#and then I don’t always remember if I’ve bothered to block back or not

[whoreiaki-kakyoin]

Every time I see content from people I’ve blocked/who have blocked me on my dashboard, I sigh internally. Tumblr, what is this?

[bunnwich]

It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun. 

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed: 

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

[funnyoldworld-isnt-it]

There are so many posts about the weirdness around Nina and Maggie, but the thing that has always bothered me the most is that both of them know Aziraphale but neither one of them seems to know Crowley. Like, at ALL. Not even by sight. Which doesn’t make any sense. For the last four years, Crowley has basically been unemployed and homeless (this sentence made me so sad to type). He has had literally NOTHING to do except hang out at Aziraphale’s bookshop. And the vibe at the beginning of s2 is that he’s there a LOT. Like, multiple times per week (“we both get plenty of use out of it, don’t we”). When Aziraphale calls him in the first episode, he says “2 minutes” the way you tell your spouse how long until you’re home from the grocery store, especially if you were on your way home already.

The dialogue goes to great lengths to highlight that Nina and Maggie SHOULD know Crowley, which just heightens the weirdness of it. When they're at the pub, Crowley asks Aziraphale, “What’s wrong with the cafe?” (implying they usually go to the cafe), but Aziraphale made a point of introducing Crowley to Nina in the first episode. And Nina makes a point of saying to Maggie that she always remembers “the regulars," but she doesn't seem to remember Crowley. Of course, she immediately notices both Jim and Muriel outside the bookshop, so she's clearly paying attention to what's happening in the neighborhood and it seems like she couldn't have failed to spot him coming and going all the time.

And Maggie's situation is even weirder. Her whole back story is that she basically grew up IN the bookshop because her grandmother’s record store was essentially in a corner of the bookshop. And yet, when Maggie and Nina see Crowley on the street right before the lightning strike, Nina says, “Do you see that bloke? Six shots of espresso and he's smoking,” and Maggie responds, “I think that man was just struck by lightning.” Which is something you say about someone you’ve never laid eyes on before. She didn’t say, “Oh, that’s Mr. Fell’s friend,” or “I’ve seen him around. He stops by Mr. Fell’s shop a lot.” And then when he comes back, "It's him. The one who was just struck by lightning. The six shots of espresso." Again, no flash of recognition of anything before the current day. This happens immediately after she's just told Nina about knowing Aziraphale since she was little. It’s just weird. Why build a back story that would put her in extremely close proximity to Crowley LITERALLY her entire life and then write dialogue that makes it clear she's never laid eyes on him before?

You could maybe think, well they're just so used to having to hide...but then I asked myself: Does it make sense that the day that you find out there is an extremely dangerous, existence-threatening problem hiding out in your ineffable husband's bookshop is also the day that you would decide to STOP keeping a low profile and start wandering the streets with abandon, introducing yourself to all the local shopkeepers, and ferrying large plants into and out of said bookshop? No. No, it does not.

In any other show, you could assume that the writers just didn’t think about it very carefully. But, given the layers and layers of meaning and symbolism baked into every detail of this show, from the dialogue, to the costuming, the set design, lighting, blocking, etc., and the way that the story folds back on itself again and again, it just feels significant.

[gaymurdersalad]

Hey Jack! I think Dave is.. looking for you. You should probably check on him-

>Looking for me?

>The bastard practically wanted me dead on Monday when I refused his little kid-killing scheme. Straight up left the restaurant and didn’t show his face again, he was so mad.

>Why in the hell would he suddenly be looking for me?

>Even if he was, I wouldn’t know the first place to fucking—

>Mmmmyyy body lies overrr the ocean, my boooody lies over the seaaaaa—

>I’mmm no gooood at astraaaaal projectionnnn, so brrriiiing back my bodddyyyyy to meeeee!

>Oh, holy fuck, I’vvvve nevvvver felt ssssooooooo… Un-Coporeal. Wuwuuuuugghh, what issss… Within it me is outside o’ me… And whaasss inside of mmmmeeeee is SOOOOOOOO much LSD.

>Hooooow’d I even ennnndup here? What the hell did you get yourself int’, you big clown? I’m not surrrre, I just woke up out hereeee, again… What would Henry think? Who cares! He hates mmmmeeee!! He pushed me aside he did, he did! How’d he do that, then? He says “Get ouuuuutta here, you purple menace you, and leave me the hell alone for as long as your pitiful life stays clinging to this wretched Earth!” Why’d he say such a thing? I duunnoooooo! Was it something you did? You’re always getting yourself into trouble, you. Please leaaaave me alone, leave me to rot here, you… Yew… Schtewpid bastard, you caaaan’t stop bothering me, both you AND him…

>I’ve never done nothing to warrant this! I’m yer friend, Davey! Yer nothin’ but some bassard keepin’ me angry, you rotten fuck you, I wish you’d both fuck off hand ‘n hand and go… Go stuff yourselves in a waterlogged springlock suit, fuck you!

>A VISSSSITOR. Who— Who arrives?!

>… Dave?

>Sportsy! Old Jack! Whateerrr yoooouuu doin’ here?! You smell different. Yer wearin’ that coat!

>… Jesus Christ, dude. I’ve never seen you this bad.

>Aannnnnd I’ve never seen yew so good lookin’, handsome.

>Alright… Let’s… Let’s get you up, it’s freezing out here, man.

>Ohhhh, yer sooooo warm, Sportsy… I juuuusssss wanna crawl inside yer skinnn and wear ya as a jacket… Heh! Jack-et!

>… Thank… You…? I’m going to ignore you for a bit, is that alright dude?

>Yew can do whateeeeeever yew want, cowboy, I juss love ya soooo much…

>We’re gonna go back to my place, okay buddy? Get you under some covers and make sure you don’t accidentally… Hurt yourself. Let you sit the rest of this out someplace comfortable.

>Yer… Yer takin’ care of me, baby?

>Only ‘cause I know you won’t remember it.

>Yer… Yer sucha nice boy, sucha sweet sweet tangerine, you…

>Y’know, I wus… I’ve been… feeling preeeety rancid lately, Sportsy. Henry… Kicked me to the curb again, said I don’t wantcha here, and I wus… wanted… spend time with ya, Sportsy, like old times, I wanted t’… I missed… yew. ‘Nd yer dumb stupid clementine face, that schtewpid beard— If… If Henry don’t want me, then I know… I wus always thinking, I thought— Sportsy’s there! There’ll alllllways be Sportsy! B— Because there ain’t Sportsy, it’s just me, and just me makes me wanna die. I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die when yer holdin’ me.

>I’m… It’s pretty fuckin’ radical… that yew still care. Still the… same rotten orange I knew and loved.

>…

>… I…

>I still care. It’s okay.

>It is?

>It’s okay.

>… Let’s… Get you home. Try and relax, we’re only a block away from my car. You can sleep when we’re on the road.

>Gnnaaaaarly… Road trip with Old Sport!

>Yeah, man, sure. Gnarly.

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 1: The Spider Man

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: smut, oral (m receiving) cursing, Miguel is a bit of a creep and a dick.

You stood outside the restaurant for a moment, staring at the dark night sky.

What just happened?!

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill over as you grind your teeth for a moment, practicing self control over your overwhelming upset and hurt. Was that even legal?

You sniffled and balled your fists. Fuck this guy, with his expensive looking suit and obvious God Complex.

You muttered obscenities as you walked home, not getting in the car and waiting like he ordered you to. Fucking ordered!

Two blocks down and you sighed, getting to the subway and finding a train to take you to your apartment, located in a less-than-safe part of Nueva York. But you didn’t care, you could take care of yourself.

Eyes tired from holding back your need to cry, you walked up a few flights of stairs to your floor, you convinced yourself it was good exercise. Twisting your key in the somewhat broken lock, you pushed into your doorway and slammed it shut behind you with the deadbolt.

That’s when the dam broke and the water works started. You’d gotten so lucky with such a great job, and now some power-drunk prick with a nice face ruined it without a solid reason.

He didn’t like you, so he decided to hire you? What backwards bullshit was that?

Not bothering to take your makeup off, you pulled off your clothing and slumped into bed with no plans of doing anything tomorrow morning. It was going to be a day to process and plan your next move.

Loud banging on your door made you fall out of bed, practically jumping out of your skin as the sudden thunderous sound was terrifying without warning. Grabbing your baseball bat from your coat closet, you tugged your hair into a messy bun and swung the door open.

“You’re late.” The big guy from last night? “And you apparently don’t answer your phone either.” His voice was unamused, blunt, and you didn’t care for it.

“How the fuck did you-“ you yelled, then remembering that apparently he was close to Peter, who had all of your information from hiring you. “You’re a sick fuck, now you’re stalking me?”

“Watch it, I’ll fire you.”

“I don’t wanna work for you, now leave!” You screamed and moved to slam the door, only to be stopped by a large hand holding it back. Miguel opened the door with a swift push and you stumbled backwards, caught off guard and off balance from his strength. It was like he was barely moving a cup, not even moving a muscle.

“I’ve decided that you’re going to work for me, and I always get what I want.” He spoke, stepping inside of your small apartment. “Now get dressed, so you can get to work.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spit back at him with venom you didn’t know you hate. You hated him. “Go find some other girl to obsess over and creep out.” You continued and swung the bat, him catching the wood and staring down at you.

“Obey me and I’ll reward you generously.”

“I’m not your dog, I don’t need to ‘obey’ you!” You groaned out as you yanked the bat backwards.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year plus bonuses when you complete certain tasks.” He spoke almost too fast.

The words passed by your ears in a blurt as white-hot rage filled your mind. The devil and angel on your shoulder fought and you didn’t know which one was fighting for what.

“Fine. Three hundred thousand a year. Bonuses, access to our facilities, a new phone, and an apartment on the west side.” He added.

“What the hell will I be doing? You don’t even know if I’m qualified, or if I’m a normal person. I could be a murderer.”

“That’s doubtful, as you couldn’t even hit me with a bat, and I’ve seen all I needed to. You’re most definitely qualified.” He answered, still offending you in a strange way. “Now get ready. I’m late because of you, and if I weren’t the boss, I’d rat you out.” He fixed his suit and sat in one of your dining chairs, the squeak of its legs making him scrunch his eyebrows in annoyance.

You huffed and moved, accepting that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll call the cops.”

“That won’t work. La policía and I have an understanding.” It seemed like nothing was working and he knew it. “Are you done?”

Maybe if you played along for a bit, he’d get the idea and fuck off. Grumbling, you trudged into your bedroom.

“So what will I be doing?” You called to him as you went to your closet and pulled out a random blue dress shirt and black pants.

“You’ll be my right hand. Like an assistant but much more involved. You’ll work closely with my second, Lyla, and head operator, Jess.” He gave a full debriefing as you slipped on the clothes and moved towards the bathroom. “I’ll send a few of my men to help you move tonight, I don’t need you getting jumped out here in the slums.” He spoke with a certain disgust in his tone and you rolled your eyes.

“Your men? Second? Are we in a war or something?” You laughed, but he was quiet. No sense of humor, noted.

“Something like that.” His voice was lower, almost like it was a secret he didn’t want anyone around him to hear except you.

“Not that I care, but why me?” You brushed your teeth and waited for his answer, but nothing came. “Hello?”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Just know that I will not accept your refusal. You will work for me.” His speech was almost flattering, if he weren’t so infuriating. You dotted on some makeup and walked out to meet him. Slipping on a pair of low, black heels, he was already at the door. “Let’s go.” He nodded and opened your front door once more before walking ahead of you into the elevator. You hurried behind and almost missed the door as he stuck a hand through to stop them from closing. Your eyes didn’t meet him, avoiding having to thank him for such a small gesture of kindness after all the rudeness you’d endured. “And by the way, they call me Spider Man.” He said calmly as the doors shut and suddenly, your pounding blood was in your ears.

Spider man…?

As in… the most dangerous Mafia leader in Nueva York? The leader of the O’Hara family and the rumored Spider Society? A man infamous for murdering people with his bare hands, constructing some of the greatest hits on politicians and leaders all over the state?

Your body turned cold as you began to sweat. You were in the presence of a man known for being a brutal killer and a money-hungry demon who ruthlessly destroyed lives.

And he wanted you.

The trip to his headquarters was silent, sweating nervously as all of the rumors you’d heard about him came back to you. How he once almost killed a fifteen year old because he “ran out on a tab,” but luckily Peter paid it for the poor boy. Now, apparently, that same boy works for him. Peter told you the story on your first day, how some of the Spider Society frequented their restaurant, but it never occurred to you that this was him.

You remembered Gwen telling you over drinks after your first shift about how a lot of the staff of your restaurant had once been or still were low ranking members of the Society. You had said you just wanted to make your money and get on with your day, to which she laughed and said “that’s how I was too.” You left the conversation there and talked about other things, but now you couldn’t stop repeating her words over and over.

It was like the city was overrun by Spiders, all answering to the Spider Man himself. A man you were currently trapped in a moving vehicle with. A man you knew wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you even so much as messed up his coffee order.

Nothing felt real as your leg bounced with anxiety. Sure, you’d always been mouthy and stubborn, but the idea that those small flaws could have made you a target for him, it was almost too much to understand.

“Hello?” He called out and you turned your face to him. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about… what I have to pack tonight.” You lied, to which it was obvious he didn’t believe you, but he ignored it anyway.

“I was saying, when we get there, I have a meeting with a few of my subordinates. I need you to stay and listen. Lyla will be recording the meeting, but you just need hear it and start understanding everything. It won’t be hard, but it might be a lot so pay attention, entiendes?” He spoke and you nodded. “Once the meeting is over, I’ll introduce you to Jess and she’ll give you a tour of the building and your office. You’ll be working a room over from me. While that’s going on, I have an appointment, and once that’s over, I’ll start explaining the rest of your work.” His words felt unreal, like you were having an outer body experience. Nothing could have prepared you for this and now you were thrown into his web with no way out. Was the universe playing some sick joke on you? Throw you into the arms of a cold blooded killer and laugh about it later?

The numbness in your bones began to settle in and you sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long day.

Walking into a bustling lobby, your eyes were overwhelmed with an excitement you couldn’t help to feel. The smell of clean air, the crisp modern design, everything screamed class and high end. Almost as if this wasn’t a den of crime and murder. Who would let a kingpin rent such a beautiful and upscale building? And didn’t mafia bosses usually do business out of their homes or secret offices hidden behind a bookshelf?

Ok, maybe you watched too many movies…

No, this was the next level of an efficiently run business. Everyone looked focused and intelligent, some seeming like they were educated at an Ivy League college or politically invested.

You followed the largest man and watched as everyone parted to make way for him, scanning him and then dropping their gaze to you.

You, who looked so out of place and childlike next to the refined crowd.

Your name broke you from your trance and you bumped into Miguel, who was no longer walking. “Stop looking around like a lost puppy. I hired you because of your fire and bite, now bring her back or I’ll toss you back out of here on your ass.” His threat was obvious, and you puffed up your chest after he turned around.

He was somewhat right. You belonged here, you got here by accident and that had to count for something. Other people around you seemed like they wanted to be here, strived for their positions and fought to climb up the latter. Meanwhile, you didn’t even want your position and you got it because of your loud mouth. As much as you hated this all, you knew that some of the roughest and cruelest human beings stood in this building, but he decided to pick you.

“But we will need to buy you new clothes if you’re going to work here. I don’t want to see you in anything less than a thousand dollars. Is that clear?” He said as you two walked into the elevator.

“And where am I getting these thousands of dollars from? You got me fired.” You grumbled, annoyed at his arrogance and assumptions.

“I’ll have Lyla put it as a tax write-off and give you a company card. Your limit is fifty thousand, and you’ll only shop at places from a list she’ll give you.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, barely even seeming like he was speaking to you. What a dick. You rolled your eyes and he glanced downward, a brow quirked upwards. “And save that attitude for the meeting. Everyone here is cut-throat, and you’re here to give them a humbling piece of your mind. I don’t do politically correct-ness. If you think it, say it. The only person you need to answer to is me, and I want you to give some of these sons of bitches a good verbal beat down. If they get out of line, I’ll give them something to really be scared of, so don’t hold back.” His words seemed to hold weight as the elevator doors opened once more and people separated like the Red Sea to let him and you through. Catching up to walk by his side instead of behind him, you kept a straight face and put your shoulders back.

Reaching your new office was exhilarating, seeing as you hated the situation, but began hating everything less and less. Miguel had been right about the meeting, ignoring what everyone else said as you sat and listened to him discuss plans for a new import deal and a possible new business venture. His words were sharp and sliced through everyone in the room, so there wasn’t much room for conversation as most of the people in the room didn’t want to pull the trigger and be the target. You nodded along and made mental notes, adding certain ideas to your cavalry and deciding between when to speak up or not to.

After that, he’d introduced you to Jess and Lyla, who both seemed too kind and cheery to be in this business. How could such funny and smiley women work for a man with so much blood on his hands?

Jess gave you a proper tour as Lyla followed and made snarky comments about certain people, places, and things. Often times, they were about Mr. O’Hara and every time, it made Jess snort with laughter. The three of you talked and laughed, even trading phone numbers with both of them. Lyla excused herself when she was summoned to the fourth floor for a call about a transport, and you and Jess finished the tour back at your office. She showed you briefly how to use your new computer and tablet, both of which had a schedule that you, Lyla, and Mr. O’Hara could see and edit.

“Alright, I have a gynecologist appointment in 30 minutes, so I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, but call me if you have any questions.” She waved and you gave her a goodbye before beginning to type up some of those mental notes from the meeting, sharing them with Miguel’s email to add him in and let him look.

An hour went by and you heard a ding on your tablet, signaling a private meeting in Miguel’s office that had started 20 minutes ago. You rushed, seeing as you didn’t get the notification earlier and now we’re late. Pushing open his office door, you blinked at the sight in front of you and gulped down a new feeling. Dread. Embarrassment. Pure fucking confusion and unshakable mortification.

A woman, thin and blonde, had her back to the door and was kneeling before Miguel. Hands on his thighs as he spread his legs, she bobbed her head up and down as he had both of his arms around the expanse of the couch, head back a bit in enjoyment.

The shock finally settled into humiliation and you felt your stomach lurch with anxiety. He must have heard you step backwards as his eyes opened to stare into yours, an unreadable expression on his face. You shifted your thighs, moving to take another step as your face burned with a blush that could rival most makeup brands. Eyes as wide as saucers, you kept eye contact with him to avoid watching the woman’s mouth move up and down his cock. And he didn’t dare look away either.

He slipped a hand from the back of the couch to her hair and shoved her head down a bit, making her gag, and as the sound reached your ears, you choked a bit in sympathy. He hissed out a soft ‘good girl’ and you felt drool pool on your tongue, closing your mouth before it could drip out. He fucked up into her mouth as his eyes stayed on yours and before you could register it, he was groaning with a tight jaw and finishing. She sputtered as he came down her throat and as the realization of what you’d walked in on had hit you, you’d spun on your heels and slammed the door shut behind you.

Hands shaky, you wobbled back to your own office and sat in your chair, hands holding up your head as if it were too heavy to stay upright on its own.

What the fuck is going on?

Prologue Chapter 2

[imdefinitelyfloating]

A Perfect Chaos (spencer reid x reader)

Pairing: Spencer x fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

This will switch between Spencer’s POV and Reader’s POV – the first paragraph is Reader, and from there it alternates. I hope it isn’t too difficult to follow along!

The universe can be funny sometimes. It puts us in places we never expect to be, and sets into motion the new chapter of our lives. And I believe that is exactly what happened when I walked into the BAU bullpen on my first day at my new job, 3 years ago. The only empty desk sat across from a man, with his curly golden locks, his sharp jawline, and the softest eyes; I was sure, this was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. I don’t know if I believe in love at first sight, but that’s the only way I can describe what I felt at that very fateful moment.

My whole life, I’ve been trying to narrow down all the things around me to an exact science. But when she walked in that day, I felt something I had never experienced before. I was… speechless. The way her hair flowed, the way her eyes sparkled, the way her skin shone despite the harsh lighting of the BAU bullpen; I’m sure, this was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid my eyes upon. There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other. I don’t know if I believe in soulmates, but that’s the only way I can describe what she would become to me.

Spencer and I became fast friends after I joined the BAU. I don’t know if it was intentional or just a simple coincidence, but Hotch always paired us together on cases, we sat opposite each other every day, and even rode all the same trains on the Metro. It’s safe to say we were quickly becoming the best of friends; we’d have Doctor Who marathons at his place, and have sleepovers at mine. Platonic, of course. There is no doubt in my mind that this is who I love, and this is who want to spend the rest of my life with. But I know he’ll never feel the same way, not for me.

Y/n became a place of comfort for me after tough cases, and she’d always be the one to pull me out and lift me up. She was my best friend, and I loved her, in more ways than she could even understand. I still remember the first time we sat together on the jet. It was a long case, and everyone was worn out. I felt the warmth radiating from her as she rested her head on my shoulder. I’m not the best with touch, but with her I didn’t mind. With her, I wish I could stay like that for all eternity. But I know she’ll never feel the same way, not for me.

Sitting opposite the man everyday, I quickly realised how much Spence loved his coffee (or in his case, sugar with a hint of coffee!) It soon became a tradition for us to bring coffee for each other every morning, and to go down to the little coffee shop a few blocks away on our shared breaks. As we’d walk, he would ramble on about Star Trek, and I’d counter back with my love of Star Wars! If there’s anyone who was going to challenge one of my favourite movie series, I’m glad it was him.

Valentine’s Day was always tough for me. To be honest, I was never really bothered by it until I met Y/n. Seeing her almost every day, but not being able to hold her, not being able to tell her how I really felt, it killed me inside. Every year, I thought this time I’m going to tell her. But when I would open my mouth to speak, it was like I’d forget how to talk, how to breathe. Now, three years later, I’m still just as speechless as I was when I had first met her.

February 14th – a day of love. It was meant to be a beautiful day, but for me it was just another day gone by when I hadn’t confessed my feelings to the man I so desperately wanted to hold, and to love. Still, me and Spence both went for our daily coffee break, both pretending to ignore the clearly obvious tension between us. We both had a lot of paperwork to get through, so we ordered our drinks to go. February in DC is unpredictable to say the least; the sun was finally shining through as we stepped into the small café, but as we stepped out, I felt the rain brush upon my face as I looked up to see clouds looming above us once again. And of course, just my luck, I don’t have my umbrella!

I must have forgotten my umbrella at my desk. The rain is really coming down now, so Y/n and I decide to take a shortcut through the park. We’re practically running now, and well, I’m not the most athletic of individuals. I stop at a bench, with Y/n coming back to hopelessly get me back up. She quickly gives in, sitting down on the small, wooden bench with me. The two of us sit in silence as I struggle to catch my breath in the cold Virginia air. But just as I felt my breath coming down to a more normal pace, I heard Y/n ask me the question I had been hoping she would never ask.

“So, Reid, who’s your Valentine’s?”

It had become something she’d ask me each year, always pestering me to go on dates or trying to set me up with one of her friends. But all I wanted to say was “I wish it was you.” It amazed me, a profiler, and she is still oblivious to how I really feel about her. Instead, I just brush her question off and ask her one instead.

“Who’s yours, Y/n?”

It’s now or never. If I don’t tell him now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. He has to know.

“I wish you were my Valentine.”

Is this real? Did she really just say that? No, she must be joking. She could never love someone like me. I’ll just laugh it off. Why isn’t she saying anything? And that’s when I saw it. I looked in her eyes. She’s serious? This is happening? Oh, this is happening. It’s now or never, she has to know. And with that, I pressed my lips to hers, and we stayed like that. The rain was pouring, the wind was howling. People were shouting “Get a room!” But we didn’t care. You always hear it in children’s fairytales, that when you truly love someone nothing else matters, the whole world stops except for you. I had never believed it until now, but Y/n is my fairytale come true.

As our lips parted from one another, we rested our foreheads together. Magic really does exist, because Spencer Reid is my magic.

Eventually, Y/n and I made it back to work. We were so ready for a trademark Hotch glare, coming back so long after our break had finished. But all we heard was Rossi, “Finally, thank God they admitted it!” I was about to speak, but Y/n read my mind and beat me to it:

“How did you- HOW?!”

Everyone erupted into a fit of laughter, Emily and JJ making pointing fingers and teasing as Garcia literally suffocated me in a classic Penelope hug. And then there’s Morgan patting Spencer a little too enthusiastically on the back, “Pretty Boy, my man!” Even Hotch gave a rare smile as he and Rossi observed the scene. It was a perfect chaos, and in the middle of it all stood Spencer and I, my soulmate and I.

Thank you for reading! 🥰💗

[guzzlingplastic111]

Missed Ya' :)

Hazel Callahan x you

takes place in Bottoms film, a short little work

Summary: you and hazel used to to be super close in middle school and liked each other. You had to move away cuz of your family getting a new job. Hazel thought she’d never see you again

~ ~ ~

It was strange to be back. 

Originally, you didn’t plan to attend the fair held every year to kick off the new school year, but Pj practically begged you. She guilt tripped you. And to be fair, an upset Pj would cost you a subtle entrance in school, hoping to blend right away into the school. So, there you were, walking into the fair with Pj and her best friend Josie, talking about how it was their year. As far as you could remember, Josie had always had a crush on Isabel, and you figured that if you ever came back, the two would be smitten for each other. But that wasn’t the case. 

And there you were, watching the two girls check out the cheerleaders, planning their next move when suddenly, someone jumped in front of them, blocking their view. 

“Hey guys,” the girl greeted. 

You squinted, trying to figure out what it was about the girl’s shaggy cut and masculine sense of style was so familiar to you. 

“Hey Hazel,” Pj greeted, not bothering to hide her annoyance. 

Hazel? 

You squinted even more, thankful that you were mostly covered by Josie’s tall body. It was hard to recognize Hazel after years of not seeing her. Gradually, her face has begun to fade from memory years after the move, the only thing you had was a fuzzy remembrance of how she looked which was definitely much different from now. 

Her blue eyes sparkled with the reflection of the fair lights, the silver chains winking at her. Hazel’s hair has been grown and styled into a shaggy cut, the layers framing her face. 

“Hazel,” you found yourself saying, walking around Josie with a smile. Something fluttered in your stomach as her eyes landed on you. 

Hazel’s lips slowly spread into a smile as she eyed you up and down. 

“Oh, you remember Hazel right?” Pj turned to you, noticing the pink tint on your face. She raised both of her eyebrows and turned to Josie 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

~ ~ ~

“Hey,” Hazel greeted, jumping up beside you as you both walked to Mr.G’s classroom. 

“Hey,” you replied, just missing how she nervously played with the straps of her backpack. 

“How’ve you been?” She asked. 

“I’ve been good,” you smiled, looking over at her “missed ya,” 

“Oh,” her eyes widened as she looked away, hiding a blush. 

You chuckled, nudging her playfully “what? You didn’t miss me?” 

“No…no no I did! It’s nice having you back.” 

“Yeah, feels good” you paused, waking over to a picture that has Jeff, the star football player on it shirtless with the caption of ‘let’s get horny’

You frowned “although this place was much weirder than I expected” 

Hazel laughed along “yeeeah” 

You laughed along with her, continuing on your way to class. Hazel followed behind you. 

“Um, hey, if you don’t mind me asking,” Hazel paused, becoming more nervous with your eye contact, she looked down “did…did you date anyone at your other school?” 

Your heart fluttered at her question. It seemed that the only reason Hazel could ask was because she was interested. You did your best to smother the growing smile on your face. You forced yourself to be cool.

Hazel could also just be asking because you were gone for so long. She had been doing over the past couple of days, sitting with her at lunch with Pj and Josie, asking her questions of what she had done of the past couple of years. You slowly learned things about her along the way too. Apparently, Hazel now knew Taekwondo and how to build bombs. Where did she learn that? You didn’t want to know.

“No,” you replied, smothering down a smile “why do you want to know?” 

Hazel scrunched up her pretty pink lips, trying to find the right excuse. You let your eyes linger on her lips while she struggled to find the right words, breaking away when her blue eyes found yours. 

“I…uhh” she stared at you, knowing that she was too far in to even lie. “I just… haven’t seen you for a while and I wanted to- fuck it” 

Your eyes widened with surprise as Hazel suddenly cupped your face with her hands and pulled you in for a kiss. You gasped at the feeling of her cool lips against yours, chapstick flavors mixing in that bit of exchanged contact. Hazel moved her lips against your own, determined to feel every centimeter of them. Fireworks exploded in your stomach, as your eyes fluttered shut. You threaded your arms around her neck, pulling your body closer to hers. After a moment, you both pulled away. 

“Missed me that much huh?” You giggled, moving your arms back to your side. Hazel looked away, suddenly shy. 

“Shut up.” 

“So, you gonna take me on a date?” You cheekily smiled at her before tossing your hair over your shoulder and shrugging “since, you know, you missed me so much” 

Hazel rolled her eyes and grabbed your hand, swinging it. You both continued walking, giddy from the kiss. 

“Yeah,” hazel replied after a moment “how does seven work?” 

[e-dubbc11]

Bloodstains in the Snow

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Violence, swear words (I think), little fluff.

Word Count: 1.5K-ish

Summary: After a late night job, Billy wanders through the snow, figuring out how he feels about you.

A/N: I wrote this pretty quick but I actually think it’s pretty good, maybe even one of the best things I’ve written. I love writing fluffy Billy but every once in awhile I really enjoy violent/unhinged/unapologetic Billy. But he’s still soft for the person he loves. I hope you like it and hope you all enjoy your holiday season! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The late night city sounds were muffled by the heavy flakes of snow as they fluttered quickly to the ground. After the job was finished, he just wandered along the sidewalk looking down at what looked like a carpet of cotton beneath his feet.

His leather and black shearling coat collar pulled up to block the snow from touching the hot skin of his neck and his black beanie covered his ears to protect him from the savage wind that assaulted him from all directions.

He closed his eyes and remembered how much blood was spilled tonight.

He passed bar patrons that had ducked outside quickly for a few drags on their cigarettes before running back inside to get away from the bitter cold.

The scent of ash mixed with the fresh scent of the snow occupied his sense of smell even after he walked past that strip of bars. Stifled music coming from inside the bars was only clear when someone would open the door and muted again once the doors were closed.

Sometimes the desert overseas would get cold at night, but it would never get New York City winter cold. Blood looked brighter against the colorless shroud of snow than on top of the desert sands but spilled blood was spilled blood and it all came from the same source…evil.

Overseas, he spent some nights trying not to die and he flirted with death on more than one occasion. He had wondered if he would die never knowing what it’s like to be truly loved by someone and would he ever have what his best friend Frank had…a loving wife and kids.

“Only the dead have seen the end of war” and Billy Russo wouldn’t go down without fighting. He had done it his entire life…he was a survivor and a fighter. He fought for his life and for his country in wars at home and war overseas but he still didn’t know if he was worthy of love.

If he deserved love, then why did she leave him? Why did she abandon him? He was just a little boy. Did she love him at all? He didn’t know the answer to that and he would never know. Now, he wondered if anyone could love him for who he really is, even with all the things he has done.

Maybe you could be the one to love him.

The picturesque snow drifts were a perfect white under the glow of the city street lamps, his mind then flashed to ribbons of red running through the snow cradling the bodies of the would-be assassins. They had come for the state representative Billy and his team were protecting.

His last thoughts had been of you when he had the large arms of a mob boss wrapped tightly around his neck before Frank put a bullet in between his eyes.

Billy didn’t think twice about killing them all, no regard for any of their lives. He didn’t know if any of them had families or children and he didn’t care. All he knew was he had a job to do and he wanted to go home to you.

The goon had said something in Billy’s ear that caused his muscles to stiffen and his face to flush with rage. “You gotta real pretty girl, Russo. After we’re done with you, we’ll pay her a visit at your penthouse.”

They had threatened you.

It wouldn’t have bothered him if he wasn’t attached to you like he was. Billy was very much in love with you although he didn’t realize he was until your life was endangered.

What if they had taken you away from him? He couldn’t live with himself if that happened. Billy Russo didn’t lose fights and he would fight off the entire world just so he wouldn’t lose you.

The hollow cold stung his lungs as he inhaled the mid-winter air and let out a long exhale when he glanced down at the blood on his hands from the scum who’s throat he had just ripped out. Blood poured out quickly; it could not be contained. That man was now lying in the snow gasping for air he would never get. Billy saw nothing but red until they were all dead.

The rage burned like white hot fire in his veins as he sliced them all from groin to sternum, spilling their insides, disrupting the blanket of white underneath them and then it was over.

A devilish grin extended across Billy’s mouth, his doll-like eyes shined against the stark white snow as he watched their lives fade away forever into the cold; he enjoyed killing even though he knew he shouldn’t.

As he continued to walk against the powerful wind, his lips curled up into a slight smile. You were safe and warm back at his penthouse…probably sound asleep.

Billy didn’t want to think about it but he wondered what it would be like if he never got to sleep next to you again, or you reaching for his shirt collar in your sleep so you could nuzzle into the crook of his neck to keep your nose from getting cold.

When he had nightmares, you didn’t get scared. You were only scared for him and hoped you were doing enough to comfort him. It was more than anyone else had done for him and he welcomed it.

But what if he never got to hear you laugh or see your beautiful smile again? He was never going to give those up; he was never going to give YOU up. Billy started to walk faster into the large snowflakes falling quickly from the sky toward Anvil to get his car.

The walk to clear his head was done and he was ready to go home.

Finally, he was inside the car and out of the smothering cold, he looked at his hands as they grasped the steering wheel. Wind burned and blood stained, it was difficult to not look at them as he carefully drove home.

The snow-covered streets were nearly empty as the clock on the dashboard flashed 2 AM; he drove slowly, being extra careful not to slip and slide all over the road. Billy didn’t survive a night of mob bosses and thugs just to be taken out in a car accident.

When Billy arrived home, he inhaled sharply, unlocked the door and stepped inside. As he closed the door behind him, he exhaled forcefully and removed his boots.

The chill in his bones lingered until the hot water from the shower pelted against his skin, and the scent of your shampoo still hung inside the confines of the shower doors. It was silly but he loved to wash your hair and his mouth went tight with anger when he realized he didn’t get to do that for you tonight.

His tension eased however when he remembered that because you were safe, he would be able to do it the next time. It took a little effort but Billy removed the blood from his hands and from underneath his fingernails; they returned to their normal color and his long skilled fingers, along with the rest of his body, were no longer cold.

He could not wait to hold you.

The soft orange glow of the salt lamp illuminated your face just enough for Billy to see you were fast asleep. You stirred slightly when he pulled the blanket back and let a low whimper escape your lips as he carefully inched closer; he did not want to disturb your sleep.

You were wearing one of his old Marines t-shirts when he reached for you, his hands slipped under the blanket to touch your bare thigh, and your warm skin was soft from the lotion you applied earlier.

The tip of your nose touched the base of Billy’s neck and you wrapped your fingers around the collar of his shirt. The bristles of his beard brushed your shoulder as he pressed his lips against you.

He had never been more relieved to be home.

“I don’t deserve you, sweet girl. The things I’ve done…” He said in barely more than a whisper.

But he did. Billy did deserve to be loved, he was worthy of the love he craved and desired. He had to fight and kill to survive, to live; that didn’t make him a bad person. And now he had another reason to do what he does best…for love.

He did love you, he was sure of it now. “I love you.” Said Billy, softly against your ear.

And you loved him.

As long as there are men like that out there, Billy will always have a war to fight. He will make it his mission to destroy any evil that could take away the love he’s wanted his entire life.

As the snow continued to fall outside your window, the dreamlike picture below outshined the carnage shed outside on the streets tonight.

The tomb-like silence was music to his ears as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep while the blanket of white piled up high, cloaking the red stains left behind. “They won’t be missed.” He said to himself.

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.” -Plato

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

[lolasturniolo]

Only you can help my mess

Warning: family issues, crying, S/H mentioned, attempting mentioned, wall punching i guess?, yelling

(please don’t read if you have family problems and are sensitive about and if you do I promise you can just text me and I WILL respond)

—————————

Your family always had issues since you were around 7. You didn’t really notice as you were young but when you became 12 things started to become more clear.

Your dad had a bad childhood and it triggered him a lot. He couldn’t really control his emotions and yelled at your mom and older brother A LOT. But you being the youngest daughter you were an angel to him.

There have been times where your dad kicked your mom out but that also meant you and your older brother Max had to leave to. This has happened 3-4 times but you all ended up getting back together within a few days.

You’re now 18 and your parents have gone out to see a show. Your sitting on your bed when you hear them come home it’s around 11pm, your about to go downstairs and ask how there night was but you hear your dad say.

“You come in and right away start folding laundry,

Stop! What are you doing”

You knew this would lead to an argument so you put your headphones in to block it out.

Even thought you had headphones on blasting music you can still hear the yelling, slamming of doors/cabinets, crying and all. With this you hear your mom is upset but that doesn’t bother you much till you hear your dad cry.

When you hear your dad or brother cry it breaks you, you have no idea why but seeing a male cry makes you cry too.

“Out! Out! Get out!”

You hear your dad yell and your mom comes marching up the stairs.

You begin to tear up and text your best friend Matt.

———————

Matty 🫶🏻

You: hey Matt could I come round please?

Matty 🫶🏻: yea of

course! Do you want

me to pick you up or

are you driving?

You: thank you and don’t worry I’ll drive

Matty 🫶🏻: okay! Drive safe please

You: will do thanks again!

——————

With that you grab a bag and put Pjs, charger, shoes, spare clothes, makeup bag, hairbrush and a few other essentials you might need as you don’t know how long your gonna be there for.

Matt already had a toothbrush, towel and a few clothes for you at his place ‘just in case’ as he says.

You put on a sweater and get your car keys thankfully the kitchen door was closed so your parents didn’t know you were leaving so they wouldn’t bring you into the argument.

You exit your house and walk down the street to where your car was parked. Normally your brothers car would be there to but it wasn’t so him and his girlfriend must have already left having the same idea as you.

—————————

You pull up to the triplets house tears in your eyes. You grab your bag from the passenger seat and get out the car seeing Matt. He’s standing there with the most sympathetic face ever and open arms.

When you see him you drop your bag and start crying. He sees this and walks up to you and wraps his arms around your waist just holding you as you cry.

Matts Pov

When I get Y/n text i knew it would be about her family probably her dad just by the fact she said ‘please’.

It’s about the 2nd time this month she has had to come over it used to be like once a year since she was 16, but it has been getting worse and worse this past year.

I’ve known her since we were 13. me and my brothers moved to a new school because I was being bullied in our old one and we sat next to each other in calculus.

When we were 14 she opened up to me completely about her family problems, dads family problems, her anxiety but one thing that made me stay with her was when she told me about her S/H and attempts.

I remember it so well, my mom and dad went to bed my older brother Nick had a sleepover at his friends, Justin at a party and Chris sound asleep. She had to stay the night that was the first time out of many.

It was around 1 in the morning and we were just laying there in my bed staring at the ceiling talking.

“So umm why did you have to stay the night here??”

I ask her I wasn’t expecting an answer I knew she struggled but I never knew what about.

“Honest?”

She asked looking up at me, my arms crossed.

“If you don’t mind, yea”

I reply sitting up against my headboard looking at her.

“Matt, there’s a lot but my dad kicked me, my mom and my brother max out and well, I didn’t know what to do i panicked my moms staying at her brothers and my brothers stayed with his girlfriends, I- I had nowhere and I-“

She says tears in her eyes I felt heartbroken.

“Take your time”

I say reassuring and putting my arm over her.

“Matt I don’t know I have wanted to kill my self for a while and I don’t know ever since I met you it’s all been going away slowly but tonight, it just all came back and I didn’t want to go down that loophole again with my self harm and stuff I couldn’t do it again”

She says now sobbing.

I wrap her in a hug not saying anything, I mean that was deep as fuck for a 14 year old and I felt so bad I think I was the only one she has told this to so I was not gonna lose out friendship.

In a way I felt glad that she told me for a few reasons she trusted me enough to tell me this, if she didn’t tell me this or come here I where would she be, dead? I mean this was deep shit and I wasn’t letting her go now.

And ever since that day I care for her like a father, boyfriend, brother, best friend, anything I know she needs me and I will forever be there. She needs a hug I’m open arms.

She needs to talk I’m all ears.

She needs to cry I’m here.

She needs to let her anger out I don’t mind If she yells! I know it’s not about me it’s just at me and that’s okay!

All I want is for her to feel loved at times she didn’t feel it.

And that leads me to now hugging her in me and my brothers driveway as she sobs. I slowly start to feel her become weaker as the hug is getting heavier because she is leans into me losing her balance. She hits my back out of anger I wasn’t sure what the anger was about, but it didn’t matter. The hit stops and she falls in my arms crying.

I pick her up gently she wraps her legs around my waist, arms my neck and her head in the crock of my neck. I pick her bag up in my right arm and I have my left arm under her ass holding her.

When I get inside closing the door with my foot I walk up the stairs to see my brothers sitting on the couch. Chris looks up and most definitely didn’t expect to see Y/n crying, he hits nicks shoulder looking worried.

“Ow what the fu-“

Nick says looking up then seeing

Y/n and immediately shuts up.

———————

Authors notes: Should I make a pt.2? Or is it not worth it?

[snakeautistic]

I feel like I’ve lost so much of the boundless imagination and creativity I had as a kid. I used to just sit down and draw anything, for hours at a time, to construct elaborate narratives in mind when I lay awake in bed at night.

I still consider myself a creative, but it doesn’t flow as naturally anymore. I can’t come up with interesting twists for my daydreams to take on the spot. Art doesn’t just spring out of me anymore. Maybe it was beaten out of my by the school system, or by anxieties and depression and all the pressures that were added to my life. Or maybe that’s just growing up.

I’m really scared of growing up. I’ve always said I feel like I wasn’t designed to survive within the world we live in. I don’t know how I can manage so many responsibilities, alone. And you’re expected to be independent and successful and fulfilled all at the same time and when almost no one can do that, me, being neurodivergent- I certainly cannot. Looking ahead at the futrue fills me with dread. I have college applications I should work on. But I get sick when I look at them. I don’t want to think about it. But then I remember how time is always passing, constantly, steadily, unstoppably. Not to mention all of the mounting threats against the world within politics, the very climate itself, in the economy, ect.

So obviously I fill a profound nostalgia for my childhood. For things being simpler. I remember poking at leaves blocking the swirling drains on my street in the rain. I remember going to the public library and looking at the fish there, or eagerly playing one of the ancient 90s edutainment games they provided on their computers. I remember staying up at night and reading Calvin and Hobbes under my covers with a flashlight. I remember granola bars on picnic blankets in the empty field behind the apartment. I remember crossing the creek in the woods and getting stuck in the mud of the riverbank.

I don’t know exaclty when those things stopped happening, but they did. And it bothers me that I can never go back.

[proxy303]

So… Cin has faked being hospitalized for a “mental breakdown”.

Cin, when you read this (because I know for sure you will)…

You’re calling Goldey ableist for calling your incorrect views “delusions”.

And yet here you are faking having a serious issue to get out of a conflict. That’s actually ableist.

And by the way, deleting your posts about it doesn’t make the fact that you did this go away. You can’t stop the signal. Once it’s on the Internet, it’s out there forever.

You used the lie of being hospitalized. To escape a conflict that you started.

How ironic, given that you ACTUALLY hospitalized someone by harassing them to the point of attempting to off themself. And you nearly did it to three other people.

What the fuck is wrong with you.

I don’t even have words for this.

And before you say I’m fakeclaiming you, before you say I’m being ableist or lying about you or whatever, I have solid evidence of your lies.

Your friend happened to out the fact that you faked it to us.

Cin, if you didn’t want this to happen, maybe you shouldn’t have:

- Told several people to off themselves

- Threatened a friend of your own friend into blocking them

- DMed countless strangers and told them to block people

- Tried to control who’s allowed in what fandom

- Harassed a grooming victim BECAUSE THEY WERE GROOMED

And so much more that I have neither the time nor patience to put here.

And I finally understand why you want so much for people to block me and Goldey and the others.

It’s because you’re afraid.

We have actual evidence of you being a horrible person, and you’re afraid your friends will see it and turn on you. So you force your friends to block us so they’ll never find out.

Of course, that’s not the only thing you do to your friends. You also force them to delete things you don’t like, bother them for liking things that you don’t (including canon content), and block them for the slightest disagreement.

And you frequently engage in NSFW content involving Brittany Robinson’s characters on your many RP blogs. Did you know she actually said SPECIFICALLY that she doesn’t want people doing NSFW stuff with her characters?

And what is it with you making all of the characters trans? Like. I get having representation and all that. I’m all for it. But… the way you draw them is almost always sexualized.

Yeah.

So there’s that too.

The point is, you can’t just be horrible to everyone around you, and then get all butthurt when they don’t just put up with your shit.

You can’t do horrible things to people and then get upset at them for responding to it.

You certainly can’t blame your hormones as an excuse for what you’ve done.

You want this to stop? Here’s what you can do.

1. APOLOGIZE. Give an actual apology, show actual remorse for what you did.

2. STOP. Stop posting about this (even vaguely), DMing people, talking about me and my friends behind our backs. Stop giving us shit to call you out for.

3. RESOLVE. Resolve the conflicts. Tell the people you told about us that you were lying (because you were). Admit any sort of responsibility for this instead of putting it on us for calling you out on the horrible shit you’ve done.

But no, you can’t take any responsibility because you’re afraid it’ll ruin your reputation among your friends. So I have a much easier option for you:

Leave our fandoms. Get off tumblr. Get a life in the real world, instead of spending every waking hour acting like you own this platform.

Things get out. The shit you’ve done is public.

People remember what you do to them.

People don’t just let you push them around.

Welcome to the real world.

Go ahead and come after me. My DMs are wide open, and despite all this shit I’ve never actually blocked anyone on this site. But just know that anything you say is forever. It’s permanent. You can’t take back words. So the choice is yours.

[watcheraurora]

@viriv I’m a lil socially awkward with new people but I wanted to send a little love and appreciation because you are amazing

And, for the record, I did not just freehand the pose. IbisPaint has poses in it for tracing and this would have taken me three hours or more just to get the pose right (and it still would have been all sorts of wrong) because I am a writer who doodles sometimes. Same with the background because I really could not be bothered. I just picked something with squares because Minecraft… yeah

Although I did color pick everything from your icon/pfp so it would look somewhat correct 😁 I did my best

And, to be extra special, a little extra compensation for me giving you brainrot in the form of a little snippet of a flashback from the untitled Ice Walls sequel:

—

Tango braced his hands against the table and leaned heavily on them, closing his eyes. A headache was throbbing behind them and he felt wiped.

“Again,” Doc remarked, not looking up from the project he was working on. Some robot for automation that looked completely custom-made.

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” Tango demanded around haggard breathing. “I’ve been doing this for hours. My powers have limits, you know!” A slight sheen of frost crept away from his hands where they were on the table.

Doc finally looked up, his cybernetic red eye glowing. His face impassive. “Oh? Is that what you’re going to say when Lore has your former friends corner you? When you’re backed up against a wall after a long fight and feel like you have nothing left to give. You’re just going to tell them to give you a free pass to get away because your powers are exhausted and you can’t fight back?” Doc stood. “Do you even know what the full limits of your powers are? Have you tried to use them until nothing but a single snowflake comes from your hand? Or have you been a coward and stopped before you truly reached your limit? Have you dug deep into yourself and dredged up the full iceberg?”

“Stop it,” Tango muttered. “Rhetoricals get us nowhere.”

“These aren’t rhetorical, Tango.”

That caught his attention. Doc never called him Tango. It was always Deepfrost, even here. In the Perimeter. Where Tango had shed Deepfrost’s coat for months to get away from that life for a while.

“Have you plumbed into the depths of your powers completely?”

Tango remembered his darkness flickering out while Arctic Fox pinned him to the mat by the throat in training, almost five years ago. The ice dying off his hands. “Once,” he said. “I’d rather not do it again.”

Doc tsked. He flung his cybernetic, prosthetic arm.

The robot’s arm lashed, striking Tango across the chest and throwing him backward. He crashed into the wall and fell to the floor. “What the hell, Doc?” He picked himself back to his feet. “What was that for?”

“Again. And if you don’t want to do it on your own, maybe some outside stimulus will be enough for you to draw on what’s left of your power.”

Tango cocked one arm back and thrust it forward, sending a spray of frozen shards toward Doc.

Who lifted his cybernetic arm to block his face—an energy shield of red light springing into existence from it. He chuckled. “Not bad, as a last-ditch effort,” he remarked, his accent not quite as thick for a moment.

“I’ll show you last-ditch,” Tango spat. He held both arms out and hurled an icicle the size of a human at that energy shield.

The point shattered—but also broke the shield. The rest of the icicle barreled into Doc, sending him staggering back. Tango didn’t stop. His eyes ached as the sclera swam to black and a bubble of darkness exploded out of him with an echo of his heartbeat. Doc’s eye had thermal vision and could pierce the darkness, but Tango dropped to the ground around lab equipment and cooled himself off so that his body heat wouldn’t be seen.

Given his powers, he already ran several degrees colder than normal. His skin was always frigid to the touch. But he was still warm enough to register on a thermal view. He was still human. Just… a human with ice powers.

[dandylovesturtles]

Please tell me something about the Shape of Water AU I'm very curious

this is just the doc title for my "100 Feet and a World Away" AU! I have the lore post linked in my pinned.

tldr: the boys get kidnapped young and raised in a lab by humans who aren't aware they have human level intelligence, and they try to escape.

I posted a bit about Donnie (aka Turtle Four) eating french fries awhile ago but here, have the rest of the scene too:

April unwraps something. The smell assaults his nose - greasy meat, cheese, that red vegetable he’s seen sometimes - and he slips into the water and swims over, popping out just shy of the fence.

“I’m sorry, are you eating during our escape planning meeting?”

“Don’t start with me,” she says, holding up a hand. “I had to work through breakfast to catch up on my homework for my morning classes, then work through lunch to catch up on my homework for my afternoon classes, and then I worked through dinner to catch up on everything else.” She takes a bite, chews, swallows. “This is the first chance I’ve had to eat all day.”

“Huff! Fine. But did you have to bring something with so much…” he flails his hands, “smell?”

“It’s just a burger. What, you never had a burger before?”

He stares at her. She catches his eye, and then lowers her gaze.

“Right. Stupid question.”

“Sometimes the humans bring those. The burgers, you said? They eat them around noon.” He thinks of it with distaste. He can remember exactly which of the humans tend to chew with their mouths open, or talk with food in their mouths. It makes him feel slimy when he watches. 

“We call that “lunch”,” April says. She looks at the burger, then back at Four. It’s with an expression he doesn’t understand, but he’s noticed from her more and more. “Do you want to try it?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t know if he wants to or not. The smell is overwhelming, and he isn’t sure how it will taste. How it will feel, in his mouth.

No one ever offers him food, though.

“...I’m perfectly fine with my nutrition blocks,” he finally says.

“Oh come on, Donnie, that’s not food.”

“It is. It gives me all the vitamins and minerals I need. And…” He stumbles over what he wants to say. He hates when he does that, but he doesn’t know the words for what he’s trying to convey. He wishes he had a bigger vocabulary. He wishes he were allowed to read.

Wishes get him nowhere. He has to focus on the task at hand. Only, April doesn’t seem to want to continue with their escape planning unless he makes a decision about the burger.

“...And?” she prompts, startling him.

“...I don’t know… some food… feels weird,” he finally says.

“Feels weird?”

“In my mouth.”

For a moment she just stares at him. He guesses he must have said something weird. Humans must not care about how food feels in their mouth. Maybe that’s just a turtle thing.

Or maybe his brothers don’t think that way either. Maybe it’s just a Four thing.

But then April’s eyes go a little wider, and she says, “Ooooh. You have texture issues, huh?”

“Texture?”

“Yeah. How the food feels. Some people get really bothered by it; guess you do, too.”

Oh. So it’s not just a Four thing. There’s a whole name for it. He learned something new! How exciting!

“Yes!” he declares. He feels more confident about it now. “I have texture issues!”

She laughs at that. It’s not a mean laugh. He’s not sure why what he said was funny, though, but before he can ask she’s tearing off a small piece of the meat on the side of the burger she didn’t bite.

“Here. Just try it.” She slips it through the gaps in the chain-link, where he can get to it. “If it feels bad, you can just spit it out. I won’t be mad.”

She’s always telling him that. That she won’t be mad. He doesn’t know why; he’s never seen her get mad, at least not at him. But she always tells him that anyway.

It makes him feel better, somehow, even though that’s illogical.

He takes the meat gingerly in his fingers and looks at it. It doesn’t look particularly appetizing. The smell is a lot, but not so bad now that he’s getting used to it. He likes meat - not that he’s had it much. Maybe it will be fine.

He puts it in his mouth and immediately knows it isn’t. He doesn’t like the way the meat falls apart. He can’t describe it, he just knows it’s wrong.

He spits it out. April said she wouldn’t be mad.

“No good, huh?” she asks. She doesn’t sound mad.

“No. It was bad, actually.”

“Hmm, alright…” She glances around, then grabs the sack and pulls out something else: a small container of something thin and golden brown. “Wanna try a french fry?”

“A french fry?”

“It’s just a fried potato.” She pulls one of the thin stick-things (french fry) out of the container and pokes it through the fence. “Here!”

He takes it, looking it over suspiciously. It has the same greasy smell as the burger, but it’s not meat, it’s “potato,” so it must have a different texture.

He nibbles the end, and oh.

It’s actually good!

He devours the rest of the fry. She laughs again, and when he looks back at her she’s smiling.

“Alright, so the fries are a winner. Here, have some more!”

She slips a few more through the fence, and then a few more. Four happily eats all the fries she passes him. They taste nothing like the nutrition blocks, they taste better than the nutrition blocks, and they don’t feel bad in his mouth, not even a little.

“When I get out of here,” he says, after downing the last one, “I’ll eat like this every day.”

“Maybe not fries every day. They’re pretty unhealthy.” She shrugs. “But there’s all kinds of other things out there for you to try! We’ll figure out all the foods you like to eat.”

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE CHARACTER SONG Vol.7 Seiron Syndrome by Mukami Yuma Mini Drama ”A Sweet Lesson”

Original title: 甘美な教え

Source: Diabolik Lovers CHARACTER SONG Vol. 7 Mini Drama

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Tatsuhisa Suzuki

Translator’s note: As a teacher who also taught at middle school for one year, I totally sympathize with the MC in having to try and teach someone who clearly does not care about learning at all lol. Although I guess in Yuma’s case, it’s a little more justified since these guys have been alive for a long time and they can perfectly survive without getting their degree so it must be pretty annoying to have to keep up with high school. :p Especially someone like Yuma who clearly wants to work with his hands and not with his brains. 

Yuma bursts into your room. 

“ーー Oi, Sow!! Teach me this school shit! ...If I don’t pass the upcomin’ midterms, Ruki will have my head on the choppin’ block for real.”

He walks up to you.

“Ah, god...What’s the big deal ‘bout gettin’ a couple of bad grades? Vampires don’t even need school for anythin’...! Come on, make some space for me at yer desk!”

*Rustle*

Yuma takes a seat.

“I brought the textbook and my notes with me, but I honestly have no fuckin’ clue what any of this shit means. ...I want ya to help me remember everythin’! Then if I still fail regardless, I can at least put the blame on ya instead...Right?”

“Ah, fuck off...! All ya need to do is do a proper job, right!? Get started already!”

You start teaching him.

*Scribble scribble*

“...I’ve never even heard of a grammar rule like that.” 

You frown.

“I can’t help it...! God, shut up! I just gotta get it inside my head, right!? Argh, damnit!”

*Crunch*

“...Ah? Ya want me to stop chewin’ sugar? Don’t ya know!? The brain needs carbs to remember all this crap!”

*Crunch*

*Flip*

“Ah! T-The doodles on that page areーー It’s nothin’ important!”

You chuckle.

“Hey, don’t laugh! Fuck...”

*Scribble scribble*

“...Why do we need midterms anyway? Damnit, I can’t be bothered with this shit...”

*Thud*

You flinch.

“God...Stop gettin’ scared over every lil’ thing. ...Whatever. I’ll just tell Ruki that it’s yer fault that I failed my exams. See ya!”

Yuma tries to leave but you stop him.

*Rustle*

“...!? Che...Don’t tug onto my clothes...”

You try to reason with him.

“...Hah? Ya can bet yer ass that I’m tellin’ him it’s yer fault! I don’t give a damn ‘bout how ya feel ‘bout it!”

You pout.

“Ahー Fuck! I wanna just go and water my plants already! So what if I’ve been failin’ my tests!? I’m goin’ to school at least so isn’t that the most important thing!?”

You tell him that he could always repeat his year.

“Ya really think I’m gonna stoop to the same level as that fuckin’ Sakamaki NEET and be held back a year!? God...! I just gotta do this shit, right!? ...But I’m only doin’ this one page today! ...’Kay, shoot me some questions. I gotta explain what these words mean, right?”

You pose question one.

“Haah...? I’ve never even heard of that word before...! I bet yer pronunciation just sucks! Read it one more time.

You repeat the word.

“Haha...Hahaha...Nah, got no clue. ...Ahー This isn’t gettin’ anywhere...I think I’ll go tell Ruki that yer a lousy tutor after all. ...Ah...This pisses me off...I’ll have some Sugar-chaーー”

*Cling*

“Ah!? Che...The jar’s empty...”

*Rustle*

“Hey, gimme yer blood. ...My irritation level has reached its peak now that I’ve run out of sugar on top of bein’ forced to study.”

He pins you down.

*Thud*

“I think I might feel a lil’ better if I have a sip of yer blood...Come on, where do ya want me to bite ya? Tell me.”

You protest.

“Haah!? ‘Let me go’!? God...That wasn’t the question...Guess I gotta punish that mouth of yers for spoutin’ bullcrap...”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ugh...”

 Yuma bites you.

*Sluuuurp*

“Nnh...Hah...Does it hurt, huh? Don’t talk back...It’d be a shame if yer blood were to drip down from the side of yer lips and go to waste...Nnh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“It’s kinda sweet...I bet you’ve been snackin’ on my Sugar-chan behind my back, haven’t ya?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie. Nnh...”

*Sluuuurp*

*Rustle rustle*

“Hahn...Nnh...Both yer lips and yer blood are kinda sweet for some reason...Anyway, guess I’ll suck from here next...Nnh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Mm...Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

“...Hah. What? You’re tremblin’...Are ya expectin’ more perhaps? Hehe...Ya really are a Sow at heart. I can’t believe you’re gettin’ a kick outta havin’ yer blood sucked...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hah...No more studyin’, huh? Hehe. Guess we’re partners in crime now.”

*Rustle*

“It’s all yer fault...So ya better don’t think ya can get out of this...Hahn...”

*Sluuuurp*

“I’ll savor ya thoroughly...Mmh...”

*Sluuuurp*

ーー THE END ーー

[bullet-prooflove]

3 Times Sabatino Thought About Proposing and the 1 Time He Did - Part Three: Love Language - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (feat: Marty Deeks)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @words-and-seeds @novamariestark

After the debacle with Sassy, Sabatino decides to take a different course of action. A rooftop proposal would have been spectacular he thinks but you’re not a flashy person. You don’t need fireworks and expensive shit. You tend to treasure the more private moments between the two of you. So he decides to go intimate.

It’s been a minute since he’s made a proper meal, he doesn’t get to do it was often as he'd like. He remembers the last time, music on in the kitchen as you sat on the work surface, sipping from a glass of rose. He’d been telling you about his father, how he could never say ‘I love you’, but he always expressed it through cooking. You could feel the love that went into every meal.

“Acts of service.” You had said as he’d slotted between your legs, his palms coming to rest upon your thighs, his thumbs chasing up the inner seam of your leggings. “That was your dad’s love language.”

“What’s mine?” He had asked you, and you’d smiled then, your fingertips tracing over the space on his chest where that scar resides underneath his clothes.

“The same.” You tell him quietly.

He had kissed you then, his thumb tracing over your jaw because he’s learned from his father’s mistakes, he shows his love, his affection, he tells you how he feels.

It’s Deeks that helps him plan it out. The two of them are in the truck again, chasing down a lead on a drugs smuggler. Your cases seem to converge more often than not these days now that he’s stateside and he doesn’t have a problem with that. They discuss your favourite meals, the perfect dessert. He opts for Risotto with cheesecake stuffed strawberries for dessert because you’d seen them in a magazine last week and wanted to try them.

“You need wine, candles, roses…” Deeks tells him, listing off the supplies.

“Daisies.” Sabatino corrects, the edges of his mouth tipping up into a smile. “She loves daisies. You sure you can keep her busy while I set up?”

“I’ve got Kensi all over it.” Deeks reassures him before he claps his hands together. “It looks like we have a plan.” 

It goes to hell thirty minutes later because that drug smuggler they’ve been keeping an eye on decides to rabbit. He’s a skinny meth head but he knows how to haul ass, Sabatino chases him for three blocks before he corners him in an alley way trying to bolt over a wall using trash bags to bolster his height.

When he lays hands on the guy he’s rewarded with a kick to a face. His head reels back, stunning him for a second before his adrenaline surges and he tears him off the wall. The thing about the meth head, he’s a scrappy fuck. He punches, he flails, he bites. Sabatino takes a couple of blows before he manages to subdue him.

By the time Deeks turns up, his face is throbbing, and his nose is bleeding. He stinks from grappling in the trash, and he’s covered in God knows what. It’s only after he puts their prisoner in the backseat of the truck that he realises his pocket is torn.

“It’s gone.” He says as he meets Deek’s gaze. “The ring, it’s gone.”

They have Fatima swing by to pick up the perp while him and Deeks search through the garbage. It takes them two hours to locate it. When Deeks holds it up between his fingers the relief that Sabatino feels is palpable. It’s not the monetary value that bothers him, it’s the sentimental.

That ring kept him going through the six months you were apart, when he couldn’t see you, couldn’t contact you. It reminded him why he was doing what he was doing, how important it was to him. He can’t express how much it means to him to have it back in his possession, but he knows that Deeks sees it in his features when he hands the ring back to him.

He spends almost an hour in the shower back at the Boatshed trying to wash the stench from his body with the lemon shower gel that resides in there. He ends up using the entire bottle. When he steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips, Deeks is already in the tiny kitchenette scrubbing at the engagement ring in the sink.

“Good as new.” He says showing him the ring and it gleams in the light. “I also brought your go-bag in from the car, I thought you may want a change of clothes.”

Deek’s gaze strays to the scar on his chest, the one from Afghanistan. It’s a messy blotch on his skin, there’s others but that’s the most predominant. It resides in the space just above his heart. A stark reminder of Sabatino’s love for you.

“You knew even then huh?” Deeks says.

“Yea.” Sabatino says as he looks down at the scar. “Even then.”

***

It’s late by the time Sabatino gets in, too late to put his plan into action and truthfully, he’s tired. He’s muscles are aching; his face is throbbing, and his mood is low because this proposal thing, he just keeps fucking it up. He’s starting to think maybe it’s not meant to happen.

When he steps inside the scent of food assaults him and in his head that’s another thing he’s failed at because he was supposed to be taking care of you tonight, not the other way around.

“Chicken and stuffing casserole.” You tell him as he hangs his coat up on the hook. “It’ll be done in thirty.”

It’s one of his favourites, something you usually make when you know he’s had a bad day. You wince when you see his face, the bruising is already to flourish across the hollow of his left eye, blossoming across his cheek bone. You open up the freezer, removing an ice pack before wrapping it carefully in a towel and handing it to him. He clasps it to his face and the relief feels almost instant. He sighs, leaning back against the counter as you dig out the painkillers and fill a glass with water.

“Take two of these.” You instruct. He obeys, popping the tablets into his mouth before taking a sip and washing them down.

He’s down tonight, you can see it. He’s trying to hide it, but his smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. There’s a weariness inside of him that you think has nothing to do with the case. He reaches for you, his arms wrapping around your body as he draws you close. He buries his face into the curve of your throat, breathing in the scent of fresh laundry and you.

“I just need a minute.” He whispers against your skin. “Just a minute.”

“I’ll take care of you tonight.” You murmur, your thumb chasing over the nape of his neck. “Whatever you need I’m here.”

He falls asleep with his head in your lap after dinner, your fingers combing lightly through his hair as the two of you watch the Sasquatch Files. It’s one of his favourite shows, something that always relaxes him. You’re not sure what’s happened today, he doesn’t want to talk about it and that’s ok. You just need him to know that you’re here when he’s ready and there’s not a thing on earth that will ever change that.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[starseneyes]

MINI Meta - Daniel x Betty - Detty - Ugly Betty - Series Finale

Right now, my brain can’t take in much new in terms of entertainment or consumption. When I am writing, I don’t process new things as well as I do when I’m on a break, for whatever reason.

I feel like I miss too much because my brain starts working on some problem or hitch in a chapter, and too late I realize I’ve missed vital dialogue on the screen.

So, I tend to put things on in the background that I already know. Ugly Betty was such a fun show, and I truly thought I wrote about it at one point way back when. It’s possible it was so long ago that it was on my LiveJournal.

I was always a huge fan of the Detty, but I had no idea this show was part of a series of spin offs of a telenovela when I started watching it. I found out much later that in all the spin offs the handsome boss and Betty eventually became an item.

There was always a lot of debate back in the day about that final episode. For those that don’t know—Ugly Betty found out they wouldn’t be coming back for a Season 5 while they still had some episodes to film, so they were able to wrap as much as they could.

That means, there were some stories that were wrapped up nicely, others that were open-ended, and some that were the subject of much debate—namely, the future of Betty and Daniel.

Nobody can know for certain except those in the know, of course, but I’ve been rewatching that final season and especially that final episode. We all pretty much know what Claire knows by then—Daniel is head over heels for Betty.

I mean, c’mon, he talked about what a great team they made not only because they are a great team, but because some part of him has been getting louder.

I don’t tend to think of it as an awakening—he knew Betty was special to him pretty quickly. But I think he took it as a given that she was always going to be there. And as her determination and talent are taking her elsewhere, he has to reckon with why it bothers him so much.

Claire is quick to point it out, and he tries to shake it off. But, Daniel, honey, nothing in your behavior in that second half of Season 4 came off as remotely platonic. And your neon "I LOVE BETTY" sign was already flashing way back in the day, or Gio wouldn’t have mentioned you when he ran into Betty in London.

So, by the time of the party, Daniel has put together the pieces, realized his mother was right, but he is still stuck, in some ways.

And he thought the promotion/raise would be enough to keep her there, but it’s not. Because that isn’t what Betty wants. She wants to move on, and Daniel has trouble separating, "Move on from Mode" from "Move on from me" because the two have been so intertwined.

When Claire insinuates to Betty that Daniel has a thing for her, she shakes it off. It reminds me of, "I was so stupid to think that he would like me... I should’ve known that when he said I was beautiful, he meant on the inside."

That time, she believed it and got hurt. So, of course she has armor now against believing someone who would like Amanda (Connor and Daniel) would like her. But Daniel does. And Claire knows it.

But, remember what Daniel said to Betty way back then. "Men are stupid. They go for the obvious. Trust me. I know. I’m still doing it and I should know better."

He knows better, now. But Betty shakes it off. It’s just not something she’s ever considered. Daniel wouldn’t be interested in her.

They haven’t spoken since he signed her release. Since she walked in the room and he knew with one glance that he’d lost her. And they both knew it ached in a way they couldn’t soothe. But Daniel also knew that he had feelings for her, and there’s a block in his mind that keeps him from saying anything.

She’s leaving. She’s going. And even as her friends are toasting her goodbye, he isn’t there.

As Claire walks away, Betty thinks it over, trying to connect the dots. That can’t be right, can it? She picks up a glass of champagne and takes a sip, as though alcohol will somehow clear her vision.

It’s not long before Betty steps away from her own party to call Daniel.

"Daniel, this is Betty. It’s my going away party, and you’re not here."

Her voice cracks at the end. No matter what they are to each other, they’re something. And now her mind is whirring.

"I really hope I get to see you before I leave. Okay, bye."

She rushes off the line, because what is she going to say? Your mom insinuated you’re in love with me and now I gotta know if she’s right? No, she rushes off the phone because she has no idea what she is going to say.

Part of her is terrified that she was right that Daniel hates her, that he will never want to see her, again. But the other part is terrified that Claire is right, and she broke his heart and he will never want to see her, again.

When Daniel finally arrives at the party, he’s on the outside, looking in, a glass separating him from Betty. He can see her, and if she looked over, she would see him. But she doesn’t.

Instead, he watches Betty alive and celebrating. She’s a phenom, and he always knew it. He just didn��t imagine a world where she would be so far away. But he doesn’t want to say anything—because she’s moving on and he’s still stuck in place.

"I think I need to let her go."

Because he doesn’t want to hold her back. Because he thinks he isn’t worthy of her. Because he wants her to have everything she’s dreamt of.

Damn, Daniel loves Betty.

And what seems like the very next day, he makes a move. Not for Betty, but for his life. And, to be honest, he needed to do this first. Because he is to the point where he feels like everything has been handed to him, and he wants to go out and earn something.

"And what are you going to do?" "I’m gonna start over."

Because he needs to try a few things. He needs to see what the world holds for him. He needs to get his head on straight and get himself in order. I think Betty leaving really pushes him to do that.

Because Betty so often pushed him to be a better version of himself. And in her absence, he needs to learn how to do that for himself.

Now, that doesn’t mean she (and others) can’t positively influence him in the future, but Daniel needs to learn how to hold himself accountable. Stepping away from Mode was the first step.

We don’t know how much time passes between that and Betty and Daniel’s London meetup. My gut says a few months. But, that is strictly conjecture.

We see from the montage that Betty has created a life for herself, here. She has friends. She meets up with folks. She works hard. She loves her new life.

Presumably, she and Daniel haven’t spoken, still, since he walked out of his own office to avoid her after his heart was broken. That is a huge break in communication for these two.

But, I think by now Betty has assumed Claire was right about Daniel’s feelings. And the last thing Betty would ever want to do is hurt Daniel, so she respects the silence.

Daniel has been working on himself, and after some soul-searching, he is ready to see her. He is ready to take the chance. He crosses the whole bloody ocean just to be near her.

My brain goes a thousand different direction on how he found her, but I love that she’s there, living her life, and accidentally walks right into his arms.

Sitting on the steps together, her legs are crossed toward him. He sits open, and I strangely feel like it reflects his openness toward whatever life brings his way. He’s trying a different approach to things. But he’s still angled towards her.

"I know there’s a lot you can do, Daniel."

It’s their usual rhythm of her encouraging him or him encouraging her. This is part of their thing. As much as casual flirting is her and Gio, Daniel and Betty’s is an endless chain of being each other’s greatest cheerleader.

"Goodbye. And good luck, and have a safe flight." "Thank you, I’ll call you when I get there."

He is thoroughly charmed. He didn’t know how she would react, but here she is, still open to him showing up in the middle of her life without warning. Still smiling at him. Still bringing out parts of him he didn’t know existed.

"So, that’s it? You’re headed back to New York?"

She’s fishing. Rachel of 2010 didn’t catch it, but 2024 Rachel totally sees that she is fishing, here. She wants to know if there’s another reason he is there, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

Because while she has been content these past few months, she is elated he is here, and she isn’t ready for him to leave.

He considers her question for a second.

"No, I think I’m gonna stay around here for a while. See what I can find."

Look. At. Her. Face! Look how she brightens at those words, how a smile plays across her lips.

"Maybe take you to dinner. Tonight, if you’re free." "I would love that."

Ah, my babies! She is nearly blushing as she smiles. Because she knows what it took for him to ask. She knows, now, that Claire was absolutely right. Daniel is down bad.

And look how satisfied he is with himself. That little smile is clearly, "Hell, yeah, she said yes!" Because, at this point, they both know what they are saying. They no longer work in the same building. They are friends, but this is different.

Daniel told Wilhemina that he was starting over. And he is.

It’s too short a shot after his little, "f*ck, yes" smile, but Betty’s face before the bell tolls and she realizes how long she’s been sitting on the steps is something to behold.

She’s smiling. She’s holding his gaze. She’s seeing him in a new light. Because she is allowing herself to see him in this light, and to imagine how he sees her. Years earlier, he told her she was beautiful.

She knows he thinks she is truly beautiful. She knows he thinks she is smart, capable, talented, hard-working, and so many other things. Now she knows he crossed an ocean to take her to dinner.

Not only that, he let her know that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. This isn’t some knee-jerk reaction to her leaving. He’s had time to think it through, and process. When he told her he couldn’t live without her, that was within the former paradigm of their relationship.

Here, as they sit on these steps, all the hierarchical elements are gone (well, at least until a few lines later, but we’ll get to that). This is Betty and Daniel—two people who know each other better than they know themselves.

And Daniel knows he adores Betty. And as she looks back at him, she sees possibilities she’d never considered before. And she is almost surprised to realize she wants to explore them. With him. With Daniel.

With the clock chime, she stands, awkwardly holding her bag in her left hand. As she stands, she remarks on needing to get back to work, and that could be the end of it. But Betty gives us a little more.

"I’m really glad you’re here."

And then she reaches up for a hug. She reaches for him first. She didn’t have to do that. But she wants to hug him. She wants him to know she means it. She is so glad he is there.

Because Betty’s life no longer revolves around Mode and her family. It’s a different—but still beautiful life—and she wants Daniel in it.

He wraps his arms around her, and as he does, Betty closes her eyes. She’s savoring this. They’ve hugged before, but this time is different. The next time they see one another, they’re going to be on their very first date.

When she pulls away, they’re both just a touch awkward. Because this is real, now. He mutters about calling her later while she pulls her arm away a little too quickly. They can both feel the shift in their relationship. Subtle, but there.

But she only gets a few steps before she has to turn back around, to see him, again. To smile at him, again. To talk to him, again.

And the framing here on him is great because he is still in the same shot from the hug—same camera positioning. Like Daniel is still hanging there in that moment, and I just love that.

"Hey, if you want something to do, I am looking for a new assistant." "Well, maybe I’ll submit my resume."

They’re both smiling. They’re enjoying this. The awkwardness left as quickly as it appeared. Betty chuckles, leaning toward him as she does.

She turns to leave, and even as she takes the stairs carefully, pushing her windblown hair from her face, she is still smiling.

Daniel watches her go. We see Daniel of old in his face—smiling in appreciation of the woman Betty is. But he also ever-so-subtly looks her up and down as she walks away. Oh, yeah, boy is down bad.

And Betty, though she really needs to get back to work and knows she’ll see Daniel in a matter of hours... she has to sneak one more look back at him. And the smile on her face could rival the sun in its brightness.

So, while there is a lot of debate around how things ended for these two, I think the clues are there for us to surmise they are both excited about that first date.

And while I wish there was more Ugly Betty to tell us for sure, I like my little head cannon that they were happy together in the new life they built.

Thanks for reading this random mini Meta I didn’t intend to write. It just got stuck in my head and I long ago learned I need to write it out it I’m going to get through. See ya on the next!