#and make fandom a space where everyone can enjoy

[shandzii]

Pressure fandom how we feeling tonight

Uhh yeah been caught up,,

tbh I only stay in the art channels in the official server but I agree the place needs better moderation 💀 like I've had peeks at how the main channel can get.

Idk the other devs and admins as well as Zer but I do hope they get to act more professionally from now on because their game isn't a lil group project in their lil friend group anymore.

I'm just sitting here upset about everything surrounding Zerum (bc I have more of a connection to her) because holy shit genuinely why is it being brought up again,, Seeing the things people say/make up about her is scary as someone who actually got to *know* her.

She NEVER sent anyone to harass selfshippers. The main screenshots I've seen are her friends acting on their own months ago. if there's anything recent she deadass has nothing to do with it because why would she subject herself to the community that says the most vile things about her. (not everyone does this ofc, she just don't wanna risk seeing that)

Guys she really doesn't care what yall do with sebastian. Yes she has her preferences for certain things but why does it matter,, You're free to make your own spaces/servers where you can do what u want with sebastian she's not going to break into your house and stop you hello.

Maybe I'm not selfshipper-brained but why does canon matter at all? again you're free to ignore aspects of it and enjoy it in your own spaces. You're free to dislike her as well but I've seen death threats ramping up again and people admitting they just hate her for the fun of it.

People calling her a sans fangirl over sebastian is crazy when I know damn well she's been staying in her lane for the past few weeks. Like we've been talking about other OCs and the funny robots, sebastian who???

Again I agree that the devs need to get their shit together. Because whatever they say/do will fall on the people who are genuinely trying to fix things in the server in whatever way they can ;;

[monstersinthecosmos]

First, you write a lengthy post claiming that Marius treats Armand like an animal, and then you wonder why Armand and Marius shippers are seen as outcasts in the fandom. You present humiliation, disrespect and devaluation as something sexual and normal in their relationship. There is a difference between not seeing Armand as an adult and independent person and not seeing him as a person at all. Like, you're literally doing ALL the work for the antis, LMAO.

If Marius sees Armand as a cat, then maybe he shouldn't be left alone with animals

just saying.

Like, 'Armand, Marius picked up a shepherd dog from the street today. You both share the same level of love, respect, and significance! 😍 But don’t be upset; being someone's dog can be great! And remember, you actually like it! 🥺'

BEST GASLIGHTING EVER

Maybe he’s okay with this situation because he doesn’t remember what real kindness feels like? Roleplay in bed for the sake of temporary humiliation is one thing, but to see someone you’re in a romantic relationship with as nothing more than an animal is just messed up. What are you even talking about? 😭

Yknow what.

I’ve been marinating on this all day and thinking about ways to respond kindly, because I think leveraging literacy at people in fandom arguments is really fucked up and that isn’t the person I want to be. I've even had my own journey in VC fandom because when I first joined Tumblr, the big meta writers were condescending as fuck and used to make me feel really stupid for liking Marius, and that's such a destructive and unwelcoming attitude. It took me a really long time to feel brave enough to even share meta, because of those folks, and now I have to worry about you chodes. And it's just a never ending Sisyphean task to cultivate a space where Marius fans feel safe. And that's for EVERY Marius fan, not just the ones you deign pure & good enough to exist. In fact, it even goes for all the book fans in general. I don't give a fuck if someone likes Marius--everyone is allowed to participate if they're not going out of their way to hurt people. You're an adult. Block people and curate your space, it's not my job to do that for you.

Everyone, at every reading level, is allowed to participate in fandom, and I think we can’t be true leftists if we don’t acknowledge the education problem in the US. (Assuming you’re American because Americans Feelings Yakuza tend to behave like this but if you’re not American, good job blending in, it's really embarrassing for you.) I don’t think I can ethically condemn the degradation of our education system and I don’t think I can condemn this sect of fandom’s violent anti-intellectualism if I don’t also show sympathy for its victims. I'm really sorry that your parents/teachers/whoever failed you this badly and I hope things get better for you, because I don't wish this on anybody.

So when I turn into a cunt in thirty seconds, I want you to know it’s not because I think you’re stupid. It’s because I think you’re a fucking asshole. <3  And I don’t care what the fuck your problem is, it’s YOUR problem, and we don’t have to tolerate this type of thought policing and fascism in a fandom space. You don’t get to talk to me like this just because you don’t like stuff that I write.

Having said that, I also am just, particularly fucking baffled by how incoherent and ideologically unsound this ask is, not to mention how blindingly, willfully ignorant it is. Like, I hate to say this, but it’s SO stupid that I almost can’t believe someone would actually say this to me, and it makes me wonder if you’re like, an outside agitator pretending to be one of these Mariusblr morons to bait me. So I wondered if I shouldn’t validate it with a response, but then I thought,

Fandom deserves to see this lol

You actually did a good job of imitating this attitude that I DO see, for real, in this fandom, so like maybe it’s a public service to bait me to get me to talk about it. So I guess I will.

Now, I did talk about this topic here and I said what I need to say. I already said everything I needed to say on the topic of doting upon the cute little mortal, and to send me this anon after reading that post, the reading comprehension is either ABYSMAL or you’re just pulling an OH SO YOU HATE WAFFLES on me which is like. Why. Lol.

And I can’t help someone who’s determined to misinterpret everything I will ever say, no matter what. But again, I’m kinda posting this as a fandom PSA because this is a great example of the braindead nonsense that goes on in Mariusblr and I think the people deserve to laugh at you lol, so if you want to misinterpret me some more, I can’t help you.

We’re not gonna discuss Marius in this post. What we’re going to discuss is the idea that “””THE ANTIS””” are out to get us, and the irony of couching anti hysteria in this exact message.

So let’s go back to basics and refresh on what the fuck a fandom anti is.

So when you talk about FANDOM ANTIS, I actually have to ask: Babe are you seeing yourself right now? Are these antis in the fucking room? Is the call coming from inside the house?

You don’t get to have a little bit of censorship, or a little bit of harassment.  If someone outside of our fandom saw this post, without the existing context of who Marius and Armand are, they’d think YOU were the anti for telling me how to interpret this ship, not to mention whatever the fuck is this weird kinkshaming. Censorship is bad, full stop. It's not, censorship is only bad when it's the thing I like. Same for leaving people twatty anons. Bullying people is still bad, and you don't get decide who deserves it.

You don’t get to cry about antis and then pop into people’s inboxes to ridicule them because they didn’t read the book the same way you did. You don’t get to lecture me about kink and ship dynamics. YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING ON THE SIDE YOU THINK YOU’RE FIGHTING ON.

And isn’t it ironic that I’ve been Mariusing on tumblr for like, unfortunately, eight fucking years now lmao RIP, and I’ve been harassed about Marius MORE by you fuckin dweebs than I have by the actual antis.

Now, again.

I never want to tease anyone for their reading comprehension. I’m not making fun of you. I’m gonna spell this out because I want to help you, because I can see that reading isn’t your strong suit.

The fight about antis & proshippers & censorship is not a crusade about character apologism and defending ships as being moral, it’s about distinguishing fiction from reality and allowing people to enjoy fucked up art.

You aren’t accomplishing what you think you’re accomplishing here. Like, first of all. I don’t give a single flying fuck about “”the antis””. Let them masturbate in abject shame in the privacy of their pitch black bedrooms. It’s not my business. What horrifies me here is that you yourself are the anti in this situation.

You are in my inbox scolding me for my amoral shipping.

You are in my inbox upset with me because I celebrated that a ship I like is fucked up.

A proshipper would’ve read my post and gone “Eh. I disagree but that’s okay.” And kept scrolling. Maybe they even block me! That’s fine too!

But how the fuck are you gonna sit there crying about antis when you’re the one harassing everybody lol.

And let’s not jerk off here; the sincerity with which you are complaining about antis in my inbox is SO fucking lame. Like can we please go outside?

I’m no stranger to fandom drama (like I said, I’ve been Marius Tumbling for like 8 years and I’ve done my time in Sheith Hell) and I understand when these terms are useful shorthand for a fandom-specific problem. But I also think, what if we grow up and speak honestly about what antis are? It really blunts the harm of the entire ideology, especially when you're misusing it this egregiously, and I think there are times when we deserve to take censorship and fascism seriously, because it's not a coincidence that it's spreading inside fandom at the same speed it's spreading outside in the real world, and I want you to think really hard about which side you're on.

Like, what if we use the term “conservative” or “Frollo” or “fandom police” or “FANDOM MAGA” ?? You come to me upset that I’m somehow giving some boogeyman ammunition when like. THEY ALREADY HATE MARIUS, WHO THE FUCK CARES. When you change the topic from “Fiction is allowed to be fucked up” to “It’s okay to like Marius because he actually didn’t do anything wrong” you’re COMPLETELY missing the point, and in the same motion you are upset with ME for implying that Marius did something wrong.

And it’s so fucking hypocritical? Like this is the same as when the fandom conservatives have ACAB in their bio while also harassing people--you are adopting language to fit into an identity when you don't actually understand what you're saying. I would've thought VC fans--especially Marius fans--would be more aware of cult behavior & groupthink and see the red flags more easily. (Again, having sympathy for you: Please escape this cult.)

How often do we see arguments break out in fandom where we go “If you’re upset with Marius, why aren’t you upset with everyone else?” Or like, I CAN ACCEPT THE MURDERING AND RAPE BUT DRAW THE LINE AT WHIPPING THE 17 YEAR OLD. Like. Where do YOU draw the line?

Is it okay to talk about Marius as a murderer? But we’re not allowed to say that he has some emotional problems? Also didn't one of you chucklefucks accuse me of being ablest lmao the irony.

It’s also fascinating that this camp in fandom is constantly crying about how like, antis DON’T UNDERSTAND ANNE RICE and how MARIUS/ARMAND IS CANON and yet …………………. Was anything I said not also canon? And where do you get the balls to use Anne Rice as a shield when she also said the same things that I said. She wrote the fucking book.

You know what.

I feel really strongly that like, in a fandom, people need to have better etiquette when they complain about THE THING vs THE FANS OF THE THING. For example, I have zero problem with someone coming out of TVA disgusted and triggered and writing analysis of Marius being a disgusting creep. We don’t have the right to tell someone not to feel that way.

What I DO have a problem with is when people say “Marius is a disgusting creep and his fans are gross for enjoying it.”

And what YOURE saying, essentially, is that I’m gross for enjoying Marius in the way I read him.

Not to be like, a fucking, egomaniac, but. I have to say this lol. Do you know who I am?

Are you new here?

Have I not worked hard enough to establish that he’s my favorite literary character of all time and I adore him to death?

But I have different headcanons than you so I’m a bad person?

Anyway.

This has gone on long enough, I think I’ve made my point.

I genuinely can’t tell if someone like ChatGPT’d this anon to me just to rile me up and get me mad at that side of Mariusblr, but the truth is that like. I’ve seen them say these things. I’ve been blocked by these folks. Every time I write meta where I acknowledge that Marius isn’t perfect, they vague me to fuck. So honestly like. It’s not out of the range of possibility and I’m going to take this opportunity to talk about it because some of us are fucking normal about a book and we just want to have fun and post meta and write fics and like. If you don’t like my meta and fics you can simply move along.

And you know what else!!

WE ALL SEE THIS. You make fandom uncomfortable for everybody. Every time I do acknowledge this, I get people in my inbox talking about how uncomfortable you’ve made them and how they became hurt and decided not to share in fandom anymore. That’s you doing that. It isn’t ~ the antis ~. It’s you, because you don’t let anybody enjoy the books the way they want to enjoy the books. And I think it’s really interesting that I’ve noticed that half of fandom sort of cannibalizing itself lately. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that  this whole group of clowns blocked me around the same time, when their jackass ringleader originally got mad at me for flagrantly misunderstanding something I said. This is that same abysmal reading comprehension and violent anti-intellectualism coming back to bite you in the ass. And so like, I have to also ask, if you have some issue with me, maybe consider the source, and if this person is perhaps a complete douchebag who will cannibalize their own friends the second they step out of line. And I wonder if there are any receipts for my alleged atrocious behavior, or if I was always just minding my own business and writing fanfic and sharing meta and being nice to people, and encouraging people to ship whatever they want, and allowing people to read the book differently than I did.

You don’t get to tell people what type of content they’re allowed to create. If you’re very concerned about how people read Marius, maybe write your own meta. This is MY space, not yours, and you’re not going to kinkshame and censor me, and you’re not going to bully me.

This is ridiculous and you’re a joke.

[iridescentis]

losing my mind a little

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Whether in the solitude of his room or surrounded by family, all Azriel can think about is you. He would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, Mourning, mention of suicide

Word Count: 3652

Notes: I don't even know where this came from. I was listening to sweet music by hozier and thought "what if I gave Azriel more trauma". The idea popped into my head and it basically wrote itself. I can't believe I have to say this but with this fandom I'm not risking it: this wasn't written to hate on Elain (or any other character) or incite anyone else to do so. Keep your stupid fights off my post, please and thank you. Hope you enjoy!

Part 2

Another family dinner at the river house meant another night of watching everyone around him happy and in love. Azriel didn't think of himself as egotistical, would never think the love his brothers are experiencing is undeserved either, but it reminds him of a time where he was the only one in the Inner Circle with a partner, of when his brothers were the ones confessing to him how jealous they were of how he had found someone that loved him so much, of a time he never thought would have an end. It reminds him of you.

He looks himself in the mirror as he buttons up the navy shirt, trying to ignore the vacant room behind him. If you were here with him you would have been making jokes about his insistence on keeping the blue theme going in his clothes even though he swears he doesn't think too much about what to wear or his appearance in general.

On a good day, you'd be helping him with the small buttons right now, with shadows swirling around your legs and looking up at him the way you knew would take his breath away every time. On an even better day, he'd have your back pressed against his chest, his fingers inside your familiar heat, the other hand wrapped around your throat so you could watch him play with your body, panting his name and clawing at his arm, pleading with him to keep going, to let you touch him. He'd be late for an entirely different reason, not for getting held up talking to his spies, and then getting lost in his memories.

Sensing his thoughts, his meddling shadows move to his desk, filtering into the drawer they knew held a small velvet box. The dark wisps carefully picked it up and set it on top of the dark wood. Leaving it there and moving back to their original places around the darkened room, letting him decide for himself if he wanted to open it or not.

It had been a while since the last time he touched it, busy as he was these days. There were times he would sit and look at it every day, sometimes without even daring to open it and look inside. But there were also times where even the sight of the navy velvet would suddenly suffocate him with the reminder of your sweet scent, one he would never be able to smell again. It would make him hide the box at the back of his drawer, the back of his mind.

Over the last few years, his reactions to it had gotten milder, an unwilling acceptance of the fact that he would never see you again allowed him to reminisce on the happy memories you had together, even the sad ones, every little fight you had seemed so inconsequential now, he'd give anything to be able to have any moment with you back, to hear you say his name one more time.

He walks to the desk, only hesitating for a beat before grabbing and opening the box. His heart throbs as he stares at the ring sitting inside, thumbing at the empty space left behind by it on his finger instinctively. He had never liked rings, didn't like anything that brought attention to his hands or rubbed against the rough skin but the moment you slid the silver ring into his finger it felt right, he had never wanted to take it off. Azriel would wear a ring on each finger if it showed the world he was yours.

He wore the ring for an entire decade after you died, even after all hope that you could still be alive had left him, he couldn't bring himself to let go of it, to let go of you. His mother had been the one to tell him he needed to stop wearing it, that holding onto it, onto the past would only bring him more heartache. He could still hear her begging him with tears in her eyes, not bearing to see her son in such a state, but he had only actually taken it off when Rhys was taken by Amarantha.

He had thrown the ring into the Sidra that night. He's not sure if it had been anger, frustration or simply hopelessness that drove him to it in that moment. He was tired of not being able to protect anyone, tired of losing his people, the people he never thought he would even find when he was just a boy sitting in a dark humid cell. It must have been that boy's pain, still inside him, that drove him to act like that. If it hadn't been for his shadows immediately flying after it he would have lost it, wouldn't have this reminder of a happy time sitting in front of him right now, it had helped him ground himself more than once during the years following that night. His shadows had saved him from himself once again.

He closes the box gently, rubbing at the smooth texture of the velvet, trying not to let himself get lost in your memory and the bitterness that followed at the injustice of it all. Your marriage had only lasted a little over a decade, he's had to live with your ghost for much longer than that now. Still, he knows he won't forget that time no matter how many more years he lives, and, even if it's another five centuries, he knows he'll still wish he had had the chance to spend them all with you.

Some of the pain has dulled, most days at least, but the guilt still eats at him. He should have known something was going to happen, should have reached you sooner, should have told someone to go with you, should have gone himself, should have been the one to die in your place. The millions of possibilities will likely invade his brain until his last breath, after which he'll finally be able to see you again. That was another thought that had consumed him far too often in the beginning. If it wasn't for his mother, his brothers and Mor, if it weren't for the pain it would cause them, he would have taken Truth Teller to his neck just for the chance to see you one more time.

Azriel? His wings go rigid and he tightens his hold on the box at the sudden intrusion. He tries to push his thoughts as far back into his mind as he can before lowering his mental shields, almost letting out a sigh of relief at finding them in place, hoping his brother couldn't get a glimpse of his thoughts. He hands the box to his shadows so they can safely place it back inside his drawer. Are you still coming, brother?

Yes. He moves back to the mirror and finishes buttoning his shirt while trying to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible. However, the hesitation on the other side tells him Rhys sensed exactly what was holding him up in his room, he knows him better than anyone after all.

Hurry then. We're all waiting for you. Azriel closes his walls as soon as he feels his brother's absence in his mind. He knows they miss you too. They had welcomed you with open arms and considered you part of the family after their marriage. Everyone in the Inner Circle took a big hit when you went missing. He will never forget Cassian's face when he arrived to see Azriel kneeling down in a pool of your blood, with no body to be found. His brother wore his heart on his sleeve and it had shattered that night. There were countless sleepless nights for everyone following that moment.

They all threw themselves at finding you in any way they could. There was enough blood on the floor to tell them you had died but none of them wanted to believe it. Azriel talked to every single one of his spies multiple times, ordering them to track every movement in their respective areas. Rhys sent letters to every ally he had and then joined Cassian and Mor in searching every corner of Prythian personally. Even Amren, ever the logical emotionless one, searched for you with every means she could, contacting friends the spymaster didn't even know existed. But, one by one, they all had to accept the truth, Azriel ending up being the most hesitant to.

He had long since killed the attackers, putting them through as much pain as possible for as long as he could keep them alive, making them regret ever touching you. But that didn't help with the gaping hole in his chest, nothing helped. They didn't know how to find your body either. Rhys looked through every corner of their minds and only found them leaving you behind, bleeding on the cold ground.

Rhys refused to show him the memory, no matter how much he begged him to let him see you one more time. Now he knows his brother was just trying to protect him, not wanting that to be Azriel's last memory of you, with the amount of blood left behind he knew you couldn't have been in good shape, but at the time he lashed out at his brother like he had never done before, probably would have killed him in blind rage if it hadn't been for Cassian trying to hold him back and if Rhys wasn't Rhys. Thinking back he should have thanked him instead, for holding onto such a painful memory and keeping it to himself so no one else had to suffer from it.

Even if he couldn't see you again, he still wishes that he had your body to bury at least. Azriel doesn't know how the Mother could be so cruel as to not only let you die so soon, so painfully without at least letting him find your body so he could put you to rest next to your parents' graves. It would also give him a place to talk to you, to feel as close to you as possible.

The pain almost came back in full when Rhysand first told him about Feyre. Jealousy had reared its ugly head at the fondness in his brother's gaze, the slight tint to his cheeks at just saying her name. He was happy for Rhys, especially after everything he'd been through, but that happiness couldn't hold a candle to the pain he felt. He remembers the night he confided in his brothers about the lovely female he had met, how she had told him she loved him, it had been much like that one.

To make matters worse, the first thing he remembered when Rhys told him about his mate was a stupid bet the two of you had made - you had been adamant that Cassian, as sweet as he is, would be the next to get married, Azriel had voted for Rhys, one of his many conquests were bound to work out one day. He won and yet he didn't feel victorious at all. He couldn't even tell you of your loss, see how pouty you get when it happens, ever the sore loser. Didn't even remember the prize but there was no way for you to give it to him now either way. What hurt the most was that he couldn't even tell you his brother had found his mate. These were the best news in over a century and he just wanted to share them with you, wanted to share everything with you.

He takes another look at the mirror with a small sigh, straightening his wings and making sure his face doesn't give anything away before calling to his shadows. He feels them wrap around him slowly, giving him some comfort before taking him directly to the river house.

“Almost thought you weren't coming.” He was still half covered in shadows when he heard Cassian's voice. Everyone was standing around talking to each other, waiting on him. The guilt was tugging at his heart strings again. Why would he ever feel like he needed more than a family that loved him? Who was he to think this wasn't enough for him? It was something he could only dream of when he was younger.

“He's here now. That's all that matters,” the smile Feyre gave him was warmer than usual and her hand lingered on his shoulder for a second too long. Azriel looks over to Rhys, finding him already looking at him, studying his face. He had told his mate of whatever he sensed in his mind then. He hoped neither of them brought it up at least, now or later. What good would admit he misses his dead wife do? No one can bring you back to him.

“Finally. I'm starving.” Cassian clapped his shoulder as he passed by him on the way to the already set table, sitting down immediately. Everyone followed in his footsteps, greeting Azriel and finding their seats. Seems he really had kept them waiting.

Conversation picked back up naturally and he let himself fall into the usual rhythm of these dinners, letting his body relax around his family, forgetting about his old life for the moment. He walked over to the already set table and took his seat next to Elain, as it usually was these days. The seating arrangements had moved around a bit over the last years to accommodate not only the new additions to their little circle but also the relationships in them. He used to always sit next to Cassian but now had given the seat up to his beautiful mate. It left him next to Elain most times since they were the only single fae at the table.

Elain gave him a soft smile as he sat down and he nodded at her with a smile of his own. They had been getting closer ever since she was turned to fae and started living in Velaris. Her quiet nature quickly drew him to her, feeling at ease almost immediately with the middle Archeron sister. But he had to have been blind not to see the way she looked at him, not to notice the enamored smile she gave him.

Sometimes he let himself wonder if things could work between them. She had a mate but it was clearer with each passing day that she didn't feel anything for the male tied to her. It was also obvious how well Azriel and Elain got along, fitting into each other's lives almost seamlessly. He didn't love her but couldn't say seeing himself fall for the lovely female was such a far-fetched idea. She was a beautiful and kind fae, loving her would probably be as easy as breathing.

When everyone had been made aware of the mating bonds, he had even considered if the Mother had made a mistake. His two brothers had ended up with two of the sisters after all. Now he can see he was just desperate for a bond like theirs. In truth, he wouldn't even know what he would have done if Elain had truly been his mate. Would he finally put you behind him? Would he have thrown the ring away again, for good this time? He knows he couldn't bring himself to even with the power of a mating bond. You were etched deep into his skin just like the bargain marks inked into his shoulders.

As the dinner moved on and they made their way to the sofas in the sitting room, his family was already more than lively. Mor had busted out one of Rhysand's old wine bottles, setting the mood for the rest of the night. Azriel had completely relaxed by then, letting himself enjoy their company, his shadows retreating almost completely around the room. Finally having some reprieve from the particularly insistent thoughts that were plaguing his mind today.

Cassian was telling a story he had heard a thousand times now but he still laughed along with everyone else. Listening to Cass tell the story so many times wouldn't make the fact that he had flown straight into a river any less funny. Azriel even remembered the following part, the one Cass doesn't include in the story which was after they pulled him out and he had gotten sick for a week, making him miss practice and lose every spar with him and Rhys for the next months.

Even old stories had a new life with new people around, it was the first time the sisters heard this one, judging by the slight tint to Nesta's cheeks as she laughed at her mate and how hard Feyre was clutching at Rhys' arm to ground herself. Even Elain was laughing hard enough that her body was shaking. Her laugh was soft and melodic, a lovely sound really, but it suddenly opened a familiar pit in his stomach. It reminded him of you. She wasn't quite as loud and her eyes didn't immediately water like yours but the way she raised her hand to her face was similar. And just like that the illusion of happiness he had created shattered.

She was nothing like you but he still found you in every thing she did, in everything anyone did. He couldn't go to half of the city's bakeries and shops without thinking of you and every moment you spent there. He had even changed rooms in every one of Rhysand's houses, not bearing to sleep in the same bed you had held him in. Everyone in the Inner Circle had learned to avoid certain topics, certain stories in fear they would remind him of you. Even your name was rarely mentioned unless he did so first or strictly necessary. Every thought of getting over you was nothing more than wishful thinking. It was like his entire soul was begging him to go to you, but you weren't anywhere in this world.

This had to be one of the worst parts of his routine lately, having to take extra care to school his features when spending time with his brothers and their mates. If his face showed any sign of how much he missed you, how much he wished he could hug you to him just like they can do with them, they would immediately look at him with pain in their eyes, pain for what he lost and will never get back.

It had taken too long to get used to how differently they treated him after what happened. He had to start a fight to get them to stop treating him like he could break at any second when it was the truth. They knew it as well as he did, but they also knew that they had to let Azriel mourn in his own way, that there was nothing they could do besides stay by his side.

You weren't mates - maybe the pain he feels would never compare to what his brothers would go through if their mates ever met the same fate as you - but that had never mattered to him. His soul sang for you the same way he sang for his shadows, you were written into his very being just like they were. And, most importantly, there wasn't a single fiber in his body that wanted to live without you.

Even a mate could never erase you from his memory, even if you had been alive. He doubts if a mating bond had snapped between you two at the time, you would have gotten any deeper into him than you already were. He can't imagine loving you, wanting you more than he already did was possible.

He felt his shadows move to him, almost sending them away thinking they were coming to comfort him again, hiding him from the world as usual. Their urgency gave them away, and by the way Rhysand's body tensed across from him he also had noticed something amiss.

“What happened?” The High Lord's voice cut through the atmosphere immediately, everyone looked to him for an explanation and got ready for any possibility. His entire body stood still when his shadows told him they felt someone winnowing into the townhouse.

“Someone's in the townhouse,” he stood up as he spoke, sending some of his shadows out to find out as much as they could and the rest around Velaris to check if there were any other disturbances.

“Who could get past the wards?” He felt a shield around them, Rhys had likely set it up around his house. Cassian's siphons were flickering red as they all prepared for what could come next. Velaris was more than well protected, especially after the attacks before the war, but the High Lord's homes were nearly impossible to get into uninvited, Azriel himself had helped make sure of it.

“I don't know,” he held onto Truth Teller as he waited for his shadows or his High Lord and Lady to find something. His shadows were being strangely lax about the whole situation, maybe this was someone who knew of a way to go around his gift, keep them distracted.

It took longer than usual to receive a response from them, making him and everyone around him more concerned by the second. By now everyone was donning a sword or weapon of some sort, only waiting on more information before splitting up to keep Velaris safe and find the intruders.

When his shadows finally appeared they wasted no time rushing to his ear, at last sensing his urgency in the matter. Their answer was one nothing could have prepared him for, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.

His shadows came back carrying a once familiar tune. They came back singing your name.

[sad-leon]

Part 23: The End

And here it is! The end! Leo also gets a night to just.. relax, be him.

I'll leave the sentiment ramble under the cut:

Seeing this comic end saddens me as much as it excites me. I have so much more planned for this account, this fandom (I have a seperated Au in the works), so this is not goodbye.

But this comic brought me to a community that has made my life better. The rottmnt community I've found here is one I wouldn't trade for the world. I love the friends I've made and this space I found where I can enjoy creating again. I made this comic for me, and even here at the end, I still enjoyed making it.

And this isn't quite the end of Two Shades of Blue either! I can't provide a date, but I do want to make an epilogue where Leon goes to see the other turtles again.

Thank you to everyone that has read this and supported me, whether you were here from the beginning or started reading just yesterday, Thank You.

Masterpost

[aerynwrites]

Simple

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

A/N: the absolute feral nature I have been spitting out fics has been wild. I think i've hit 3 fandoms in the past three weeks and i just...idk wtf is going on lol. I will definitely be revisiting this character though bc..I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR!!! Hope you all enjoy <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood and gore, canon typical violence, nightmares, mentions of death and dying, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. It was simple. A simple exfil mission, in and out - one and done. It’s the only reason they’d asked you to come along. 

You’re a base medic. Well, technically you’re a field medic too, but you mainly stay on the base. Tend to soldiers there - it’s what you’re good at. 

You aren’t supposed to be here, in the middle of the desert in a humvee now flipping through the air as if time has slowed down. 

It was supposed to be simple. 

The explosion hit without warning, sudden and all at once just as Soap was telling some stupid joke. Just as Ghost was smacking the back of his helmet. Just as you were all laughing after a successful mission with no injuries for you to even worry about. 

It felt like you flew hundreds of feet up in the air. The explosion knocking the wind from your lungs as the humvee is sent careening skywards. Loose items - rifles, packs, abandoned helmets…they all become projectiles inside the crammed space. 

It feels like you’re watching it all in slow motion, your friends bodies being thrown against their seatbelts like rag dolls. The world outside tumbling around you all. The way an arm slings across to cover you, as if that will stop the inevitable. 

Then it’s all over in an instant.

Metal screeches against metal, screams of agony cut short, glass shattering, fire roaring, the smell of burnt oil, and then-

Silence.

Silence, except the ringing ion your ears. Silence, except for the vacant thud of rubber against metal as you slam your boot into the vehicles door.

Silence when you call out their names. 

Complete and utter silence as you step out into the inky black night of the desert, the only light being that of the moon and the fire around you. 

“Lieutenant Riley!” You call out, your comms busted, “Report!”

Your voice is muffled to your ears, and for a moment you hope that he is calling back to you and you just can’t hear it. But as you squint through your swimming vision, the eery stillness of the overturned humvee makes panic settle in your chest. 

“Captain Price, status!”

More silence. 

FUCK!

You’re lurching back to the humvee before you can think about it, reaching in and grabbing the first tactical vest you can latch onto. 

It’s Soap. 

It’s your friend that never ceases to make you laugh. It’s John ‘Soap’ McTavish and he has a fucking pice of metal sticking out of his abdomen and he’s not - oh thank fuck, he’s breathing. 

You pull him several yards away from the crash, ever aware of the smell of gasoline filling the air and - 

You have to get the others.

You pull them all out of the smoking wreckage. 

One, two, three, four-

Price, Gaz, one of the drivers (DOA) and-

Ghost.

Ghost is the last one you pull out and you’re all the way to the others when he blissfully regains some semblance of consciousness, but you aren’t even able to dwell on that. Wide eyes flickering to everyone else who’s either unconcious or dead or about to be-

“Sergent!”

The booming voice startles you from where you dazedly stand over the bodies of the team, and you can’t even find it in you to respond. 

Before you were working on autopilot - get them out, get them away from the wreck, assess, form a plan…

But now it’s all gone out the goddamn window. 

You’re not a fucking field medic. You can’t do this. Your heart pounds in your ears, blood rushing through your veins, chest heaving with breaths you can’t even take. 

The shrapnel in Soap leaves a red stain getting bigger by the second. Price’s arm is bent at an unnatural angle, blood trickling down the side of his head. Gaz’s leg looks like minced meat, bright white bone protruding from-

The world spins on its axis as two strong hands grip the straps of your vest, turning you around to face a very bloodied and angry Lieutenant.

“Sergent I expect a fucking answer when I talk to you!”

You shake your head, Ghost’s voice a million miles away. And only now do you seem to register the warmth trickling down your face, dripping into your eyes, you reach a hand up, fingers coming away red and sticky with blood. Your blood -

“I-I can’t do this,” you manage to whisper, voice pitching higher as the panic sets in further. “I can’t fucking do this-”

A harsh jerk from the man before you startles you slightly back into focus, head swimming again as a gloved hand comes to grip your chin in a firm grip. 

Dark eyes capture your own through the all too familiar mask, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your face from where he stands so close. 

“Pull it together,” he bites, gaze cold yet somehow not completely unkind. “You’re here. Which means you were picked for a reason. So quit your bloody whimpering and help them!”

He shoves you away from them with those final words, pushing your medical pack into your arms as he does so.

“Save them,” he says, pointing behind you to his team, your friends. “That’s an order, sergeant.”

So you do the only thing you can think to do in this moment. 

You follow orders. 

———

Six hours. 

Six hours is how long it took for a med evac to show up. Six hours of patching up your unit. Six hours of watching, praying they didn’t succumb to their wounds. Six hours of you and Ghost waiting for the enemies to show up and finish you off. 

Six hours of life and death. 

You should be thankful it was the former. 

Yet, you’re finding it hard to give thanks. 

It’s hard to be grateful when sleep evades you, nightmares pouring in like a raging river - blood filling your vision both waking and sleeping. 

Even weeks after, you can’t look any of the 141 in the eye. They’ve all thanked you, seeking you out after they woke up. Price’s smile huge, clapping you on the back but always careful to avoid his arm that’s in the sling. Soap tried to hug you when you were summoned to his hospital room, but the wince of pain from his bandaged up abdomen wouldn’t let him. Gaz even sought you out on his own, hobbling on his crutches ‘thank you’s’ falling from his lips like rain.

Thank you for what? You had to stop yourself from asking. 

You were a coward. A bloody fucking coward that was ready to let them lay there and bleed out. They’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Ghost snapping you out of a panic like a parent yelling at their child.

Ghost…

You have yet to see him since the incident with of you being hauled away to medical as soon as you landed. And at this point you can’t tell if he’s avoiding you or you’re avoiding him.

Maybe both. 

————

The nightmares are constant since you’v returned, but they’ve never been like this one. 

Tonight’s is the worst. 

In all the other’s it was just a replay if what happened except maybe you were hurt too or frozen and unable to move, but…tonight’s is different. 

The scene in front of of you is familiar but worse. So much worse. Price, Gaz, and Soap all lay before you in the sand, blood pooling around them, except this time they’re not breathing. That steady rise and fall of their chests is missing and their glassy too-fa- gone gazes stare blankly up at you. 

Blood rushes in your ears, heart thudding out of control in your chest and when you try to reach out to save them - to help them - your body simple won’t move. And when you blink there’s another body there this time, black and white skull balaclava staring up at you now too, that disappointed look etched permanently on his brow. 

No, no, no…

You try to reach out again, but that same invisible force clings to you, and this term you feel it creeping upwards, starting at your feet and crawling up your legs. 

You blink again and they’re all standing in front of you, blood covering them eyes still glassy as they circle around you.

“How can you just stand there?” Soap asks, voice broken and angry from behind you.

“We need help, sergeant!” Price’s voice is next from where he stands in front of you.

“Help us-”Gaz…

“Snap out of it!”

Ghosts voice is loudest of all, and finally you’re able to move, only to see the teams face swirling around you, insults and cries for help filling your ears, drowning out everything else. It all blurs into one, voice melding together in a morbid cacophony of cries. Your hands snap up to your ears, desperate to escape from the onslaught only for two stronger hands to drip your wrists keeping you from relief.

“Oh no,” Ghosts voice oozes malice. “You’re not escaping that easy.”

You close your eyes, not daring to look at the bodies around you, at the manifestation of your failure. 

“Wake up!”

The words seem deafening before it’s like a bucket if ice cold water being dumped onto you. Your throat aches as you launch yourself upwards in bed, body drenched in your own sweat as hands collide with a solid mass in front of you. 

Hands grab you again, and you can’t stop the way you flinch reeling backwards in an attempt to get free. 

“Let go!” You cry, salt on your lips as you realize you’re crying. 

“Stop, stop - it’s me, I-it’s Simon, now-” a harsh jerk of your arms shakes you out of your panic, just alike all those nights ago. “Stop!”

Simon?

Your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, and though it takes you a moment to realize where you are, you relax ever so slightly when you recognize the familiarity of your quarters. The bed beneath you, sheets tangled haphazardly around your legs. The bedside table, the book you were reading, the window across the room with faint moonlight streaming in, the clock reading 2am, Simon sitting next you hands still wrapped tightly around your wrists-

Wait…Simon?

Your mind repeats his name over and over, and as of sensing your’ve come back down his grip on you loosens as he speaks. 

“Back with me?”

You shake your head, still reeling from your nightmare, heart still pounding chest heaving as you take in deep shuddering breaths. 

“What…what are you doing here?” You ask, voice small as you speak through the tears. 

Simon shrugs, looking away from you now as he lets your arms go entirely. 

“Heard screaming,” he says simply. “Worse than usual. Went on longer.”

He doesn’t offer much else, and it’s in this moment of thick silence that you are finally able to see past the tears to really look at him. It’s hard in the darkness, but your eyes have adjusted enough to see the white bandages still wrapped around his right arm, a result of the nasty gash he’d sustained in the crash. You can even still see the remnants of the head injury too, the skin above his right eye much darker than the rest of his face. Mottled with bruises and stitches…

In fact, it’s only now you realize he’d come to you with his mask off - which, what’s underneath doesn’t wholly surprise you considering you’ve seen it before, being a medic and all but it switches something inside of you. 

Him laying himself bare to you, coming to you in the middle of the night to check on you after everything you’ve done. Everything you failed to do…

The damn breaks and the tears flow freely once more as your shoulders shake with harsh sobs. 

“I can’t do this,” you cry out, curling in on yourself as Simon reaches for you once more, confusion etched into his features. 

“Can’t do what? What are you-”

“This!” You sob, gesturing around you wildly. “I’m not meant to be here. Not after…not after what happened-”

A sharp intake of breath cuts you off as your lungs struggle for air against your cries but Simon doesn’t stop you. Warm hands just fall to rest lightly on the tops of your thighs, as you cry, anchoring you here. 

“I failed them. I failed you-”

“Hey.” His voice is firm, his patience wearing thin as he watches you fall apart in front of you. “I won’t hear any of that.”

You shake your head, aware now that his hands have moved up to cradle your face is his calloused palms, thumbs wiping futilely at your tears. 

“But it’s true,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I’m a coward.”

Thick fingers press into your jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to bring some alertness back into your emotion fogged brain. 

“Would a coward have pulled four men twice their size from a burning wreckage?” He asks, breath warm against your cheek from how close he sits. 

“Would a coward have kept four men alive in the field with barely enough medical supplies?”

You open you mouth to argue, tell him that it only happened once he ordered you to do it, but he persists, not letting you speak. 

“Would a coward have sat there for six fucking hours keeping her men alive under the threat of enemy fire?”

He pauses then, eyes searching your own and giving you a firm shake when you don’t respond. 

“Would a bloody fucking coward have done that?”

His voice is uncharacteristically soft for the words he speaks, and before you can think, you find yourself saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“No…” the word is barely audible, whimpered out softly. 

But Simon hears you. Because, of course he does. 

On hand slides form you cheek back to tangle in your hair as he pulls you towards him, cradling your face in the crook of his neck.

“No. They wouldn’t have,” he affirms, moving to wrap his other arm tightly around your middle as your cries finally start to subside. 

“Now,” he says after a while, arms never leaving you, “can that coward nonsense and try to get some sleep.”

You watch in slight confusion as he pulls away only to adjust himself to lay next to in the bed, tugging the covers to readjust them from where you’d tossed them away in your sleep induced panic. You want to ask what he’s doing - tell him that he doesn’t have to stay but he seems to read your mind - or rather your hesitance as you watch him.

He pauses just as he’s lifting the covers, eyes finding yours in the dark. 

“You want me to leave?” 

You shake your head almost immediately, the last thing you want is to be alone. 

“No, I just…” you trail off, moving to slip beneath the sheets.

There’s a small moment where both of you pause, neither of you quite sure what to do or how far to go. You’re the first to break the momentary tension, scooting so you’re pressed against his front, hands against his chest as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. You feel as he lets out a deep sigh, one arm slipping beneath the pillow you rest on while the other moves to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

“Thank you, Simon,” you whisper.

His arm tightens around you, and you swear you feel his lips brush against the top of your head. 

“Anytime, love.”

And for the first time in weeks, you both slip into a dreamless slumber.

[flightlessangelwings]

While we’re in Latino Heritage Month, let’s stop assuming your reader doesn’t know/speak Spanish in your reader insert fics. Especially if you’re writing for Pedro’s, Oscar’s or other Latino characters please.

EDIT: After some criticism of how this was originally phrased, let me change it into a question/request instead- Can we as writers please try to be more inclusive with our reader insert fics so poc and others can feel represented and see themselves too? Including taking out a quick throwaway line about reader not understanding Spanish. (Keeping the original phrasing above so anyone who missed the post to begin with can still see how I originally phrased it)

If you have a throwaway line of “he said in Spanish that you didn’t understand” or something similar, just take it out. Have something like “you didn’t hear” instead and let the reader interpret how they want. Or use italics to indicate Spanish. Or have the translation right there without mention of anyone translating for them. Simple. Or if you don’t want to/feel you cannot change it, then please have something in with your warnings so Latinos/poc can skip it if they choose.

And let me tell you why this is so frustrating (even for me as someone who is not a fluent speaker). It’s because Latinos look to these characters and actors for representation. We see ourselves in them. And when you clearly do not have a Latino person in mind when writing, you’re saying we don’t belong here. In a space where we should feel welcomed and celebrated. Representation matters. Inclusivity matters. Please try to be more inclusive with reader fics so we can all enjoy and immerse ourselves in your writing.

ALSO EDITING TO ADD MORE FROM A REBLOG SO EVERYONE CAN SEE MY CLARIFICATION: (under a cut for length)

This is nothing new, poc have been asking for years now to be inclusive in fics and yet it’s still a battle. We’re not asking for a lot, and certainly not asking anyone to change their style or creativity or anything like that. Literally simple edits: take out the word “blush” don’t mention hair, don’t mention not understanding Spanish, not making reader blood related to a white character, etc. Literally tiny things that would not change the story at all but make a world of difference.

Here’s an example too: a few years ago it was not common for writers to label the gender of their reader as it was usually assumed the reader would be a woman. But, people advocated to label readers as f/m/gn/whatever to be more inclusive and asked writers to strive for gender neutral readers when possible so that more readers felt seen and welcome. Now it’s a common thing to do. Why is making the readers race ambiguous any different?

Yes sometimes posts like this come across harsh, but know that they’re not meant to be. Poc aren’t trying to demand anything, we just ask to broaden your langauge when writing reader insert so more can see themselves in your work. It’s incredibly frustrating to ask for inclusivity and be met with hostility and rudeness in return and a refusal to think about poc so yes sometimes the wording gets harsh out of that frustration. But I encourage y’all to focus on the message more and maybe think about why poc in fandom get snippy like this. We do need to have an open conversation, yes. Just look in the comments at the Latinos and poc who are upset by the exclusion and feel hurt by it. How you you white fans feel if roles were reversed and none of the fics included you? Not fun, right?

And to those who say write it yourself: I do. I’ve been a x reader writer for years now and I do strive for inclusivity in my work. But I’m only one person and this is bigger than any one person. This isn’t about what I personally find acceptable or what I personally what. It should be a collective effort among writers as a whole to strive to include as many as possible in their works and not white code your readers. It’s not about demanding writers write it a certain way, it’s about asking writers to consider others who don’t look like them who also want the immersion and the escape that your fic brings.

[kyri45]

✨ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU Q&A (22-09)✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@spec7rejay ha chiesto: First, for the lmk au: oh my god, they were roommates. Second: this may be a bit of a stretch, but I was listening to Lindsey Stirling and her song Foreverglow made me think of the ISaT S:CotL AU Third: your art and AU’s are amazing and I hope you have a nice day! :)

Aww you're right! It is kind of fitting! :D

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hi! I have a question about your Sky x ISAT au In your au, does Aurora exist? Would she be a preformer or something closer to the version of her in queendom?

AURORA in the AU is more similar to a performer who's also a seasonal guide, and the songs they play during the concert where you get teleported and become a bird or a jellyfish are like a collective meditative experience.

da3gr3d ha chiesto: Im finishing to play sky cotl at light speed just so i can read your au comic without spoilers of the game bc im obsessed with the lmk bio parents one and now i wanna read the other one as well bc you are so good at drawing and scripting the comics

(i said it and ill say it again i LOVE your stories im obsessed)

Anonimo ha chiesto: ur isat x sky:cotl au made me pick up sky <3

AAAHHH TY!! Hope you like the game as much as I do!

Anonimo ha chiesto: god your s:cotl isat comic has been making me absolutely completely insane im so obsessed with it. it's so so beautiful and so so good and im just auugughhhh

@queenofskys5 ha chiesto: I hope everyone who came for LMK is enjoying ISAT x Sky:COTL the way I'm enjoying LMK after basically learning of its existence from here

hehe glad you liked the LMK one as well!

Anonimo ha chiesto: the. the pararel between him and siffrin. that doesn't mean anything right haha I'm proooobably looking too deep into it def and it's def not because I think the king is siffrin in some way and I'm totally not looking at the same placements of their three eyelashes and the way they both have their left eye covered. I'm going. insane. tell me I'm insane please. love your art btw! :D

Ah yes, the 2 school of thoughts about Resh in the Sky fandom: either you are team Resh is you/you are part of resh or Resh and Alef are two different beings

@melodyofthevoid ha chiesto: Since in the new COTL event there's a spell that makes you a crab... if the gang got hit with that on the island... It'd truly be their worst nightmare /j

But it would also be so fuckong funny

Anonimo ha chiesto: TEY SIAD TEH THIHGBTEHYSA ISAID TEH THING IM SCREAMING OH MY GOD how long did it take for you to think of that dialogue, siffrin being from ISAT saying that and resh being from COTL saying that, people saying their respective game title names puugghhgh I'm gonna eXPLODE

Ahah since May I knew I was gonna add the name of the game (Sky) into that conversation. As I was drawing the chapter I thought that maybe I could also add the ISAT name as well

Anonimo ha chiesto: (regarding your current update on the ISAT cotl au) I SCREAMED. I SCREAMED. LOOOOPPP. OH MY GOD THEIR FAMILY. IM SCREAMING IM GONNA THROW UP /POS

LOOP! THEY WILL SAVE THE DAY!

[ariaste]

I made a post a few days ago about how dire the hits-to-comments ratio is in this fandom and since then I have tried an experiment, got great results, and I am back to explain how we solve this problem as a community.

Several people made disheartened comments on the previous post about how consumer culture has finally made it to fandom (that is, people don't comment on fics as much any more because they're passive consumers of content rather than equal participants in fandom) but... I kind of think that part of this might be our responsibility as fic authors as well, and something that we as can do something about and take agency over. Because yeah, it's correct that commenting has gone down, but you know what I also don't see very much anymore??? People adding a note at the end of the fic saying "Comments give me life!" or "If you liked this fic, please let me know, a nice comment makes me smile all day" or "Comments keep me energized to write more, please let me know if you enjoyed this!" or "I would love to hear what you thought of this! :)"

The culture of a community is not something that people just know instinctively. It's something that has to be taught, just like manners and etiquette in any other context (you don't know the fish fork from the entree fork from the dessert fork until someone shows you, for example). The venn diagram of "the good old days of fandom when lots of people were in the habit of leaving comments" and "the bad old days when we had to humbly ask people to please comment if they liked it at the end of fics" is probably almost a circle. Yes, it's true that we are living in a society where we are being encouraged to be passive consumers of content and that this is probably leaking into fandom spaces. But the way that we start course-correct is to simply communicate clearly in public about what your needs and preferences are. Not in posts like this, because not everyone is going to see it and it will eventually disappear into the ether, and because one big essay isn't going to affect much change. Just... in small spaces where people will see it immediately when it's relevant, like in the end notes of your fic, or in the caption/description under your fanart post. It is not a bad thing to tell people that you like comments. You are not vain or arrogant for wanting engagement and appreciation for something you made out of love and enthusiasm, you are HUMAN. It is not a bad thing to communicate your needs. And oftentimes it is way more effective than you realize until you have actual data to back it up, like the data I'm looking at right now for this fic.

I made one change on the most recent chapter, and that was to put this at the end:

LISTEN TO ME REAL QUICK HERE, WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING. This fandom has the worst comments-to-hits ratios on fics that I've ever seen. That sucks. Comments are part of a healthy fandom ecosystem, and I can't tell you how many unexpected friends I've made just by telling them I liked their fic. If you don't feel like leaving a comment on this fic, that's okay with me. But you have to PROMISE that you'll leave one on the next three IWTV fics you read, ok? Give our authors some love so they'll keep writing. It'd be a really, really long hiatus until s3 without them.

Since posting this, I can only describe the state of my inbox as, "Oh, THAT'S more like it, there we go, much better!" So... try it out? Tell people that their thoughts and comments are welcome? Remind them that this is a good thing to be doing? It's not going to make everyone comment, but I bet it'll make at least a little bit of a positive difference, and the more people start doing it, the faster we'll inch ourselves back to a thriving and healthy fandom ecology. :)

Rome wasn't built in a day, and culture has to be taught, and the best and happiest kinds of communities grow when the participants are aware and intentional about it.

[hotchs-big-hands]

What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|4.9k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus size fem!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): some angst, yearning, details about graphic crime scenes, strip clubs/sex clubs.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfic! I used to write and post stuff back in 2018ish but it was a different fandom. I've not written and posted anything tho since then so I'm a bit nervous! But idk I just got back into cm recently and I saw Hotch and my brain was like oh yeah 👁️👁️ (I used to be a Spencer girlie) and I've mostly written stuff for myself but I decided imma start doing stuff on here too! I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future writings 🥰 side note, I'm a fat gal so I will probably centre most of my stuff around plus size readers cuz there's not enough of it for plus size Hotch girlies 😔 but technically anyone can read and enjoy it! This was getting extremely long so I'm splitting it into three parts so here's the first one! Anyway, enjoy 💅

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The feeling of something blunt lightly bounced against your forehead, making you blink a few times and rub the area with your hand.

"Hey... Who did that?" You grumbled, eyes darting from one face of your coworkers to the next. Three of them all pointed towards the culprit and as your eyes drifted back to him you were met with a cheeky grin on the charming, dark-skinned man's face.

"You were spaced out, sugar." Derek Morgan said. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Got a lot of him on her mind, more like." A voice cut in smugly, flustering you in an instant, your heart beginning to race. Your eyes flicked to Prentiss, the pristine raven haired woman was smirking at you, her eyes glinting. You squeaked and shifted in your office chair nervously.

"No, Em! Just... couldn't sleep last night."

The weak explanation didn't help, it only widened the smirk on Prentiss' face as she leaned forward.

"Oh? Do tell us more."

"There's nothing to say!" You abruptly turned to the casefile that lay open on your slightly messy desk and tried to ignore the movement at the corner of your eye; Emily was shuffling her chair over to you, no doubt still with that annoying smirk on her face.

"Oh it sure sounds like there is though."

Before you had the chance to defend yourself an all too familiar voice demanded everyone's attention and subsequently caused a shiver to trickle down your spine. Your hands gripped onto your chair.

"My team; in the conference room now. We have a case." Your unit chief spoke. All heads turned to the direction of a slightly elevated walkway where a sharply dressed man stood for a mere moment, locking eyes with yours, before he began walking briskly towards the mentioned conference room.

Fuck. Hotch was wearing your favourite suit and tie today and a few stray wisps of his short, dark hair stubbornly lay over his forehead, no matter how often he must have tried to push them up off his face. Everyday was harder than the previous working with that man. The moment you'd attended your interview months ago, sitting in front of the brooding man, you knew you were fucked. Yes, you had been eager to join the famed BAU unit and were grateful for the opportunity that arose but you'd be lying if another reason you eagerly answered all the questions prompted to you in that interview wasn't because you were instantly attracted to Aaron Hotchner. However, that was almost a year ago now and you were struggling with your growing attraction to the man the more you were around him. Your coworkers and friends certainly were no help, given they'd soon caught onto your crush.

A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked.

"Time to go, lovergirl." Prentiss teased and you sighed, quickly joining the others as they made their way to the case briefing. You needed to focus.

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Landing in Chicago a few hours later, the team were thrust into a gnarly investigation involving couples being murdered in their hotel rooms mid-coital. The crime scene photos were hard to look at, to say the least. Setting up a base of operations in the police department didn't take too long and currently you were in the midst of interviewing family members of the deceased along with Hotch at his insistence. It wasn't often that you took part in these interviews, even less often did Hotch ever team you up with him. Quite frankly, it made you feel a little nervous, but there was no way you'd question his decision. And certainly, you did not miss the subtle smug look Emily gave you as you trailed after the man you thought about way too much.

Sitting beside him in the SUV, just the two of you alone made your head feel a little bit floaty as you tried your best to remain as stoic as possible, reminding yourself of the details of the case so far and of the little bits of information from the families you'd spoken to. Even with the effort there was no preventing the permeating scent of his cologne and a hint of his own natural musk from scrambling your brain. He smelled good, too good, and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel from the quick glances you dared peek developed a heat to coil within the depths of your lower abdomen.

"Are you alright?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts. You felt flushed.

"H-huh?" You felt dumbstruck, all because of him. He exhaled through his nose sharply, clearly dissatisfied with your response.

"You're distracted."

Oh. Of course he could pick up on it. You shifted in your seat, subtly rubbing your plump thighs together.

"I'm okay, I guess I've not had enough to drink today though. I'll get some water when we head back to the station." Not a lie, technically. You'd forgotten your bottle of water you normally had ready to fill up to take on cases. Hotch hummed, the sound deep and making you clench between your thighs.

"I did notice you didn't have your water like you usually do. I should have said something." He said. Wait, he noticed? You didn't think he picked up on things about you, he didn't often appear to pay attention to you besides on a strictly professional level. But as you turned your head to him in surprise his brows were furrowed in frustration, as though annoyed with himself for not saying anything.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've been a bit of a scatterbrain as of late." You admitted sheepishly, a little smile on your lips. Hotch glanced at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your breath hitch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

You bit your lip, your mind flooded with a whole array of thoughts that you knew you shouldn't be having about your boss. He didn't know he was the reason you were so distracted, desperate to feel his lips on yours, on your body and his hands on your skin, his fingers inside you. Fuck. You needed to get it together, for goodness' sake. You quickly glanced back towards the road.

"Ah, no. I'm okay, sir. I'll sort myself out." You murmured, missing the way his knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip on the wheel.

"Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

You tried not to think of what you wanted him to do to you, instead humming in response.

"Thank you, sir."

You needed to get out of this damn car as soon as possible.

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Immediately upon returning to the station you rushed off to find a vending machine so you could grab a bottle of water. As soon as you had your hands on the cold, plastic bottle you were gulping down the cool liquid, not realising just how flushed you felt.

"Whoa, slow down there, (L/n)!" You heard JJ's voice from behind you and you turned, pulling the bottle from your mouth wide-eyed. The blonde woman looked slightly alarmed. "Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I just forgot to bring water so I kinda got a bit dehydrated I think." You explain quickly. JJ frowned a little.

"You'd better be careful next time. And don't drink too quickly, you could accidentally choke."

You smiled sheepishly under her scolding and screwed the lid back on.

"Sorry, I'll drink slower."

JJ led you back to the office where you found the familiar sight of Spencer pouring over a map of the area. Pieces of string had been wrapped around pins indicating the last locations victims were seen and the scenes of their murders, no clear pattern in sight as there sometimes was. On one of the tables lay several empty paper coffee cups, a few rings of spilled coffee staining the surface top. He was speaking quietly to another member of the team, David Rossi, and Hotch; of whom stood beside the young Doctor with his arms folded across his chest, inevitably tightening the suit over his physique. You forced yourself to focus on the map.

Not long after your arrival you heard two sets of footsteps trudge into the room.

"No employees or frequent customers that are of note. We have nothing." Derek huffed as he made his way over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. Emily joined you and JJ, her face appeared neutral but you could tell there was a hint of annoyance behind it. You heaved a deep sigh and felt eyes on you which made you instinctively seek out who it was, only to be startled when your eyes met deep brown ones, almost black in the artificial lighting. Hotch didn't look away, instead holding your gaze until you quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"There has to be something that connects them all." Rossi said. Your eyes drifted across the map, narrowing a little. There had to be a mutual place that all these couples had been to in the final week leading up to their deaths. Somewhere that couples who enjoy sexual relations more than the average couple would go. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found the one you were looking for. As you pressed dial you put the call on loudspeaker it merely rang once before there was an answer.

"Hello, you've reached the hotline for the simply fantabulous Penelope Garcia; how may I assist you?" A bubbly voice filtered through. All eyes were on the phone as you placed it on the table in front of you.

"Hiya, babe, I have a request for you. We're trying to find a link between the couples but so far nothing has cropped up. But I have a theory," you spoke, feeling a little awkward at what you were about to say. "Uhm, do you think you could try search for any strip clubs or even straight up sex clubs in the area? Easily accessible or possibly a more hidden club?"

You could feel his eyes on you again but you tried hard to stare at the phone. Garcia gasped from the other end of the line, but the sound of nails on a keyboard reassured you she was already on the case. Beside you, you felt Emily poke you and you lightly shoved her with your wide hip.

"Oh wow, I did not think I would be looking at this sort of thing today. But lucky you, I have a whole list of places! I-" there was clicking, followed by another gasp. "Oh my! That is certainly a homepage! You have no idea about the things I'm seeing right now, well, I mean I'll be sending these to you anyway but gosh! I'm going to do a thorough clean of my history once this case-"

"-Garcia, focus." Hotch said firmly and you heard a quick apology from the other end of the line. He moved to lean over the table, propping himself up with his hands as he took charge of the phone call. "We need security footage from these locations. Whatever you can give us, we'll take it."

More clacking of nails, you tried not to stare at your boss as he leered over your phone, forcing yourself to look away from his straining suit, the dangling tie, his large hands. Horrifically, you instead met eyes with the oldest of the group, Rossi, who had clearly caught you ogling Hotch from the glint in his experienced eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Shit. You could only hope no one else had witnessed your blatancy. Thankfully, Garcia's voice came through again.

"I'm sending over whatever footage I can find as well as the addresses to the establishments now."

You reached across the table, hyper aware of how close you were to Hotch as you took hold of your phone. He studied you carefully when you hurried backwards, swallowing thickly. You cleared your throat.

"Thanks, babe, you're a star." You said.

"Well of course, I'm your star." Garcia responded cheerily and the line went dead. Hotch straightened up and pulled his suit back into place, turning to address everyone.

"We need to review the footage and find out which location all the victims visited at some point within the last few weeks, then we can make a plan of action." He was stern as he spoke, hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. There was a mutual noise of agreement from everyone and you all split into smaller groups around the monitors in the room. Hotch disappeared off to find the chief of police and you couldn't help but let your eyes follow him as he rushed out of the room, eyes transfixed on the tight fabric of his dress pants.

"Girl, you aren't even hiding it." You heard Derek say and you huffed, walking over to Spencer and sitting down next to him. He offered you an awkward smile and shuffled his chair to the side so you could get closer to the computer he was working on.

"Shut up, Derek." You muttered and he chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you should probably talk to him."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

"I agree, It's a bit obvious that he's interested in you too." He said softly and you huffed, shuffling your chair closer to the table and leaning towards the computer screen.

"Stop saying ridiculous things like that, both of you. We have work to do anyway."

Derek stepped back with his hands raised in surrender before retreating back to the computer he was situated at whilst Spencer simply watched you carefully, frowning a little.

It was dangerous for you to even dare think of such things. There were so many reasons why you couldn't let your mind go there. If not for the ethical reason due to his and your job statuses, then maybe because he was much older than you with a son. But also you'd seen photos of his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend and you certainly didn't look like his type. Not slender, not sleek like they were. You didn't think he was a shallow man but you'd also dealt with disappointment after disappointment with how others had treated you based on your appearance. You had to keep yourself safe, so your attraction for your boss would remain nothing more than a secret from him. You sighed softly as the young man beside you clicked on the first video footage from one of the private sex clubs. There was no more time to waste.

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The following few hours were downright miserable, viewing video, after video of footage from various clubs until you felt as though your eyes and your brain would melt out of your head. Finally, however, Emily made a noise of alarm, mouth full of cheap coffee, and alerted everyone to her computer. Swallowing the burning, bitter liquid, she retracted the footage a little and replayed it.

"Look, It's the Smiths! The first couple to be murdered. They came in to this very exclusive private sex club at the end of last month." She said hurriedly. In the slightly fuzzy camera quality indeed the couple waltzed into the lobby of the facility and approached the reception desk.

"Fast forward the feed." You heard Hotch say, causing goosebumps to bristle across your skin. You knew he had returned at some point but didn't expect him to stand right beside you. Someone made a call to Garcia and she confirmed with her database that it was indeed the couple. Further analysis of the footage from days afterwards showed that every single of the other couples had also been to this sex club too shortly before they were murdered. And yet they had no indication still of who was the murderer.

The day was drawing in at this point but as a final task before anyone would return to the hotel, Hotch sent out Morgan and Prentiss to the club to ask some questions, something that you couldn't help but chuckle at. The raven haired woman narrowed her eyes slightly at you.

"Laugh all you want but I'd be careful if I were you." She warned but you simply smirked.

"Don't have too much fun now, you two." You said cheerily, Morgan raised a brow at you and then the two were off begrudgingly. You felt JJ sidle up beside you.

"You know she will get you back." She murmured and you shrugged.

"She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me a little." Spencer said aloud, causing the two of you to turn your heads in his direction. He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "I- uh, well you know how she is."

"I wouldn't think you were intimidated by her, Spence, I mean you're the one who won the prank war with Morgan." JJ said, chuckling. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I wouldn't cross Emily, though."

You hummed and pushed up out of your chair.

"Well anyway, either of you want a hot drink?" You offered. JJ smiled.

"Oh no, thank you." As Spencer opened his mouth to respond she lifted a finger up at him. "Ah- you definitely don't need anymore coffee at this time of day."

A quiet giggle passed your lips and you turned to head to the kitchenette of the station.

"I'm not getting involved."

Walking out of the office you crossed the police department, avoiding any officers who still remained within the building, and came to a pause in the entryway of the kitchen, dipping away from the doorway out of sight. The two oldest members of the team were in a deep conversation, Hotch with his back to the door and Rossi facing the direction you were in. They spoke quietly, you knew you shouldn't listen in and yet you couldn't help it.

"Stop being absurd. What makes you think I'd even consider doing that?" Hotch hissed, his voice barely audible from where you were.

"Come on, Aaron, you can't keep this going forever. You know that." Rossi countered. There were more words said but were too quiet for you to decipher. That was until Hotch spoke a little louder again, sounding more frustrated.

"I am not currently wishing to be involved with anyone like that, Dave. I just can't."

In an instant you felt your heart in your throat, your eyes stinging.

Oh.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn't interested in dating anyone. Even despite closely guarding your feelings for Hotch to be nothing further than a personal crush that he would never find out about it still hurt knowing you never had a chance to begin with.

Walking a few steps away from the kitchen, you made a point of entering the kitchen area, feigning surprise as your eyes landed on the two men in the room. Clearly, your entrance startled them, particularly him, who looked a little guilty before the slight expression glossed over with stern stoicism. Hotch glanced away, turning to Rossi.

"I'll see you at the hotel." He muttered and then he was brushing past you, his hand grazing your arm slightly and his scent consuming your senses. And then he was gone, all that remained was the slight coolness of his absence. You swallowed thickly but tried to mask your emotions from the seasoned agent still remaining.

"Coffee? There's some left still, maybe enough for one last cup." Rossi said softly. You smiled slightly as you approached him but shook your head.

"Ah no, thank you. I'm going to have tea. It's way too late for coffee, don't you think?"

The man hummed, watching you carefully. You suspected he had seen you earlier, that you'd heard the conversation but you didn't feel like talking about it.

"I hope you know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear that I'm always willing to listen."

Your hands faltered slightly during sorting out putting a tea bag in a clean mug. Your eyes flicked to the side at Rossi briefly.

"I know that."

"I know you heard what you think you heard but-"

"-Let's not- We aren't talking about this." You cut him off shakily, stopping yourself before you poured the hot water into the mug. "There's nothing to say about it."

You turned away from the kitchen counter to lean against it, rubbing your tired eyes with your palms. Rossi sighed quietly.

"You didn't catch the whole conversation." He tried after a moment. You scoffed.

"It wasn't for me to hear. I only did so by accident. I'm not going to read into it because the only people who were meant to hear what was discussed was you and-" Your throat felt tighter still, an unseen coil constricting you, just as the man you longed for constricted your heart and soul. You didn't say his name, couldn't. Mercifully, the man before you understood.

"I know."

You nodded. The mug of tea wasn't appealing anymore; the quiet promise of solitude in a hotel room called to you more than all else.

"I.... I think I need to call it a night. I don't feel well."

Rossi placed a hand on your upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"I'll inform the others and grab your stuff then I'll drive you to the hotel we're staying in," he fished out the keys to one of the SUVs and handed them to you, the metal clinking together. "Go, wait in the car for me." He said. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards in appreciation and you hurried out, eager to have even a moment to yourself.

The moment you pushed the doors of the building open and stepped outside you exhaled, grimacing slightly at the still, warm air of the night. You'd hoped it would have cooled down more, now that the sun had long since settled behind the horizon, but you felt stifled, the heat doing nothing to soothe the tightness in your throat and chest. Breathing shakily, you unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat, laying your head back against the head rest.

There was no reason for you to feel so upset about this. It wasn't as though you intended on ever approaching your boss about your ever growing feelings for him, you wouldn't dare do that. And yet you felt almost physically sick from heartbreak and the worst part was he didn't even know the pain you were in. Hell, you didn't even know where he was right now after he rushed out of the kitchen.

You knew the moment Rossi obviously had retrieved your belongings judging the way your phone had begun to vibrate from text notifications, no doubt from your coworkers. You'd answer them when you made it to the hotel, you decided. A few minutes later you spotted the older man exit the station and approach the car you were in, your bag and coat in hand. The sight made you smile even the tiniest bit, something that he noticed. You felt the car jolt a little as he opened the trunk so he could put your belongings down and jolt again when he slammed it lightly. A second later he was climbing in on the driver's side where you held out the car keys to him.

"Thanks." He took the keys and inserted them into the ignition, the engine roaring to life and you slipped your seatbelt on. Rossi glanced at you. "Let's get you to the hotel. Best thing about this is if there aren't enough rooms for one each you can have first pick on if you want the single or not." He said as you pulled out the station parking lot. You scoffed.

"Oh you know I'm absolutely taking the single this time." You retorted. In any other scenario you would have risked sharing a room, risk being paired with him. Now the thought made you want to cry. Your little smile faded and you turned your head to the window, resting on the cool glass. Sensing you were finished talking, Rossi didn't say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

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A little groan escaped your lips when you collapsed backwards on the single bed in your hotel room, exhaustion overrunning your very being from the long day. For a moment you simply lay there silently, staring at the dulled white ceiling whilst your mind raced. You knew this wasn't ideal, you couldn't let yourself be distracted from the case.

Huffing, you remembered that you needed to respond to messages to let the others know you would be alright by the morning. After pulling your phone out of your pocket, the screen lit up and your eyes flicked across the notifications on the lock screen. Lots of messages from your worried coworkers. You unlocked the phone and set about answering them one-by-one. JJ and Emily offered to stop by your hotel room to check in on you, not knowing you'd been feeling unwell up until this point, but you reassured them you would be okay.

Just as you finished your nightly routine and pulled the covers back, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed slightly. Who would be knocking at this time? Sighing, you approached the door and leaned close to the peephole, expecting to see one of the ladies or maybe even Rossi.

Standing tensely with his shoulders squared was Aaron Hotchner. A quiet gasp escaped you and you jolted backwards from the door. What the fuck was he doing here?! With shaky hands, you pulled the door open and slightly covered yourself with it, hyper aware of your clothing situation. Hotch perked up and stared down at you.

"Rossi informed me that you weren't feeling well and had to retire early." He murmured gently, his face stern. You swallowed and silently invited him into your room by stepping back, pulling the door with you. He cautiously walked into your hotel room and you closed the door behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to cover your body up. Why, oh why did you have to wear shorts that barely covered your ass and an old tee that wasn't as baggy anymore from being washed one too many times?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking in Hotch's direction.

"He's right. But I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow though."

You offered a little smile, eyes flicking to his face and realised he was staring. Except he wasn't staring at your face, no, his eyes were focused lower down at your chest. Christ. You quickly looked away again before he realised you'd caught him out and he hummed, the sound making you clench.

"What's wrong?"

Oh no. You couldn't answer that. Your eyes met his and you opened your mouth, hesitating with no response to give.

"I.... Just felt sick, that's all. I'll be okay though."

You never were good at hiding how you were really feeling, the deepening frown on the man's face before you merely evident of this.

"Are you certain? You can tell me anything, you know that." He said softly as he stepped closer to you. You nodded and tried smiling again at him.

"I know, sir. I promise I'm alright though." You tightened your arms around yourself until your flesh dipped under the pressure of your fingertips. Hotch's eyes trailed over you from head to toe, clearly unsatisfied with your reluctance to tell him the truth, but didn't push the matter further. You inhaled as he stepped closer still, his scent once more overwhelming you. His fingers flexed at his side as though he was conflicted and you wished he would reach out and touch you. Eventually, he sighed quietly and retreated a step.

"Alright. But I will be keeping an eye on you now."

Not good. You nodded though, then yawned and your cheeks flushed with warmth. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Hotch's mouth.

"You should get some rest." He said. You chuckled.

"Yeah, you as well though. I know what you're like."

He raised a brow at you.

"Really now?"

Your eyes widened and you stuttered.

"W-well I'm just saying, you do leave the office last, you're up earlier than everyone else too-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to dig your hole any deeper. You dared a quick glance his way and he was still slightly smirking.

"Get some rest, your boss is going to be up early again tomorrow to call everyone in."

A little chuckle escaped you and you followed Hotch to the door, grabbing the door as he opened it and hiding behind it again as you watched him make his way out into the corridor. He turned back to you and gazed down at you again.

"Good night, (L/n)." He murmured. Your eyes met and you gripped onto the door.

"Good night, sir."

He shifted, as though debating something in his head, then he turned and stalked down the corridor. You didn't close your door until he disappeared from sight. When you returned to your bed you collapsed down onto it whilst your mind raced. That night your dreams were filled with forbidden touches and kisses from the man you loved.

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And that's part one for now pls lemme know what you think and if anyone wants to be tagged in future works! Thank you for reading 💖💖

[kirabasai]

modern tobiizu au where izuna and tobirama are rival e-sport players. they take the competition the most seriously out of the entire league. they are a pr nightmare and definition of toxic competition because they constantly go on twitter and shit on the other. they deliberately fuel fanwars. people call them the physical embodiment of league of legends despite the fact they don't even play league of legends (leaving what game they play ambiguous).

tobirama invents new ways of playing the game and abuses bugs in competions until abusing bugs gets banned because it reached a point where he was discovering exploits faster than the devs could patch them. izuna shits on tobirama for a full twitch stream saying how tobirama needed those bugs to even match him, and he says he hates how he ended up adding a new rule to the league because of how he played. izuna doesn't even play the same as tobirama, its just the principle of the fact he got a whole new rule made.

izuna is really intuitive, he's fast at figuring out new strats and mechanics and enjoys mimicing other ppl's playstyles as a form of psychological warfare. his reaction speed is very fast; "oh, you're ambushing me? lol get rektd." he goes through mouses like his monster energy cans because he just keeps breaking them (they can't handle the stress of his intense playstyle). if he had a mouse that was actually well made, he probably would not have this problem. however, those mouses just don't feel the same as the super specific, dirt cheap $15 mouse he got down at konoha-mart (or so he insists). he has a closet filled with boxes of this mouse for when he inevitably breaks it again.

one of tobiizu's pr nightmares happened like this:

at one point izuna figured out rpf fanfiction existed so he encouraged his fans to write really bad fanfiction of tobirama. why? he wanted to send it to tobirama so he could witness tobirama snap/explode/have a conniption. psychological warfare. this wasn't too bad, actually.

until tobirama publicly tweeted a link to a 100k word slowburn fanfiction he wrote detailing a forbidden love affair between uchiha izuna, professional esport player, and uchiha madara, the retired esport player who is his team's manager and his BROTHER. izuna livestreamed himself screaming for 30 minutes straight. he cried off camera. pr for both teams scrambled as they had to clarify, no this work is not real (because some people are dumb). madara has to announce his engagement for ppl to stop thinking he and his brother r like that. he's not engaged, but the internet scrambling to figure out who his (nonexistent) fiance is makes tobirama's fanfiction fall out of focus so it works out. originally the pr team wanted izuna to come out as straight but he flat out refused because "if everyone thinks i'm straight i'm doomed to not ever have a boyfriend" (he is bi and very dramatic.) he also gets back at tobirama for this eventually with the Hacked Reddit Incident (in which he hacked tobirama's reddit acct and posted various (nonexistent) issues on various subreddits, including AITA. everyone figured out very quickly it wasn't tobirama but that didn't matter to tobi because not only was his pride wounded, those posts will forever be associated with him [because things can still circulate around the internet even after the original post is deleted])

so yeah. i think you can imagine how the fandom space is if tobiizu r pulling stunts like that off extremely frequently. (chaos. its pure chaos.) somebody is probably crying in a corner, somewhere.

at one point somebody likens tobiizu's dynamic to a boy pulling on his crush's pigtails at a playground, except for them it goes both ways and is far more extreme. this spirals into the fandoms splitting into four factions: "omg they're so in love they're adorable like little kittens", "are y'all fucking CRAZY", "im just chilling here can we pls go back to normal", and unaware. tobiizu find out very quickly, and for once don't know what to do. the pr teams are just glad its nothing negative, for once.

(tobiizu are screaming in e/o's dms like this is YOUR fault. no its YOUR fault. they dont realize it but they're acting exactly like how the person who sparked it all said.)

(they'll get there. eventually.)

(somewhere, somebody is wondering "how can two people so smart be so DUMB.")

(finished this post after over a month bcause my pookie @oh-no-its-bird asked me to here u go bestie it's finally here <3)

[annabelle--cane]

it's fascinating to me the way that different social media platforms result in different types of fandom behavior. while s5 of tma was airing, I spent a good amount of time on tma tiktok (I log back in about once every two months now, going back to in-person school after a year a half of lockdown seem to re-blanace my brain and made me once again not really enjoy the format) while still using tumblr as my main socmed, and while there was a lot of overlap in the fan culture, some things were notably different.

tumblr tma fans had near-encyclopedic knowledge of the source material, but it was kind of an ongoing joke for tiktok tma fans that everyone binged the whole show in a week-long fugue state and lost memory of about 35% of it. tumblr has virtually no character limit and allows posts to be passed around by users indefinitely, which lends itself to fairly in-depth meta analysis being made and shared until most any fan could say "the time and space discrepancies at hill top road? psh yeah, I know all about them, I've read seven scrupulously cited posts that lay out all the details." for the entire time that s5 was airing, tiktok videos could still only be a minute long, and I know from a lot of personal effort that there's only so much you can fit into a one minute script that you also have to memorize and record (and cc manually with tiktok text stickers, as they didn't add the caption feature until april 2021) if you want the process to take less than four hours of your one mortal human life. and then you only see the video if your following or fyp algorithm shows it to you. there were a few tma meta-ish videos that got popular because other people would make their own videos referencing them and tag the account so their followers could see what they were talking about, but it's much harder to circulate content you like there. several times I saw people post videos saying "I got into cosplay to film some [agnes or annabelle or gerry or another secondary character] and I just realized I have no idea what their deal actually is 💀".

a thing that tiktok tma fandom was definitely better at than tumblr tma fandom was accurately remembering certain pieces of characterization and the flow of certain scenes. I've seen a bunch of posts on here where someone is trying to argue a point with excerpts from the text ("x character is nicer than you all give them credit for" "x character is so mean to y character in this scene" "z theory can't be true because y character said a line that disproves it") where the argument only holds up because the poster has gotten these excerpts from a transcript dive and hasn't listened to the episodes they're from recently, because while the text alone can be construed to mean one thing, the way it's delivered on-podcast clearly intends another. tiktok, being an audio and video based medium, allows audio clips to be shared around a lot, and cosplayers would often all make videos acting along to the same show clips of juicy interpersonal drama, and so tiktok fans, though they may have had less overall memory of what characters said, always had a better grasp on how they said it. an average tiktok tma fan might not have remembered melanie's subplot about war ghosts, but they would know the nuances of how the way she talks to jon changes between mag 28 and mag 155.

[fluxweeed]

hi i'm a grouchy old hag muttering to myself in my hut in the woods

1. not everyone finds it hurtful to find out that people are discussing their fic in private discord servers or on tiktok, actually. i for one passionately don't care that people aren't only mentioning my fic where i can see it. ofc i'm curious when one fic gets a sudden unexplained boost in kudos for a few days. am i HURT that i don't know exactly where the new readers are coming from? am i upset that the boost in hits/kudos isn't accompanied with a flurry of praise? am i sad that i can't jump into the discussion? i am not.

2. the messaging of "okay but you wouldn't post the fic if you didn't enjoy validation" makes me want to delete my ao3 immediately kasdjhfg. people post things for all sorts of reasons thank u!! my personal motivation is i'm trying to make myself feel better about making imperfect things!! the idea that by posting fic i'm inherently coming across as seeking praise makes me want to throw up. (since this discussion started, i've considered disabling comments on my fic for this reason – but i'm worried that move is so non-standard that it'll end up coming across even MORE that i want attention, so i haven't taken the plunge yet)

3. i also pretty firmly disagree with "commenting on fic builds community!" (i made this joke in a grouchy bluesky rant already so if u saw that pretend u didn't) but personally i feel the community spirit when i'm in a server discussing which weasley has the biggest dick (percy). i don't feel it when people are being nice to me in my fic's comments. i'd almost go as far as to say community CAN'T be built when one person is praising another bc there's an inherent imbalance. sure, writers can mutually read and comment on each other's fic and become friends/community co-members that way, but what if u don't write? who's in YOUR comments telling u how great u are? idk about anyone else, but when i am in a community space (like a discord server) and someone starts being nice about my fic, i feel awkward. the focus shifts from a shared enjoyment onto something inherently UNshared, because one person is the creator and the others are readers. that's not to say that these interactions shouldn't happen, but imo it's disingenuous to say that's the core of fandom community.

4. i really can't stress enough how crazy it makes writers when they're writing for praise/validation. i've had conversations with very well-known drarry writers where they've been genuinely upset that nobody is reading their fic (the fic in question had hundreds of comments). i've had conversations with people who take part in fests, only to continually sort the works by stats and feel awful that theirs isn't at the top. i've had conversations with people who have had multiple devastating life events happen to them so they're struggling to write, and the lack of New Fic Comment Validation makes them feel 10x worse. i can't help but feel like if you ARE posting for feedback (or "recognition" or however you want to package it), it's genuinely not good for your brain.

5. obviously there's nuance to all of this! it's a big topic! but notice how we're talking about it on tumblr, not in ao3 comments. it would probably be even more productive in a discord server. in a voice chat. you know – fandom community spaces like that.

6. can y'all keep the next round of discussions to like 700 words max pls lmao i have stuff to do

[jean-meowreau]

I'm ready to give. A hot take about asexual Neil.

Because as an ace-spec person who enjoys sex as an activity for my partner(s) involved, people trying to erase poly/multi-shipping Neil by saying "He's demi so he wouldn't fuck them" have me really on edge. Sex isn't always about deriving personal pleasure. Sex can be an act of intimacy between partners where one gets more out of it physically than the other. You are aware good, consensual sex can happen between partners where one(OR EVEN BOTH/ALL!) of them don't orgasm?

Outside of just a kink scenario with a scene that is meant to instill frustration/not end in orgasm, you can just make out for fun. You can give handjobs and touch and finger and stroke and fondle and pinch and bite and suck and lick and fuck and enjoy just one partner getting their fill. You can top or bottom and not orgasm and still enjoy the experience for what it brings the relationship. (Not to mention Stone Tops are a real thing.)

Sex comes in many forms. Sex doesn't have to end in an orgasm for all involved. And Sex isn't always a defining characteristic for a relationship.

All I'm saying is is stop your ace erasure because you have a preference to only ship Neil a certain way. Your preference is valid until you use a label and twist its meaning to get what you and only you want.

Enjoy your Neil time, but also beware that everyone has their own Neil doll and can play with him however they want. He can slut it up(so to speak) or he can never have sex or experience sexual attraction except once a decade on a night with a specific moon cycle when the conditions are perfect - fandom is meant to be a space to enjoy these characters as they are and/or however we want.

From an ace/demi queer person, please stop taking my sexuality and using it to hurt others who want to enjoy Neil differently than you. Thank you.

[acourtofquietdreamers]

“Elriels think Elain is perfectly okay in the NC and fully healed. They think Elain and Azriel are already in love. They think Elain is already trained to be a spy. There’s no story/conflict there.”

🙃

(Let’s ignore the fact that antis purposely misunderstand and exaggerate things Elriels say and play along with this line of thinking.)

Elain doesn’t have to be at rock bottom to have an engaging character arc. She still has room to grow, regardless of where she is in her journey. All of these characters have more room for healing. She can both enjoy her life in the Night Court and have some trauma she needs to address. Elain’s character arc doesn’t need to be focused on climbing out of a hole of self loathing and trauma like ACOSF. Her arc will likely be more focused on asserting herself, proving her capabilities, and making her own choices, regardless of other’s opinions. Elain being in a good head space in her book is necessary for this arc to occur.

Elain and Azriel can already have strong feelings for each other and still have a beautiful love story in their book where they learn more about each other and their feelings grow even deeper (please see Nessian willing to die together in ACOWAR and then having a whole book together). Elain and Azriel have the tension, chemistry, conflict, and obstacles necessary for a compelling romance. It is perfectly okay that her and Az have history and pre existing feelings.

Elain can be secretly training in stealth in ACOSF and still have more to learn in her book. There are many characters in the SJM universe that have learned skills off page and it didn’t at all take away from their story.

Elain’s story has endless potential between exploring her powers, the foreshadowed stealth lessons, the Koschei visions and potentially the visions about the Dusk Court, learning more about her friendship with Nuala and Cerridwen, learning about this other side of Elain that has been foreshadowed, seeing her navigate the mating bond with Lucien and her feelings for Azriel, mending her relationship with Nesta and Feyre, exploring if she activated Truth Teller when she stepped out of a shadow, her connection with the Cauldron etc. There is sooo much left to explore with Elain Archeron and none of it is reliant on her being knee deep in trauma. The things Elain has done behind the scenes, the progress she’s made, and the relationships she’s built thus far don’t take away from the story that will be told in her book. If anything, this backstory will only add to her book.

I will never understand this fandom’s want to repeat the same premise again and again. Elain doesn’t have to be at rock bottom, hating her life, and drowning in trauma to be worthy of a book. She doesn’t have to end up with her mate. Her story has the potential to be something new and fresh and I’m sooo excited to see where SJM takes it. The set up has the potential to produce my favorite ACOTAR book yet and I just want everyone to be excited about it 🥲