#(which. is it supposed to be critiquing? it feels like it was supposed to maybe sorta not really)

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing

[theultracharmingladynoire]

I am pissed.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

already thinking "and by 'religious' really i mean 'christian'" re: how the term "religion" is not really useful when it's largely like, from a christian perspective, what is considered "equivalent" of christianity, see: perhaps a "rival"/obstacle to some person or group being considered christian....and even if not thinking about converting anyone, resulting in some at best misinterpretation / misrepresentation based on framing it through/as [element of christianity] and limiting of any more accurate language

like how tumblr recommends me a post about someone thinking about "religion" in general and concluding that it's Weird and perhaps Wrong for anyone who is a "true believer" in their religion(tm) to Not be proselytizing / trying to Convert everyone. like yeah why isn't everyone being an evangelical christian, they ought to be, benevolently informing all those around them that they're going to hell, otherwise. don't see any problem with this conclusion, or that someone's getting antisemitic in the notes already in agreement, or that That's Not How This Works and you don't just know how All "Religion" works based on considering it to be an alternate version of christianity (which in itself doesn't All work like that either)

[reel-fear]

I think you guys are losing it with the Earthspark critiques now actually like at first I was on board but now it feels like u guys have forgotten we've only got one season so far and 99% of what we have seen was clearly set up for later pay off like calm down a little-

[kiwriteswords]

Hello could I please request a fic where maybe the team doesnt like reader at first?

Winning Over the Kids [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4.5k|| AN: Thank you for the request; I love seeing all of them come in <3 Feedback is also always welcomed! xx

Tags/Warnings: implied age-gap, reader is a forensic psychologist, no use of y/n, secret relationship, team dislikes reader at first, protective Hotch, no mention of Jack--so up to you if he exists or not lol, mirroring the Lo-Fi vibes with Kate Joyner/Hotch/Team, canon-typical themes, some fluff, team dynamics, established relationship

Sypnosis: When Erin Strauss contracts a forensic psychologist to work with the BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner isn't sure if he is more frustrated with the fact that they dislike you as their newest team member or as his secret girlfriend.

Aaron Hotchner had spent years mastering the art of control. His team relied on him to remain composed under pressure, a steady anchor in chaos. But when Erin Strauss informed him that she was contracting a forensic psychologist to assist the BAU, he felt his resolve stretch thin. Not because he doubted the decision—he knew you were exceptional—but because the team didn’t know the full story.

You were brilliant, sharp, and confident. You had risen through the ranks faster than most, your reputation built on precision and expertise. Yet, whispers of you being a “workaholic” and “cutthroat” followed you, a product of stereotypes surrounding young, successful women in high-stakes fields. Aaron had seen it before, but it infuriated him nonetheless, especially now that you were his… well, not officially, but close enough to feel the sting of those judgments on your behalf.

At the morning briefing, he broke the news. “The Bureau has decided to bring in a forensic psychologist to collaborate with us on our cases. She’ll be joining us starting tomorrow.”

Predictably, the room bristled.

“A shrink? Really?” Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “No offense, Hotch, but we kind of know how to read people.”

Emily Prentiss folded her arms. “Isn’t that the point of profiling? What does Strauss think we’ve been doing all this time?”

JJ added carefully, “Is this about our mental health? Are we supposed to… talk to her?”

Spencer Reid, ever the analyst, frowned. “I’ve read that forensic psychologists in consulting roles often critique operational dynamics. Could this be Strauss trying to monitor us?”

Aaron kept his face neutral, though he wanted to correct them all. You were nothing like what they imagined. “This isn’t about our capabilities. The psychologist has specific expertise in complex cases involving psychological manipulation. Her role is to supplement our efforts, not replace them.”

“Yeah, until she starts picking apart everything we do,” Derek muttered.

Aaron resisted the urge to snap. They didn’t know you yet. They didn’t see the meticulous care you put into every decision, or the softer moments when you let your guard down with him.

The next day, you arrived at Quantico with a polished confidence that turned heads. Ready to take on the next case, which was local to the BAU. 

You greeted the team with a professional demeanor, offering a firm handshake and an easy smile. But the tension was palpable. The team’s skepticism hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Aaron felt his jaw tighten as he observed their guarded reactions.

Derek kept his distance, observing you with a critical eye. Emily was polite but cool, and even JJ seemed uncertain about how to approach you. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether. Rossi…well, Rossi seemed to sit back and take it all in. 

“Let’s get to work,” Aaron said, more curtly than he intended, leading the group into the roundtable room.

You took a seat beside him, your notebook open and pen poised. “I’ve reviewed the case files,” you began, your voice steady and self-assured. “The unsub’s behavior suggests a deep-seated fear of abandonment, likely rooted in childhood trauma. But the escalation pattern indicates recent stressors. Have you explored potential triggers within the last six months?”

Reid blinked, clearly taken aback. “We—uh, we considered family dynamics, but we didn’t narrow the timeline that specifically.”

Your sharp gaze turned to him, not unkindly. “It’s worth revisiting. The timeline could give us a better idea of who influenced him most recently.”

Aaron noticed the way Reid shifted uncomfortably, and it grated on him. You were offering valuable insights, yet the team’s resistance was evident.

After the briefing, Derek muttered to Emily, loud enough for Aaron to hear, “Well, she doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Aaron’s patience wore thin. “Morgan, a word,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

In his office, Aaron shut the door and faced Derek. “What’s your problem with her?”

Derek raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say anything she didn’t earn. She walks in here acting like she knows everything. What do you expect us to do—roll out the red carpet?”

“I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d give any other professional,” Aaron snapped. “She’s here because she’s the best at what she does, and we need her expertise. Whatever preconceived notions you have, leave them at the door.”

Derek frowned but nodded. “Got it, Hotch.”

Aaron exhaled slowly after Derek left. He knew he couldn’t shield you completely, but it infuriated him that he had to watch you navigate the team’s cold reception.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found Aaron in his office. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, crossing your arms. “So, how bad was it?”

He looked up from his desk, his expression softening. “They’ll come around.”

You smirked, though your eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Aaron stood and walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them. I know who you are, and eventually, they will too.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile breaking through. “Is that your way of saying you’re proud of me, Agent Hotchner?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted. Here, behind closed doors, you didn’t have to be the prodigy or the psychologist with a reputation. You were just you, and Aaron was fiercely determined to make sure the team saw that too—someday.

The next morning, as Aaron walked into Quantico, he noticed a huddle forming near Penelope’s desk. Derek, Emily, Spencer, JJ, and Penelope stood together, their voices low but animated. He had planned to keep walking, but a snippet of their conversation caught his attention.

“I’m telling you, I heard she’s impossible to work with,” Penelope whispered, her usual warmth absent.

“Yeah, and she’s already showing it,” Derek added. “Control issues, first day on the job.”

“So far, It’s just one case,” Emily said, though her tone was skeptical. “But she’s definitely… intense.”

“We don’t need someone analyzing us while we’re trying to profile an unsub,” JJ muttered.

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Reid said hesitantly. “But… yeah, I’ve heard the whispers too.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he listened. He wanted to intervene, to defend you, but he bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time. Instead, he walked away, the sting of their words lingering. He felt almost betrayed. His team was usually better than this. They prided themselves on fairness, on seeing beyond the surface. But in this case, they were clinging to gossip and prejudice, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

When you arrived, you carried yourself with the same poise and determination Aaron admired. You greeted the team briefly, your no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place. “Let’s get to work,” you said, spreading the case files across the conference table.

Your approach was methodical and efficient, and though Aaron knew it was how you operated, he could see how it rubbed the team the wrong way. They weren’t used to outsiders, especially not ones who came in with your level of authority and expertise. But they were professionals, and they pushed their reservations aside as the case progressed.

Aaron watched you closely throughout the day. You were unflinching in your analysis, your insights sharp and accurate. When you spoke, your voice carried confidence, but he could sense the subtle edge in your tone—a shield you had learned to wield over years of proving yourself.

After the case briefing wrapped up, Aaron found you in one of the quieter corners of the office. You were reviewing your notes, your expression focused but unreadable.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m fine, Aaron. It’s not my first rodeo.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “I’ve heard some of the things they’ve said,” he admitted. “They don’t know you, and they’re wrong. I’m sorry for how unwelcoming they’ve been.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You don’t have to apologize for them. I get it. They’re protective of their team, and I’m an outsider. It’ll take time.”

“It shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened, adding, “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to them.”

Your smile widened, though there was a flicker of something softer in your eyes. “I’ve been proving myself my whole life, Aaron. This is nothing new. Besides, I’ve got you in my corner, right?”

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and he allowed himself to take comfort in your resilience. But as he returned to the team, he resolved to address their behavior. They needed to see you for who you truly were—and he wouldn’t rest until they did.

During the next case you assisted on, the tension had been simmering all day, and Aaron could feel it building like a storm. You had just delivered a sharp, insightful breakdown of the unsub’s likely behavior patterns, pointing out inconsistencies in the case file that had gone unnoticed. It was the kind of analysis that would have earned respect from anyone else, but not today. Not from this team, not yet.

The briefing room was quiet for a moment after you finished speaking. Emily exchanged a glance with Derek, and JJ tapped her pen against the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“That’s… an interesting perspective,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was polite, but Aaron caught the subtle edge, the unspoken doubt.

You didn’t falter. “It’s not just a perspective,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “The data supports it. If you cross-reference the victimology with the geographic profile—”

“We get it,” Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than usual. “But we’ve been doing this a long time. We know how to read behavior.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. He glanced at you, but your expression remained composed, even as he could see the faint tension in your posture. You nodded slightly, as if conceding the point, and continued reviewing the case files without another word.

The meeting wrapped soon after, but Aaron lingered behind, pretending to organize his notes. That’s when he heard it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can deal with her,” Emily muttered as the others gathered near the coffee station. “She’s so… clinical. It’s like she doesn’t even care about the victims, just the data.”

“She’s got control issues, for sure,” Derek added. “Like she’s got something to prove.”

JJ sighed. “Maybe Strauss sent her to micromanage us. I mean, why else would she be here? We’re already the best at what we do.”

Aaron slammed his folder shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The team froze, turning to see him standing there, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low but laced with unmistakable anger. He stepped toward them, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “I don’t know what’s more disappointing--your lack of professionalism or your willingness to tear someone down based on assumptions and gossip.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“You think she’s here to micromanage you? She’s here to help. And the fact that you can’t see the value in her insights says more about your egos than it does about her methods.”

“Hotch, we didn’t mean—” JJ started, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said firmly. “You did mean it. And if you spent half as much energy working with her as you do undermining her, we’d be a hell of a lot closer to catching this unsub.”

The room fell silent. Aaron rarely raised his voice, and when he did, it carried the weight of finality. He let the silence hang for a moment before he continued.

“She’s not here to prove herself to you. She’s already proven herself, time and time again. It’s time for you to rise to her level, not drag her down to yours.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d have to address this further later, but for now, he needed to find you. He wanted to make sure you were okay to remind you, in whatever small way he could, that he was still in your corner. Always.

Aaron Hotchner found you where he expected to: in one of the unused offices, deep in thought over the case files. You were perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through pages with a sharp focus that never failed to impress him. The tension he’d carried since leaving the briefing room eased slightly when he saw how calm you were.

You didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. “Didn’t expect you to find me so quickly,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I needed to check in. The team…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “They were out of line.”

That made you pause. You glanced up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Aaron, it’s fine,” you said, setting the file down. “I’ve been in this position before. People don’t like change, and they don’t like outsiders. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he replied, his voice firmer than he intended. “It’s not fair, and it’s not professional.”

You tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did when you were about to cut through the noise. “They don’t know, Aaron. About us.” Your tone was even, but there was a hint of something deeper there--not accusation, just acknowledgment.

He stiffened slightly, but nodded. “They don’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. For now.”

You let out a quiet hum, leaning back on your hands. “For now, sure. But you should think about it. They’re already questioning why you’re defending me. If they find out later that it’s because we’re involved, it won’t sit well with them. They’ll feel like you’ve been hiding something important.”

“They’ll feel betrayed,” Aaron said, the weight of the truth settling over him.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile on your face. “Exactly. Look, I can handle their doubts, their gossip, whatever they want to throw at me. But you need to decide how long you want to keep this a secret. They’re your team. They’re loyal to you. But they also need to trust you.”

Aaron stepped further into the room, his expression softening as he regarded you. “You don’t care what they think of you, do you?”

“Not even a little,” you said with a shrug, your confidence steady. “I’ve spent years dealing with this kind of thing. It’s not new, and it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me,” you added, meeting his eyes, “is the idea of this coming out later and making things harder for you. Or for us.”

Aaron let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. You were right, of course. You always were. He couldn’t keep this from his team forever, and things with you had grown too serious for him to pretend otherwise. He had never been one to let his personal life interfere with his work, but this was different. You were different.

“This is serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You arched a brow, a teasing smile breaking through. “Wow, Aaron. Way to make a girl feel special.”

He stepped closer, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “You know what I mean. Things are serious between us. You’re not going anywhere, and neither is the team. I need to find a way to make this work.”

You softened, your hand brushing against his as he stood next to you. “You will. They’ll come around, Aaron. And if they don’t, well…” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting in a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Aaron felt a warmth spread through him, a rare sense of peace in the midst of the chaos. You were right, as always. He would figure it out--not just because he had to, but because you were worth it.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that it would all work out.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in leading by example. Transparency, fairness, and honesty were core tenets of how he ran his team, and they had rewarded him with loyalty and mutual respect. But as he stood in the conference room, waiting for his team to gather for an unscheduled meeting, he knew he had failed to uphold one of those principles.

The team filtered in, curiosity and unease written across their faces. JJ and Emily exchanged glances, Reid clutched his ever-present notebook, and Derek leaned against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Penelope, usually lighthearted, looked slightly nervous. Rossi lingered at the back, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought.

When the door closed, Aaron cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. “I asked you all here because there’s something I need to address—something I should have told you from the beginning.”

The team straightened, their collective focus sharpening. Aaron had their attention.

“You’ve all expressed concerns about having a forensic psychologist embedded in the team,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve questioned her presence, her methods, and, frankly, her character. Some of those comments have been professional disagreements, but others have crossed the line. I’ve let it continue longer than I should have, and for that, I take responsibility.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably while Morgan frowned. Reid’s brow furrowed in confusion, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. Rossi, though silent, tilted his head slightly, a knowing look flickering across his face.

Aaron met each of their gazes in turn, his tone unwavering. “The reason I know she’s good at her job—why I trust her, and why I know she’s not here to spy on us or undermine our work—is because I’ve been seeing her outside of work. For a while now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Reid blinked rapidly, his pen freezing mid-air. JJ’s mouth opened slightly as if to speak, and Penelope let out a small, involuntary gasp. Derek sat up straighter, his brows furrowed in disbelief. Emily’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked her surprise. Rossi, however, didn’t look shocked at all. Instead, his lips quirked into the faintest of smirks, as though confirming a suspicion.

“I had no say in her placement on this team,” Aaron continued, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Strauss made the decision, and she made it clear that the reason is simple: she’s the best. You’ve seen it for yourselves, even if you haven’t wanted to admit it. Her insights have already helped move this case forward. She is not your enemy, nor is she here to judge you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “I didn’t disclose our relationship because I wanted to keep our personal lives separate from our professional ones. But as your Unit Chief and as her partner, I will not tolerate disrespect toward her—whether it’s behind her back or to her face.”

Reid, finally finding his voice, asked hesitantly, “Does she…know about us? I mean, our dynamics, our methods? Or does she see us as part of the problem?”

Aaron’s expression softened slightly as he addressed the question. “She knows exactly who you are and how good you are at what you do. She’s here to help you do your jobs better, not to interfere. But she also deserves the same respect you’d give any other member of this team.”

Rossi finally spoke, his tone measured. “And you think telling us this now is going to smooth things over?” His words weren’t accusatory, but they carried weight.

“I think,” Aaron replied, meeting Rossi’s gaze, “that you deserved to know the truth. And I think it’s time we focus on the job at hand rather than creating divisions that don’t need to exist.”

The silence lingered until Derek broke it. “Hotch, we didn’t mean to—”

Aaron held up a hand. “I know you didn’t mean harm, but intentions don’t erase the impact. This team works because we trust each other. That trust goes both ways. If there’s something you need to say, say it to me or to her directly. Gossip and disrespect have no place here.”

JJ nodded, her expression softening. “You’re right. We were out of line. I think…I think we just felt blindsided.”

Aaron’s tone eased, though it remained firm. “I understand. Change isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. You’ll see soon enough why she’s here. Until then, I need your cooperation.”

Emily exchanged a glance with Morgan, then nodded. “We’ll work on it. I promise.”

Rossi gave a small nod of approval, his smirk gone but his understanding clear. “She’s good, Aaron. I’ve seen it. Let’s make sure the rest of the team sees it too.”

Reid looked thoughtful, his pen tapping rhythmically again. “I think we can…adjust. If she’s here to make us better, that’s not a bad thing.”

Aaron gave a single nod, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. That’s all I wanted to say. Dismissed.”

As the team filed out, murmuring quietly among themselves, Rossi lingered behind. “You know,” he said, crossing his arms, “you could’ve just told me this a week ago.”

Aaron allowed himself the faintest smile. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not,” Rossi said with a shrug, “but it would’ve saved you the speech.” With that, he left, leaving Aaron alone to gather his thoughts.

For now, he had taken the first step. And he could only hope it was enough.

Over the next few days, Aaron began to notice subtle shifts in his team’s behavior toward you. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it dramatic, but the signs were there. During case briefings, they no longer exchanged skeptical glances when you spoke. Instead, they began nodding along or even asking follow-up questions. Derek, who had been one of the most vocal skeptics, offered a rare compliment about your interrogation technique after a successful suspect interview.

“She’s got a way of getting under people’s skin,” Morgan admitted to Rossi when he thought Aaron wasn’t listening. “In a good way, I guess.”

Aaron didn’t respond, but he tucked the comment away, feeling an unspoken sense of satisfaction.

Even Reid, who had initially kept his distance, began peppering you with questions about your graduate work. You seemed to enjoy indulging him, discussing obscure psychological theories with the same enthusiasm he brought to the conversation. JJ and Emily followed suit, no longer as guarded, and Penelope—while still wary—had gone out of her way to show you how to use the BAU’s internal systems.

Aaron observed it all with quiet pride. His team was warming up to you, just as he had hoped, and it wasn’t because he’d told them to—it was because of you. Your intelligence, your confidence, and your ability to adapt were slowly breaking down the barriers they’d put up.

That evening, as the two of you wrapped up some paperwork in his office, you leaned back in your chair and smirked at him. “You know,” you said, your voice light with amusement, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

Aaron looked up from his file, one brow raised. “Enjoying what?”

“You’re like the team dad,” you teased, crossing your arms. “All broody and protective, wanting the stepmom to be liked by the kids.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and rich. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you shot back, grinning. “Because I think you’ve been paying more attention to their approval ratings for me than I have.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head but still smiling. “Maybe. But only because I know how much they mean to you—and how much you mean to me. I want this to work.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing dropped. “It already is, Aaron. You don’t have to worry.”

His smile lingered as he looked at you, the tension that had been weighing on him for weeks finally starting to lift.

The real sign of progress came at the end of the week. The team had just wrapped up a grueling case, and as everyone packed up their things, Derek clapped his hands together.

“Alright, we’re going out. Drinks, food, and maybe a little dancing. Who’s in?”

JJ and Emily immediately agreed, and Reid nodded hesitantly, though he muttered something about “just one drink.” Rossi chuckled but offered a quick “Count me in.” Penelope looked around, her bright demeanor back in full force. “Where are we going? And more importantly, is there karaoke?”

Derek laughed. “No promises, Garcia.”

Then, almost casually, JJ turned to you. “You should come,” she said, her tone friendly and genuine. “You’ve had a long week too. You deserve to relax a little.”

Aaron didn’t miss the slight hesitation in your posture before you smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” JJ said, already texting someone. “It’ll be fun.”

Aaron stayed silent, watching the moment unfold. The invitation wasn’t forced or reluctant—it was sincere. It was an olive branch, extended without fanfare, and he could tell by the look on your face that you recognized it for what it was.

As the team began filing out, chatting about where to go, you lingered by his desk. “That was unexpected,” you said quietly, glancing at him with a small smile.

“They’re coming around,” Aaron replied, his voice equally soft. “I told you they would.”

You smirked. “Well, Dad, looks like the kids like the stepmom after all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “Let’s just hope I can keep them from embarrassing us tonight.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you teased, grabbing your bag. “Now, come on. You’ve got to show me if Unit Chief Hotchner can actually let loose.”

As you both headed out to join the others, Aaron felt a rare lightness in his chest. Things were falling into place—his team, you, everything. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

[web-novel-polls]

The Narrow-Eyed Villain of the Demon Academy has a neutral reception and is unknown and unread.

[Plain text: The Narrow-Eyed Villain of the Demon Academy has a neutral reception and is unknown and unread. /end pt]

Reception

Positive: 23.1% / 3 votes

Neutral: 76.9% / 10 votes

Negative: 0% / 0 votes

Publicity

Known: 23.1% / 3 votes

Unknown: 76.9% / 10 votes

Reading Status

Read: 7.7% / 1 vote

Unread but known: 15.4% / 2 votes

Unread: 92.3% / 12 votes

Have You Read This Web Novel?

If you’re in the process of reading this web novel, please choose whichever option best fits your situation. You do not have to be completely finished with it to answer “yes.”

If you’ve never heard of it, please read the description below the cut!

See similar polls and results here!

Description:

An author is forcibly transmigrated by* the second-act main villain of his work - the half-demon Adel Arsene, whose family is eliminated by the humans they fought against the Demon Realm for. He awakens within Adel Arsene's body on the cupse of his failed execution and escapes to the Demon Realm, enrolling in an academy full of demons hell-bent on revenge against humans (including the protagonist's party) by chance.

Now, he must fight to survive and hide his identity while struggling to reconcile the simple "the protagonist is good, all demons and opponents are bad" premise he wrote upon and the hidden mysteries of his novel-turned-reality.

*This isn't a typo, btw. The original Adel Arsene breaks into the main character's reality and transmigrates him (he's also somewhat an accessible character during the novel)

CWs: cannibalism, murder, war, POW camp/torture (+ more in that vein -- ongoing story, so reader discretion advised)

Extra: Novel Updates

[wishesofeternity]

I have a lot of mixed feelings about Arcane Season 2, especially after Act 1.

I enjoyed the season and there was a great deal I loved about it. The animation, in particular, was spectacular. But I had a lot of issues about its pacing, characterization and key narrative choices.

(Spoilers)

Why does the finale of a show that's supposed to be about two sisters revolve around two men? Why were all of its other female characters also sidelined to focus on them? Why was Sky fridged yet again?

Vi had no proper arc or goal across this season and was very inconsistently written. Jinx had comparatively more consistency but still had major issues. Their relationship, as mentioned above, was also not handled properly or given adequate attention.

Vi and Caitlyn's relationship was a mess in almost every way, I'm sorry.

Mel and Ekko were both almost entirely sidelined after Act 1 (and the Firelights barely played any role at all?)

The way they handled Viktor's terminal illness, specifically how Jayce spoke about it, was fucked up

The socio-political conflict between Piltover and Zaun was almost completely swept under the rug by bringing in a new Big Bad and common enemy for them to "unite" against. Piltover's oppression of Zaun was also massively minimized after Act 1 and ignored altogether; after defeating Noxus, there is no reason not to believe that they would go back to the status quo of inequality and martial law. Sevika getting a seat on the council (still Piltover's council) is mere lip service with no discussion on what that actually entailed, or what they planned to do in the future. Zaun is still not free. I've seen people try to justify this by claiming that "that was the point, it's meant to show that things are imperfect" but the fact of the matter is that there is no indication that the show wanted to make this point at all (and if they did, it was very badly done). They should have addressed the oppression of Zaun directly, which they never did. What they instead did was actively downplay it on far too many occasions.

There were some plot points I personally disagreed with, like their decision to bring Vander back, but those are personal grievances that I could have made peace with if they were written well. Unfortunately, they weren't.

A lot of these problems stem from pacing, tbh. The show also introduced far too many plot threads last minute without resolving anything properly. If they had three seasons, or even a longer second season, maybe they could have committed to addressing what they had previously set up. But it doesn't seem to have been their priority in the first place, so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Also, the way the fandom is relentlessly attacking anyone who dares to critique/criticize this season is pathetic and needs to stop.

[sarahreesbrennan]

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

[xxextrie]

Can we just agree Alastor is one of vivsie's worst characters?

Disclaimer this post was meant to share points about the demonizing a real religion I have heard been said by people of color especially people in those religions who have been overlooked and diminished due to vivsie stans who are mad at the critiques.

So for one he does voodoo in the show which I wouldn’t trust Viv or any of the others to do, but a lot ended up very demonizing, Vivziepop made one character who does voodoo (which is a closed religious practice and Black/Creole/Haitian culture that is constantly demonized in media, like actually fucking stop). and is a demon and that’s all she thought was necessary for the representation, she could’ve had Sera/Emily practice voodoo as they are black women with powerful magic maybe characters who aren’t completely shown as demonic? Vivziepop tried to control the backlash from her using a practice she is not a part of by stating the alastor was mixed. (showing how little she cant draw non-white characters if she can just race swap them at the flip of a switch) Alastor most recently was said to be white/Creole.

But this also just was incredibly weird seeing as he is now a mixed man giving a black man/feline character a contract that allowed Alastor to "own" him with tons of imagery of Alastor pulling him around on chains. Which feels strange for him to be a supposedly “likeable character” (and by that I mean in fandom not necessarily in world) I feel like im crazy to have to say no matter your race you shouldn’t “own” somebody. And I don’t think a slaver should been shown in this fan favorite type character ignoring the important part to have character who does bad be shown as doing bad.

Not only is Alastor a shitty character people will defend the writers saying "it’s hell" like really? yea there are awful people in hell but he is shown constantly in a fun quirky way leading him to be a fan favorite so if they were meaning to show how bad of a person alastor is they are doing a shit job.

Along with all of this Al is Vivsiepops only Ace character wtf is that supposed to say about how ace people are portrayed in the show? as Slavers? Rasicts? Heartless? This is her idea of acespec people, the only ace repersentation in her show and this is what she hands us?

Not only that but she refuses to confirm Alastor's romantism to "let people have their fun" aka she doesn't care about aro representation because it might ruin peoples ship. Our romanticism and sexuality shouldn't be something to shove to the side anytime a fan is horny. Imagine if someone shipped Stolas with a girl? do you think she's say that its all fun? No because she doesn't care about ace people or poc people all she cares about in her non-con demon porn.

there is my rant Alastor is Shit Ace representation SHIT voodou representation

Also Mammon and Octavia haven’t done anything in the actual show to achieve ace rep. Also mammon? Really?

[ghostbeam]

Tomura shigaraki x reader, tomura is an art student, takes place in the same universe as my charcoal artist!dabi stuff, tomura is like very insecure in some of this, if the writing feels pretentious and flowery and unnecessary that’s because it is<3

His hair is getting long.

Running your fingers through the ends, you notice how it’s nearing his shoulders now. His head is in your lap, staring up at you as you lean against the mountain of pillows on your bed, clad in a pair of underwear and the tee shirt he arrived in. His jeans are stained with paint, hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned and quickly thrown on so he wasn’t naked and vulnerable in your lap. You thumb at the scar by the corner of his mouth and he kisses it, then your palm, then your wrist. Tomura takes your hand in between three careful fingers and places it over his heart.

Love is not how they told you it would be.

The two of you were assigned to the same group in painting iii, formed so that the students could give one another critiques independently. Only, you couldn’t find a single thing to critique in his work.

Tomura worked with oils—or Tomura lived and breathed and died for them. He painted people, always caught in a moment, in the middle of talking, or yelling, or drinking, or sleeping. His attention to detail was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, colors you’d never realized could appear in skin tones, shine on limbs and cheeks that made his subjects both more alive and human than any real person. His work felt sort of dirty, sweaty, perpetually damp. But it was beautiful. You couldn’t say a thing about it.

He’d confronted you about it one afternoon, stuffing handouts from the professor into his bag, which looked to be filled with more loose paper and no text books.

“Do you hate it that much?” It was the first time he’d ever talked to you, actually talked to you and not just about your work during a critique. “You never have anything to say.”

It stuns you for a moment, his anger and annoyance, how he’s decided to aim it at you instead of the group of people clamoring for issues with his painting all class period.

“I’m supposed to point out flaws, tell you where you could have done better, explain how I wasn’t moved,” you explain, staring down at your shoes, “but I can’t do that. There’s not—I don’t see how I could possibly tell you how you could do better.”

“That’s bullshit.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Don’t just say what I want to hear. I won’t like you any more for it.”

He leaves you standing alone in the classroom. Like you? He thought it was about being liked? You’re in such awe of him that you can’t speak, and he thinks you’re just trying not to hurt his feelings.

During the next class, when he stands before your group for critique, you don’t say a word. And he keeps looking at you like he’s waiting for it, like you’ll be angry enough at him for last week that you’ll rip his painting apart. But your silent, once again. Nothing’s changed.

He’s the first one out of the class once you’re dismissed. He walks fast, and you’re out of breath by the time you catch up with him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he flinches away from. Your breath comes out in quick puffs that you can see, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you fix him with a glare.

“You’re wrong.” You say once he’s turned around. “I don’t care if you like me or not after critique. It’s not about sparing your feelings. I’ve never seen anything like what you do. And I watch you in class, and you paint like something is clawing it’s way out of you, like you need to do it or you’ll die.”

“You’re honest with everyone else but me.” He argues, unable to accept your words. You have real things to say to your peers. You don’t hold back with them. You make them better. Why couldn’t you do that for him?

“You are not everyone else.” You watch his eyes widen at your words, and if you had any shame, maybe you wouldn’t have said something so bold. “You’re leagues above all of us. Everyone knows it, and that’s why they’re harsh on you.”

Where you say nothing, your group rips into him, picking at each and every detail until there’s nothing left. He takes it all in stride, accepting their words like it’s absolute truth, and returning to his canvas with sunken shoulders and furrowed brows, concentrated on how he could be better. It’s exactly what they want.

He opens his mouth the say something, but stops, feeling a drop of something fall on his cheek. He looks up at the dark clouds above the two of you, and it begins to rain. He curses, taking a hold of your hand and leading you underneath the front of the design building.

“They’re harsh because I deserve it.” He points out, still holding your hand. You could say a million things right now, tell him in detail how moved you are by every piece he makes, but his hand is still in yours, and you don’t trust yourself not to trip over your words because of it. You can only shake your head.

“Why can’t you accept that you’re brilliant?” You question, exasperated. It makes him laugh, his smile being something you’ve never seen before. It makes you think of all the people who have seen this smile before, the stretch of his lips, the creases by his eyes. Had they felt this lucky?

“I think you’re crazy.” He tells you, knocking his knuckles against your head.

“Do you wanna go out?” You ask before you’re able to stop yourself. He leans away from you, surprised.

“What?” You can’t find the words to speak, to tell him you’re sorry, that it was uncalled for, that you’re a total creep. His face is red, you notice. He speaks a moment later, “yes.”

Rising from your lap, he leans over you, kissing your lips with as much tenderness as he had your palm. Your lips are his favorite thing to paint, second only to your thighs which he grips tightly as he wraps your legs around his waist.

When he’d met you, all full of hope and belief in him of all people, he’d thought of you as such a faraway thing. Unattainable. If you couldn’t talk about his work, there was no way you’d ever talk to him. But he was wrong, something he rarely ever is, your faith in him changing how he viewed his own art forever.

He paints you. He paints you a lot. He even paints the two of you together, though your faces are never in those ones, just bodies tangled together on one canvas. He’d call you his muse if you didn’t hate it. And besides, he knows you’re so much more.

If there had been something inside of him clawing it’s way out, you had noticed it, freed it, kept it safe with you so it wasn’t so agonizing to carry on his own.

No, it’s not how they told him it would be at all.

[gabessquishytum]

So, I just listened to Shatter Me (the album) by Lindsey Sterling again for the first time in a while and it gave me such Dream vibes. So I came up with a little AU scenario (also I don't know any of her more modern albums at all, so sorry for the outdated reference):

Dream is an insanely good vilionist and is about to record his next album. His manager hired some people for the backround instruments, including a certain Robert "Hob" Gadling, who has played the drums in the backround for other famous solo performers in the past. Dream is just his newest gig.

At first, they don't get along at all. Well, noone really does with Dream. He constantly criticises eveyone, including Hob, demanding perfection. Hob's pretty annoyed and would have half a mind to quit if he didn't need the money. That is, until he listens to some of the tapes from their first attempts compared to more recent ones, that are closer to Dream's vision (even if not quite there yet, as Dream doesn't tire to remind them all). And suddenly Hob gets it. Dream's vision, the things he's critiqued them on all the time, if they could actually get it right this album would slap so hard. Hob notices that the instructions Dream gave him are so important because he wants the drums to be complimentary, to elevate the pieces, to make his violin melody all that more impactful.

Hob had almost forgotten that that's what it's supposed to be like. All the other big shots he's worked with were so focused on their own success, on being the most memorable part of every song, that Hob always felt they wanted his drumming just because a band's expected to have a drummer and because it makes it easier to stay on tact. But Dream... He envisions art. Sure, the violin will still probably be the most memorable part of these songs, but not because the other instruments get practically beaten to death by it; it's because they all support each other in a way that makes the melody that much more impactful.

Once Hob realizes that that's where Dream's harsh comments and nit-picky critisims are going, he doesn't feel so annoyed anymore. In fact, he suggests to Dream that maybe the rest of the group should hear what he heared and understand Dream's vision; maybe then they can truly get this where Dream wants it to go.

And well... now that they see more eye to eye, Hob realizes he's hopelessly doomed. Dream was already a sight to behold, these beautiful fingers moving in such quick percision, his elegant movements following the melody. Now that he's not constantly yelling at Hob anymore, he really has no choice but to fall in love. Especially since Dream turns out to not only be an artistic genius, but also quite lovely as a person. (Dream was surprised that Hob managed to understand his vision, and even more so that he was willing to try and get the rest of the crew on board after the way Dream had treated him. He decided to be a bit more compassionate with him after that. At first it was just small things like bringing him coffee or complimenting him when his drumming was especially good, but somehow it turned into non-dates, where they would sid at a café or go on a walk and just talk endlessly to each other.)

Don't know what it would take for one of them to finally confess

This is so beautiful, I adore these two as musicians and percussion is PERFECT for Hob.

I can totally imagine that Dream begins writing music to express his feelings for Hob. Intense, passionate pieces which shatter the heart and uplift the soul. Hob is mesmerised, daring to hope that he might be interpreting Dream's music correctly - Hob knows each note so intimately by now, he's almost sure that Dream is setting love into each and every page.

Watching Hob play his music, the declarations of his love, is like the sweetest torture in the world for Dream. He swears that he'll stop it but he can't resist. Nobody plays for him like Hob.

Maybe one day Hob is just like - "you love me, right? because i love you, every beat of your heart, every string on your bow" and Dream nearly collapses; all he can do is play a few notes on his violin and hope that they express his pain and ardor and LOVE.

And Hob very gently takes the instrument from him, puts it somewhere safe, and kisses him. It's a sweeter music than they've ever made together before.

[decepti-thots]

🔥

Oooh, dealer's choice. Okay. Hmmm.

I think that MTMTE does not ever really manage to coherently bring together its ideas around things like functionism or the cold construct/forged idea, tbh. As ideas, it's very easy to latch onto in transformative fandom and try and do something with them- but on the flip side, I think that when you really try and just look at what the comic does with them in the text, they do not ever come together in a way that has a clear narrative goal, or is always well executed.

This feels weird to say when both concepts are incredibly necessary to the comic itself. They aren't superfluous elements you can take out and the comic is still what it is! Despite that, if you try and do a close read of the comic itself, it quickly feels apparent to me that a) in universe, diagetically, they are not very consistent and you often find yourself going 'wait, what?', and b) non-diagetically, in the realm of 'is this a stand in doing real world social commentary', it's straight up a mess much of the time. As worldbuilding, it's wishy-washy and inconsistent; as allegory or anything like it, you often wind up going 'hm. well. that doesn't really work'.

Is cold construction supposed to be a commentary on classism? Maybe- but the degree to which the text reinforces that a degree of real physical difference exists makes that touchy, frankly. Is it then using that to talk about class and disability as it relates to class? This would be an interesting angle- but the comic has too many issues around its treatment of the latter to invite uncritical use of that lens, in my opinion. Sometimes, racism gets invoked, but of that I can only say I think it is an ill-advised approach the comic does not explore well! Functionism, meanwhile, gestures at a lot of stuff, but never really convinces me the comic is quite sure what it's getting at there. Again, the question of classism comes to mind, and it's all clearly a response to the stuff set up early on in IDW1 by Megatron: Origin, which invites such commentary and critique. But there's just too many holes in its treatment of certain characters to make a lot of sense. The inconsistency means trying to do an actual read across the whole comic winds up maddening. (Source: I've tried.)

And if we justify this by saying 'not everything is allegory, sometimes worldbuilding is just worldbuilding'... well. It just still doesn't add up! In the moment, it seems to make sense, but attempting to extrapolate out into an actual consistent sense of how that world works, or worked pre-war, quickly falls apart for me. Which brings us back to the idea it's not literally consistent but is Doing Thematic Work, which... see above! We run into The Issues again!

This is not to say I think there's nothing interesting to be gained from engaging with this element, to be clear. But I find it's most productive for me when I engage with it from the baseline that it's a fairly muddled, inconsistent, and ultimately difficult to pin down element that, while very important to the comic, is not one of its narrative strengths. Very much a part of the comic where I think admitting the meat is in doing work as a reader to make it work for whatever reading you want to do is a good way to approach it, rather than assuming the comic itself has done that leg work. (And sometimes, that will mean being critical of it; I really do think there's stuff in there that deserves unpacking in how it's handled.)

[sophsicle]

Okay, I understand hating Snape as an adult. He's a bully. But as a kid? As a teen? The result we see of Snape, him as a shitty adult, is an imperfect victim. Someone who had a bad life, made bad decisions, and was impacted by everything that happened to him. Not everyone can be abused, bullied, grow up in extreme poverty, and then pull through to be amazing people. SOME people can, and that's so amazing, but I don't think it's healthy to look at a child/teen with literally every social determinant of health against them and say 'well, they should've been able to do better'.

Does Snape suck as an adult? Yes. Did he also make decisions which saved Harry's life and allowed them to end the war? Also yes. Does he ultimately sacrifice his life for Harry? Yes. Does young Snape have a lot of potential, especially in spaces such as fanfiction, to explore the effects of one's upbringing and subsequent choices/life path (which you have explored so beautifully, carving out a life for a character in your stories with the very same themes)? Definitely.

I'm not saying he is a perfect person, or even a good guy, but a lot of people can and do relate to him as imperfect victims of bullying and abuse. Sometimes you can't rise above life's circumstances on your own, and you aren't this 'amazing' person. And that's okay. It's okay for victims of things like abuse to struggle, and it's good for people to acknowledge that things like bullying AREN'T okay and have lifelong consequences for their victims. Snape is a good example of what happens to a lot of people who aren't able to 'rise above' the things that happen to them and make mistakes. I think blind hatred for him is a very narrow-minded view, and ignores a lot of his story and nuances.

So two things a) I think perhaps you are missing some of the silly fun spirit I was attempting to infuse into my hatred of snape who is a character not a person

b) listen, I think snape is a super interesting character to play with because he offers a counter point to the marauders especially where issues of class are concerned, even the insults the marauders use against him, about him being "dirty" have clear class connotations and I think that allows you to critique the biases of the "heroes" of the story so to speak and that’s something I really like, so I’m not trying to suggest that he should just be dismissed because I don’t think he should be necessarily

What I am suggesting, is that JKR writes a grown adult teacher who abuses his students consistently and brutally for seven books (students he knows are already traumatized because the group he was a part of tortured or murdered their parents) and at the end of the series we are meant to forgive him because he loved a woman one time kind of maybe I guess

Now, fanfiction can do whatever it wants and make characters whoever it wants

But I have a fundamental problem with the way that snape is used in canon and the way that people accept that narrative

His behaviour as an adult towards the children he is in charge of is gross and unforgivable, but is absolutely forgiven by the narrative of the original text (without, I would argue, any of the nuance you are suggesting)

So I just find it less compelling to use fanfiction to continue to forgive this character

And like maybe if JKR didn’t explicitly write him as someone I was supposed to love I would feel differently, but because she does I don’t

I think you’re giving this character a lot more depth than he has

Which you totally can do with any character you wish, but for me, personally, not universally, cause there is no universal truth about a fictional character who does not exist, he deserves to be hated, in my opinion, again, cannot stress this enough, I’m not saying there is a right way to feel about this character because I don’t think you can say that about characters , but this is my way and I hate him and these are my reasons

Like you can hate characters without being narrow minded

I fear this is a thing you can do

[olderthannetfic]

A common argument I see against constructive or negative opinions (even in For Readers spaces now apparently 🙄) is that they crush people's dreams of being a writer.

And like. I have diagnosed issues with rejection sensitivity, so sharing my work publicly was extremely difficult for me at first. But it was just something I had to get through if I wanted to be a writer. When I was in a university level creative writing class, I was stunned that they wasted a seminar teaching us stuff like you're/your and there/their/they're until I noticed that my classmates found it really useful. I realised 00s fandom taught me better grammar than the actual official school system, say nothing of charactisation, voice, pacing, etc. There were a LOT of resources to help new writers understand writing 101 and avoid annoying mistakes/cliché plots, which you don't really see anymore. I honestly feel like I got an expensive years long creative writing course for free.

And even as a melodramatic and oversensitive tween, I always had the attitude that I wanted my writing to be good, so if people pointed out typos or grammar mistakes I'd just thank them, fix it and remember for next time??? I never once felt "bullied" by legitimate criticism: as someone who actually was bullied a lot IRL, 00s fandom was actually one of the few spaces where I felt comfortable and safe. Whereas tbh I don't always feel comfortable with this modern culture where fanfic writers demand comments in return for creating "content" "for free" but setting strict demands for what kind of comments they want to receive. (And ofc it's for free! It's not their intellectual property!)

Which is all to say, if someone telling you "hey, maybe consider adding paragraph breaks" makes you want to quit writing forever then maybe you didn't actually want to be a writer all that much.

--

I think people mix a whole bunch of dissimilar things.

If you go to art/film/etc. school, you'll need to get used to group critique. It's partly about advice, but a lot of it is about toughening you up for future situations where your audience is not going to care about why a work isn't up to their standards. I think some of these practices actually can be pretty damaging. It really depends on the professor to make them constructive.

A key element is that people who are going through that are usually supposed to already have some experience and be pretty committed, so they aren't going to shrivel up and quit.

When I was a little baby writer, I was indeed pretty sensitive. Even while trying to finish the first draft of a novel, I need cheerleading or maybe goading to put my ass in a chair. The hard part is getting the words out, not making them good. So a lot of negative shit, even if well meant and useful, would just be discouraging.

But...

There's a big difference between having no interest in back seat driving from AO3 comments and opposing all review-ish conversation anywhere, whether it's bookmarks or discord servers or other archives that have more of a culture of reviews than of comments for the author.

I think you can want to improve but not want to do it via AO3 comments. You should still leave readers to do their thing outside of your comments though. Analyzing or reviewing can be a big part of someone's own fannish activity—a positive and fun hobby for them, not just an excuse to yell at the writer.

[brooooswriting]

Request: also i have a request for sam or melissa so yeah just write anything this woman just She invaded my heart and mind and I think I'm stuck in a bind loving her over the course of a month

maybe mayyyybe make if it's okay make it about How delicious you look, pleading beneath her, waiting to claim you, and how unfair it is for you to surrender to her while you are the one who holds her heart in your hands.

Decided to just post it, please don’t hate me😂

Mine (smut)

Sam Carpenter x reader

A/n: this is my first smut so don’t be too harsh but critique is definitely appreciated. Also not sure if I’ll write it again

Sam couldn’t believe her eyes, she couldn’t believe that it was actually, really happening. She has loved you for so long and she wanted you beneath her for so long that now when it was finally happening she couldn’t believe that it actually was.

The evening started out rather normal, you were at mindys with the rest of the group, sat beside Sam on the ground as all of you talked. At some point, with maybe a bit of liquor involved, all of you started to play some kind of ‘truth or dare’ card game that Chad bought a couple of days ago. The whole thing started innocent, questions like ‘when was your first kiss’ or some shit like that but then it suddenly turned. Which led to you sitting on sams lap for one round, well the card said one game but the brunettes arms wrapped around your hip, not letting you go.

Then it was Anika’s turn, she was supposed to kiss the hottest person in the room, Chad decided that she wasn’t allowed to kiss Mindy as that would be ‘boring’. So she turned to you and gave you a quick kiss which made both of you giggle like teenage girls, there were definitely no feelings between you two and everybody knew that. Mindy was with Anika and everybody knew that you liked Sam, well except for Sam. But the fact that she kissed you and the way she giggled made her feel weird and protective over you, her arms pulling you closer.

At one point you were leaning back into her, your head resting on her shoulder as you were slurring your words. “Ohhh, y/n, if you could go on a date with one person, like you could choose every person, really everyone, who would you choose?” Mindy asked, Tara grinning as she already knew what was going to be the answer. “Everybody? Like from the whole wide world?” You asked again with a drunk giggle. “Definitely Sam, no question. Like I would kill to go on a date with her, just look at her. I mean like wow and then imagine just having a date with her and getting to talk with her, alone? My dream come true” She chuckled as you breathed into her neck, “come on. Imma get you home” she hoisted you up into her arms and said goodbye to the rest. The rest giggled as you fist bumped the air as if you just won the lotto.

Sam carried you to her apartment and sat you down on her bed to clean you up a bit. She got some makeup wipes and some of her cloths before helping you into the bathroom so you could brush your teeth. “You’re really pretty you know” you mumbled as she carefully wiped away your foundation and in that moment she wanted to throw everything down and leave. You had no right to have her in such a tight chokehold and you definitely had no right to make her heart beat that fast whenever you’re around. “You are very pretty too” she mumbled instead and went to throw the wipe away. “Come on, you gotta change. There are clothes next to you, do you think you can change on your own?” You shook your head with a small pout which caused her to sigh. “Well then let’s go” she carefully grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, the woman had to focus really hard to not stare at your exposed upper body. When she grabbed the shirt you were going to wear her eyes focused on your face where she could make out a small smirk on your lips, your eyes filling with amusement. You were teasing her and if you weren’t drunk she definitely would have done something about it.

“There you go, all changed” she took a step back to admire you in her way too big cloths while you mumbled a thank you. Sam then turned around to change herself, giving you a perfect view of her backside. “You know, your ass looks great in these jeans” was the first thing you said that didn’t sound completely drunk, but it still made her blush. “I meant what I said, I would love to go on a date with you, but only if you claim me as yours afterwards. Wanna be yours for so long” you mumbled as you tried to keep your eyes off of her changing figure. When she was done changing she walked towards the door, “nooo, where are you going?” You grumbled as her hand turned the door handle. “I’m going to get you some water and some advil” you grunted and she went to get those for you.

When she returned you took the medicine and fell back into bed while she was just standing in front of the bed. “I’m trying to figure out if it’s morally alright to sleep in the same bed with you” she responded to your confused look, “well, it’s rather immorally to leave me alone, I mean what if I throw up or die or something?” She couldn’t help but laugh, she then climbed into bed next to you. She was about to scoot away a bit to give you your personal space but you were already cuddled into her, your arm around her waist, legs tangled and your face in the crook of her neck. A couple of seconds later you were out like a light.

Sleep didn’t come that easy to Sam, not with you that close to her. You didn’t even know that you held her heart in your hands and she hated the fact that all the things you said tonight were probably just your drunk mind mixing stuff up.

At one point she seemed to have fallen asleep too. Because the next morning she woke up with you on top of her, your breath tickling her neck and to her surprise, her arms were also wrapped around you. It was fairly early which made her think that you’d be asleep for a while but you woke up around 10 minutes later. “Good morning, how are you feeling?” The older Carpenter asked as her hand rubbed up and down your back, “I feel fine, thanks to you” you smiled and kissed her neck, your hands carefully sliding under her shirt, your thumbs rubbing over her sides. “You know, I meant what I said yesterday” you mumbled with a smile, you pulled your head back a bit so you could see her. You thought that she was going to be happy but she looked nervous. You thought that it was going to go away soon and the way her hand rested on your thigh when you sat up made you take it a step further, you pulled your/her shirt over your head. “I’m going to get you some breakfast” she was gone under you in a couple of seconds and made her way towards the door. “Samantha Carpenter” you called out making her stop, “what the hell?” She turned around towards you but her eyes still didn’t look at you, “I’m getting you stuff” her voice was only a mumble. “I was sitting on top of you. Without a shirt. After telling you that I liked you” there was a moment of silence before you continued, “if you didn’t want me you could have just said so.” You were about to get the shirt and storm off when she closed the door again, “it’s not that, I want you. I do” you rolled your eyes. “Oh really? Because I am sitting here, waiting for you to claim me and you think about breakfast?!” You groaned and threw yourself back into the bed, your hair sprawling over the pillows and your back arching.

Sams heartbeat sped up when she saw you like that on her bed, without a shirt and in her boxers. “Fuck” was the only thing she grumbled as she walked towards you, watching you like you were her prey. “You want me to claim you?” Her voice was deeper than normal and still had the morning raspiness which made your heart flutter. She crawled onto the bed and hovered above you, her hands grabbing your and holding them above your hand. The brunette started kissing you, it started out with pecks, small and light kisses that were pressed against your lips. It felt like her lips barely even touched yours, they were grazing over yours, butterflies erupting in your stomach. After a small moan slipped from your lips the kisses started to be more forceful, her lips were now pressed against yours, full contact and her tongue slipping into your mouth.

She kept kissing you until you had to pull away for air, her lips kissed down to your neck. She carefully grazed over your cheek and jaw until she reached the beginning of your neck. The kisses were now stronger, you could feel every bit of her lips and how they made their way down to the point where your neck and your shoulder met. She started to suck on your skin, hard but not hard enough to leave her mark which made you whine. By now she held both of your hands in one of hers, the other was stationed next to your head to hold herself up. You were whining when you realized that she wasn’t sucking hard enough to leave her mark. It meant that she wasn’t claiming you. She pulled away to look at you, both of your pupils blown while you had your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Are you sure this is okay? And you’re not still drunk?” It was cute, the way she still asked eben after you told her so many times. “I’m so sure, you can’t believe how sure I am that I want you” she smiled and let go of your hands. One of hers made its way up and down your thigh while she was watching you. This wasn’t her first time, she had her fair share of men and women but she never once felt like this, she couldn’t control her heartbeat, she felt hot and the feelings inside of her felt uncontrollable.

Her hand made its way back up and she started to play with your breasts. You weren’t sure how she did it but she just knew how to touch you to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. When she finally had enough self control to pull her eyes away from your form, her head ducked down to join her hand. “Samy, please” you begged, the sound worsening Sams heat and the nickname quickening her pulse. The way you begged her was about to kill her, she kissed down your stomach and along the waistline of your boxers. You were awkward, you didn’t knew where to put your hands, they were grabbing the sheets so hard that your knuckles turned white. “You want me? Want me claim you?”the way her voice rasped the words out made your hips buck which caused her to chuckle. She pulled down the boxers and you immediately opened your legs wider, you would do anything for this woman.

She kissed your thighs, “please Sam, I can’t wait any longer” and truth be told, she also couldn’t. Her finger carefully circled your clit, your hips bucking up and a small moan coming from your lips. “Do you know how pretty you look? You couldn’t possibly know how long I’ve wanted this” her lips were back on your neck, this time they were sucking hard enough to leave bruises and marks. You were finally hers. Sam could see you clench around nothing when she finally left her mark which made her smirk. “You like being mine? Want me to completely claim you? Make sure nobody else ever touches what’s mine?” You moaned and nodded, the moans getting louder when she finally inserted her finger.

She couldn’t believe that you were actually laying underneath her, whimpering, moaning and pleading for her. Her mind couldn’t comprehend the things that just happened, how you might just finally be hers and how you chose her while you could have basically anyone. She loved the way your body shuttered when she curled her finger just right, how your hips pushed up everytime she touched your clit and how your moans got even more high pitched when she kissed your neck.

“Is it okay if I add another one?” You nodded enthusiastically which made her chuckle a bit before pressing another kiss to your cheek. “Tell me if it hurts okay?” Her voice was soft and filled with love and concern, it increased the pleasure you felt. She was careful, watching your face closely and immediately stopping when she was your face twisted in pain. “It hurts a bit” you mumbled, this wasn’t your first time but to be true you could count the times you had sex on one hand. So this was all pretty new and Sam knew that, it made her even more careful. Some of your friends told you that they thought it was uncomfortable or embarrassing to slow down during intercourse but with Sam it felt normal, like she understood whatever you had.

“It’s okay, we can stay like this until you’re comfortable or I can pull out, whatever you’re comfortable with” you’re heart melted at the concern in her voice, you decided on waiting. Sam busied herself by kissing you softly to show you that the break was totally fine. Due to the not moving your face slowly got his normal color back, or well at least it got less red. “You’re doing so good, taking everything I give you so well” and your face was back at totally red and it seemed like your body also showed positive signs when it comes to praise as you started contracting around her fingers. The nod that followed gave her the start signal to continue her movements, “god, you’re squeezing my fingers so tight baby” it made you contract even harder which made her groan. The brunette then made her way back down between your legs again, kissing and sucking your clit while her fingers kept working your G-point.

Sam knew she had stamina but when it came to you beneath her withering it gave her a whole new energy. She was pumping her fingers so fast that your body could barely register the movement, it made you whine and move around. Your body itself was unsure if it wanted more pleasure or the pleasure to stop, it was just too good and too much to decide.

Not long after you felt pressure built up in your lower abdomen, “Sam, baby, I’m going to cum” you moaned out, the moans quickly turning high pitched as the pressure grew. “It’s okay, I’m here. You can let go” her soft voice made you relax a bit. One of your hands went into her hair while the other one was grabbed by her hand, your fingers interviened with hers. You came with a loud moan, your body going stiff and your hand squeezing hers before you completely relaxed, melting into the bed.

She helped you ride out your orgasm before placing soft kisses on the way to your head, “you did so good. Are you alright? Do you need anything?” Her hands rubbed soothing circles over your sides while she placed some kisses on your forehead. “What about you?” You asked concerned but she was quick to shake her head “this was about you. I’m fine with watching you. So what do you need?” This woman was unbelievable, there was no questioning that. “Cuddles” You croaked out, your voice dry from all the moaning. She nodded and laid back down, opening her arms for you.

There was a moment of silence, you tried to calm your breathing while your head rested on her chest and she softly stroked over your hair, helping you relax. “Does this mean that we are you know?” You asked your hand playing with her fingers, the nervousness was easy to see. “Well, I didn’t claim you for nothing did I?” She grinned and placed another kiss onto one of the hickeys she gave you. Then there was another moment of silence, both of you just basking in the presence of each other.

The silence was broken when your stomach started to rumor, both of you giggling at the noise. “I’ll make you breakfast, you know where the bathroom is if you wanna shower before coming outside. You can take any of my cloths alright? You look cute in them” she kissed you quickly before putting on a hoodie and walking away. You watched her walk away before going under the shower.

Showering turned out to be harder than you thought, your legs were barely responding to the commandos you gave them. They were buckling and shaking with every step, even after the shower.

You grabbed some boxers and a hoodie that completely covered the boxers and made your way outside. The moment you reached the living room Tara was laughing, “wild night y/n/n?” She laughed out making you grunt and waddle toward the kitchen where Sam was cooking. “Don’t listen to her” she said and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you even closer, “you looked pretty great under me like that, asking me or rather begging me to claim you” this time your head turned as red as a tomato making both of the siblings laugh. “I hate you” was the only thing you grumbled in response. “If that’s how it sounds when somebody hates you, I should definitely make an enemy” was Tara’s answer as she made her way towards her room, claiming to still have homework.

“So, a date?” The older brunette grinned at you. 

The next couple of days the whole friend group teased you over the hickeys that covered your whole neck. There was no hiding them and to be honest, you didn’t want to. You asked her to claim you and she happily did.

The unbelievable things that dating this woman would bring you were unthinkable and you couldn’t wait to explore them all.

[yuri-is-online]

Hello!

Congratulations on getting 300 followers! Feel free to ignore this request if you'd like, but can you do prompt #7 with Jamil, Ace, and Trey?

7. Wearing a maid outfit during a culture fair

Thank you <3 And there is no way I am ignoring this one when you picked maybe the best possible line up for it.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, mild cringe, a bit... suggestive and light spoilers for the white rabbit event in Trey's part (i.e. Yuu references the event costumes) Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Jamil

"Welcome back master!" You cheerfully give the greeting Ortho had helped you practice and immediately wish for death as soon as you see just who the customer you gave it to is. Jamil stares at you, really stares at you, eyes shot wide cognitive thought completely evaporated from his brain.

"Do- have you-" He coughs, fighting off the urge to hide in his hood. "Have you been greeting everyone like that?"

"Um yes, Ortho said it was the appropriate way to greet customers at a maid cafe." Not that this was a maid cafe exactly, it was a booth handing out bottled water to attendees of the NRC culture fair the school nurse had insisted on setting up. You were supposed to be wearing a dorm uniform to really sell that school pride, but Ramshackle doesn't have one so you had jokingly offered to wear a maid outfit, something Ortho apparently decided was brilliant and convinced Vil to let you borrow one from the film club. You weren't sure why you agreed to this but hey, at least it was cute. Jamil certainly doesn't seem to disagree.

"Well you should stop, it's extremely undignified." That's what he says, but it's missing the usual edge his critiques usually have. If you didn't know any better, you would think that he's embarrassed, which gives you a brilliant idea.

"Maaaaaster," you make sure to whine out the title with a big pout as you move directly into his personal space keeping just enough distance between you two to be tempting, delighting in how his throat twitches at the title "I'm working really hard to make you happy y'know? It's really rude to say that's 'undignified.'" You stay like that for a brief moment, gears in Jamil's mind whirring so fast they might as well be letting off steam. Finally, the breath he's been trying to catch finally goes down taking him with it.

"JAMIL!" He huffs at your concern from his new home on the pavement in annoyance.

"Seriously, it's rude to tease."

Ace

"Oh come on what even is the point of this?" In today's episode of Night Raven Comedy, Ace is shouting in disappointment at his reflection in Yuu's bedroom mirror while they and Deuce stand hands folded in disappointment just behind him.

"Really I don't get why you are so surprised." Says Deuce. 'Wasn't this entire thing your idea?"

"What's that got to do with it?" He snaps, face softening slightly when he looks at you but returning to annoyance when Deuce starts to smirk at him. "Don't tell me you're actually excited about dressing like this?" Deuce shrugs.

"I mean don't get me wrong it is embarrassing, but honestly seeing you dressed up like this makes it worth it." The grin on Deuce's face is outright evil, and you silently sigh, searching around your room for Grim's ribbon. About a month ago, Crewel had announced that your class would need to put together a booth for the school culture fair and asked for suggestions. Someone had complained it would be useless to try and compete with the other classes without a gimmick and Ace, for some reason, had suggested maid outfits. You weren't sure what surprised you more, that suggestion or that everyone had agreed with it.

"Why did you suggest a maid cafe if you didn't want to dress up like a maid?" You ask, already annoyed and adding ibuprofen to your mental list of things to make sure to bring with you when the three of you are finally ready to leave. He mutters an answer and you sigh. "Speak up I can't hear you."

"Yeah Ace," laughs Deuce, dodging a pillow Ace throws at his head "why did you suggest it?"

"Because I wanted to see you dressed like one." He mutters, pouting while Deuce laughs before turning on you. "And don't act like you didn't go along with it! Why did you vote for it?"

"Because I wanted to see you in a maid outfit too."

Oh, judging by the judgment Deuce is passing on both of you and Ace's shock you said that out loud, didn't you...

Trey

Breathe in breathe out. Busy your hands by adjusting your glasses and fix your smile in place and take another deep breath before you speak and focus on the eyes.

"That's an interesting outfit you have on Prefect." Trey says, and you sigh in relief. Finally someone normal.

"Thanks! I was worried it would be a bit too much." Realistically speaking you know it is, seriously maid outfits are already cute enough, adding bunny ears, ribbons, and a frilly tail just makes it lethal. Cater almost made you late with how many pictures he insisted on taking before you managed to escape.

"Well I don't know about that, it's certainly extremely cute though." Trey crosses his arms and tries to avoid gripping his bicep too hard. The way you light up at his praise doesn't help. "Where did you get it if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh Deuce's mom gave it to me when we visited Clock Town." Your nod causes the bunny ears to bounce and someone takes in a sharp breath. "Riddle said it would be helpful if Deuce could wear his costume for your booth about the Queen of Hearts, but he didn't want to dress up alone so I volunteered to help."

"Is Deuce wearing a... similar costume?" It could be just you, but Trey sounds like he's feeling a bit sick.

"Well kind of? He isn't a maid bunny. But speaking of Deuce I should really get back! Wouldn't want Riddle to get angry." You are clearly waiting for him to say something, but Trey doesn't trust himself to speak. "Trey?" You reach up towards his forehead forcing him to get a really good look at the entire costume as you try checking his temperature and frown in distress. "Oh you're practically burning up, let me walk you to the hospital wing I don't think Riddle will mind if-"

"You should be a bit more careful." Trey catches your hand as you go to take it away from his forehead, keeping you close to him yellow eyes daring you to step in just a bit further. "You aren't from around here, but surely even you know how deep a rabbit hole can go, right Prefect?"