advice for people related to this!

The Indie Wiki Buddy extension has a setting you can turn on that will do this automatically, but if you don't have or can't get the extension for some reason (for example, you're on your phone), this should be pretty helpful in a pinch.

For any artists, writers, nerds, or just anyone in general, if, god forbid, you absolutely, absolutely MUST consult a Fandom-affiliated wiki for any reason, add the word “anti” before the Fandom part of the URL.

Case in point: here is a screenshot of the page about the Traveler(s) from the Fandom-affiliated Genshin Impact wiki prior to this method.

As you can see, this is an information nightmare. Similar to what was detailed in a prior reblog, we've got a giant sidebar with a pop-up next to it, an autoplaying video that automatically minimized to the corner when I scrolled down, and my banner ad there at the top didn't even bother loading in but decided to take up space on the page anyways. As a result, I can't even see the picture of Aether because he's been shoved offscreen thanks to all of this nonsense.

I screencapped this on my computer, but I can’t tell you the number of times the ads on this wiki (and many others) have straight up crashed my browser on my phone, and I’m 100% certain others have experienced the same.

Now, in the URL, insert “anti” right before the “fandom” section of the URL. In this case, the URL would be genshin-impact(dot)antifandom(dot)com.

We are redirected to an antifandom(dot)com page, and now the Genshin Impact wiki page about the Travelers looks like this:

Clean. Readable. Beautiful. Covergirl. And there's Aether's face!

And that little link up there? It redirects you to Indie Wiki Buddy, bringing us full circle to the very top of this post.

Note: this method does mess with the formatting and might not cleanly convert the page depending on the site, but most of the time, it should help out. At the very least, there won’t be ads.

Hope this helps!

The fact is the mass consolidation of wikis and fan sites into single sites was basically a trap to force those communities to deal with the eventual enshittification of the platform that absorbed them. Some of us had the foresight and hands to see this coming and avoid this, but others are now trying to escape and stand on their own at last. The UESP isn't alone, Indie Wiki Buddy has a pretty good list (and extension to help you find them).

Are there any other independent wikis/fan communities that you care about still out there? We'd love to hear about them.

[drabbles-mc]

Invisible Silver Linings (1/7)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x F!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, language, angst, mentions of scars, mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideations

Summary: You signed on to become part of a study when you realized that you didn't have anything left to lose. What harm could it really do? How much worse could it really get? ... You didn't expect to get answers to those questions. You also didn't expect to meet Bob. You'd end up thankful for at least one of those things.

Chapter Index

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: i know i haven't written for Marvel in a while, but i started working on this lil series the second i left the theater on Thursday. it's so nice to see Lewis Pullman getting the creds he deserves. 🥰anyway!!!! I've finished this series and will be posting updates on a weekly or twice-weekly basis until it's all up here and good to go. please let me know what you think!

“They've been taking us in batches,” you told him. You hadn't even bothered to introduce yourself to him, but from the moment they brought him into the room with the rest of you, he'd been looking around, a little twitchy and on-edge. You supposed that you couldn't really blame him. It was a strange position that you were all finding yourselves in. Then again, you had all chosen to sign up for it.

He turned and looked at you, eyes wide and worried at the same time. “Wh-what?”

You nodded in the direction of the doors on the opposite end of the room, not the ones that he had just walked through or anyone else either. One set brought you in, another set brought you out. You had yet to see anyone come back into the room after they left, and while there were plenty of things that that could mean, you wondered if it was the worst case scenario that had crossed your mind before. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn't going to take him long to think of that worst case scenario either.

“The doctors. Scientists. Whatever you wanna call them,” you gave up on titles with a shrug, “have been taking people in batches.”

His mouth dipped into a frown as he took in what you said. He looked around the room that the two of you were in, looked at all of the other people who were in there with you. No one looked very happy to be there even though, if their situations were anything like yours, they had signed off on being here. Not that you looked ecstatic either, so maybe you shouldn't judge. You were just tired. And uncomfortable. All these people stuffed into this room and they couldn't find better seating arrangements? At least the clothes they were forcing you all to wear were comfortable, even if they weren't exactly fashionable. Sure, they kind of made you feel like you were in an asylum of some kind, but they were baggy and soft so it could’ve been worse. The new guy looked like he was close to swimming in his.

He looked around long enough to realize that most people were sitting. There were limited chairs and tables, but you clearly hadn't let that deter you as you found a pocket of space on the floor to sit on. Not quite in the corner but you were far enough off to keep an eye on most of the people in the room with you. The entry door was also close by, and while you didn't have any plans or desire to make a break for it just yet, you figured that it might end up being your best bet if it came down to it. Staring down at you, he watched as you rested your head back against the wall behind you. Your legs were bent at the knee, and your arms were draped over the top of them. Whatever it was that he saw in your facial expression must've been just safe and inviting enough for him to decide to sit down next to you.

It wasn’t a graceful descent on his part, but he didn't fall on top of you. He was closer to you than maybe a stranger should've been in a place like this, but he didn’t seem like he even noticed. He crossed his legs, hands resting in his lap as he looked back and forth between you and the room around you. Something about the way he was sitting, the look on his face, he looked a little bit like a boy stuck in a man's body. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who should be signing up for sketchy medical trials that bring you to undisclosed places.

You would've been content to sit there in silence until it was your turn to get called, but apparently you were alone in that sentiment. “I'm Bob, by the way,” he said, sounding more sure of himself than he had the first time he spoke to you.

When you turned to look him in the eye, you found him already waiting and watching, an expectant look on his face that only added to the little aura of innocence around him. You figured one good turn deserved another if the two of you were going to be stuck together for now, so you gave him your name in return. He smiled at the sound of it, giving a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

“I think you're the first person I've talked to since I got here,” you told him.

He tilted his head, brows furrowing in thought. “When did you get here?”

Looking up at the ceiling, you thought about it for a moment. Being in this strange, mostly empty room that had no windows for natural light had already messed up your sense of time even though you hadn't been there that long yet. “Day before last.”

His eyes widened again. “And they still haven't taken you?”

You chuckled. “You should've seen how many people were in here. I think that's why they're doing…whatever they're doing, in batches.”

“How are they choosing people?” he asked, looking now at the small clusters of people who were still waiting. Some people were keeping to themselves, much like you had been before Bob showed up and decided to switch things up on you.

Letting your eyes close while your head was rested back, you shook your head. “No clue. I don't work here.”

He let out a quiet laugh at that. “Right. Sorry.”

Even though you weren't looking at him, choosing instead to stare at the backs of your eyelids, you could still feel the nervous energy that was radiating off him. If he kept this up, he was going to tire himself out before he even got to the hard part. If he couldn’t handle waiting, there was no way that he was going to be cut out for whatever was waiting on the other side of the exit doors. You didn’t have any words of comfort to offer him, mostly because you had no idea what the hell was really going on yourself. Something told you, though, that it wouldn’t take very long for him to pick up another topic of conversation. Wouldn’t take long for him to start asking more questions that you wouldn’t have any answers to.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he said, “Anyone say what exactly it is that they're doing?”

You didn’t open your eyes. “Nope.”

When he spoke up again, his voice was softer, almost like he was afraid for anyone to hear what he was saying. “I hope it works.”

That got you to crack one eye open so you could give him a bit of a sideways glance. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead his stare was fixed on the hem of his pants. He'd found a loose thread and was starting to pick at it.

“What'd they tell you?” you asked.

You wondered briefly if his eyes would ever end up getting stuck wide like that. “What?”

Turning your head to face him in earnest once more, you elaborated. “What'd they tell you they were doing? What'd they offer you to do this?”

His expression dampened, and suddenly it was like he couldn’t meet your eyes. His focus shifted back to the thread. He was shaking his head, and something told you the action wasn't directed at you, but rather at himself. “They said that they could make me great. They…they could make me better.” He found it in himself to look at you, and it was then that you could see how glassy his eyes had gotten. “I really wanna be better.” He sniffed, blinking a few times to beat his tears back into submission. Giving his head and shoulders a small shake, he tried to get himself sounding normal again as he asked, “Wh-what'd they tell you?”

“Something similar.” The point of your elbows dug into the tops of your knees as you dropped your head into your hands. Raking your fingers back along your scalp, you rested with your head down for a moment before looking at Bob again. “I'm not really looking to be great. I just,” you shrugged, “it can't get much worse for me so I figured why not?”

The genuine sadness on his face shocked you. All those feelings for someone who was a complete stranger to him. “Oh. I'm sor—”

You waved him off before he could finish the apology. “Don't be. Not like any of it was your fault. Besides, we both still ended up here regardless,” you made a brief gesture to the room, “so what the fuck does it really matter?”

There was a thoughtful frown on his face as he considered your words. “Right.�� Quiet filled the space between you again. You could only try to venture a guess at what Bob was thinking about. Probably everything that led him here—that's what you'd spent most of your time thinking about, anyway. Wondering if this was the right choice or not, not that there were many other choices at your disposal anyway. No use in regretting it. You were here in your pajama uniform with Bob and dozens of other people whose names you hadn't bothered to try and learn. This was what you had now. There was nothing more to it than that.

Marvel Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 @blackhawkfanatic

[azaharinflames]

I'm curious how Buck and Tommy might reconcile. Since Tommy was the only one who witnessed Buck breaking down in the tunnel, maybe he'll be the one to make the first move and reach out to Buck, trying to support him. Buck is trying to support everyone now, following Bobby’s last words, and I hope Tommy would be there to support Buck in return. The flashback also reminded me of how connected Tommy is to the 118. I knew he had that connection, but seeing it being used in the story really surprised me. I feel like even Tim would be amazed that he created such a character.

I'm very curious as well, Nonnie. Because there are certain things I've seen/the series has shown us, that do paint a picture. We just don't fully see it yet. But, to put them somewhere:

As you mentioned, Tommy was the only one who witnessed Buck breaking down. And Buck is doing exactly what I thought he'd do, which is pushing down his grief in order to support everyone. My personal theory is that Buck will break once everyone is doing better and he finds himself with 'nothing' to do. At the very least, not being as useful as he must've been these weeks.

And, yes, I do expect the show to, to some degree, acknowledge that Tommy did see him break. Furthermore, Tommy has been the one character who, consistently, has clocked Buck's feelings and when he's hidden them. He's the one who's asked how he was doing when the 118 wouldn't ask him (I know during Maddie's kidnapping they had to focus on Chim, and I do not disagree. But I also think it's wild no one checked on her brother), and I don't know if that was deliberate, or a crazy coincidence. But it is there.

Speaking of Tommy, the flashback is very interesting, because they truly didn't need to include him in one, whatsoever. Now, I do find it funny when he say he wasn't needed, because as much as that is true, the opposite also rings true. Those scenes are needed because, ultimately, they are serving a purpose. And in this case:

It establishes Tommy as one of the OG members of the 118, and it's a subtle reminder to the audience that he served under Bobby, and that he was a member of the firehouse before Buck was.

It is potentially a segway for the show to have Tommy talk about Bobby, and how he influenced his life. The audience is reminded that Bobby was in Tommy's life pre-harbour, and so, when Tommy talks about him in the future, they will not find it out of place.

My personal favorite... it kinda adds to the red string theory a bit. Because Tommy saves Bobby. Tommy, inadvertently, gives Bobby eight more years. Just like in Season 7 he helps give Bathena one more year together. If Tommy hadn't been there, if he had not saved Bobby... the 118 as we know it would not exist. It was one thing to just put him in the flashback, but to have him saving Bobby? That's a whole other thing

Now, something that I thought could be small foreshadowing, but could totally be not:

In the conversation between Maddie and Buck, we hear the typical tell each other you love them before it's too late. Now, I am aware this is something commonly said in this type of storylines, but... the focus to Buck and the fact that we're still dealing with Bucktommy not communicating well, and being in a kind of limbo... I think could be some small foreshadowing of what could come.

There is no one, factually, that Buck needs to tell he loves them, except Tommy. No one he doesn't know where he stands with anyone other than Tommy. It might result in nothing, but that line seemed a bit pointed. And the small focus on Buck seemed very pointed, actually.

Also, if I were Tim, I would be patting myself on the back and treating myself to a nice dinner, because holy. It's almost unbelievable how he's managed (unintentionally at that) to weave Tommy into the narrative. He's haunting it since the beginning of the goddamn show (though this was added later). Like. I find it hard to believe still.

(not complaining though)

[lostinlovingrevery]

TALK ABOUT LOGAN U SAY

anywayssss

I’m getting sick 😭😭 and I am terrible at taking care of myself. I don’t really drink water and I’m bad at eating and I don’t take medicine bc im lazy sooo low key I need Logan to come and tell me im an idiot and cuddle me and be my nurse tyvm

ROOOOOOOOOOOSE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF@!!!!!!!!

I say, as I didnt eat until 7:30 pm for the first time since I woke up at 6am, don't remember the last time i drink water, and used to skip taking medication when i had them

I hope you start feeling better!! Load up on vitamins, fruit, protein, hell take some gummy vitamins if you can. drink some orange juice!!!

Logan would be SUUUUUUUCH A GOOD CARETAKER!!!!!! HONESTLY!!! I think he would love doing it. I think initially he would have trouble warming up (like yknow first coming to the mansion or whatever situation you and logan find yourselves in) but like its canon he makes food and does nice things for others once he's settled in to the mansion.

and when hes got you????? LORD.

LOGAN TAKING CARE OF YOU HEADCANONS!!!!!!

he'll definitely nag your ass. Professional Nagging Champion over here. only because he wants you to take care of yourself

maybe at one point he acts nonchalant, "im not your babysitter" howlett but inside he's secretly raging over the fact that you're complaining of a headache meanwhile all you ate was a fruit snack today. Okay no more being "Cool guy" howlett. he wants to take care of you (think abotu what you do for him!!!)

He'll have alarms set on his phone (that he barely understands how to use but he figured that part out at least). even when he's out and without you he'll be texting you to take your meds

will probs be the one to grab your medicine case too when leaving

Like i said, I think Logan is a pretty good cook- okay, MAYBE X1/worst/old man Logan was on the road/struggling to survive and barely cooked the entire time but I still think he'd be sooo good at it. make the yummiest, healthiest meals

(NO MICROWAVES)

Will learn your favorite recipes and make them on days he notices you're more rundown. He won't tell you on purpose bc he loves seeing the happy surprise on your face when you come into the kitchen

will bring you sliced fruit. ultimate act of love for me.

will buy you a water bottle and check on it to make sure you're drinking and also make you drink water whenever he's around

he's not super loud about it. when he takes care of you. obvious, but not loud.

like setting a water bottle firmly in front of you, or bringing you food but not saying a word about it. its just how he expresses his love. actions, not words. (when you're in private that might be a lil different tho...)

when he notices you're rundown, got the sniffles, looking sicker than usual in general he'll force you to take a nap with him under the premise of snuggling, but really its to get you to rest (but also snuggles. you cannot tell me this man is not the biggest cuddle bug on earth. im not just saying that bc i wanna cuddle with him. i truly think he would love cuddling and would be silently grumpy if he couldn't get the morning snuggles with you)

will give you massages to help you feel better

listen. listen. those massages always lead to something more. unless you're seriously ill. you're getting fucked.

will get protective and pissy to anyone(sorry scott) around you who start nagging you about paperwork, work in general, and whatever else. he knows you're doing your best and he's not gonna take shit or let you take shit from anyone

so so so comforting on your bad days. lots of hugs. kisses. reassurance. cursing out anyone who made you feel bad (either in private or to their faces logan doesn't care)

don't be concerned about his stoic ways when he does these things for you. he absolutely delights in doing so. living so long as a soldier, a weapon- he didn't think he'd be capable of being soft, affectionate, taking care of some one. now you're here and you help him so much and to be able to both return the favor and truly commit to his love is such a wonderful thing for him.

if you mention your feet being sore just once he'll want to carry you around the rest of the day. he just likes parading you around in his arms

when you're sick sick, nurse logan on the way.

sorry to anyone else that may try to help you because logan will straight up shove them out of the way.

hes tucking you in bed and giving you ALL the snuggles. checking your temp constantly. making you homemade comfort food. getting you the medicine you need. also I feel like he would try it just to see how it tastes since he never needs to take it. prepare for a rant of disgusts and then he goes out of his way to find better and tastier alternatives for you.

talks SO gently to you as well. he really is a lover boy <3

i actually have a request for logan taking care of a sick reader so i'll save some stuff for that

will curse under his breath tho, about sharing healing factors cause he really hates that you can't be well. at least he can coddle you though

will be that bitch and get you to do things for yourself by calling you sweet petnames and asking "for me, princess?" with that stupid charming smile that you cant resist and he KNOWS. screw you logan now im eating a balanced breakfast and taking my multivitamins.

[better-setterv2]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝐼 𝒮𝒶𝓌 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒫𝓉.1

Authors Note: Hi Guys! Here’s another quick story I created. Hope you enjoy. Don’t forget to leave any comments or suggestions for any improvement. I will write a part 2 when possible for this. Lots of love xx

Summary: At the Melbourne Grand Prix, a law student sees colour for the first time when she locks eyes with Lewis Hamilton. Her unexpected soulmate.

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

P1, P2

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

I used to think people were exaggerating when they described life without colour. They’d speak of greyscale like it was some poetic ache. For me, it was normal. Mundane, sure, but comfortable. The sky was always the same shade as the pavement, and the leaves on trees held no real difference from the pages in my textbooks. That was just the way it was in my life - until one day everything changed in one small moment.

I never liked loud places. Amilia, on the other hand, thrived in them. She was the kind of person who wore her emotions in neon, who pulled you into her chaos and made it feel like home. We’d been best friends since we were twelve, inseparable even through the noise of my parents’s divorce, through exam stress and the mess of university.

That’s how I ended up at the Melbourne Grand Prix. She practically dragged me here as if I owed her a lifetime of favours. “Come on,” she’d said, bouncing on her heels. “It’s just one race. You need to live a little.” I groaned, wanting to write my criminology paper at home, but she wasn’t having it. So I went, expecting nothing more than engine noise and overpriced drinks.

The paddock was buzzing with life. Team radios crackling, camera shutters clicking, and the commotion fans echoed excitedly as engineers wheeled tires and tools across the asphalt. The air smelled faintly of petrol and sunscreen, warm from the sun bearing down despite a breeze that rustled through flags and banners.

You felt a bit like you were intruding.

Your best friend, Amilia, on the other hand, looked like she belonged here. Her eyes were wide with wonder, practically sparkling behind her sunglasses as she tugged you by the wrist. You both weaved between clusters of fans and staff like she’d done it a hundred times before.

You weren’t sure how she managed it, getting these paddock passes through some university connection or something else but you didn’t ask. You were just the guest, the sidekick. You’d promised her you'd come. Then again, a day in the sun was better than a weekend buried in case briefs.

“This is insane,” Amilia said, practically vibrating. “That’s Charles Leclerc. Oh my God. And that - oh my gosh wait, that’s Lando Norris!”

You smiled at her excitement, even if you still didn’t quite know who anyone was. “Are those real names? They sound made up.”

She snorted and waved you forward. “Don’t embarrass me. Just - ugh come on, if we’re quick we might catch Hamilton before he disappears into the Mercedes garage.”

You rolled your eyes but followed, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Is that the one you had a poster of in high school?”

“One of many,” she said proudly, already pushing toward a barrier where a handful of fans were holding out items for autographs. “He's still the GOAT, you know.”

You nodded absentmindedly, eyes scanning the crowd, vaguely detached. Everything was grey. The world had always been like this for you. Just shadows and light, never colour. Unfortunately majority of people unlike you had already found their soulmate. Even Amilia. You’d learned long ago not to think too much about it. Soulmates were a lottery. Most people never met theirs.

And if you did, well that kind of connection wasn’t promised forever.

You tuned back in just as the crowd murmured in excitement, a shift in energy that rippled outward. Someone was approaching.

You turned toward the commotion, toward the silver and black uniforms making way for a driver stepping out of a shaded corridor. He moved with quiet assurance, every inch of him commanding attention without asking for it. His race suit was peeled down to his waist, revealing a black team shirt clinging to his frame, dreadlocks tucked into a black cap. His tattoos peeked from beneath his sleeves.

And then he looked up.

It wasn’t instant recognition. It wasn’t like the movies.

It was a shift.

Suddenly, the sun wasn’t white. It glowed gold. The flags waving above weren’t pale anymore but they were red, blue, green. The fan’s signs turned vivid, loud, real. The paddock snapped into colour like the lens of your world had finally come into focus.

You gasped eyes widening, hand flying to your mouth.

And across the crowd, Lewis Hamilton had stilled completely.

His face was unreadable for a moment, eyes locked on yours, lips parted just slightly in what might’ve been shock. And then, a slow shuddered breath. The kind you take when something enormous is happening and you’re trying to stay grounded through it.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

The crowd blurred around him. Even Amilia’s excited tug on your arm felt distant, like it was underwater. All that mattered was this thread now tethering you to him. It felt real, palpable, and terrifying.

His gaze held yours, intense but not overwhelming. Soft around the edges. Curious. As if he was seeing you for the first time and like he already knew you.

And you realized your heart was hammering in your chest.

You didn’t know what came next. What you were supposed to say, or if he’d even approach. You didn’t know if it was fate or luck or just some cosmic accident that was by mistake.

But colour bloomed behind your eyes now.

And it had everything to do with him.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Your breath caught in your throat.

It was like the world inhaled with you, holding its chest tight as a thousand muted greys bled into dazzling hues. The air shifted - warmer, deeper and for a dizzying moment, everything was too much. The bright banners, the gleam of cars, the sun glistening in your direction. Colour bloomed around you in a rush. You blinked hard, your eyes watering, and that’s when you realized it wasn’t the world that had changed.

It was him.

He was across the paddock, possibly twenty feet away, walking alongside his team, sunglasses pushed up on his head, dreadlocks tied back loosely. His expression had changed mid-step as his casual confidence replaced by stunned stillness. His deep brown eyes were locked on yours, wide with recognition. You could tell that he was able to see it too.

Amilia hadn’t noticed. She was too busy fawning over Charles Leclerc a few feet away, scribbling something frantically on the back of her media pass.

You didn’t know what to do. Say something? Move? Laugh? Cry? Or just stand there in shock?

You were brought back into reality, when you noticed Lewis Hamilton started walking toward you.

You thought maybe you should turn around and run, or at least pretend this wasn’t happening. However your feet stayed rooted. As he neared, the noise of the paddock dulled into background static. For a second, you weren’t a uni student awkwardly tagging along to a race you didn’t understand. You were someone, someone meant to be here. Though that was not entirely true as Amilia dragged you along. But still. Maybe fate caused this.

“Hi,” he said, voice a little rough. Not because he was impolite, he just sounded overwhelmed same as you.

You managed to nod. “Hi,” you replied in a weak voice.

His eyes scanned your face like he was trying to memorise it. “It’s you,” he murmured.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. “You see it too?”

Lewis smiled softly, almost in disbelief. “Yeah. Everything’s different now.”

You wanted to say something clever, something memorable. But instead in return you laughed quiet and shaky. “I was just dragged here by my best friend. I didn’t even want to come.”

Lewis’s smile widened a bit, more relaxed now. “Guess it was meant to happen.”

From behind you, Amilia’s voice cut in while holding your shoulders roughly - “Wait, is that Lewis Hamilton? Are you talking to Lewis Hamilton?!”

You turned, your head spinning. “I - um - yeah. I think I am.”

Lewis looked between the two of you. “Hey. You must be the reason she’s here,” he said to Amilia with a knowing smile.

She looked like she might faint. “You’re Lewis Hamilton.”

“And you’re responsible for this,” he said, motioning between you and him. “So…thank you.”

Amilia gawked, but Lewis returned his attention to you.

Amilia’s mouth dropped to the ground, glancing between the two of you. “Don’t tell me - he’s - he’s your soulmate!” However, neither of them pay attention to her. Both in their own world gazing into one another’s eyes.

“I know this is probably a lot,” he said gently, “but would you want to maybe get coffee or meet up later? Somewhere quieter?”

Your heart felt full, like it might spill over.

You nodded, smiling back. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

[nquesoxlies]

Just had a thought about some of the reactions for 8x16.

Personally, I loved the episode. Often times, when a character is killed off in a show, the show flounders a bit in the aftermath. But I think they honored Bobby so well with this episode. And no we didn't see everyone's grief up front and center, but it was still there. Even Eddie with his 2mins of screen time is clearly grieving. We're catching them two weeks post death so the immediate emotionality is definitely not as sharp, but it's definitely still there. No one is okay and if anyone thinks they are, then they weren't paying attention.

Leaving aside that so many people had convinced themselves Bobby was still alive, a lot of people have issues with the episode's focus on just Athena and Chim and it hit me that it isn't just because their favorite character didn't display grief the way they wanted them to or because they weren't the focus, it's at least partially because they're realizing that actually 8x17 and 8x18 is still going to be about the grieving process and the show isn't moving past Bobby's death onto something else.

Now those of us that read Tim's interviews know that's why he placed the death in 8x15, and while we won't know until the end of 8x18 if he nails the aftermath, so far it seems like he is. But he gave himself three episodes to see where everyone lands after the death...the funeral has just taken place, none of them are over losing Bobby and we'll see that focus shift to the other characters even while Athena and Chim will probably still be prominent.

Now I'm not saying it will all be about Bobby, but that will hang heavy over everything and we'll see how everyone is dealing. So yeah, Buck wasn't crying all over the place...but he also was still upset. So was Hen. So was Ravi. So was Eddie. So was Maddie. So was Karen. So was Tommy.

And while Buck and Tommy could get back together in the middle of this because that's what the show is showing and telling us could happen, buddie canon S8 is dead in the water (I mean, when wasn't it).

Bobby's death didn't magically make Eddie realize he's gay. It also didn't magically make Eddie in love with Buck. It definitely didn't have Buck realizing anything about his friendship with Eddie. And without that, of course some parts of this fandom hate the episode and hate that any time was given to Tommy or to Athena's investigation into that baby's death or even to Chim, and definitely to Gerrard. Bobby's death could have been acceptable to them if it was the way buddie got together, but since that didn't happen suddenly it's a waste of an arc and this is not the show that kills off characters.

If we had had even one scene where Eddie and Buck do just about anything together this would have been the best episode ever. Instead, the show decided to not do that and also to not have Buck and Tommy interact. They clearly said this is not about ships, it's about Bobby. Notice how BTs by and large have not had any issue with that at all even while some still have doubts about if Buck and Tommy will get back together. I haven't seen one person say that they wished they had interacted.

Like, we genuinely do not know with 100% certainty that Tommy will be in either 8x17 or 8x18. We can hope that's the case, but we have no real proof. We do know Eddie is in both episodes. So while I get some of the ire at Eddie having so little screentime as a main character, this episode was about Bobby and Athena and also Chim. And it seems like we'll get more about everyone else in the coming episodes.

So to see people upset that this single episode didn't dwell into everyone's grief...it does make me wonder how much that's about them not caring about Bobby enough to want it to carry into two more episodes because they have some hope that something else -something they want - might happen. And those hopes have been dashed.

Yes, Annie! All of this. Your last paragraph?? That's 100% what is happening.

[kitchenisking]

The Key by aussiebee - (Rating: G, Words: 7,450)

Eligible bachelor Derek Hale has announced that whomever can take the key from around his dog's neck will be the person he marries. Stiles Stilinski think this is utterly ridiculous.

The Moon Gave Me Permission by Melpomene (Aconitehart) - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 57,572)

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Scott says, eyeing Stiles’ fries. “But Derek Hale is back in town. I saw him at the gas station the other day.”

This piques Stiles’ interest. Oh yes it does. Like any good true crime aficionado, Stiles has his favourite case. His pet cold case. His hometown murder. The thing he brings up when he’s tired of small talk and just wants to get real.

The Hale Family Fire and the suicide of Katherine Argent.

Stiles knows this case inside and out. He’s racked up thousands of karma points on reddit for his thoughtful analysis, his pictures of the crime scene, and of his reporting of local gossip. Beacon Hills is a small town, small enough that Stiles is the only one on the Unresolved Mysteries subreddit to have actually seen the burnt out shell in person.

He’ll tell anyone who listens what he finds fascinating about the case. Absolutely no shame. He’s read all of the articles, he’s pestered his father’s deputies for more information, and he’s read every cold case compilation book that so much as mentions it.

No one knows this case like Stiles does.

-

In which Derek Hale is a man with a dark past, and Stiles is completely obsessed with him.

you know you're on my mind by bibliosexual - (Rating: T, Words: 16,371)

If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in life, it’s that crushing on someone who lives on an entire other fucking continent is probably a bad idea.

An Understanding Passed In Silence by cjr  - (Rating: G, Words: 4,464)

It started off as something of a joke. One moment he was talking Scott’s ear off about some homework assignment and Scott made a joke that Stiles couldn’t spend a day without talking if he tried.

A Little Less Conversation by sweetbutterbliss - (Rating: T, Words: 1,316)

From anon on tumblr "A prompt if you are interested. Derek telling Stiles to shut up, like usual, but then, to the surprise of everyone, he does. And continues to do it, never speaking in Derek's presence and asking the pack to warn him when Derek arrives. Derek then needs to find a way to get the spastic kid to START talking."

Desperate by Hedwig221b - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 12,175)

Derek understood perfectly well how young Stiles was. Just how many times did he stop himself from digging his teeth into that lovely neck to claim him?

Maybe, next time he shouldn’t.

The thought, wild and sudden, came to him, and once it did, there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. If he got Stiles pregnant, then the omega would be his. Fully his. They would be bound for life. Stiles wouldn’t refuse the mating bite, then.

Stiles was his omega. Derek would do anything to keep him.

Anything.

dashing through the snow by EvanesDust - (Rating: G, Words: 636)

…or the one where Stiles and Derek created new traditions.

Did You Really Mean It by In_Over_My_Head - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,846)

Looking around the empty loft, Derek reminded himself that he liked to be alone. It wasn’t too quiet with no one there, he repeated to himself for the hundredth time that night. The relief that flooded through him at the sound of his text message chime might have worried him if the message hadn’t been so confusing.

Stiles: you’re beautiful

Derek stared at the message for a minute not sure how to react. His heart raced, palms went a little sweaty, his breathe caught in his lungs, but that was just because he wasn’t used to hearing things like that from Stiles, right? It wasn’t a sign of any sort of emotion on his side. It couldn’t be. He’d squashed that a long time ago. This was Stiles, spastic, skinny, trip on his own shoelaces Stiles. The man that didn’t see Derek in any sort of romantic way and never had. There’s no way he really meant that, right?

5 Times Derek Experiences Sensory Overload + 1 Time Derek Experiences Sensory Joyby Warlock_Nerd - (Rating: G, Words: 5,604)

Derek is Autistic but he hasn’t told anyone in fear of not being taken seriously as an Alpha. Stiles, however, figured it out and made it his mission to help Derek not only for Derek’s Betas but for Derek to finally accept himself.

In other words, Derek has sensory issues and Stiles helps him through each one. :3

Ps - Author is Autistic and sees a lot of Autistic traits in Derek :3

Like Clockwork by quackquackcey - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,111)

In which Stiles meets a handsome higher-up in his company by chance one afternoon and falls for him, hard.~ 💘

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi Auntie Bitches! I have a question regarding an impasse of ethics and finances, so of course I figured you’d be the experts!

I live in the USA, and absolutely hate the direction things are headed in. I’m inspired by hearing that Canada and a ton of countries in Europe are boycotting absolutely everything American made. This is genius because the only way to hurt the greedy pricks at the top is to hurt their bottom lines.

I really want to join in and buy as few goods that are made in the states as possible. However, I also live here and my household budget is already pretty tight. With this ridiculous trade war going on, imported goods will become even more costly.

I’m stuck between a possibly unlivable budget if fully switching to goods that aren’t made here; or being a tad more financially sound but forced to feed the fascism machine by using American goods.

Please, I’d love some advice on how to navigate this?

Your first priority should be your own survival and well-being. You can't help anyone else nor effect positive systemic change if you are starving and evicted. So use that as your baseline for decisions in this case.

Second, you should strongly consider patronizing smaller local businesses and artisans for your needs. Many of these locals are just as angry about the federal government's economic policies as you are and putting them out of business will be a NET LOSS for all of us. So help keep them alive.

Worried a local business might be MAGA? Good news! The trash is taking itself out! PublicSquare is a website where businesses "who respect traditional American values" (DOG WHISTLE ALERT) can get listed. It's a great way to know which of your local businesses to avoid!

Also, keep in mind that shopping secondhand is one of the most ethical ways to consume in any economy.

Lastly, the most important thing you need to do is to only buy what you NEED right now. This means food, medications, and very little else. Not only is this the most wallet-friendly way to shop, but it's also very much in the spirit of boycotting.

Um brb I think we need to make this into a larger article...

Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less 

How To Protect Yourself Against Project 2025

Did we just help you out? Say thanks by donating to our Patreon!

[wbbobsesserr]

ᯓ sweet spot — chapter two

pairing: paige bueckers & azzi fudd

wc: 2.5k

it had been three weeks.

three weeks of pretending azzi fudd didn’t occupy 99% of paige bueckers’ waking thoughts. three weeks of trying not to stare during film, of forcing herself not to “accidentally” sit next to her at every team meal. three weeks of scrolling through azzi’s social media accounts like they held the secrets of the universe. three weeks of watching every reposted workout clip like it was a sacred ritual. three weeks of dying. slowly. softly. lovingly.

it was hell.

because azzi was still azzi.

sweet. soft-spoken. warm to everyone. she high-fived her teammates. she brought extra protein bars to practice in case anyone needed one. she complimented everyone, everyday. and paige? paige was losing her mind. she’d never felt like this before. not about anyone. there had been hookups, of course. flings. a very short-lived situationship with a girl from back home who smoked too much weed and ghosted her after two weeks. but azzi?

azzi made her feel like a middle schooler with a crush. like she was trying to act normal during a fire drill while her entire body was combusting.

and the worst part was that azzi didn’t even know.

or maybe she did, and she was just too nice to say anything.

practice had ended an hour ago, but paige was still in the gym, sitting on the bleachers with a bag of ice balanced on her knee and her phone glowing in her lap. she wasn’t texting anyone. she was just looking at azzi’s most recent post: a photo from the locker room after the team’s first practice. azzi smiling, flushed, holding up a peace sign. caption: “i love it here already.”

she’d liked it within 0.3 seconds of it going up.

now she just sat there, staring at it like it might change.

“hey.”

paige nearly threw her phone across the gym. she looked up. it was azzi, hair pulled into a high bun, hoodie slung over one shoulder, and a water bottle tucked under her arm. she looked like a nike ad. or her own personal dream.

“you good?” azzi asked, stepping closer. “didn’t see you leave with everyone.”

paige sat up straighter, hiding her phone screen. “yeah— just icing. knee’s a little sore.”

azzi nodded, then sat next to her. right next to her. their knees almost touched. paige stopped breathing.

“you looked good today,” azzi said, like it was just a fact. “sharp on that last drill.”

paige shrugged, trying to act chill. “you always look good.”

silence.

paige’s eyes widened. “i mean— you played good. you looked good playing. like— your shot. your form. it was— good.”

azzi laughed quietly. “thanks.”

paige wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole.

they sat in silence for a few moments, the quiet hum of the lights buzzing overhead. azzi leaned back on her palms, gazing out at the empty court.

“you like being here?” paige asked finally, voice low.

azzi turned her head, smiled. “yeah. i do. it’s… different. but good-different. i feel like i’m supposed to be here.”

paige nodded, then swallowed. “you are.”

azzi’s smile lingered. “what about you? you still like it?”

paige glanced down at her hands. “i used to think it was just about winning. getting a national championship. now… i don’t know. it feels like it matters more when you have the right people around.”

azzi looked at her, something soft in her eyes.

before paige could completely combust, someone called from down the tunnel— lou, probably. something about team dinner.

azzi stood, brushing imaginary dust off her pants. “you coming?”

paige blinked, then nodded. “yeah. just need a sec.”

azzi lingered for a moment. “you sure?”

“positive.”

azzi gave her one last look, then jogged off.

paige watched her go, heart a tangled mess of hope and helplessness. she grabbed her phone again and looked at the photo. zoomed in just a little. yeah. she was so, so screwed.

the team dinner was supposed to be casual. nothing fancy— just some bonding, a little pasta, maybe a couple of dumb games nika liked to spring on them out of nowhere. coach had even given them the evening off to “build chemistry,” which everyone knew really meant “don’t get in trouble and try not to burn the dorm down.”

paige almost didn’t go.

because azzi.

and because paige had barely survived three practices without turning into a puddle every time azzi looked in her direction. but nika wouldn’t let her skip, practically dragged her by the collar out of her room with the promise of free garlic knots and good lighting for selfies.

the restaurant was small and loud, with big booths and sticky menus. half the team was already there, squeezed into one corner and tossing crumpled straw wrappers at each other. azzi sat near the end, her curls pulled up and her smile lighting up the table like a lantern. paige picked the seat next to her before she could think twice.

“hey,” azzi said, voice soft over the buzz of conversation. “glad you came.”

paige nodded too fast. “yeah. me too. i like… food.”

azzi blinked.

nika snorted soda out of her nose.

lou choked on her breadstick.

“smooth,” aubrey muttered, bumping paige’s knee under the table.

but azzi just laughed— a quiet, melodic sound— and passed paige the basket of garlic knots like she hadn’t just committed a social crime. “i meant to tell you— you’ve got a really quick first step. it’s hard to guard. you kinda burned me yesterday.”

paige blinked. her soul left her body. “i— uh. i didn’t mean to? i mean, i did, but not like— burn— like basketball, not like… fire.”

nika buried her face in her hoodie.

azzi smiled. “i got what you meant.”

it was fine. everything was fine. except her hands were sweating and her fork was now mysteriously on the floor. paige reached down to get it and hit her head on the table.

azzi leaned over, voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. “are you okay?”

“never better.” paige’s voice cracked. she never wanted to die more.

later that night, paige laid in bed, phone screen glowing inches from her face. she should’ve been asleep— they had weights in the morning. but instead, she was twenty minutes into another accidental deep dive of azzi fudd’s instagram.

it started innocent. a few scrolls. a couple likes.

and then she found him.

noah.

the boyfriend. azzi’s boyfriend. smiling next to azzi on some beach in california, both of them mid-laugh. another post from valentine’s day— azzi in his hoodie, captioned “my favorite human.”

her stomach twisted.

azzi didn’t post often. but when she did, the captions about noah were always so full. like she really meant them. paige lingered on one in particular— a photo of the two of them in front of the usc gym. the caption read: “through every win, every loss, every late night practice— you’ve been my home. i love you so much.”

paige closed the app.

then opened it again five seconds later. she wasn’t proud of herself.

she was about to close the app for good when nika barged into her room with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape.

“you’re so gone for her.”

paige flinched so hard she dropped her phone.

“excuse me?”

“don’t even try to deny it,” nika said, plopping onto the bed like she owned it. “you short-circuit every time she so much as looks at you. i’ve never seen someone so flustered.”

“i don’t—”

“you do.” nika pulled paige’s pillow out from under her and whacked her with it. “you’ve got the biggest gay panic i’ve ever seen. and i roomed with lou.”

paige groaned, burying her face in her hands. “she has a boyfriend.”

“yeah, and you have zero chill,” nika leaned back. “i’ve never seen you like this before. nervous, shy. it’s weird.”

paige didn’t answer. she couldn’t.

because now, every little moment replayed like a loop— azzi’s compliment. the softness in her voice. her dimply smile that lingered too long.

well, fuck.

practice had ended twenty minutes ago, but paige was still out there, lazily flipping a ball between her hands as the last few teammates trickled out. her shirt clung to her back, sweat drying slowly in the gym's faint breeze. she could’ve left. should’ve. but something told her to stay.

and then azzi appeared.

“hey,” she called softly, pulling her hair into a ponytail as she approached. “you staying to shoot?”

paige’s heart dropped to her knees, then tried to crawl back up her throat. “uh— yeah. just a little.”

azzi smiled, grabbing a ball from the rack. “mind if i join you?”

“join? no. i mean yes. i mean— of course.”

they started with simple catch-and-shoot drills. easy rhythm. azzi’s release was still perfect, every shot as clean as glass. paige couldn’t stop glancing sideways, watching the way azzi’s eyes followed the arc of each shot, the way she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet after every make.

paige hit her stride eventually, sinking threes from the corner, then fading toward the wing. they passed back and forth, no words, just the soft echo of the ball and their sneakers squeaking on the court.

azzi shot like she was born doing it. No wasted movement. every jumper was soft, clean, perfect rotation. paige tried to stay focused— tried to match her rhythm— but she kept getting caught in the way azzi would laugh lightly when she missed, like even failure didn’t rattle her.

“your arc’s so pretty,” paige said before she could stop herself.

azzi looked at her. “mine?”

paige nodded, suddenly shy. “yeah. it’s, like… the perfect rainbow.”

azzi smiled. “thanks. yours is faster, though. quick release. super smooth.”

paige’s stomach did an actual flip.

“thanks. i, uh— yeah. i work on that,” she said, for what felt like the tenth time this week. why was she always saying the same thing around her? like she had five phrases and two working brain cells?

they continued shooting.

after a few more rounds, azzi passed her the ball and stretched her arms over her head. “you know, you’ve got such a calm confidence about you. like, on the court. even when you mess up, you never look rattled.”

paige literally missed the rim.

not the net. not the backboard.

she missed the rim.

azzi’s eyes widened, a little startled. “you okay?”

“i— yeah. i’m just— tired,” paige mumbled, retrieving the ball like it wasn’t the most humiliating moment of her life.

azzi laughed, light and genuine. “that was kinda cute.”

paige stopped breathing.

she didn’t even know what to say. her mouth opened, but no words came out— just a small, embarrassed sound like a kicked puppy.

azzi tilted her head. “sorry, was that weird?”

paige shook her head fast. “yes. i mean, no. i mean— not weird. totally fine.”

azzi walked over and gently bumped her shoulder. “you’re funny.”

you’re funny.

paige wanted to throw herself into the sun.

just then, nika popped her head into the gym.

“ohhhh,” she called, loud and dramatic. “what’s this? a little after-hours hoop date?”

paige glared. “we’re just shooting.”

azzi, ever the sweetheart, smiled and waved. “hey, nika!”

nika waved back and winked directly at paige. “don’t stay too late, lovebirds.”

she disappeared before paige could cuss her out.

azzi giggled. “she’s funny.”

paige swallowed hard. “yeah. real funny.”

they kept shooting a little longer. paige never fully recovered from the embarrassment she put herself through.

when they finally called it a night, azzi walked beside her toward the locker room. “i’m really glad i transferred,” she said quietly.

paige looked over. “yeah?”

azzi nodded. “everyone’s been really welcoming. especially you.”

paige could barely breathe.

“oh. uh.” she blinked, thinking of the words. “well, you’re easy to welcome.”

azzi’s smile curled into something almost shy. “that’s really sweet.”

paige scratched the back of her neck. “i mean it. you’re… like. good. at everything. and nice. and— you know. people notice that.”

“people like you?” azzi teased, gently.

paige almost dropped her water bottle. “i mean, yeah. maybe.”

azzi smiled so softly, paige thought she might cry.

paige was halfway through tying her shoes when she spots azzi just a few feet away, standing by the gatorade cooler, laughing at something aubrey just said. it should be normal. it is normal. but paige’s brain short-circuits the same way it always does lately when azzi’s in the room.

and then it happened. a moment. a mortifying, soul-leaving-your-body moment.

“yo, paige!” nika yelled across the gym. “you left your phone in the locker room. again.”

she tossed it with a perfect spiral. paige reacted late and fumbled the catch. the phone hits the floor with a dramatic thud, screen up, very much alive, and very much still open to instagram.

specifically, azzi fudd’s instagram page.

a beat of silence. then a few beats.

someone snorted. probably aubrey.

paige dove for the phone, her face already bright red.

“i’m fucking killing myself,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut.

out of the corner of her eye, azzi’s gaze landed on her. she never said anything. but she smiled.

oh, jesus.

during a quick water break, azzi was sitting beside paige on the bleachers, who was untying and retying her sneaker for no real reason. nika and caroline are arguing about music again. nobody was really listening.

“god,” azzi groaned softly, scrolling through her phone. “i forgot how cursed my finsta is.”

paige, stretching her calves, froze like someone hit pause. “you have a finsta?”

azzi laughed. “unfortunately— i don’t call it that, though. more like my friends-only account,” she paused. “my friends at usc made me make one. it’s mainly me complaining about homework or pictures of my boyfriend.”

she didn’t mention the username. but paige tucked the information away in the back of her mind.

“sounds cool,” paige said casually, but her mind was already in overdrive. she knew what she’d be doing later, that’s for sure.

paige was supposed to be writing a paper. she had three tabs open for it. but none of them matter. what mattered was the list of usc mutuals she’s stalking, scanning every tagged photo of azzi from the past two years.

it took time. it took way too much time.

but eventually, she found it.

@fuddleazzi. azzi’s not-so-secret account.

private. 63 followers. the profile picture was azzi in a pair of massive ski goggles, wearing a bright smile with her dimples on display. no bio, no nothing.

paige stared at the screen for a full five minutes, thumb hovering over the follow button.

she doesn’t press it.

instead, she swiped up, into the messages app and texted nika:

paige: i found azzi’s secret account and i think i deserve a metal

nika: SEND ME THE @ U MANIAC

paige: it’s private. should i request or would that expose me as terminally obsessed

nika: baby u already dropped u phone OPEN TO HER IG. embrace ur downfall

paige groaned into her pillow.

she didn’t request.

but she did screenshot it.

and maybe saved the profile pic too.

just in case.

© wbbobsesserr

[just-another-misfit-lunatic]

'and jon’s motivations aren’t pure, either- jon is, at the end of it, completely correct in wanting to end it all now- but it’s explicitly stated that his motivations for wanting to become a ‘fear god’ of sorts was also a sense of envy for elias’s place in the food chain, which is a desire almost wholly given to him by the eye. He’s right, but his motivations are.. questionable."

I'd beg to disagree here. I kind of see where this take is coming from, but I have a very different reading of what was actually going on.

I don't think Jon's main motivation was not "becoming a fear god," however Martin might have painted it. It's only if we look at it from Martin's perspective, and but Martin misunderstands the man.

Even though Jon didn't always completely hate his powers (they were a part of him, after all) but he didn't want it either. Jon explicitly said he didn't want to do it.

(also, Martin pretty much got his kicks off killing people, and it wasn't fair of him at all to blame Jon for "enjoying it," since he was encouraging him and it didn't sit right with Jon, but okay, it's another topic.)

Yeah, Martin then proceeds to when he looked into Jon's eyes, he saw envy, but again, point in case: Martin doesn't understand Jon at all. Martin has his made up idea of Jon, he never knew the real person, he never actually tried to understand the real person.

What Jon says about his motivations is this:

His motivation is: he didn't want anyone to suffer the way that he did. He felt used. His guilt was crushing. The world taught him, over and over again, that he was unloved, unwanted, that he was monstrous, that he was too much and impossible to accept and even his boyfriend, the person who was supposed to love him, repeatedly hit him and only tolerated him at best. Everyone hated him, abused him, and he didn't feel like he deserved love, or acceptance, or forgiveness. He was violated and used, brutally, by Jonah Magnus, his very existence was painful to him, he began to actively self-harm and actively risk his life, not caring if he lived or died, way before S5, he hated himself and he hated what he thought he did to the world (it wasn't his fault, but Jon thought it was.) Jon's motivation was not that he wanted to become a power-hungry god. He hated the idea of anyone else walking in his shoes and couldn't let it happen. He said: "I can't let anyone else feel that. That helpless, enormous guilt." This was his reason. The deep ache to protect others from the horror that happened to him, to not let it spread to other worlds. It was just too painful to bear.

i am way too late for any of this, but i felt like ranting a little (a lot) over tma, so here it goes.

i actually really, really liked the dreamlike quality of the S5 statements. i think they're some of jonny's best work. so evocative and just beautifully written, the feeling of horror so prevalent, so delicate, so entrapping. i would listen to them absolutely enthralled. what a submersive experience. so on that front, 100% would recommend.

the problems i have are mainly with the meta-plot. certainly, personal preferences and biases come into play here, bc i despise jonmartin with the fire of a thousand suns and would have loved a jonelias corruption narrative, but, i feel that, in his quest to appease the j-mart shippers, jonny sacrificed a lot of his story's integrity. also, i have no way of verifying this, but it also felt like he inserted his own biases in a way that wasn't necessarily productive.

ultimately, i feel like he disrespected his main antagonists and that essentially translated into a sort of irreverence towards his own story. elias was easily his most dramatic and interesting villain (regardless of what he originally intended for him, it's how he developed throughout the story & i think there is a certain honesty in a writer acknowledging and respecting that), stole every scene he was in, yet after his great villain reveal in S4, he is absolutely absent throughout his entire apocalypse. it creates a lack of catharsis that i find bothersome. his death is way too easy. yet when he finally appears in MAG 193, it is glorious. he is terrifyingly in the throws of religious ecstasy as the eye's pupil. such an interesting idea! so little it was developed though bc jonny for some reason doesn't like elias.

there's this entire commentary about how elias is really just there to be eye's pupil until jon takes over from him, bc it's jon the eye truly desires. as if after faithfully serving the beholding for two centuries and bringing about his ritual, the eye would just disregard elias and actually be interested in the one person who is unwilling to play ball. please be serious. not saying that jon can't be the eye's "special little boy" or whatever, but the nerfing of elias/jonah borderlines on petulant. ofc, jonny is the author and you cannot begrudge a man for writing whatever he wants, but, as a listener, i have to say it feels very unsatisfying whenever authorial biases directly affect the storyline. very deus-ex-machina. very unearned.

i also have a problem with how the eye was ultimately handled and, once again, nerfed. the introduction of this element in relation to the beholding, that it sees but does not understand, felt very trite to me. it was added as a way to de-power the eye and elevate the web. but how could it even be true in the context of the entity conceptualization? the reason scopophobia is a thing is because people fear someone is behind the watching. what they fear is judgment or someone keeping tabs on them and using that information to harm them in some way. that requires intelligence, a capacity to distinguish between the harmless and the incriminatory, a propensity for casting moral judgment, of holding people accountable, of assigning blame, of discovering people's deepest, darkest secrets, of weaponizing shame. no one is afraid of a crow or a cat staring back at them, because, while those are also living beings, they lack the higher intelligence that creates the context necessary for scopophobia. so how can the eye not possess intelligence? apparently it doesn't, because jonny decided he didn't like the eye and the spider was oh-so-cooler instead.

but that only lead to the spider being way too overpowered than it should have been. as the so-called brain of the operation, the web really manifests a lot of faults that could have been exploited, yet the character never do, because the web needs to be true It Girl for some reason. this all feels very childish. the web's motivations do not work in-universe. we are often told it doesn't have a ritual because it is content with playing its games of manipulation within the world as it currently is. and that honestly seemed a rather fair assessment to make, but later proved to be a red herring, because it was the web that was actually behind the eye's own ritual.

i have several gripes with this. 1. if the spider is so smart, why doesn't it/can't it have its own ritual and re-shape the world according to its own preferences? why does it have to piggyback on the eye's grind? 2. the spider's big plan seems to be bringing about the eyepocalypse just to convince the characters to let the fears out into the metaverse so it can start again. because, as it turns out, the eyepocalypse isn't really it's preferred state of being? it was the status-quo after all? the web DID prefer the world as it was, because it allowed it to thrive off manipulation and puppeteering, things it can't really engage in as much as it would like, since now everyone is trapped inside various fear domains. so, why-oh-why, not just leave the world as is? why even bring about an apocalypse in the first place if your intention is to always inhabit a apocalypse-less place?

i felt like this was such a plot-hole of an explanation the way it was presented. the web's greatest flaw was that it loved intricate plots so much there was a real danger of over-complicating its own plans and failing to see the forest from the trees, so to speak. the eye could have been used not to boggle down on meaningless details and ramifications, but to get a better sense of the bigger picture, something the web could very well lose sight of (pun intended). so the web's "plan" could have been ultimately rendered meaningless, because instead of choosing the simplistic, straightforward, occam's razor solution (no apocalypse, just thrive off the world as it is), it chose the overly complicated path that placed it in a situation it didn't thrive in (eyepocalypse) and made it even more complicated to get out of in the first place. it basically surrendered its destiny into the hands of people who had zero reasons to act sympathetic and could have very well chosen to destroy the entire world, fears included. and yet i am supposed to be in awe of the web's great intelligence and buy into the whole dumb eye propaganda?

many things have already been said about the moral dilemma at the end of S5 and my take on that is that jon was right. it was the merciful and just solution to prevent other people from other universes from suffering at the hands of fear entities. but i will be indulgent and account that it is a difficult choice to make for anyone, since human beings are so survivalist in nature and the choice to just make the fears someone else's problem in the hopes of their plans maybe getting foiled more effectively by others is tantalizing. who knows what any of us would have chosen had we been in their situation? perpetuating the horrors on someone else just so you could get reprieve is so cravenly but it's human and i get it. however, by no means is this a happy ending the way it was framed by the narrative. what melanie, georgie, basira and martin did was horrible and evil, but it is never acknowledged in that way. the least jonny could have done is have jon resist martin's selfish decision and have martin genuinely kill him. but, no, martin gets his romantic send-off together with jon, with the open possibility that they get transported to another world where they could start over. melanie, georgie and basira get to start a new life in the entity-less world, after contributing almost nothing. the worst characters get to live & they're validated in their awful behaviour.

however. i do feel like there were other ways to resolve the eyepocalypse without resorting to a horrible sophie's choice in the first place, but that would require a more extensive endgame re-write.

[goodqueenaly]

Do you think we'll ever get to see the widow's law impact succession related plots in asoiaf? Potentially with the freys? I've always been disappointed it was not included in the dance, as a way to lend strength to rhaenyra's faction and show her or her allies as skilled politicians to play up her claim via a popular law championed by a popular queen.

I certainly think it’s possible. I’ve talked before about the Widow’s Law, and I agree that it seems like a creative addition that should have come up in the Dance - say, Lord Beesbury mentioning it in defense of Rhaenyra during that late-night meeting of the green council upon Viserys I’s death, or Grand Maester Orwyle explaining to Rhaenyra why the law should support Aegon II’s accession. GRRM certainly doesn’t have to reintroduce it in the future, but I would not at all be surprised if he does; I will certainly be curious how much of F&B is translated to the main novels (beyond, of course, broad character and narrative parallels).

Of course, it me, so I tend to think (as I mentioned in that original post) that the Widow’s Law was inspired by Maurice Druon’s depiction of the Salic law in The Accursed Kings, specifically The Royal Succession. In that novel, Druon has the soon-to-be King Philip V essentially invent a rule that would support him becoming king over his late elder brother’s daughter, Jeanne. Consequently, I would not be surprised if GRRM brought up the Widow’s Law again at the accession of Viserys II - another capable, intelligent younger brother who, upon the death (in which he may have had a hand) of his late elder brother’s son, crafts a quasi-legal or pseudo-legal argument in favor of his accession over that of his dead elder brother’s daughter. In this case, of course, Viserys II and his supporters might have taken the position not of the character of Philip V and his (paid) scholars but of the slightly mocking author himself: just as Maurice Druon remarked that the basis of the Salic law “contained nothing concerning the transmission of the royal powers” and only briefly mentioned “that the inheritance of land must be by equal division among the male heirs”, so I imagine the soon-to-be King Viserys would argue that the Widow’s Law (should anyone have used it to support the rights of eldest daughter Daena) did not speak to the transmission of royal powers, only the inheritance of “lands, seat, or property”.

Perhaps a more straightforward argument over the Widow’s Law will come in “The She-Wolves of Winterfell” (or whatever its final title may be). Cregan Stark obviously married three times, with a child or children from each marriage, and given the succession disputes among his descendants (which are obviously going to be at the heart of this story), I could see someone bringing up the Widow’s Law to support the rights of one or multiple candidates. Would, say, Serena Stark’s descendants say that Beron Stark had had no right to be lord in the first place, because Serena should have inherited the right of her father Rickon (as the child of the first marriage) to Winterfell? Would, say, Cregan’s daughters by Alysanne Blackwood (to the extent they had children) argue that their claims to Winterfell should also come before those of Cregan’s younger sons and their descendants, since those daughters were born of Cregan’s second marriage? I could very much see that happening.

It’s possible that this law comes up with the Freys as well, although I’m not sure how much we may focus on this. I tend to think we’re going to see a vast number of Freys die - at a second Red Wedding or otherwise - so the point may be something of a moot one. Considering Big Walder is well aware of the order of succession within House Frey (and very ambitious in his own right), perhaps he or someone around him will bring it up with respect to his right of succession; alternately, perhaps it will be the role of the postgame ruler of the Riverlands (whether Edmure or someone else) to sort through such legalities regarding whatever Frey descendants may remain (assuming the Twins themselves still stand).

[lemotmo]

I know a lot of us have said at this point we don’t care how we get buddie canon we just want it because we’ve been waiting for it for so long now. Which fair because it’s been years lol.

I’m not dooming or well I’m not trying to anyway so i apologize if it comes off as such but im curious on your thoughts and if after the last few episodes you’ve changed your mind and become a little more actually yeah i would rather them not do it this way and do it this way instead?

Because for me I was def at the point of I don’t even care how it’s done at this point as long as it’s done but I do believe we have hit a point of yeah actually scratch that I do care.

Because this? If this is how they are going for buddie canon? I can’t say I’m a fan of it. No one is happy. The vibes are completely off. The dynamic between them is off because the show has taken Eddie Diaz main character and turned him into

“This week With Guest Star Ryan Guzman, playing Eddie Diaz, Evan Buckleys Love Interest”

And I just. I don’t want that. I can’t imagine anyone wants that. We know for sure Ryan and Oliver don’t want that. They have said so many times they don’t want Buddie unless it’s with them keeping their dynamic and relationship in tact. And you can not do that when you suddenly sideline one of them and treat them like a guest star love interest. All their development happens off screen. They aren’t in the episode unless it’s to propel the others storyline and then they disappear for weeks at a time again. Moments between them happen off screen.

Idk. I guess congrats to Tim because he apparently did find a way to show me I’m not just a I don’t care beyond it happening after all.

#giveEddiehismaincharacterstatusback

First, I want you to know that I fully respect your views and your opinion here. I don't think you are dooming at all. You are just concerned and disappointed. I get that.

But my opinion is quite the opposite of yours. 🤷‍♀️ Let me explain:

Have they treated Eddie really badly these last episodes? YES! YES! YES! Did I hate the way they treated him? YES!

He should have been notified about Bobby's death. Hell, he should have been in the episode in the first place. They never should have done the Vertigo plot either. It was just one bad idea after another for Eddie.

Eddie Diaz' story has been sidelined for waaaay too long and I HATE it! I've been pretty vocal about it too.

I loved how he seemed to get some focus in the beginning of 8b. I was so relieved to see his storyline progress. I didn't even mind him not being in 8x11, because while he wasn't physically present, he was THERE in everything Buck said and did.

Eddie is my favourite character and I would gladly watch this show just for him and him alone, even if he did only have 2 minutes of screen time last episode. I'm there.

I think the idea behind having Eddie move to El Paso was two-fold:

A. They needed to find a way to get Chris back.

B. They wanted to show us how much Buck missed Eddie and how Buck and Eddie's lives are so intertwined that their friendship never faded into nothing. They were constantly in contact with each other.

They did a good job with that in the first half of 8b, but then 8x14 happened and he wasn't there at all. Now, logically I understand what they were trying to do here. They wanted the audience to wonder if Eddie would ever come back and if he might stay in Texas forever.

The problem is that it was pretty clear from the get go that Eddie was never going to stay in Texas in the first place. Ryan's name was still in the credits, as was Gavin's. There was no exit announcement and in interviews Ryan never said anything about Eddie leaving forever.

So Eddie was always going to come back. Everybody knew this. In that case, why couldn't they find a few seconds to add in someone calling Eddie to tell him about Bobby?

And when he finally did come back, he was only there to eyefuck with Buck, eat crumpets and look gorgeous while a tear was rolling down his cheek.

I do think this was all plotted and planned to make us wonder if we wouldn't only lose Bobby, but Eddie as well. But the execution of the storyline fell flat. No one liked Eddie's absence and everyone was very vocal about it as well. 😋

But I do think the Buddie dynamic and relationship is still very much intact Nonny. I don't see a problem there. I'm sorry. Eddie was only gone for 2 episodes and in the third one Buck picked him up and brought him home. I mean, they picked up right where they left of.

So I can't lie. I'm very happy with this progression. I do expect some more Eddie scenes and development in the next two episodes. I think we'll see more of him then. But as usual, only time will tell if my expectations will be met. 🤷‍♀️

And as for the vibes Nonny? The vibes are still very much there for me. Even in those brief minutes he was on screen in 16, he got to spend those minutes practically glued to Buck's side. They were presented to us as a unit, which I found very interesting.

Their connection and chemistry still has soooo much untapped potential. Their story still needs to be told.

I love Eddie so much and I want to see him achieve the kind of happiness he dreams of. And I do think that finally admitting that he is in love with Buck, a man and his best friend, will set him on the path of joy.

Same for Buck by the way. The man has been looking for love for his entire life. He has been left too many times. It's time for him to recognise what real love looks like, embrace it and just go for it.

These two idiots are perfect for each other.

So yes Nonny, no matter how Buddie begins, I will be sat and I will be there every single step of the way.

It's just how I roll.

¯\(ツ)/¯

[atomicrebelfire]

🪦 "The Last Alarm" — Grief Isn’t Always Loud

Episode 8x16 of 9-1-1

TL;DR: People grieve differently. 8x16 may not have been loud, but it was deeply respectful. Sometimes grief looks like silence, small stumbles, or just showing up. This episode understood that — and Bobby’s farewell was not a waste. It was honor.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Grief is not always loud. Sometimes, it's the silence that screams the most.”

There’s been a lot of reaction to this episode — some people feeling like Bobby’s funeral was sidelined, or that the story didn’t give the grief enough space. Some wanted bigger emotional moments, more overt breakdowns, or different characters to be centered. That’s valid. Everyone connects to grief in their own way — and not every interpretation will land the same.

But for me, 8x16 wasn’t about loud grief. It was about the quiet kind — the kind that doesn’t look dramatic on the surface, but still hits deep.

Athena’s case wasn’t a distraction. It mirrored her own struggle. A mother clinging to the hope that her child might still be alive. Just like Athena was holding off on saying goodbye. Her final decision — to bury Bobby beside the family he lost before her — was quiet, heavy, and full of love. It wasn’t a side plot. It was her pathway through grief.

We saw Chim struggle with guilt, isolation, and anger. Hen held it together until Karen’s hug undid her. Eddie showed up, silent and grieving. Buck moved through the motions, supporting everyone — but his hands shook when he stood to salute. He stumbled. And that stumble said everything.

Tommy wasn’t just there for show. He helped save the team in the lab. He pulled Bobby from a collapsing floor in a flashback. His presence beside the casket was earned — a nod to how deeply Bobby touched the lives around him.

And the funeral? It wasn’t excessive. It was deserved. The ten bells. The flag. the handing over his service cap. The march. Flying Bobby to Minnesota. These aren’t just traditions. That’s what a firefighter deserves. That’s what a captain deserves. That’s what someone who gave his life in service of others deserves. These aren’t dramatic flourishes — they are part of honoring the sacrifice. And I’m glad the show took time to make that point.

Because first responders — like soldiers, like medics, like anyone who walks into danger so others don’t have to — deserve heroes’ welcomes, and heroes’ farewells. Taking time to show that isn’t a waste. It’s the bare minimum. It’s respect. This show can be messy sometimes. It forgets trauma between episodes. It drops plot threads. But not here. This was purposeful. This was a reminder that 9-1-1 is first and foremost a show about first responders — people who run into danger and sometimes don’t come back.

I know grief. I lost someone deployed in Kabul. It didn’t arrive in sobs or speeches. It came in fragments. It came in silence. It came when we are alone. And that’s what this episode captured — not just sadness, but the shape of mourning. The way it isolates you, even in a crowd.

That’s why the team being apart in 8x15 and 8x16 mattered: Buck in the hallway. Athena behind the glass. Hen and Chim in separate rooms. Tommy in the command center. Ravi outside. Eddie in Texas. Everyone grieving. Everyone alone. some dealing it with anger, some with dissociating, or some with being stoic or some just showing up.

Not every story will land the same. But before calling something hollow, maybe ask if it just portrayed grief in a way you didn’t expect. Not every farewell needs a monologue. Sometimes, all it needs is presence. And this episode gave us that.

Not trying to make this about me. I don’t need validation. I just need sleep. me @ myself after reading too many takes at 2am:

why do i let this stuff get to me? it’s just a show. people are allowed to feel differently. but when i see it reduced to “no one even cried?” or “why waste airtime on the funeral?” — yeah, it stings. maybe it hit home. maybe it reminded me of someone. maybe that’s why i found myself defending a fictional funeral like it was real. i’m okay. really. just… before we throw it all out, maybe pause and ask what the story was trying to say. and if it still didn’t speak to you — that’s okay too. 🌱

[wlw-imagines]

Left Alone - Amelia Shepherd x Reader (Grey's Anatomy)

summary: You fall for Amelia slowly, the kind of quiet, tentative love that builds over night shifts and secrets. Amelia seems to fall too. But every time things start to deepen, she flinches. She pulls away. Changes the subject. Laughs it off. It’s subtle. It's forgivable. Until it isn’t.

Part of Mayloncholy 2025: Day Three, shattered trust of @may-lancholy

The on-call room is dim, the only light coming from the hallway outside. You’re both still in scrubs, shoes off. The room smells faintly of antiseptic and cheap coffee.

You’re curled on one end of the old vinyl couch, knees tucked up, a paper cup cradled between your palms. Amelia sits on the floor beside you, leaning back against the couch, her head tilted just enough to rest against your knee. Her eyes are closed, not quite asleep, but close, enjoying one of those fleeting moments where silence feels sacred.

You break it. Softly.

"We should talk."

"Hmm, we should sleep." She replied, voice slightly croaky.

You hum, “Do you always deflect like this?”

Amelia’s lips curl into a lazy smile without opening her eyes. “Do you always look that deep?”

You don’t answer. You sip your coffee instead and watch the way the shadows stretch across her jawline. There's a comfort in this, in her proximity, in her steady breathing, in the way she always knows how to fill silence without words.

She opens her eyes, looks up at you. “Rough case today.”

“Yeah.”

“You carried it well.” She sighs as she lifts her body up and sits back on the couch next to you.

“No,” you murmur. “I just didn't speak up about it.”

Amelia shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing yours. “Same thing sometimes.”

You let that sit. Your heart beats a little faster when her hand finds yours, unhurried and warm, fingers brushing like a secret. You don’t pull away.

She offers you the other half of her granola bar like it’s an act of intimacy. You take it.

She murmurs something into the quiet. You can’t hear it fully, just the shape of the words, like she’s confessing to the couch or maybe to herself.

“What was that?”

Amelia glances up, mischief flickering behind tired eyes. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

Your throat tightens a little. “You’re full of shit.”

“Maybe.” She grins. “But I bring good coffee.”

She nudges your cup. You look down. There’s already a new one on the floor beside her, hot, with just the right amount of creamer, the way you like it. You hadn’t even noticed her swap it out.

You look at her for a long moment. The way she always makes room for you without asking. The way she gives you small things. Whether that be silence, coffee, a glance that lingers a little too long. She gives you these things like they mean nothing. But you feel them. All of them.

You don’t say thank you. She wouldn’t want it.

Instead, you lean forward, press a quick kiss to her forehead. She doesn’t flinch.

“You’re staying tonight?”

She shrugs. “Depends. You gonna steal the blanket again?”

“Probably.”

Amelia smiles as she settles in, her head finding your shoulder like it’s always been there. “Then yeah. I’m staying.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

There’s a lull between cases. Long shifts blur into one another, but for once, there’s no siren-call in the middle of the night. No trauma waiting at the end of a phone line.

You and Amelia sit on the fire escape behind the hospital. It’s late, or it might be early, and the city glows with a quiet haze. Her jacket is too thin for the cold, but she doesn’t shiver. She never does.

You, on the other hand, are hugging your knees, her hoodie wrapped around your shoulders. She handed it over without a word when you stepped outside, even though you hadn’t said you were cold.

“I used to hide in places like this,” you say suddenly, the words tasting like memory. “When I was a kid. I liked the quiet. The space. The metal under my feet. I think I wanted somewhere that didn’t feel like anyone else’s.”

Amelia doesn’t interrupt. Just takes a slow drag from the thermos of tea balanced beside her leg.

You glance at her. “You’re doing that thing where you let me talk, but don’t say anything.”

She meets your eyes. “Would you rather I talk over you?”

“No.” You smile faintly. “Just wondering if you’re ever gonna share anything back.”

Her expression flickers, something small, something careful. Then it’s gone.

“I’ve left too many pieces of myself with people who didn’t deserve them,” she says, almost too quiet to hear.

You straighten a little, surprised.

“And you think I’m one of them?” you ask.

Amelia doesn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, she leans forward and kisses you. Not rushed. Not performative. Just soft. Measured. Her hand finds yours like muscle memory, like she’s known you longer than either of you will admit. The kiss lingers, lips brushing yours as if trying to memorize them.

When she pulls back, her eyes stay closed for a second longer than necessary. Her breath warm against your cheek.

You wait. For something. An explanation. A follow-up.

Nothing comes.

You squeeze her hand gently. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” she says, too quickly. Then quieter: “I’m afraid of what I’ll leave behind if I let myself be all in.”

You rest your head against her shoulder. “You don’t have to give me everything. Just... something real. Something yours.”

The metal beneath you groans as the wind picks up. Amelia turns her head slightly, brushing a kiss to your hair. She doesn’t say yes. But she doesn’t pull away.

And for now, that’s enough.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The call comes at 3:17 a.m. The kind of hour where the world feels paper-thin.

It’s a nurse’s voice, quiet and apologetic. A parent. A diagnosis. It doesn't look good. You would know, you're a doctor. The words don’t land right, they slide off your skin, leave bruises without breaking the surface.

You don’t remember hanging up. You don’t remember finding your coat. You just remember Amelia. The only place you want to go.

She’s waiting outside your apartment building, like she knew. Like some invisible thread tied the two of you together in a way neither of you fully understands.

You crumble in her arms. Right there on the sidewalk, in the yellow spill of a streetlamp. Her hands are steady, her voice low and soothing.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

That night, she holds you through the shaking. Through the silence. Through the sobs that come too late, after you’ve already said you’re fine.

She doesn’t ask questions. Just keeps brushing your hair back with fingers gentler than you deserve.

For a while, she stays. For a while, she’s everything. But then something shifts. She goes home.

The texts take longer to come. The calls go unanswered more often than not. She cancels a dinner with no real excuse. You shrug it off. Once. Twice.

Then she stops sleeping over. Says she needs space to clear her head. Says she’s tired. Says she’s working doubles.

You believe her at first.

But then it’s been a week. Then two. You knock on her door one night, soaked through with rain and heartache. Her lights are off. No answer.

You wait. On her stoop. For twenty minutes. Then an hour. She doesn’t come home.

When you show up to work the next day, Meredith meets you in the break room with a look that doesn’t quite know how to be gentle.

“She took some time off,” she says. “Didn’t say where.”

Your chest sinks. There was no warning. No goodbye. Just silence, all over again.

You nod like that’s fine. Like it doesn’t feel like your bones are coming unglued.

Later, alone in the locker room, you whisper it out loud. Just once. Just to the tile and the echo.

“She always leaves, doesn’t she?”

And it’s the worst one yet. Because this time, you really trusted her. This time, you believed in something.

And she still left.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

The ache is quieter now.

No crying in the shower. No clutching your phone like a lifeline. Just… silence. Thick and suffocating.

Amelia’s apartment stays dark. The spare key she once slipped into your palm burns a hole in your pocket, untouched. You don’t go. You don’t call again. What’s the point?

The team doesn’t ask much. They give you space in the way people do when they don’t know how to help. You catch Meredith watching you sometimes, not at all judgmental, just worried. But she doesn’t press. You think maybe she knows more than she’s letting on.

And then one day, she comes back to you. “She took a little more time.” Meredith says, shoulder brushing yours as you stand at the Nurse's station.

You glance up from your case notes, slow and guarded. “What kind of time?”

She shrugs, apologetic. “Didn’t say where. Just… left.”

You nod, once, like it doesn’t matter. Like it isn’t your heart still parked in her driveway. Like your chest isn’t aching from the weight of things unsaid.

Back at home, you sit in the quiet. Her mug is still in your sink. Her sweater still hanging behind your door. You reach for your phone before you can stop yourself.

You scroll through the messages, both yours and hers. You reread the last one she sent, three weeks ago.

“Don’t worry about me. Just breathe.”

And then nothing. It’s not the first time someone’s left. But it feels like the cruelest. Because this time, she told you she loved you. This time, she kissed your forehead like a promise.

This time, you believed her.

You lie back on the couch, Amelia's hoodie on the side. You pull the zipper open, wriggle into it, let yourself take one deep breath.

You think about calling. About screaming into the voicemail, “You could’ve told me. You could’ve said goodbye.”

But instead, you whisper it to the ceiling. To the absence. To the space where she used to be.

“You didn’t lie to me. You just left.”

And somehow, that hurts more.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s nearly midnight when you see her again.

The ER is mostly empty. A calm that normally sets you on edge, but not much is pushing through the barrier you've put up recently.

Then there’s movement. A presence.

You look up.

Amelia’s just standing there. Her hair’s longer. Her face thinner. Her eyes- God, her eyes.

You don’t speak.

“I didn’t know how to come back,” she says, voice hoarse.

“You didn’t,” you reply, flat. “You just left.”

Amelia’s lips part, but no excuse comes out. Good. You don’t want excuses. You want time reversed. You want the version of yourself that still had hope.

She steps forward, slow. Careful.

“I panicked,” she says, like it’s enough. “I thought if I stayed, I’d break something.”

You stand. The chair rolls back slightly behind you. “You did. And you weren’t even here to see it.” Your voice shakes at the end. You hate that it does. “I needed you,” you whisper.

Amelia nods, eyes glistening. “I needed me more.”

And that... that burns. That takes everything inside you and turns it to ash. Because it’s true, she should be allowed time. And yet it still feels like betrayal.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Then why did you say you loved me?”

She looks at you then, like she’s seeing you for the first time since she ran. “Because I did. I do.”

You nod. “You didn’t lie to me,” you say. “You just left.”

That silence again. The one that hums like grief. The one that used to be filled with sleepy murmurs and shared secrets and forehead kisses in the dark.

Now it’s just absence, again.

You grab your coat. She moves, like she might try to stop you. But she doesn’t.

You walk past her.

And you don’t look back. Someone else can cover the ER. Someone else can stand in that room with her and probably be kinder. Not you. Not right now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The stairwell is quiet. A nice place to be with your thoughts every now and then. You’re halfway down, heading out after a rough case. Just another day where you’ve kept your head down, heart on lockdown.

Then, her.

Amelia’s sitting on the steps like she belongs there. Same hoodie from months ago, sleeves chewed at the cuffs. She looks up when you freeze.

You don’t say anything at first. Neither does she.

Finally, “You look better,” you offer, soft. Not quite kind. Not quite cold.

Amelia shrugs. “I’m trying to stay.”

You nod slowly, keeping your distance. “Good.” A pause. A breath. “Just… maybe not here. Not right now. Not with me.”

There’s no bite to it. No anger. Just tiredness. Honesty. She nods back like she understands.

“I didn’t come to fix it,” she says. “I just didn’t want the last thing between us to be silence.”

You sit on the step above hers, a safe amount of space between you. “Then thanks for showing up.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “Progress.”

You don’t say anything else. You sit together for a few more minutes in the hush of the space, nothing solved, but something seen.

Then, a few days later, there’s a knock at your door.

You open it slowly.

Amelia’s standing there, hands in the pockets of a soft green jacket, eyes searching.

“I’ve got therapy Tuesdays,” she says, voice even. “And Thursdays. I’m not here to fix everything overnight. I just… I want to try again.”

You cross your arms, but you don’t close the door.

“I’m not the same person you left,” you say. “One wrong step, and I’m gone.”

She nods. “Then I’ll walk careful.” She promises, “Just… don’t slam the door.”

You hold her gaze. And this time, it doesn’t hurt to look at her. Not as much. So you step aside.

Just a little.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It’s late again. Amelia’s curled up on the far end of your couch, blanket draped across her lap, cradling a mug like it might tell her what to say.

You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching her with the kind of carefulness usually reserved for breaking things or holding your breath.

Neither of you has said much since she showed up an hour ago with takeout and no expectations.

She doesn’t ask to stay.

You don’t ask her to leave.

It’s something.

“Did you always keep it this quiet?” she asks eventually, gesturing at the apartment, the air between you.

You shake your head, smile faintly. “It used to be louder. Music. Light. Noise helped. After you left… I think I just got used to the quiet.”

Amelia nods, eyes down. “I’m sorry.”

You walk over, sit on the other side of the couch. Close, but not touching. “You don’t have to say it every time.”

“But I mean it every time.”

You nod. It’s quiet again. But it’s not cold.

She glances over. “I missed this.”

You look at her. “We didn’t really have this.”

She meets your eyes. “Then let’s make it.”

It’s simple. Not a promise. Not a plea. Just… a start.

You reach for the blanket, pull it a little closer so your knees touch under it.

Amelia exhales, like she’d been waiting to breathe.

“I still sleep on the left side,” she murmurs. “I still drink my coffee black. I'm still-" She interrupts herself with a shrug, "I know that doesn’t mean anything, but—”

“It means something,” you say quietly.

She blinks.

You set your mug down. Look at her, really look. And your voice is softer than it’s been in months. “We’re not back where we were.”

“I know.”

“We might never be.”

“I know that, too.”

You pause. “But you’re here.”

“I’m here,” she says. And she says it like she means it.

And when her hand inches toward yours on the couch cushion, you let your pinky brush hers.

It’s not everything.

But it’s something.

[miraculouspegasus]

ranking the miraculous kids by how likely they are to reveal their secret identity to their s/o

(excluding the obvious canonical cases like lovesquare, djwifi, nathmarc, or the fact that felix has absolutely told kagami everything he knows)

alix: is aro. she is sooooo aro and also she’s hopping through time, so even if she found it in her somehow to experiment. like. girl has her priorities straight.

luka: i know he’s canonically single right now, but like, let’s imagine a context where he’s still dating marinette. still not gonna tell her. that boy is very mature and would know how important it is to keep your mouth shut for the sake of everyone he loves, no matter what.

kagami: we don’t know if she’s told felix about ryuko! i say it’s very likely she has but only because of their insane rich kid cult upbringing and plot forcing her to this point, because otherwise, if she were dating, say, adrien, she would take her secrecy very seriously. girl was brought up on responsibility. if she doesn’t have a brief moment of recklessness like when she just outed herself to her mom on day one

max: yeah yeah he’s ace and single, but like, bear with me, imagine it’s like. a qpr. with alix, say, or maybe kim. max is very responsible and would treat his secret identity seriously, but he’s way less inclined to take secrets to the grave like someone like kagami, but neither is he as put together as luka is, and maybe someday he’s having a rough patch, and things are piling up on him! so like. i’d give it something in like, a 10% chance, which is relatively low, and that if he’s in that kind of relationship. but still higher than previous characters.

zoe: we’re talking if she ever got together with like, sabrina or marinette. well…girl knows how to keep secrets, whether she likes it or not. but this time it’s for good. it’s a good thing. so not likely, but possible.

mylene: mylene is so committed to good causes, to the point of civil disobedience tactics, so i think that, even though she doesn’t like lying to ivan, she knows that he would understand if he were in her situation. so it would take something pretty rough to actually shake that commitment.

ivan: i think ivan would be more likely than mylene to slip up and tell her but same as mylene, he’s a pretty brave guy, who could hold on to a secret like that even when things are rough. i do think that he might slip up because if his superhero identity ever got in the way of his relationship and ever made mylene feel lonely or abandoned, he would not stand for that.

juleka: juleka tries her best, but she’s also the kind of person who needs a strong support network to face herself and her fears, and she would have absolutely confidence that rose would be careful with her secret. so honestly it’s not an insignificant possibility.

rose: while rose is a little less plagued by doubts and in need of reassurance, what would get her is that she feels like juleka deserves everything. just total honesty. and it wouldn’t even be because of a potential conflict like ivan, it might even be out of principle. which is very sweet but also kind of dangerous. sweetheart, please don’t.

sabrina: i think she takes ladybug’s trust very seriously but given she just got out of an intensely dependent abusive relationship, i think if or when sabrina gets with someone, she’s not gonna be able to weather the rough patches that come with keeping secrets from your partner. oops.

kim: kim probably told ondine the day party crasher happened. xuppu gives him hell about his secret identity and kim was like, hey, how was i supposed to know this was going to be a permanent thing? you didn’t come with a contract! and even though after xuppu made it clear he shouldn’t tell anyone now… ondine knows. like. kim will not bother making a whole new persona using the monkey miraculous. it was king monkey when he fought party crasher, and it’s king monkey now, so.

[killianjonesapologist]

‼️‼️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8 EPISODE 13 OF CRIMINAL MINDS‼️‼️

spencer x gn!reader, where reader goes and comforts Spencer after Maeve’s death

(very short, post-zugzwang, no use of y/n, no specific romance between Reid and reader but reader definitely has a crush on him, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of Tobias Hankel, found family trope near the end, a little cringe but cringe=happy in my book)

VERY self indulgent bc I need comfort after watching it 🥲

You knock gently on Spencer’s door, hoping he might recognize the silly knocking pattern you two had made up when you both first joined the team, a way of communicating that it was truly you who was at the door. 

He knocked back to finish the pattern, but to no avail, the door never opened. 

“Look Spence, I want you to have time to heal and be alone, but this isn’t controlled isolation by any means.” You took a deep breath to collect your thoughts on the subject at hand, “I’m here to help however you’ll let me, and I know it’s incredibly difficult to ask for help, but I know you need this.” Your voice slowly breaking down to a whisper.

“I need this..”

Your ears perk up once you hear footsteps coming towards the door, followed by the echo of a chain latch being undone. 

He squints his eyes hard as he slowly lets the bright lights of the common area seep into his dark cave of a home. He looks… tired. You could tell he hasn’t shaven in a while, and you can’t blame him. At a time like this, basic hygiene isn’t always a person first priority.

“So uh, did Penelope leave all these—“ you’re cut off by a suffocating hug from him. If there was anyone he would be willing to see right now, it’s you.

You tangled your hands into his hair and whispered comforting mantras as you held him impossibly close. He begins to softly sob into your shoulder, soaking the shirt you had borrowed from him after forgetting to bring your pajamas to a case somewhere across the state.

It may not have been a mistake that you never gave it back.

“I’m not here to tell you to be ok, or to get better, I’m here to tell you that I’m glad you’re still alive and still kicking even after something so horrible as that.” You spoke softly, providing an explanation of why you felt so compelled to visit.

“Why am I cursed?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. You shifted to look into his cold, bloodshot eyes, giving him a small hum, signaling him to continue his train of thought.

“Sure I remember all kinds of horrors just from our job in general, but I also remember every horrible detail of my own trauma. I used to close my eyes and see-“ he chokes out a sob between sentences and you hold him closer, moving your hand to rub his back, “I used to see Tobias, and now I close my eyes and just see her.” They had made eye contact for the first time mere minutes before she got shot. 

“Even when I’m awake, that’s all I can think of.” Your heart broke with every word he uttered. 

“When was the last time you slept, Spence?”

There was a moment of silence that fell over the room, before hearing him letting out more quiet sobs.

“The day before she died.” 

It had been around half a week since it had all gone down. Spencer Reid hadn’t slept in 4 days. 

“Oh, Spencer…” you coo, placing your hands to cradle his head into your neck as he continues to cry. “We’ll get through this. Me and the whole team are here. I don’t know if you saw, but Garcia left you plenty of gift baskets outside.” You try to lighten the mood, your heart glowing as you hear a little sniff of a laugh come out of Spencer. 

“Yeah, I saw. Please tell her I said thank you.” He picks his head up and tries his best to give you a soft smile.

“Of course. We all care so much about you. We’re your family.”

The BAU felt closer to a true family than either of you had experienced. Of course, Spencer had his mother and his aunt, but it was less than a broken home. Here, you had a weird Italian grandpa, a stern widowed father, a badass uncle, and three wine aunts who you all loved so much. 

The BAU was home to both of you, you were just hoping he could find it in him to come back.