#and i know this is the case for some people as well that have entire worlds in their heads but can't get it out for some reason or the othe

[snugglyporos]

// Christ I wish I could go back in time and erase concepts like 'unconscious bias' from the world of popular lingo because people apply it to things that they don't apply to. No, most people do not possess an unconscious bias that working class people are worth less than rich people, that's your classist ideology being applied to things that you shouldn't apply it to. We might call that a conscious bias.

What is actually happening is a mix of tropes being blended together and not changing over time. Namely, the idea that the more individuals there are, the weaker they are. We see this everywhere; fifty ninjas? Weak. Not a problem. One ninja? Super powerful. Legend. This exists in everything from James Bond movies to comics to Power Rangers.

The reality is that, narratively speaking, the random cannon fodder between the protagonist and the final boss do not matter. They don't! In real life they would, but if you tried to give ever goon a backstory and explain it you would have a shit story because the audience does not care about the backstory of unnamed good #23. After they take the punch from the protagonist, the audience has entirely forgotten they existed.

Which means that, narratively speaking, the killing of the main villain is more important and more impactful than the killing of some random goon. Now, if you're a good writer this shouldn't be the case. But this too, comes from the blending of genres and tropes.

In the late 1980s, fiction became more violent and more visceral. This means that a lot more violence was happening! And yet, writers still wanted to have their protagonist show that they were the protagonist, because people were all in on moral relativism. People would be like 'well, there's no difference between the hero and the villain if the hero kills the villain.'

The response was a lot of heroes started adopting a weird kind of no killing rule; Batman will break your fucking spine but kill the guy who just blew up a building? That's too far! 'I'm not like you, a guy who kills people, I just cripple them for life!'

And again, this is what happens when genre conventions (the hero should be morally superior than the villain, or at least attempt to be) mixing with trope developments (everything now needs to be brutal and violent to reflect real life).

Now, the circle has completed itself, where we're once again back to 1985, where people are like 'actually no, the hero should fucking kill that guy.' You'll probably be a big fan of the Death Wish movies and The Dark Knight Strikes Back; you know, things that lots of proto-fascists really love because they reinforce the notion that actually, heroes should wield violence against their enemies and impose their will through abject terror.

The reality is, people aren't sitting around going 'my work should reflect the idea that workers are less important than the boss' it's that narratively, the random goons exist to be smacked down to prepare the audience for the big bad, because rising action requires that there be rising challenges. This is mixing along with personal tastes in media.

Now, you could, for example, turn this new trope on its head and ask whether the Punisher murdering every jaywalker and low level drug dealer with extreme violence makes him a villain, because his ideal is that any lawbreaker should be murdered instantly no matter how low the crime. You might also argue that the trope should actually be that the grunts shouldn't be killed by the hero, but the guy who organized them should, because he's much worse than they are.

You could also argue that, the reason why the hero doesn't just kill the villain is that murder is wrong? Even if you think it's morally justified? I think people forget, when they fantasize about an ideal French Revolution, that the most common crime people were executed for was pickpocketing, and every day they would execute the guys who got caught working the crowds at the executions the day before. More poor people got killed in the French Revolution than rich people; you should probably keep that in mind!

Because the core reason you probably want your hero to not kill people in general is that you then have to ask who deserves it and your answer will inevitably include a lot of people you might actually like! You probably don't want heroes taking vague concepts like justice into their own hands because inevitably that makes them into the Death Wish protagonist, deciding that what really needs to happen is for a white guy with a gun to just start shooting up inner cities.

You don't want your hero to start killing people because this is corrosive and it will inevitably result in comparisons between people who got killed.

So no, it's not some kind of unconscious bias, it's because we've melted a worldwide demand for bloodshed and violence with established genre tropes and if you removed one or the other people would complain and be very unhappy.

Or, I guess you could go on and say that Freddy Kruger is anti-marxist because he only targets teenagers instead of people who really deserve it.

[itsrlymine]

i apologize for the really long ask but i really wanted to share my thoughts and i would make my own loa blog but i dont have it in me to deal with anons so i fear i will dump them all on you 😔 first off i want to say THANKKKK YOUUUUUU you literally changed my manifestation journey i used to be really into manifestation back in 2021/2022 and i was trying to manifest my dream face but it never happened no matter how much i affirmed or listened to subs or anything so i was just like fuck it this manifesting stuff isnt real imma just move on with my life and thats how i went about my life until you popped up on my dashboard a month ago and usually i would click not interested on any loa content but i was like you know what lemme give this stuff a chance again bc i did try the non manifesting route and it didnt work out bc when i tell you my life went DOWNHILL i used to protect myself from negative experiences by having the belief that i was simply the exception to terrible stuff but the moment i left the loa behind and was like no thats unrealistic anything can happen well guess what!! so many bad stuff happened in my life the last 2 years its genuinely crazy. so i was like lemme try this again and i went through your blog and really tried to materialize everything you were saying and read it with the attitude that what you are saying IS real instead of the doubting attitude i had towards loa advice/info back in 2022 and things really shifted for me.

so the first thing i learned is that MANIFESTATION IS REAL and more importantly NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE what i went through these past two years was proof to me that manifestation is real because once i adopted that negative mindset and dropped any positive beliefs i had my life became a nightmare and all those terrible thoughts manifested right before my eyes. for example i used to believe that i always looked pretty no matter what, this was just something part of my belief system but when i abandoned the law and everything i told myself no thats crazy i cant mAniFeSt looking pretty its unrealistic if im not pretty then im just not and bro when i tell you i was at my lowest appearance wise I WAS AT MY LOWESSTT my classmates at school would come up to me and tell me i looked so different and so dull even my mom would say the same stuff to me and tell me i changed i also noticed a difference when i looked in the mirror. the reason why i felt like manifestation wasnt real was because it just seemed really crazy to me, i felt like things materializing out of nowhere and appearances changing drastically was just like something fantastical and just not possible here in the real world. well i am here to tell you that is NAWT THE CASE! the world is not logical and im gonna tell you why. most of us here have grew up religious, and whats more illogical than religion? there are so many stories in the bible where illogical stuff happen like youre telling me some guy can turn water into wine? doesnt that sound like something out of a fantasy movie? but it happened, right? you believe in the bible so you believe in all the stuff that happened in it even the magical stuff. and another thing with growing up religious is that we always hear stories about miracles where for example a neighbor who was really sick suddenly woke up completely healthy. and we also were taught that we can ask god for anything and that god can make anything happen. i remember when my dad would teach me about religion he would say that god can make the grass is purple if he wanted to. it isnt just in religion but also in another spiritual communities and stuff they also have their own stories where things that dont really make sense logically happen. this goes to show that the world and humanity were never logical and that illogical things can happen, they've been happening since the dawn of time. people just came up with their own explanations. so get that thought that you cant change your entire face because its too crazy out of your head because it isn't. anything is possible. we literally live on a rock and we somehow move and speak and talk and somehow atoms exist so pls get with the program aint nothing logical in this life and the sooner you come to terms with that the better. nothing is too crazy because existence itself is crazy.

the second thing i learned was that MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS. i used to hear this all the time back in 2022 and it never made sense to me i was always like what tf are yall talking about???? my understanding was that manifestation is the act of trying to get something, but i was so so wrong. everything changed for me when i started approaching manifestation with the attitude that i was reminding myself of what i have, not trying to get what i want. basically stop thinking of manifestation as manifestation if ykwim. to really understand this im gonna have to talk about the whole "decide that you have your desire > affirm that you have it > keep presisting" thing and break it down.

so what do people mean when they tell you to decide that you have your desire? does it mean saying out loud "i have __" and then a few seconds going "alright wheres my ___?" no. it means you in your mind decide that its ALREADY YOURS and that you ALREADY GOT IT. i dont know how to word this any differently because its so simple its literally in the words. im gonna try an example. im assuming that youre reading this with your eyes so you have eyes. are you trying to 'manifest' having eyes? when you say "i have eyes" are you using an affirmation to get eyes? is having eyes a desire youre trying to 'manifest'? no because you literally already have eyes bro how else are you reading this with your bootyhole??? so when you say "i have eyes" you arent manifesting via affirming, youre just saying it to remind yourself because well you have eyes. you arent trying to manifest eyes because you already have them. thats what it means to decide that your desire is yours. it means to stop treating what is yours as a desire because its literally yours. stop seeing it as something youre trying to manifest because you already have it, wtf do you need to manifest for? do you get it? don't think of doing this as you tricking your mind into thinking you have your desires because AGAINN you arent tricking anything you literally already have it. when you say "i have eyes" and you have eyes are you trying to trick gour brain? no. that sounds silly. im sorry that this is so repetitive but its literally that simple idk what everyone else is doing complicating the most simple thing ever.

and now, what do people mean by affirm that you have it? does that mean using affirmations to manifest your 'desire'? (i put desire in quotations bc you already have it since you decided you do) no. it simply means reminding yourself that you do. ill go back to the eyes example. if you were to say "i have eyes" right now would you understand that as some woo woo manifestation affirmation technique? no because you already have eyes. what youre doing is simply stating a fact and reminding yourself of it for funsies. you arent trying to manifest anything because you already have it. affirming doesn't mean tricking your brain or your subconscious that you have your desire or whatever, its just you reminding yourself.

and finally, what does it mean to persist? does that mean fighting for your life trying to convince yourself that you have your desire? no. because you already have it. it simply means that everytime you ask yourself "oh why isnt this showing up in my 3d?" you tell yourself "bro what tf are you on about were not manifesting anything we already have it are you crazy?" that's all. going back to the eyes example, you know you have eyes, so if someone came up to you rn and was like "hey did your eyes come in yet?" you'd probably think they hit their head or something because your eyes are literally right there its how youre seeing their dumbass. that's the same attitude you have to have towards your 'desires'. stop thinking of your 'desires' as desires, stop thinking youre trying to manifest anything, stop thinking you have to wait for anything to show up in the 3d or that the 3d is lagging behind or whatever, stop seeing manifestation as manifestation, stop imagining yourself sending in success stories asks when you get your desires, basically just stop dawg. you already have it. "dont contradict yourself" (although again you arent contradicting anything bc you already have it im just running out of ways to simply something thats already so simple). thats what it means to manifest instantly.

anyways thats all i wanted to say. im so sorry for the horrendously long ask i would make it even longer by talking about my success now but i think you would beat my ass if i did. bye bye love u

!!!!! you ate this whole thing up. y'all better come read this.

[bugslaststraw]

See it's funny because in the games, and in any other assorted media before the movies came out, everyone low-key just hates Robotnik. And not even in the fun dedicated way like they all seem to think he's a bit of a failure. Which sounds weird if you don't know anything about Sonic (and certainly sounded weird to me three weeks ago when I was one of those people) but it really is just genuinely the case. I think?

Obviously his family all hate him. Movie-only fans will have an idea about this one; we've got good old Geralt Robotnik who didn't give a rats ass about him in favour of his long-dead cousin Maria, whom he wants revenge for. Geralt manipulated him and used him and said "oh Ivo you're no Maria" even though Ivo probably doesn't even know who the fuck Maria is in the movie universe and so on, et cetera. Geralt sucks just as much in the games and did approximately the same thing there.

What you may or may not know is that in one of the games, Eggman runs into a descendant of his from generations into the future. That guy's name is Eggman Nega, and he absolutely hates his ancestor. He thinks he's cramping his style? He's trying to go back in time and kill him to restore his reputation as far as I remember. Not to mention he has other family and cousins, none of whom give a flying fuck what happens to him. I distinctly remember someone who's name was Collin but who's nickname was Snively and who also worked with Eggman at some point, but hated him, and then later betrayed him. I can't remember a single family member of Eggman's that actually seemed to like or even tolerate him.

He's had a lot of henchpeople too. Most of them were robots. A lot of them, like Omega, and Alpha, and Sage to an extent (although she was more like a robot daughter he built for himself) betrayed him and joined the good guys too (Sage is another outlier, she isn't exactly switching over but she definitely isn't loyal either so.??) I mean, Eggman isn't even surprised by the fourth time. Smaller minions like Orbot and Cubot and their predecessors weren't able to betray Eggman, but definitely would've if they could've because they all disliked him because he's allegedly a shit boss. (Who says he isn't. He's evil after all.)

He "contracts" a lot of spies and stuff too. Animal characters. They all hate him as well, but he tends to hate them in return, so at least those are entirely fair game.

Not to mention all the villains he's conveniently happened to need the same thing as at the start of the game, but become inconvenient to towards the end, so they betray him as quickly as possible to get ready for their final boss fight with Sonic towards the conclusion of the story. There's more of those than I can count or care to remember. He meets his alternative universe self once and they hate each other. There's even a moment in I think the comics where Eggman loses all his memories and temporarily becomes nice, and hangs out in a village and builds things for the furry people who live there. He makes a wooden puppet style robot that also becomes like a daughter to him. She's good at engineering, just like him. Of course when he gets his memories back and becomes evil again she leaves as quickly as possible and later helps Sonic & co. She's very resentful about it all, I've heard.

None of that is surprising, of course. Eggman is an evil villain to the heroes and a loser to the villains. It's funny! It's a joke. They need to introduce scarier villains in the games to ramp up tension but they can't exactly just drop Sonic's nemesis down a hole somewhere, being as iconic as he is... So he sticks around. But as a joke, rather than an actual threat. And it's a little sad, yeah. But he deserves it! He's trying to create some sort of totalitarian egg-state and he bullies Sonic for having friends, for Christ's sake. Why should anyone want to stay loyal to a guy like that- and why should anyone do it at all? Joining the heroes is the cool thing to do! Shadow does it, Knuckles does it, Omega kinda sorta does it, Sage is toeing the damn line from what I've heard, it's...

Okay, it's kind of a lot? I mean I understand having nobody that's a good guy like the villain, but like... Not even his damn henchpeople robots? In a lot of the animated shows and comics he keeps building robot wives for himself that are explicitly created just to like him, by him. That or he's into someone who's into one of the animals, or similar. I mean, it's that bad. And it's like... Nobody? Not even once in like thirty years did anyone come up with the idea to give Eggman?? This behemoth among famous pop culture characters? A loyal henchman?

And- well, okay, nowadays this isn't true anymore. I'm sure we all know why. And that's kind of fun; in 2020, Doctor Robotnik gained his first and only loyal henchperson. Great! But...

Jeff Fowler is a Sonic fan, isn't he. Would he know..?

Would anyone involved in making the movies know that Eggman famously... Doesn't have any friends? That nobody seems to like him? That he's apparently infinitely betrayable? Do they know? Do they know? Is that why the third movie is written like that? Is it not just a character complex pulled out of someone's- I mean, when movie Eggman says that there's only ever been one person who actually liked him and one person who actually cared about him... He's quite literally right, isn't he. As in... Since 1991... Like 34 years since conception as a handful of red pixels in the hottest new platformer game there's actually, literally only been one character..? ooh I think I need to lie down for a bit

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part six

About the ending of this one: don't hate me! Hate Hotch :)

Warnings: angst! the usual! a meeting with Strauss, Rossi knowing Hotch too well and it annoying the fuck out of Hotch (lovingly)

Everyone knows the case isn’t over, but it might as well be. With nothing else to uncover and Lila safely returned home, the BAU team is called back to Quantico.

Hotch makes sure that the Monroes have some security round the clock in their neighborhood, especially on their street. He doesn’t think anything will happen, but then again, no one can ever be certain. 

The problem is that they can only afford the security for so long. One week, at the most.

You ignore Hotch the entire way home on the jet. In your defense, you ignore everyone. You put your headphones in and curl up in one of the chairs toward the back, perfectly secluded from everyone else.

Hotch watches you, trying not to look as worried as he feels, and hating that he feels such deep worry for you. Sure, your words stung earlier, that he’s the last person you’d want to work for, but they weren’t entirely untrue. You are the last person he expected or wanted to walk through those glass doors. 

He hasn’t had the chance to discuss your placement with Strauss, but he will. Either it was pure coincidence that she placed you here, or she thinks she’s being funny. If it’s the latter, he hopes she can see how hard he isn’t laughing.

Rossi lightly kicks Hotch’s leg under the table. He raises his eyebrows when Hotch drags his eyes over to him.

“What?” Hotch says, settling down further into his seat, glancing at the file he’s supposed to be going over. “Got a cramp?”

Rossi scoffs. “Do you?”

Hotch hums. “When do you think they’ll send us the sketch?” He’s trying hard to change this subject to anywhere but where Rossi wants to take it.

Rossi, of course, ignores Hotch’s question. “I’m guessing she didn’t appreciate you prying into her past.”

Hotch focuses very hard on one word in the file, wondering if he might make it catch fire. “No, she didn’t.”

“Well,” Rossi sighs, looking out the window. “Serves you right.”

Hotch’s eyes snap up, glaring tiredly at his friend.

“What?” Rossi asks innocently. “It’s too soon. You should’ve known better.”

“You know just as well as anyone that in order for this team to work well together we need to have an established level of trust—”

“Save the pep talk,” Rossi waves him off. “I think you just can’t stand being left out of the loop. There’s a missing piece here and you can’t take it.”

Hotch doesn’t know if Rossi is still talking about you or not. “Richard said—”

“I heard what he said,” Rossi interrupts again and Hotch really wishes he’d stop doing that. “And if it was anything that concerns us, don’t you think it would’ve come up in her background check? That you, as Unit Chief, have to go over.”

Hotch can’t say that he disagrees there. He does go over the background checks, just a glance, really. Maybe his eyes lingered on yours a little longer, so what? Maybe he tried to focus on smaller details to puzzle you out, so what? That’s not a crime.

What is criminal is hiding things from the team, especially the Unit Chief. He hates to pull rank, he really does, but when one of the FBI’s Most Wanted sits in an interrogation room and says he recognizes your newest agent, isn’t that cause for concern? Especially when said agent refuses to elaborate?

Why would Richard Monroe of all people recognize you? Or a younger version of you, so he says, because you’re older now than he remembers. Did he see a picture of you? How and where and why and from who? 

Rossi is right. There’s a missing piece. And Hotch can’t stand it.

+++

Hotch gives you the following day off. You know damn well that isn’t standard, and that everyone else is still going into the office, but you don’t argue with him. He’s as surprised as you are about the fact.

Instead, you sleep in, you have a slow morning, you make brunch, and you do everything in your power to not think about your father.

It’s easier said than done most days. It’s hard not to think about him when there’s so much you don’t know — so much you’ll never know.

Because he’s dead. You know that for a fact. Got a phone call from the prison ward and everything.

Still, your mind wanders. You hold your coffee close, the mug practically burning your palms, but you’re too in your head to feel it.

Lila…everything about it was so similar to your situation. Kind of. Given that you still don’t know who kidnapped her, and you might never find out, it could be a freak coincidence. 

You roll your eyes at yourself. Coincidence. Yeah, right. You stopped entertaining the childish idea of those long ago. Everything happens for a reason, which is why you have such a gut feeling about Lila. You just need to get to the bottom of it.

But you have no clue how.

+++

When you return to the BAU the following day, well rested and somewhat less anxious, you head straight for Hotch’s office.

Not because you want to. God, no. Hotch summoned you via text while you were still on the freeway.

You make him wait, though. You need coffee first.

After a pit stop at the staff coffee pot, and then at Emily's desk to chat, you waltz into Hotch’s office without knocking — his blinds are open and you can clearly see he isn’t busy — earning you an exasperated look from your new boss. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap without thinking. “You’re the one who called me for a meeting when I wasn’t even halfway here yet. So what? What do you want?”

Hotch really wonders why he tries to be patient with you. “Sit down.”

“Gladly,” you smile, knowing it has to look as fake as it feels. You lower yourself into one of his stiff chairs across from his desk.

Hotch takes a moment, clearly pulling himself together, before he asks, “How are you?”

Your coffee freezes midway to your mouth. You drop the mug back down, resting it on your thigh, letting it burn you there. “Fine,” you give a little shrug. “Thanks for the day off, boss.”

“I thought you might need it,” he replies, like he’s caught you in something.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I think you’re being an asshole on purpose,” you conclude. “I think I make you nervous, and you’re not used to that, so you take it out on me by being an ass.”

“Projecting, are we?”

“Proving my point, are we?” you grumble, ignoring how right he might be. You take a scorching sip of your coffee. “What did you actually want?”

Hotch stares at you for a moment, studying your face. You stare right back at him, unperturbed.

He’s going to learn that two can play at this game whether he likes it or not.

He’s the first to look away, down at the files on his desk. “The sketch artist spoke with Lila.”

“And?”

“She refused.”

You sit up straighter, nearly spilling your coffee. “What?”

Hotch’s eyes lift to yours. “She refused.”

You sit back again, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair to rub your forehead. “Okay. So what does this mean?”

Hotch threads his fingers together on his desk. “Her mom is going to talk to her, see if she can convince her to talk to the artist again.”

You nod slowly, looking out the window. “Okay. That’s good.” You’re not sure if she will. Or if it’ll get her in any trouble. She’s just a kid.

Hotch stays silent. Your coffee burns your thigh just enough finally that you move to rest it on the other arm of the chair.

You pause, looking over at him without moving your head. Your eyes narrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I thought you might like to know.”

You turn your head, smirking. “Missed me?”

He frowns.

You lift your coffee to your lips, waiting for Hotch to say something else, like you know he will.

He does. “I thought you might be able to shine some light on why she refused.”

You glare at him, but you finish your sip of coffee. “And no one else on the team was capable of shedding light?”

He stares you down. You return the favor.

You’re the first to cave this time. “What do you want from me, Hotch?”

“The truth would be a great start.”

All you can do is laugh, so you do, hanging your head. “Great meeting.” You stand and head for the door, raising your mug. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

You hear Hotch push his chair back as he raises to his feet. “We’re not done.”

You pause, but you stay at the door. “You just don’t know how to leave well enough alone, huh?”

“I can write you up for insubordination.”

“Go ahead,” you shrug. “I could use another day off.”

On that note, and before he can hold you captive any longer, you yank his office door open and escape to your desk.

Hotch watches you through his open blinds. The way you settle into your desk chair, the way your hand shakes as you lift your mug to your lips. 

It’s not that he can’t understand why you won’t confide in him -- or, well, it’s less about confiding and more about just telling him the truth. He doesn’t need to be your confidant, or anything remotely friendly. God knows you wouldn’t want that. 

But this is serious. A serial killer recognizes his agent, shakes them up so bad they have what he can only assume was a panic attack in the parking lot, and he’s supposed to, what? Forget he saw anything? 

Forget like his life didn’t flash before his eyes when he saw you crouched down, fighting to take in a single breath of air? Forget like he didn’t pace his entire apartment last night, recalling everything he knows about you to try to ascertain why an FBI’s Most Wanted would recognize you as a child? Forget like he didn’t nearly make himself sick with the implications of that?

It’s uncharted territory for him. Members of his team have hidden things from him before, but they’ve let the truth out. They’ve let him help.

You don’t seem keen to do either of those. Again, it’s not like he doesn’t understand. The two of you aren’t exactly each other’s favorite person -- and won’t ever be. But the nature of the work you do…this isn’t something Hotch can just let go.

+++

The next week at the BAU passes similarly and without much fanfare. No new cases come in -- surprisingly -- but a few seminars come up, some mountains of paperwork, and a meeting with Strauss.

The latter comes as a shock. You think for sure that it is Hotch’s doing, and you’re entirely prepared for a fight. You’re either being fired, reprimanded for your behavior, or who knows what else.

What you don’t expect is for it to be lunch. Plain and simple.

“Thank you for joining me,” Strauss says, in an uncharacteristically good mood, guiding you over to her comfortable chairs. “Sorry for the formality. It’s the easiest way to schedule these things. Please, sit.”

You sit across from her, waving off the apology. “Not a problem. I was a little worried, so I’m glad it’s only lunch.”

“Why?” she asks. “Is everything alright in the BAU?”

“Oh, yes,” you laugh it off. Hotch just hates me, but not to worry, the feeling is mutual. “Just new job jitters, I suppose.”

“Ah, still adjusting?”

“You could say that,” you nod with another sheepish laugh.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry,” she says. “I hear your performance is exceptional, and you fit right in.”

You raise an eyebrow. Hotch told her that? “Oh,” you try not to show your shock. “Thank you, I’m…I’m glad to hear that.”

She smiles. “Aaron can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re doing fine. Don’t worry. Ah, there’s lunch.”

Sandwiches are brought in, leaving you no time to really process what she has just confirmed. 

And he is never going to live it down.

The rest of your lunch meeting passes by easily. To your surprise, Strauss steers the conversation away from the BAU and toward how you’re settling in here in general. 

“It was a big move, I heard,” she says. “I hope the area is treating you well?”

“It’s great,” you nod. “I do love it here.”

Of course, work topics come up, such as professionalism among the team and how those lines blur around some. She doesn’t linger here, though, so you think nothing of it. 

“A new case will likely come tomorrow,” she says. “You’ll hardly ever be without one this long. Consider yourself lucky.”

You laugh at that, mostly to hide your scoff. You wouldn’t consider yourself lucky to be without a case because it only means Hotch’s focus is on you instead of catching a killer -- which is a much better use of his time. Safer for him, too. Because with every passing day you come closer to spilling hot coffee down his suit.

Kidding. Kind of.

“Mm! I do have one thing to ask you,” Strauss says suddenly.

You swallow your nerves and look at her expectantly.

“Richard Monroe,” she starts, and you feel your blood run cold. “He’s still cooperating in their investigation, however,” she pauses, lacing her fingers together. “He’s asked to speak with you.”

You blink. “With me?”

She nods. “You clearly made some impression on him. He’s apparently been asking for you for a few days, though they only just notified me this morning.” She pauses to sigh. “Do you have any idea what he might be after?”

You shake your head, dusting crumbs off your leg. “No idea.”

“Alright,” she accepts your answer far too easily. “Well, if there’s time, and if he keeps asking, I might ask you to go speak to him. Just to…keep the peace, I suppose. We can call it research for the BAU.” She waves her hand. “But it’s not at the top of my list.”

“Of course,” you nod slowly. “Just let me know.”

She smiles. “I’ve taken up enough of your lunch time, so I’ll let you get back to work.” She stands and you do as well, a rare moment where you’re itching to get back to the bullpen. “You’re going to do just fine here. You’re already exceeding expectations, so well done. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” you return the smile, your chest expanding from the praise. It’s nice knowing your boss’s boss thinks you’re doing well, no matter how Hotch acts when you’re in the same room. Checkmate.

+++

Hotch scowls at the paperwork before him as he listens to your laughter filter up to his office. You returned from your meeting with Strauss in a frustratingly good mood and have been joking around with Morgan for half an hour.

Fed up, Hotch shoves his chair back to shut his door. Maybe he slams it. It doesn’t matter.

He hears the conversation come to a halt. Good. Maybe now they’ll get some work done for once.

He signs off on what he needs to, closing the folder and moving on to the next. And the next. And the next.

Before he knows it, he’s the second to last in the office again. Rossi knocks once on Hotch’s office door before he opens it, one hand holding his coat over his shoulder.

“Working late?” Rossi asks, striding in and settling down across from Hotch.

“Yes,” Hotch says, not looking up from the paperwork. He still has a mountain to get through, and maybe it could wait until tomorrow, but he needs to focus. On something that isn’t you.

“Want to get a drink?”

“No.”

“Alright. Any particular reason you’re so grouchy today?”

Hotch sighs, looking up at his friend and hoping his eyes convey the best I’m not in the mood look that he can. 

He must succeed, because Rossi presses even more. “Doesn’t have anything to do with, say, a certain new agent who seemed to be in a great mood today for the first time in a week?” He pauses, musing. “Or maybe it’s the fact that said new agent didn’t say one word to you today?”

Hotch’s jaw tenses. It’s true. Neither of you spoke to the other today. Plenty of glares were shared, though, which is the same as words for you two.

Rossi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Aaron. She’ll come to you if she needs help. If she wants help.”

No, she won’t, Aaron wants to say, but he can’t. Because what’s his reasoning? Something he doesn’t want to admit.

The facts are that Rossi doesn’t know you. Rossi wasn’t there when Hotch first met you on that case all those years ago. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you try to do everything yourself and nearly fistfight Hotch every time he tried to take one thing off your plate. Rossi wasn’t there to watch you nearly get yourself killed because you refused to ask for help. Rossi wasn’t there to see the panic that had crossed Hotch’s face when he saw your reckless behavior. 

Rossi doesn’t know you. Not the way Hotch does.

Which is why after Rossi leaves, Hotch gathers his things, and stops to see Penelope on his way out of the office.

[aporatael]

...

Who’d want to waste spacetime on anything else?

“Do you only take people along with you just to convince yourself that you’re not selfish?” I ask, interested. “Or do you normally take children - no, not children, children would argue - but fuckable young people, I bet. Girls, mostly. In their twenties, I bet. Because they’ll just smile and agree and compromise.”

“That’s very rude,” the Doctor says, startled. “Like. Wow. Seriously?”

“Is it true? Eohippus.”

“Not true at all. Pliohippus.”

“Pliohippus comes just before Equus, you quack.”

“Why do you even care? They’re not like they’re real horses. Just a generic beetlin’-around, weird little spotty beastie paddin’ around like a long-legged boring badger. D’yiu want to see some real proper horses, alien ones? I know a race of them with blue shiny wing cases and six genders. Caste system based entirely on the production and rating of poetry - ”

“Oh, they’re spotted?” I cry happily. “Wait, you’ve seen them?”

“All they do is run about on the forest floor, eatin’… fruit.”

“Fruit?”

“I don’t know. Boring things. They don’t even neigh. Just trundle around like guinea pigs.”

“Doctor,” I say eventually, pondering this, “you like horses, don’t you.”

“Absolutely not,” the Doctor says. “I only humour you to keep the peace. And it isn’t bloody working.”

“You like horses. Let’s meet the first ones. Again. And do it properly. Look them in the eye and see the spark of the kinship - see if we can feel the deep emotional connection of the bond-”

“What bond is that?” The Doctor says, but - hahahaha. I’ve got him. The Doctor is such a horse girl.

“The deep emotional connection of the kinship between horses - well, horse-shaped things - and humans. Well. Human-shaped things. Is it still there? Did it start there? When you look in the eyes of Eohippus, will you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“The thing you feel when you look at horses,” I say. “Excitement and adventure and potential and wonder, the desire to love and be loved by it, a thousand wishes, and the feeling of being there at the dawn of the world.”

“We could just go to the Big Bang -”

“I didn’t say the Big Bang. I said the dawn of the world. It’s different. Are they horses? Will you feel the same way with Eohippus? Is the feeling there?”

“Rubbish!” says the Doctor, looking hot and bothered, and setting the coordinates.

Of course it does escalate from there, with running and shouting and aliens (seeking to stripmine the earth’s resources before there were humans to defend it; quite a good plan honestly; genuinely can’t work out why they aren’t all trying that?) but I don’t care; I’m sitting on the forest floor with Eohippus in my arms, having decided that there’s nothing stopping me from doing so; at the dawn of the world.

“NOT the Big Bang,” I say again, as the Doctor squats down beside me. “The dawn of the world.”

And we are quiet for a while.

“Wow,” the Doctor says eventually.

“Yeah.”

“They really are all in there. All the horses that ever were and will be. In that little eye. It’s a kind eye,” he announces, as horse girls do when they mean to compliment a horse with few other notable positives. “And that’s where it all starts.”

“Yeah.”

“Bellerophon and Secretariat and Arthur - I had a horse called Arthur.”

“What happened to him?”

“Gave him back. Can’t keep a horse in the TARDIS.”

“Keep this one,” I say impulsively.

“You know we can’t.”

“… can we clone it?”

Something Doctor Who misses out on is how none of the companions are extremely interested with any one thing. All the companions are all “idk, I have a few ideas of stuff that’d be cool to see, but I’m up for whatever! All of space and time, woohoo! :)”

And that’s great for them and I know it makes for a better show overall but I think it would be more realistic for someone to say “I want to see every historically significant moment for my special interest, and then I want to double back for mundane bits too.”

I, for example, would be an insufferable companion.

I’d be like, “okay now take me to the place and time where they first used stirrups for the whole ride instead of just using them as a foothold to mount the horse. Then I want to watch Ray Hunt put a first ride on a colt. After that we’ll take a nap, and then let’s sneak onto set of the Return of the King to be extras in the Ride of the Rohirrim”

The Doctor would be all “please. This is the twentieth horse-centric stop in a row. We have all of space available to us. Can we leave Earth this time I’m begging you”

And my annoying ass would go “not unless there’s horses in space” roll credits

[jewelsli]

Not that I don’t love when Bruce’s kids outperform him and give him heart attacks, but I think it’s funnier when the kids think they are better fighters/spies/infiltrators/etc. then him but he’s just so proud so he lets them think that they are.

I think that Babs would be a really good hacker, the best in the family, but Tim, who thinks that he is the next best(and is still scarily good) has no idea that Bruce only let him think that he broke his record of hacking into secret organizations.

Dick is amazing at acrobatics, and centers his fighting style around it much more. He even won gold in the Olympics for gymnastics! Bruce doesn’t want to tell him that he trained under several gymnasts, contortionists, even ballerinas!!! and has the acrobatic fighting style mastered, so he (within reason) let’s his kid win on most occasions, he doesn’t need to fake loosing on trapeze though(I am still giving the kids SOME things they are better at…)

Cass knows that nobody can lie to her, she can spot everyone’s tells and knows most people better then they know themselves. Bruce is, however, extremely paranoid and also has a kryptonian he works with regularly. He lies so well that he can convince himself he’s telling the truth(which is literally the point in case of advanced lie detectors), and so what if he lets some of his tells be more obvious around his baby, he’s so proud of her for picking up such small things! And while Bruce is AMAZING at reading people, he can’t beat Cass, it is however much closer matched then the others think.

Let’s be honest, Bruce is banned from the kitchen and isn’t good at cooking… or so everyone thinks. While he’s not as good as Alfred or even Jason he could whip up something Gordon Ramsey would be proud of if he actually tried to.

Damian in the best fighter with swords, this is undisputed. Bruce just hopes none of his kids find his crate of custom katanas in the attic, if they do then he’ll say they are for Damian.

Tim is an amazing investigator, so good in fact, that Bruce has trusted him on his hardest cases. Everyone assumes this is because Tim is a better detective then Bruce, but he just loves seeing how proud his kid gets when he gets a breakthrough.

Batman doesn’t kill, Red hood does, everyone in their right minds knows that’s a lie. Before Robin came along, leaders of drug operations or terrorists would disappear into the night, never to be seen again. The only people who don’t seem to know this are the Bats children themselves. Sometimes you can still hear a cut off scream in the dark before the news announces a missing person that everyone just knew was doing something horrible, criminals are more wary on nights that the Bats brood are in. And people running trafficking rings pray that it’s the Hood when a knock sounds, the bat doesn’t give those people the mercy of death.

All of the bat kids know more languages then Bruce, and they keep learning more to throw him off, for a family of detectives they really should have thought about the fact that Bruce traveled the entire world, he knows ancient languages and the words that world in other galaxies use, if he could speak Martian then he would have learned it by now, he still does know that part that he’s able to learn.

Idk I just need more of Bruce being skilled at SO many things while his kids are like “oh yeah Bruce? He’s good but I could defeat him easily” and Bruce just so proud of his babies when they do ANYTHING.

Bonus:

Tim made a plan to neutralize Superman at some point, it wasn’t as good as Bruce’s but he replaced it so fast. When he later uses it to take down mind controlled or something Supes Red Robin is watching.

Nobody notices that Batman whispers something to Superman before he goes deathly pale and acts like the plan is working so well he immediately gets defeated. As for what Batman said to him? It was basically ‘Clark(they aren’t supposed to know identities here btw) my kid made this plan and I swear to every mortal and immortal force that if you don’t take the fall right now you will regret it for the rest of your life” and Batman was usually scary but this was like, God will cower before him terrifying and it scared evil Superman so much he went along with it.

Res Robin was smiling so brightly that later Clark honestly couldn’t be mad at the Bat.

Edit: I forgot to add this but unbeknownst to EVERYONE (including Alfred somehow) Bruce can and will stay awake longer then Tim and his drinks are somehow worse in terms of caffeination. The difference is that on the fourteenth day with no sleep everyone thinks it’s only been three even though he is Vividly hallucinating. The ability to hide his lack of sleep for the first week and a half leads them to believe he’s actually the worst at staying up since on what they think is his fourth day of no sleep (it’s his seventeenth) he’s talking to an apparently very vivid hallucination of Alfred the Cat in a suit and a Tiger named Tawny(he had met the tiger earlier that week) and having a civilized conversation with them

[ibijau]

heeey who's up for some more mdzs daemon au?? Today, wwx has a horrible terrible time of being alive again, and mxy's daemon isn't helping

Something was insistently pecking at Wei Wuxian's head and hands, trying to wake him up. A few times he pushed away his attacker, refusing to open his eyes. Being dead was bad enough, he didn't need to be awake as well. But the pecking always quickly resumed. 

“Pashou, leave me alone,” he grumbled. 

“I'm not Pashou.” 

Startled to hear a male voice coming from the bird, Wei Wuxian quickly sat up. Too quickly, perhaps; his head was spinning from the sudden effort, almost making him nauseous. Once he no longer feared it would make him puke, Wei Wuxian looked around for the source of that voice, and quickly found it. Down on the ground, he found a miserable looking raven staring up at him. A daemon, no doubt about that, although not one he had ever seen before. 

In fact, the entire room around him was unfamiliar. It looked as miserable as that raven, with his mangy feathers and his air of being underfed.

No sign of Pashou, though.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. The black swan had gotten so sluggish in the years after Wei Wuxian gave away his golden core, it often happened she’d fall asleep somewhere and he’d have to look for her. Back in Yunmeng, she’d often be napping in Jiang Cheng’s office. Since they’d moved to the Burial Mounds, Pashou had become less consistent. His silly, useless daemon.

His stupid daemon, he remembered her clumsily flying to his rescue when the fierce corpses he’d controlled turned against him. They’d torn her apart in front of him, and him soon after, although the most important part of him had already died alongside her. The way she’d cried, his poor little daemon who’d always warned him against this, whenever she could focus again for a moment.

His Pashou, dead…

Nausea hit again. This time, Wei Wuxian couldn’t contain it and vomited a mix of bile and blood on the already dirty floor.

“You’ll have to clean that up,” the raven flatly informed him.

Wei Wuxian shivered. It was always odd for one person’s daemon to address a human directly. Among cultivators it wasn’t as scandalous as among common people, since they sometimes used their daemons to communicate with one another. Still, it was preferred to only do so if you had already been introduced to the person, and Wei Wuxian most definitely didn’t know anyone with such a pathetic raven daemon.

“Who are you, anyway?” Wei Wuxian asked as he got up on shaky legs.

He felt weak, even by what he’d become used to since the Sunshot Campaign. His entire body ached, but most of all his wrists.

“I’m his daemon,” the raven retorted. “Obviously.”

“Whose?” Wei Wuxian insisted.

“His,” the raven repeated. “Ah, maybe you don’t realise… I told him that curse didn’t look right. He’s… There’s a pot with some water on that table. It’ll be easier if you look at yourself.”

Saying this the raven hopped toward an old table, and Wei Wuxian followed. That strange daemon was right, looking at his reflection told Wei Wuxian what no explanation could have convinced him of: he now inhabited a body that wasn’t his. Even used as he was to dark arts, Wei Wuxian nearly shouted in surprise, although he told himself that was mostly because of this new body’s ghastly makeup.

Shocked as he was, Wei Wuxian had to sit down. Now that he looked around again, he realised he’d woken up laying in the middle of inscriptions written in blood on the floor. His current body’s own blood, for better or for worse, and that was why his wrist itched and ached that way.

“I always thought daemons were affected by possessions,” he told the raven. “Every case I’ve seen before, the person’s daemon falls asleep or even changes appearance. But you seem fine.”

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” the bird scoffed.

“It’s the oddest thing about it,” Wei Wuxian retorted. Pashou would have understood. She was curious, like him, for all that she usually tried to rein him in.

The raven shook his head. “He said it wouldn’t be possession. He said he was offering himself to you, so it would be your mind in his body, and your daemon would replace me. I figured disappearing was better than going on like this.”

Without thinking, Wei Wuxian nodded. He’d heard about rituals capable of invoking a spirit and giving it a body, but he’d naturally never tried it himself. He’d always assumed the person’s daemon would be affected too, but it seemed he’d been wrong.

“I won’t be your daemon,” the raven suddenly announced. “You’re not my human, I’m not your daemon. Even if you have his body, I’m not yours. I’ll never be anyone’s but his.”

“Who was he, anyway?”

“His name was Mo Xuanyu,” the raven said with something unbearably sad in his hoarse voice. “His mother was the daughter a servant of this great house had with the master, and she had him with a cultivator. We were even in a sect, for a while. It didn’t end well. We're not allowed to speak of it anymore.”

That much made sense. Of course only a person with some knowledge of cultivation could have known a ritual of that sort, not to mention using it at all. But as Wei Wuxian checked his new body, he realised with dismay that it was truly very weak. It didn’t even have a golden core, and more of a crumbled piece of dust that wasn’t good for anything.

“Why did he invoke me?” Wei Wuxian asked. “It’s not something you do without good reasons.”

“We were suffering,” the daemon explained. “Every day for years, our life was terrible, never feeling any joy, never allowed anything good to happen to us. Our family, our aunt and some others, they mistreated us constantly. It broke us. It broke him. Near the end, he wouldn’t listen to me anymore. I don’t think he could hear me, most of the time. He’d even attack me when he was upset because he forgot we were the same person.”

Wei Wuxian shivered, his nausea returning. It happened, people harming their own daemon, but it was always troubling. He’d not always been patient with his poor Pashou toward the end, but at least he’d never hit her, no matter what terrible things he’d said to her.

“Don’t get me wrong, I agreed to what he did,” the raven stated. “I want these people who hurt us to suffer, even if I have to die too. My aunt, her son, her husband, and A-Tong. They are the price you have to pay to keep using this body.”

Lowering his eyes, Wei Wuxian observed the four deep gashes on his wrists. That was inconvenient. Since he personally had no grudges against these people, he wasn’t terribly interested in killing them, but since they were complete strangers and they had pushed his body’s previous owner to such a desperate state, it was also hard to feel much pity for them.

“It’s not like I asked to have this body,” Wei Wuxian pointed out. “Aiyah, I don’t even remember accepting it! But I’m here, so I must have. And that means we…”

“There is no ‘we’,” the daemon cut him. “I am not yours.”

“So you’ll fly away and live like a normal bird, eh?” Wei Wuxian snickered, as if the mere idea weren't repulsive to any sane person. 

Well, he'd done his share of repulsive things anyway, so this seemed tame in comparison.

As for the raven he said nothing, but shuffled awkwardly on his legs. This reaction, combined with what he’d felt within his body so far, made Wei Wuxian grow suspicious.

“How far can you go from your human, anyway?” 

“Pretty far, but also less than the normal distance,” the raven said, preening himself in an embarrassed manner. “We were kicked out of Jinlin Tai before I settled. We tried to do the ritual here, on our own. We'd seen others go through the trial, it didn't seem hard to organise. It… Backfired. I can go away, as far as I need. I went far into the North once, on the other side of the country. But being apart… it hurts us both as much as if we hadn’t done the separation ritual. It feels… Wrong when we're not touching.”

That explained Mo Xuanyu's non-existent golden core, then. Even if he had started forming one, a botched separation from his daemon would have ruined it. The part about not being able to stay apart, Wei Wuxian had never heard about. But of course that was because few people survived a failed separation, and those who did were so broken you couldn't ask them questions. 

That was why there were so many precautions around the separation, potions to make it less painful, family and teachers present to make it less traumatic. In the century or two since cultivators had started separating from their daemon, they had improved the process. Children used to die almost half the time, or so Wei Wuxian had been told. A high price to pay, but when the Wen sect had discovered it guaranteed a strong golden core at a very young age, they'd paid it without hesitation. The other sect had followed suit, most of them. Those who didn't hadn't survived long, unable to compete when the old method required twenty, thirty years to form a golden core, sometimes more. 

Wei Wuxian had never met before someone whose separation had failed. He knew some children had died from it at the Wen indoctrination camp, but he'd never met a survivor, although he recalled some speculations about someone he’d known back then. He couldn’t remember who it had been, though, and ultimately he’d lost interest in that topic, too busy with his own problems.

“You’ll have to stay with me then,” Wei Wuxian decided. “There’s no other way.”

“I’m not your daemon.”

“No, you’re not my Pashou, that’s certain,” Wei Wuxian retorted with cheerful disdain.

His beautiful daemon, even after she’d become diminished, she’d remained a sight to behold. The most beautiful black swan the world had ever seen, his pride and joy as long as she thrived, still loved and cared for once she was little more than a dead weight. A mere raven couldn’t compare to her, least of all one as ugly and pathetic as that one.

“We’ll see if it’s easier for you to go away now that there’s a different soul in this body,” Wei Wuxian suggested. “If you can, then go and become a bird if you like, I’ve managed without a daemon before. Otherwise, you’ll have to stick around. I’ve been in enough pain in my life. How is that for a deal… ah… what’s your name anyway?”

The raven preened himself. “I don’t have to tell you that. I’m not your daemon. We don’t need to talk, so you don’t need to know my name.”

Frustrated by that stubborn bird, Wei Wuxian had half a mind to grab it by the neck and shake it around until it stopped making things difficult. But this was another person’s daemon, and just that brief thought was nauseating. He didn’t want to ever touch that raven.

Maybe the bird was right. Wei Wuxian didn’t need to know his name. All he needed to know was whether they could work together to sort out their strange situation… but even that would have to wait: before Wei Wuxian could argue his case, the front door opened and a richly dressed boy entered accompanied by servants, intending to beat him up for something his body’s previous occupant had done.

That damn raven couldn't even be counted on to help. Perhaps guessing what was about to happen, the daemon had flown away the instant the door opened. Normally Wei Wuxian wouldn't have needed him anyway, but as he quickly discovered, even that little distance between his new body and Mo Xuanyu's daemon caused him considerable pain. Shocked by that sensation, he was unable to defend himself against his bullies. To the pain of separation were soon added numerous bruises, which were more bearable because more familiar. 

The rich boy and his minions left, but closed the door behind them before the raven could return. 

Laying on the floor, bruised and miserable, Wei Wuxian cursed the body's previous occupant, the daemon raven, and everyone else in the house. As he tried to catch his breath, his hand wandered at his side, grasping for something absent. Even as her condition worsened, Pashou had always felt it when he truly needed her, and she'd waddle her way to him no matter what. 

But she was gone now. He would never again hold her in his arms. 

In a way Pashou had been lost long before they died, of course. From the moment they'd done that core transfer… she'd been little more than another walking corpse at Wei Wuxian's side. 

It would be hard, living without even that much left of her. But Wei Wuxian had done many hard things in his life. He would manage this, too. 

At least, he would do it once that damned raven came back within a reasonable distance.

[cherubkissesx]

voice of an angel

pairing: female! bau reader x spencer reid and the bau

content: pure fluff, established relationship between reader and spencer, reader singing karaoke, one use of y/n other than that none

a/n: hello! this is my first one shot so please be kind :) this is quite a short one so i hope you all enjoy! this idea came to me when i listened to this song and thought it’d be a cute one shot

you and the rest of the team decided after a long hard case you all needed a well deserved drink. after you all had gotten a drink and secured a table, the sound of singing filled the bar. what you all hadn’t realised was that this bar was a karaoke bar and you all had to endure peoples screeching singing voice.

you had began feeling a bit tipsy as you were now 4 vodkas deep and you could feel that familiar hazy feeling washing over you.

“hey” emily said rather loudly without meaning to which caught the whole teams attention. “hello?” you said confused.

“you should go up there and sing a song” emily smirked. “no i can’t sing.” you said.

“come on! it’ll be fun!” jj said jumping in. “i bet you’ve got a powerhouse of a voice hidden under that quiet demeanour sweetness, i bet it’s all a facade.” derek added.

“she has.” spencer said innocently and then looked at you smirking. “spence!” you said your cheeks reddening as he had just revealed your secret.

“oh well you must go up!” rossi said enthusiastically. “all those girls nights we’ve had where we’ve sang the soundtrack to our favourite movies and you’ve never bothered to mention you can actually sing!” penelope shouted. “i feel hurt” penelope said feigning hurt.

“sorry!” you laughed. “we want to see what voice you’ve got hidden.” emily urged. “it’s great.” spencer said and you glared at him.

you downed the rest of your drink needing some liquid courage to get you through this three minute performance. “fine!” you said slamming your empty glass down on the table and walking over confidently to the man who controlled the songs and whispered your request in his ear.

“i think i know what song she’s going to sing.” jj said. “i feel like we’re thinking the same thing” penelope said. “oh well, she’s definitely going to sing it must’ve been love it’s from pretty woman and we usually do a duet not to mention it’s her favourite movie.” emily smiled.

“a classic” rossi added. “i didn’t know you were into romcoms, rossi.” emily laughed “i can appreciate any julia roberts movie” rossi smiled making emily snort loudly.

when the familiar beat kicked in the three women looked at eachother smiling confirming their suspicions.

you glanced around nervously at all the drunken faces staring back at you when your eyes landed on your team and spencer all staring back at you smiling, even hotch had a little smirk on his lips.

“lay a whisper on my pillow” you sang softly.

you sang the rest of the song effortlessly the words just flowing easily as if this was natural to you, sure you sang all the time in the house alone or when spencer was around but you could never do this confidently infront of anyone else let alone an entire bar full of people and your colleagues.

you noticed that the team had gotten out of their seats to get a closer look at you, hotch pulled out his phone and started recording which made you giggle a little. you knew these people were family.

when you finished their was a soft applause from the audience that had gathered to watch you which had you shocked. you made your way towards your team, your cheeks flushed from all the unusual attention you were receiving.

“you were amazing!” penelope exclaimed embracing you. “well now you’re going to outshine me on our future duets of this song.” emily pouted and you laughed. “the requirements from now on for girls night is that y/n must put on a performance for us!” jj said.

“voice of an angel.” spencer said sweetly planting a kiss to your forehead and pulling you into his side. “thank you guys” you smiled shyly. “now’s not the time to get shy!” rossi exclaimed and you laughed.

“you managed to make hotch pull out his phone and record you because of your sweet voice” derek winked and hotch smiled and pulled out his phone to play the recording.

“you should ditch the bau and become a singer” emily joked. “in another life maybe” you smiled fondly.

you all headed back to your table and enjoyed each others company knowing this memory will forever be etched in all of your minds.

[kikyoupdates]

Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑓𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

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You’re straight up not having a good time. 

Normally, these kinds of events are meant to be fun. Back in your original world, people would get together to kick back and relax, seeking respite from their busy day-to-day lives. Parties and social gatherings are supposed to be things to look forward to. 

In this world, however, that’s not the case. 

Living among the nobility is a staggering difference from what you once knew. Very few people are actually here to enjoy themselves. It’s all about maintaining appearances, and everything you say or do will likely be held against you at some point. Everyone hides their true intentions between fabricated smiles and thinly-veiled threats. It’s a dizzying, confusing affair, and since everyone thinks you’re the villainess, there’s no end to the unwanted attention you receive. 

But that’s not even the biggest problem. It’s one thing to have to try and navigate through this new environment you’ve suddenly been dropped into. 

It’s another thing to have to convince the villainess’ best friend that you’re actually who you say you are. 

“[Name], where are you going?” 

Flynn keeps following you. Rather foolishly, you’d hoped that he would leave you alone after you wandered off. But no, he insists on sticking to your side like glue, and he doesn’t bother to hide how suspicious he is. 

“Is everything okay?” he frowns. “You seem… agitated.” 

You nibble on your bottom lip.

Of fucking course I’m agitated! You’ve been grilling me nonstop from the very start! I only know a few facts about the villainess based on the game! I don’t know the inner workings of her entire goddamn life!

“I’m just bored,” you try to dismiss. “There’s nothing to do here.” 

“Couldn’t we find someplace to talk instead of you walking around in circles like this? It would help the time pass faster.” 

As if. Not only do you want to avoid him for the sake of preventing a potentially gruesome death, but above all else, he knows way too much about the villainess. He’s already asking a ton of questions, and you’ve barely spoken two words to him. He’s simply too perceptive for his own good. 

You strain a smile. “I’d rather not stand still right now.” 

“Hm,” Flynn frowns. “Like I said, you seem agitated. But why?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe they laced that wine with something,” you shrug, chuckling a bit.

He doesn’t seem amused in the slightest, and you desperately try to remember whether the villainess had a sense of humor that extended past bullying others for fun. 

Honestly, probably not. 

“Okay, well… gotta go!” 

You high-tail it out of there, but unfortunately, you’ve come to realize that running in heels is a giant pain in the ass. It’s the main reason you haven’t been able to give Flynn the slip yet. All he has to do is speed-walk a bit, and he’s able to keep up with relative ease. 

However, Lady Luck decides to shine down upon you, and in the few seconds that you stumble clumsily and manage to place a bit of distance between yourself and Flynn, you happen to run into your parents.

Your mother is quick to frown. “[Name]? What’s the matter with you, girl? Why are you running around like that? It’s improper.” 

“I feel sick,” you immediately blurt, with the same energy as a young child walking into their parents’ room to tell them they threw up. 

She takes a few moments to look you over, and fortunately, the nervous beads of sweat on your brow and overall frantic expression must be rather convincing. Your father was engaged in a conversation with some other nobleman until just a second ago, but he too turns to look at you, visibly concerned. 

“I’d like to go home,” you state. You add, with a shaky breath, “Please.” 

Right at that moment, Flynn walks up from behind, having just caught up to you once again. 

“[Name],” he sighs. “Seriously, what’s going on with you today? You’re acting—oh. Apologies. I didn’t see you two there.” 

Flynn politely greets your parents, but they don’t pay him much attention, because they’re far too preoccupied with fussing over you. 

“Hello, Flynn,” your father mumbles in a hurry. He presses a hand to your forehead, which is undoubtedly clammy, because you’re a nervous wreck right now. “Oh dear. Forgive me for not being able to stick around for a chat. [Name] seems to be feeling ill. We had better take her home so she can rest.” 

You watch as Flynn’s brows lift. “What?” he frowns, turning towards you. “Is that true? I thought you were just agitated. Do you really think they put something in the wine?” 

“Who put what in the wine?” your father gapes. 

“I-It’s not like that,” you chuckle awkwardly. The last thing you want to do is unintentionally frame someone for drugging you. “I was just kidding. Um… but I really don’t feel well. It’s possible I might have caught a cold. Or maybe I just haven’t gotten enough sleep lately. I’m worried I might collapse.” 

What follows is quite possibly the biggest freakout you’ve ever seen, and honestly, it’s kind of fucking embarrassing. 

“Collapse?!” your father exclaims. “Good heavens! Then we must get you out of here as soon as possible! Everyone, move! Give my daughter some space!” 

He proceeds to pick you up into his arms, despite the flustered squeal you let out, and your mother isn’t any less dramatic, with all her nonstop desperate wailing. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, mortified beyond belief.

Please, just kill me now.

There goes your plan of trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. All of the guests clear the way and let you pass through, but you catch them whispering amongst themselves, and you’re willing to bet they’re not saying nice things about you. 

Oh, well. The villainess already had a bad reputation. You’d be a fool to expect that you could overwrite it so quickly. It’s just going to take some time. 

You really wish your parents would calm down, though. 

“Move, move, move! This is an emergency, goddammit! My daughter is barely clinging to consciousness!” 

“Uh, I’m still fine,” you protest. 

“She’s passing out quite literally as we speak!” 

You roll your eyes and let your body sag, utterly defeated. Seriously, what a family of drama queens. You can’t even blame the villainess for turning out the way she did. 

The only silver lining is that the evening is being cut short, and you don’t have to spend any more time with Flynn. You never imagined how stressful it would be to have someone scrutinizing your every move. 

“Is she going to be alright?” Flynn asks worriedly. Your father is in the process of hoisting your body up and lifting you into the carriage. “Would it be okay if I come along as well, Count [Last Name]? She’s given me a fright. I’d like to stay by her side, if possible.” 

Fuck no! Don’t do that! 

You’re just about to protest, but thankfully, your father interjects before you have to. 

“She is very ill, Flynn,” he mutters somberly. Which, again, is kind of ridiculous. All you said was that you were worried you might collapse, yet here he is, acting like you’ve just been diagnosed with a terminal disease. “Right now, she needs as much rest as possible, and time to recover. Our family physician will look after her. I’ll ask that you please give her space so she can properly regain her strength.” 

Flynn isn’t able to hide his disappointment, but nevertheless, he nods. 

“I understand, sir. In that case, I’ll keep her in my thoughts and wish her a swift recovery. Please let me know when she’s feeling better.” 

I know I jokingly asked to be killed earlier, but can people please stop acting like I’m going to die? 

You slump back into the cushioned seats inside the carriage and sigh heavily. This evening has been sufficiently exhausting, and in more ways than one. You wonder how you’ll be able to break off your friendship with Flynn. He seems rather attached to you, based on how worried he is, and you remember from the game that he vehemently defended the villainess’ actions at first, since they were such close friends.

Clearly, getting rid of him won’t be an easy feat, but in the interest of ensuring your safety, you’re going to have to make it happen. 

“Goodnight, [Name],” Flynn says. He smiles encouragingly. “You’ll be alright. Be sure to get as much rest as possible, and I’ll come visit you soon.” 

Unlike his smile, which appears genuine, yours is tight-lipped and forced. 

I would much rather you didn’t. 

“Mommy, can I have more apple juice?” 

You hug the blankets closer to your chest and make puppy eyes at your mother, who leans down to affectionately pat your head. 

“Of course you can, sweetie,” she beams. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch some for you right away.” 

Well, it’s the morning after your parents frantically brought you home, and spoiler alert: you didn’t die. 

You did, however, discover that your parents are even more whipped for you than you could ever have imagined. Which was kind of embarrassing last night, but in the grand scheme of things, you’re thankful. 

If something goes wrong and you desperately need help, you have a good feeling that they’ll stand by your side. 

Also, since they were so terrified last night, they’re pretty much giving you the princess treatment right now. You even got to eat breakfast in bed earlier. 

Your mother has been more suspicious of your strange behavior compared to your father, who takes it all in stride, but she seems to have mollified a bit. It’s probably because you’re acting like a spoiled baby right now, which is much more in line with the villainess’ demeanor. You make a mental note to be a bit more bratty from time to time. 

Flynn promised to visit you, but you told your parents that you still want to focus on your recovery, so he thankfully hasn’t stopped by yet. You’re going to try and keep him away for as long as possible, at least until you can figure out how to deal with him. 

Anyways, you’ve got the whole day to yourself. You don’t even have to do any more math problems for a while, since you’re supposedly so sick. Haha. 

You may not be a villainess, but you’re no saint, and you’ll take just about any opportunity to goof off. 

“Fiona, come along with me to the garden,” you gesture. “I want to stuff my face with pastries and drink yummy juice under the sun.” 

“My lady, shouldn’t you stay in bed?” she frets. “Your father made it very clear how ill you were… he said it was a miracle that you even made it through the night.” 

Bro. 

You roll your eyes and sip on your glass of apple juice. “He’s just exaggerating. I feel much better now. I’m just taking advantage of how much they’re spoiling me. Don’t tell them I said that, though.” 

“Oh,” she blinks, realization dawning on her. After a few moments, she smiles. “I see. In that case, I’ll accompany you and ensure that I see to your every need.”

You grin widely. 

“Thanks!” 

And so, you spend the better portion of your morning doing nothing in particular. Honestly, waking up in another person’s body out of nowhere is a much bigger deal than you’re making it out to be. Anyone else in your position would probably have had a mental breakdown at the start. 

But apart from the fear of the bad endings that the villainess faces in the games, you’d like to say you’re rather enjoying this new life of yours. Seriously, compared to being a struggling university student, drowning in homework and hefty loans, getting to eat delicious pastries while sitting comfortably in an extravagant garden really isn’t that bad. In many ways, it’s a massive improvement. 

It’s a grim thought, but you realize there’s very little about your old life that you actually liked. It felt like you were just going through the motions every day, devoid of any real passion or longing. Ever since your parents died, you fell into a bout of depression and pretty much shut everyone out. 

Being able to start over was surely a blessing in disguise, and all the more reason why you’re hellbent on protecting this new life. 

“[Name],” you mumble in a daze, the taste of sugar lingering on your tongue. You stare up at the clear blue sky and smile. It isn’t the same name you grew up with, but from now on, it is your name, and you’re going to wear it proudly. 

You hum, popping another pastry into your mouth. You could probably afford to hold back a bit, otherwise you really will get sick this time, but whatever. It’s a beautiful day, and you’re feeling great, and it’s so nice and peaceful right now—

Hm? 

A carriage has just pulled up to the manor. You watched it roll in from your vantage point in the garden, so naturally, your curiosity got the better of you and you started walking over.

Fiona scrunches up her brows. “My, who could it be? I didn’t think we were expecting any visitors today.” 

You shrug. “Don’t look at me. I’m usually the last to hear about these things.” 

Both of you stare at each other, visibly perplexed, but it turns out that your questions are soon answered, because the carriage door opens, and a man disembarks. 

And of course, that man is…

…actually, who is he supposed to be? 

You don’t have the slightest clue. He has black hair and rather piercing blue eyes, which you can make out even from a good distance away. He’s dressed in elegant clothes, so he’s clearly a noble. You suppose he must be one of your parents’ acquaintances or something. They probably know a whole bunch of people.

For some reason, though, it feels like you should know who this man is. There’s this weird sense of déjà vu you’re getting, and it’s like an itch in your brain that you just can’t seem to scratch. 

It isn’t until you’re staring him face to face that it finally clicks. 

“Ah!” 

Rowan Calderwood. That’s what his name is. He made a few very brief appearances in the game, only in about two or three scenes, but you remember now that he’s supposed to be Alistair’s cousin. 

Also, if you recall correctly, they’re not on especially good terms, but aren’t too familiar with all the details.

But that’s beside the point. What is he even doing here? 

Rowan tilts his head. “Pardon me. Is there something on my face? You looked rather shocked for a moment, and even exclaimed quite loudly.” 

You clamp your lips shut. Right. As far as you know, the villainess and Rowan never actually met in the game, which means he’s probably just seeing you for the very first time. It’d be better to pretend like you don’t know who he is. 

“No reason in particular,” you shrug. “I just thought you were a trespasser for a moment, that’s all.” 

Rowan’s eyes widen, but rather than looking offended, he just looks amused. He’s not technically trespassing, but if what Fiona said is true, then he must have showed up without an invitation, which is considered to be quite rude.

“Please forgive me if I gave you a fright,” Rowan says, then he bows deeply, only to lift his head after a few moments and smile. “I take it you must be [Name]. You’re even more beautiful than I had imagined. My name is Rowan Calderwood. It’s a pleasure to finally be meeting you.” 

You wish you could say the feeling was mutual, but he interrupted your pastry-eating session, and you didn’t even get to finish the fresh glass of apple juice Fiona had just poured you.

Plus, he’s related to Alistair. Is he here to try and convince you to restore the engagement? Because no way in hell is that happening. 

“I have no intention of taking Alistair back,” you state matter-of-factly, crossing your arms at him. “You share the same last name, so I presume you’re related to him in some capacity. I thought I should make my feelings clear from the start, so that you don’t waste any more of your time.” 

Rowan’s eyes widen for the second time, and once again, he doesn’t look offended, or even appalled. 

If anything, he looks delighted. 

“How amusing,” he chuckles. “It seems you’re even better than I had hoped for.” 

Uh…? 

Rowan shakes his head. “Rest assured, my lady, that isn’t what I came here to say. Admittedly, I’d heard that your engagement with my cousin fell through, but I haven’t made the trip here on his behalf. I came for purely selfish purposes, I must admit.” 

“Oh.” Your shoulders sag, and relief fills your chest. “Well, that’s good. I meant the part about you not trying to convince me to take Alistair back, not the part about you being selfish, just to be clear.” 

“Right,” he muses. “I had a feeling that’s what you meant.”

This bastard just keeps smiling for some reason. What’s so funny? Granted, you know you can be hilarious at times, but you’ve been nothing but stoic thus far. Yet he acts like he’s having the time of his goddamn life. 

Wait a second… 

There’s a theory forming in your mind, and honestly, you’re not sure you like the thought of it all that much. 

Fortunately, Fiona has your back. 

“P-Pardon me, Lord Calderwood,” she nervously pipes in. “Might I ask if you have an appointment? Count [Last Name] made it very clear that there were to be no visitors today. My lady fell ill last night, and she’s been taking the day to recover all her strength.” 

“I was super sick,” you nod. “My father said it’s a miracle I even made it through the night.” 

Rowan frowns, which isn’t too surprising, considering you look healthy as a horse and you were stuffing your face with pastries up until a few moments ago. 

He clears his throat. “Oh my. Apologies. I wasn’t aware that you weren’t feeling well last night. You look so stunning and radiant that I couldn’t possibly imagine you’d been battling sickness as of late.”

“Yes, well, I just so happen to be gorgeous, but it’s true that I’m taking the day off to recover. Also, please make an appointment if you plan to visit again in the future. No one was expecting you to show up,” you say, sternly enough that you hope he takes the hint. 

Honestly, he probably realizes he’s being rude, but it seems like he just doesn’t care. 

“I had hoped for it to be a surprise,” he smiles. “I was so excited to meet you that I must have forgotten my manners. I also wasn’t sure when your parents would accept my request to meet, given that things are rather strained between our families right now. Well, Alistair’s side of the family, at least.” 

You arch a brow. “So, you thought it would be better to show up without warning and take it from there?” 

“I’m guilty of being a touch eccentric at times. Especially when someone as beautiful and charming as yourself is involved,” he adds flirtatiously. 

“How did you know I was beautiful? We literally just met.” 

“I had heard the rumors, of course. You’re hailed far and wide as the most breathtaking, desirable lady in all the land.” 

Desirable? Are we talking about the same rotten villainess with the personality of a stinky tomato? Now I know this is all BS. 

Still, it’s getting clearer by the second where he’s headed with this. You’ve long since connected the dots.

Rowan’s smile has yet to disappear, and he crosses a hand over his chest before bowing once more. 

“It shames me to admit this, but… ever since I heard that you and Alistair were no longer engaged, I simply couldn’t hold back any longer.” 

Oh, boy. This is actually happening.

“I was hoping to speak to your father first and foremost and make my intentions clear, but I happened to stumble upon you, and now, I’d like to say what’s on my mind.” 

“Uh, you really don’t have to,” you insist. “Like, seriously—” 

“[Name],” Rowan breathes, and you watch, horrified, as he gets down on one knee and takes your hand in his. “Would you… grant me the honor of marrying you?” 

More chapters are available on Quotev!

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🗡️ main masterlist! ♡ character appearances

[numberonetacostan]

I've become so obsessed with toitacopad PLEASE I need breadcrumbs 🙏🙏

Hello and welcome!!!^^ Thank you for coming to me, I see that you are starving and urgently need some toicopad to keep you alive!!!!!!!! I've got you!!!!!

Okay, this one is more related to toicopad than about toicopad, but!! Silver Spoon would take note of the fact that the other two British cast members are Mepad's partners, and avoid him like the plague. Clearly Mepad has a type, and Silver Spoon simply can't handle yet another adoring fan pleading for his attention. (He yearns for Candle and does not want to risk getting involved with Mepad as he's busy pining for her).

Between Taco having trouble sleeping after years of homelessness, and Toilet being a silly little fella, I think it would be sweet if Mepad read bedtime stories for the two of them. His voice would of course be soothing to Taco, with him making her feel safe in general, and Toilet would get very invested in whatever story he was reading to them. As a mepad, I'm sure he has plenty of fairytales and other public domain stories to read to them, yeah?

Toilet and Mepad would be so good for Taco's self-image. Being loved by both of them, of course, would do wonder for her, but they would be some incredible personal cheerleaders, yeah? Mepad is gentle and soft about it, while Toilet is excited and loud about it!! Regardless they are both very proud of her progress, and always let her know it.

Mepad is always helping everyone!!! He's always assisting!!! Toilet and Taco would frequently kidnap him to make him take a break. Maybe get his screen polished, clear out any clutter in his storage, fully shut off as he charges for a bit, etc.!!! Mepad will be engaging in self-care and having some me-time, and that's that!!!

Toilet would be a great help in Taco and Mepad finding hobbies outside of the show as well. Their entire lives had revolved around it, so they don't particularly have well-explored interests separated from Inanimate Insanity. But that's not the case for Toilet!! He's had a life and experiences outside the show, he likes to draw, he likes to eat spaghetti!!! And I'm sure he'd have plenty of ideas for Taco and Mepad to try, as well as be down for trying plenty of new things with them!!!

Taco is the only one of the polycule to have arms, and thus is responsible for the hugs!!! She wouldn't be very open with physical affection at first, especially not in front of other people, but I think she'd come to really enjoy hugs eventually. Getting to hold the people she loves close to her would be rather soothing, especially with her history of losing those she cares about, yeah?

I think the polycule would start off with Mepad dating both Taco and Toilet, but the latter two not dating. Taco probably wouldn't like Toilet much at first, with him being so loud and likely even reminding her of her season 1 persona and all of the grief associated with it. But between Mepad's love for him and all the time they spend together sharing Mepad, I think she'd eventually come to enjoy his presence. She'd be very reluctant to admit it for quite some time, but his silly energy and mindless fun charm her. On Toilet's end? Mepad has a pretty and fancy girlfriend and he has a little puppy crush on her!!! <3

[zoloteh-volossya]

I think I know exactly what post you’re referring too and blocked that user (as well as all the people who liked the post) immediately after their string of posts that are horrifically inaccurate readings of both Orin and Minthara, but also joking about Minthara being forced to interact with her rapist for the rest of her life. I’m personally not a fan of the Orinthara ship because it is innately noncon and there is no way to argue that it isn’t, and I despise it being called toxic yuri. The only people I trust with the ship are Minthara fans because they are the only ones who understand the full dynamic between the two. There are some people, like the poster you’re referring too, who have total hate boners for her and only ship Orinthara as a means of punishing her in their heads. And it becomes so obvious that their desire to ship Orinthara is out of complete malice when they only have negative and violent opinions about Minthara and are using “toxic yuri” as a cover.

I can’t even imagine hating a character that much, but still thinking about them all the time. If there is a character I hate, I don’t spend any time thinking about them. At all. They choose to let Minthara live in their heads rent free and it bothers them for some reason, lol.

Yeah. I think that the differentiating factor is care.

To illustrate using a nonsexual, non-BG3 example, in one of my previous fandoms two writers both wrote fics in which the antagonist had a conversation with the protagonist about her crimes. In one fic, the protagonist talked down to the antagonist, listing out all the things she had done wrong while she ranted and raved and screamed. Then she died. Victory!

In the other, even as the antagonist grappled with the magnitude of her failures and the consequences thereof, the author kept her perspective in mind. They used flashbacks to her past to put the audience in her shoes and let her argue her case. And they did it so effectively that I have never felt more sympathetic to this antagonist than I did when reading that scene. She was still wrong. She still died. But the scene landed so much better. The character felt respected by the narrative, her death lacked the almost voyeuristic authorial glee that made the similar scene in the other fic honestly a bit uncomfortable to read.

In a similar vein, lots of Minthara fans write about Orin doing absolutely horrible things to Minthara. But because they care about Minthara (and often also about Orin, who is doing all this for understandable reasons given the absolute shitfuck of a situation that she's coming from) there's a level of respect for the character by the narrative even as she suffers. It's the energy of "I'm going to put my blorbo in situations," it's the phenomenon of taking your favorite and making them bleed because you care about their emotions. Because the point of tragedy is that even if it all ended poorly, it still mattered.

I've seen fic about Orin impregnating Minthara during her time as a slave to the Absolute done, and some of it was done very well. (Orin cut the fetus out of Minthara and killed it, because she's Orin and was actually written in character.) But it worked because the author cared about Minthara, about the horror of the situation, in a way those flippant comments that sparked this conversation did not.

In contrast, if a person who hates a character is talking about them suffering there's this general vibe of, "look at this bitch getting what she deserves", that hangs over the entire conversation like a haze. And because "toxic yuri" encompasses both scenarios but has progressive implications (ooh, look at me paying attention to female characters!) it can easily be used as a shield against criticism for that vibe.

The question, ultimately, both with this Orinthara situation and with the author I discussed above, is whether a person extends the same grace, the same sense of interiority and assumption of an inner life, to the female characters as they do their male faves. And the answer, very often, is "no."

[superconductivebean]

Just my thoughts—as a fandom hermit of sorts.

Creating for nobody but yourself is actually discouraging when it's done repulsively. You'll feel its hard slap later down the line—unless your inner reader began to enjoy you as an author. They will gradually subside your inner critic and might teach them few lessons in how to appreciate maybe not the work itself—who of us doesn't have an one we dislike in some way?—but the craftwork went behind its creation.

How to do that?

Surprisingly easy.

Watch your creative decisions. Introspect. See yourself in your work.

You are inseparable in some way or another, your reflection is present within it, and by that I imply how you felt writing it and why did you think something would or wouldn't work. The only one who usually know is you, so, if you feel something is wrong, it probably is. The best is the enemy of the good, yes, but I'm not talking about perfectionism. I'm talking about the need to listen to that tingle and being able to assess it before editing.

Perfectionism is, in a sense, artistic pessimism. It tells you everything is wrong but it can't be an objective truth. Then some scenes must be wrong, and alright, good, the field is narrowed down. Which ones? Where? Why? At that point, put the work away for a day or two, then re-open, re-see, realise, that yes, that could be improved, except it isn't a scene. It's a sloppy word choice. It changed the sentence, that avalanched into a little rearrangement, and voila, everything works.

You fight the pessimistic outlook with a little bit of rest.

The more you learn how to treat your work, the more you might grow excited to try new things and not because you want to show them to the world but first to yourself.

That little part of you is who actually matter. Learn to love these little emotion abstractions. Care for the little guy, nurse them, feed them different ideas, styles, work them up to your master and see yourself forming in directions you'd never thought you would be able to simply because them—you—wanted to try something new. It would not matter if those were successful or not; when the entire process is a journey, the output's performance begins to matter very little.

Besides, the little guy would want company—and that's when other people come in. The reader doesn't like negative responses or no responses at all, true. Know who does? Your inner critic.

They're all too eager to overthink things and they're the perpetrator of your pessimism. So make them analyse why something clicks for many people and why something goes under their radar, make them a little analytics-building machine (which is also a skill), and just keep its outputs close in case you're curious how different fandoms or communities work. It's mostly a useless information. But you will be certain about things, and certainty brings comfort.

It will help to find readers in case you'd need more, too. Or if you'd like to meet someone new. But is it a guaranteed method? No, it isn't. Sometimes you'll write the most influential fandom monsterfic and all these people will pass by. Othertimes you'd write the smallest fic in the fandom but all its people will get around it because they liked your take on things or became curious with your ideas—and they can actually stuck around. You may never know. Fandom isn't business, it is rather a wild fair with barely predictable events in its main mystery.

Besides.

You can't make yourself a miracle to everyone; but be the miracle to yourself, and people will notice it and will try to comprehend you. Be Original, they say. They lie. They want the same jacket but red. Or the same jacket but sewn from kelps. Be Familiar But Be Outland-ish. Do your thing, that everybody else does, in your own fascinating way. Be the artist after all, be that bitch and leave people with the art-shaped holes in their thoughts.

I used to play an instrument once. I was bad at it, well, I was taught poorly and was only ever learning how to play from the sheets. It never go outwith or far and the instrument is long-sold, but I'm still able to recall the emotions I had while playing it. Heartbeat was the metronome, the hands were going in perfect synch, the entire body was able to feel the timings, and at some point, it wasn't simply the flow and going along with it. It was being the flow. The architect behind its creation—well, yes, the music wasn't mine, but being able to recreate it and make it sound as it supposed to sound was utterly captivating, enamouring, absolutely wondrous experience.

Years later I became enamoured with the writing—the process of it. If I manage to build the flow correctly and sail down my own rivers with little to no bump, unless planned, I'm overjoyed and amazed.

But will it go far? How well will it perform? Sometimes I do care if I know people might be interested, but beyond that, it's just doing its thing and bringing me joy because it's a puzzle, because it's a never-ending fascination—and because it's even more than that when done in the completely different tongue. And people take to it. Because it looks fun, perhaps, or it's something they had rarely seen before done in the language, or maybe it's just the way I tend to pick words and arrange them. I always get different answers. But what I know for certain: that something I found within me works both for me and people liking my things.

That what matters.

It all might sound a tad bit mental but it's so important to be in harmony with yourself as an author, as a reader, and as your own critic—who else knows you as much as you? Don't forget the people you have—the crowds will come and go, but the friends will stay.

Maybe this is a hot take, but as creative people, our #1 priority in our work should be ourselves.

It is not, AND SHOULD NEVER BE, what would get us the most engagement. Dispel "content creation," popularity, and monetization from your brain. Write, paint, draw what you want to! HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

The people who resonate with it will eventually show up. But the people who don't? Who cares???? The art you personally create is meant to help you heal, to help you express, to bring you joy and pain!!!!

You need to learn how to work on something because you deeply care for it and can revel in that self-satisfaction. Of course recognition feels fucking great! We all want it. We are humans, but you need to stop creating with the idea of other people consuming your work!!!

Give into the art movement. Create a renaissance for yourself. Fuck other people. Be that bitch! People are not going to be in your lives forever, and when you're left to your own devices, you should be able to look at what you've created and fucking love it.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Considering gemstones do have meanings and magical properties on Toril, I decided - while organising some kind of Faerûnian Crystal Bible for some reason - to look up what the sacred stones of the gods present in BG3 mean and do (the Dead Three, Shar, Selûne, Jergal, and Mystra).

So here's certain gods being boring; Why Bane announces he's pissed by throwing a broken carnelian at you; and maybe ideas for what gemstone Gale's earing is made of? idk.

Bhaal:

Is a boring bitch who doesn't have any sacred stones. Ffs dad, stop disappointing me. Impractical for sneaking around and stabbing people? What about organic materials? Bone? Bone jewellery? Is amber acceptable if it has a dead thing in it? It's tree blood! You love dead trees and you love blood! Coral? Jet?

Bane:

Black sapphire (approval), Red carnelian (disapproval), hematite, emerald, bloodstone

Black Sapphire: Locks time, preventing magic that tampers with it from functioning (time stop, for example). tbh I think Bane just likes them because they're very rare (thus luxury items) and, oh yeah, black.

Carnelian: Dreams of carnelian are believed to forewarn of danger to come, but the stone itself has protective magics against harm and evil. Which explains why Bane only considers them sacred when destroyed and informs his followers he's pissed at them by crushing them in front of their faces.

Hematite: 'prized by fighters and often used in magical periapts.' Such as periapts of healing. In case we forgot that the fighter of the trio prizes martial might and war.

Emerald: When somebody lies or hides their ill intentions/'concealed hatred' emeralds will break, essentially acting as lie detectors and alarms. 'many kings have worn rings carved entirely of emerald to parleys to detect treachery and deceit without the use of spells.' ...no comment.

Bloodstone: If laid over a wound it staunches the bleeding. It's used as currency on the Sword Coast, the Moonsea, and amongst mercenaries in particular. Serves as a component in invisibility and divination magic.

In conclusion, Bane's jewellery chest spells out 'paranoia.'

Myrkul:

Jet, obsidian, onyx

Jet: 'A deep black gemstone, this fancy stone is a tough variant of bituminous coal that can be facet cut and displayed either as a pendant or inset into a larger setting. It is the stone of mourning and sorrow in wealthy cities (such as those in Amn, Calimshan, and Sembia, as well as Waterdeep and Westgate), and remains a preferred material for magic jars, a use contributing to its fell reputation. Certain treatments of a jet stone (or specific spells cast too close to one) may well unintentionally free a furious, long-imprisoned mage or strange magic-wielding beast from its depths or summon a wizshade to the spot. Some such imprisoned beings can use their magic in limited ways to try to bring about their release but possession of their prison gemstones rarely gives one any influence over them.'

Onyx: 'Contact with onyx aids in safe, relatively painless childbirths, but the stone is otherwise considered unlucky.'

Obsidian: Nothing too fancy. It's magical properties are limited, but it's a material component in arcane variants of blade barrier and can be used to make an ioun stone. Waterdhavian parcel-binders make rings out of them that allow them to cut twine on their fingers for ease of work.)

We got it, you're a goth edgelord too.

Shar:

Minerals are a symptom of planets daring to exist and thus are sinful or something. idk, regardless Shar doesn't care to manifest as anything much past 'tentacles made of darkness.'

Selune:

Moonstone. She knows her theme and she's sticking with it.

Moonstone: Moonstone absorbs ambient light and will glow with faint white light in total darkness when all other lights are gone. Dreams of moonstone forewarn oncoming danger. Moonstone is useful as components in barrier magics, deflection of spells, and other abjurations.

Jergal:

Grandpa cares not for pretty trinkets. Or joy. Or anything that isn't personal amusement and the apocalypse. Grumpy bastard.

Mystra:

Rainbow tourmaline, amarantha, beljuril, blue and clear gems of any kind

Rainbow tourmaline: Absorbs magic, turns it into electricity, and then fires it back as a lightning bolt.

Amarantha: Or Shieldstone. A mineral unique to Toril that forms deep within the earth, typically mined from the Underdark. A sparkling jewel that comes in ‘greenish white or very pale green.’ The stone attracts, absorbs and stores ambient electricity. Normally this means static charge, but it can be used to protect against weaponised magical electric strikes, with the forewarning that the stone has limits and if it breaks from overload it may discharge all the electricity into everyone and everything around it.

Beljuril: Another mineral unique to Toil. Also known as 'fireflashils,' due to their tendency to periodically flash with blazing fluctuating light, described as 'dazzling' at night. Generally the stone is a deep, sea green, and is hard enough that cutting it will go through several sets of tools. Never found in sizes more than 5 inches in diameter. Beljurils replicate ambient heat, light and vibration (not disrupting or taking away from the actual surroundings), which is what causes them to light up when they discharge. They don't do much, but they are popular as security lights for the wealthy (as they will react to heat and movement in their vicinity).

Aventurine (blue): Used to penetrate magical disguises, as touching it will dispel illusions and shapeshifting.

Azurite: Absorbs heat in a fashion that prevents or mitigates harm from said heat. Calishites often wear azurite while dealing with fire, such as if cooking.

Iol (iolite): Has a strong symbolic association with magic in Faerûnian legends.

Diamond: Can be used as a universal ingredient for any form of spell ink. Well suited for divination magic. If worn at the throat or on the head it protects against seeing visions (as it prevents the individual from dreaming at all, making it useful to avoid nightmares too) and keeps one from being enchanted by others

Euclase: Explodes into a fireball if it comes into contact with magic.

Flurospar: Glows with a green radiance if there are invisible things/people nearby.

Sapphire: Widely used in the making of magical items, especially swords. Linked to magical prowess, the mind, and air (the element.) Protects against and soothes negative emotions, such as fear, despair, and corresponding mental illnesses.

There are a lot of blue and clear gemstones and I'm not listing them all, and I'm wondering if some gods don't have gemstones because somebody is hogging them all. Suffice to say they do something-something magic. Like glowing when somebody's scrying on you or exploding if you use the wrong spell. That kind of pattern.

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[pushspacetocontinue]

"Well, aren't these delightful?" Travis said, grinning as he looked over then, "I think I'll really love this grey and black stripy pair. Wait until the gym guys see this."

He then moved so he could take off the gym socks he had been wearing. It was time to let Erica have her break and make this guy shut up entirely.

"Yeah, you did, heh, you did tell me," Russell agreed, and he nodded in agreement with Erica, "And, and yeah, that, that did happen."

Russell awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck when he saw Lucien's reaction.

"I'm, I'm sure we'll, we'll get him out, out of here soon enough," Russell said to Lucien then, some sympathy in his face, "Now that, now that Rook's here I, I mean."

"I mean I probably would have suggested taking him if Custard hadn't said it," Travis said with a shrug, "But that would have been for revenge rather than pragmatism. I'm not the guy who had grow up being sneaky after all. But I suppose there is a first time for everything, even for people with your experiences."

Russell nodded.

"I, I guess not," Russell said, "And to, to be honest, it shows that, that we got something they, they don't have. As, as cliche as it might sound, we, we got each other's backs and, and we care about each other. They, they don't."

"And now you're starting to sound like Lewis," Travis joked, as he walked over, having put the new socks on and gotten the awful gym socks in his hand, "Open wide, asshole. Got a treat for you."

Russell felt a little shiver of fear push through him at the idea of Antonio coming into play, even if he didn't know entirely why.

"Big bro?" Travis asked.

"The, the magician with, with the cane," Russell confirmed. He decided not to mention anything feline about Antonio just in case that made Ratchet not take that seriously.

"The one with the really weird green glowing..." Travis started to ask.

"Y-yeah," Russell said, "It, it makes sense. He, he'll most likely be, be able to, be able to get him talking when, when we need him to."

"Want me to help bring him over to your magic man?" Travis said, "I got plenty of muscle to spare."

Erica smiled as she struggled to keep ahold of her excitement. Inside the bag were several pairs of cat paw socks wrapped in a yellow ribbon.

"I didn’t know what’s your favorite cat. So I got them all!"

So now they could get Ratchet away from her shadows and shut him up properly.

At least Rook didn’t seem too upset about there being a hostage whimpering on the floor. Being free to kick him definitely improved her mood.

"I bet you're having a great time, you fucking weirdo." Rook spat, before looking back, "…I told you guys not to look."

"She did." Erica confirmed, "And he did. But I didn’t do much about it because we need him still breathing."

"Really?" Rook turned back to Ratchet, "We've got to reward him appropriately for the courtesy."

Erica tilted her head while she watched her double went through some motions with her hands, before Ratchet started shivering. "Winter is coming!"

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a tired sigh. He wouldn’t mind as much if this wasn’t happening on the floor of his shop, but he had offered.

"It's fine, Russell. I’m not mad at you for getting the idea. I'm just— New to the kidnapping business. But I guess there is a first for everything with these motherfuckers."

"At least we now have the confirmation they are awful to each other as well." Lucien said, "I suppose the brutality wasn't personal after all."

"Well, I guess we can try to pry some information from this asshole." Rook said, crouching next to Ratchet, "That's right. You’re going to have a little chat with my big bro."

"Yes!" Erica cheered.

[petrichal]

obligatory "Oda thank you for sharing this world with us" post