#if you can read the language on that sign you might know in which country i am now ;)

[delicatetaylorsversion]

On the flight i saw someone two rows in front of me with a mini blåhaj 🥺 after the arrival i chatted with them a bit an asked if i could take a photo of their blåhaj bc look how cute it is 💙

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.

Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.

Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.

Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.

I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.

Thanks for your time.

I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.

This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.

Learn. Languages.

That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."

What kind of mental gymnastics is that?

How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.

There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.

Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -

Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.

Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"

By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.

So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?

Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.

Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.

The welcome awaits if you choose to learn

[sbdskate]

Pencils Down (18+) - Daniel Ricciardo x lawyer!fem!reader

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!lawyer!reader

Summary: At the end of the 2022 F1 season, Daniel Ricciardo finalizes his legal affairs by signing as a reserve driver with Red Bull. The tempting young associate who’s handled the negotiations is no longer off limits.

Warnings (18+): language, *smut (!!!), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, NSFW

Word Count: 2,957

A/N: Surprise! This is an alternate Laws Of Attraction scene that I turned into a one shot. Initially, I had written the hook up to happen immediately after the contract signing, but realized it disrupted the flow of the story. That being said, I still want it to see the light of day. If you're new here: (1) welcome! (2) if you liked it and want the full story, you can find it here. Again, new to smut writing so feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Thank you!

Daniel Ricciardo had finally signed with Red Bull as a reserve driver. After a tumultuous 2022 season filled with lots of lows, you had been the one shiny bright spot as he navigated what his future might look like in the sport. Everybody seemed to have an opinion and something to say, though rarely to his face – how many times had he read in the press that he was “washed up” or that “his career is over” if he didn’t get a primary seat on the grid. But you’d listened to him and supported him as you traversed the fallout with McLaren’s termination and braved negotiations with other teams. Granted, as his lawyer it was your job to act as his fiduciary so he shouldn’t have read as much into it as he did. But from Belgium to Abu Dhabi, he shared his hopes and dreams with you for now and for the future and you received his words with care and without judgment.  

Stress, despair, and proximity created the ultimate concoction that laminated the bond between attorney and client. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about each other, and the harder it was to keep personal feelings from muddling the professional relationship. He watched as you navigated worlds surrounded by men, both in Daniel’s field and yours, and he admired your wit, intellect and steadfast determination in the face of being constantly undermined and underestimated. And you, ever the skeptic and cautious to a fault, couldn’t help but succumb to the charm of the handsome driver even when he was at his worst.

Which brought you to the hallway of Red Bull hospitality, the ink from his signature still wet on the new contract for the 2023 season. The other lawyers and representatives had cleared out, leaving the two of you to contemplate whether the little touches and prolonged glances over the last three months were more than they seemed.   

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pencils down.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not your client anymore.”

“Correct, I no longer represent you.”

“Now what?”

The irony of the situation was not lost on either of you. After months of buildup and counting down the seconds until the end of your attorney-client representation, you were stuck in a country that criminalized PDA and the cohabitation of unmarried couples. He was scheduled to go back to Perth and you back to the New York office of your law firm tomorrow. You hadn’t allowed your daydreams to get this far and you were stumped.

“I don’t know.” The universe was cruel and unforgiving. You checked your surroundings and bit your lip in frustration.

“Follow me,” he whispered. “I know a place.”

You followed the driver a pace or two behind in silence as you tracked the maze of Red Bull hospitality, cutting through the kitchen, hallways and corridors, until you reached Max’s driver’s room. He closed the door and locked it behind you. He grabbed your hands.

“Tell me you don’t want this. And I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never have to see me again.” His voice was low and gruff, in a way you had never heard before. He squeezed your hands, eyes pleading, trying to convey more than he could put into words in the moment.

You shook your head in disbelief that somehow that was the conclusion he had come to. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb rubbing along his stubbled jaw line. Your voice was soft, barely able to get the words out.

“I want this. I want you. Please.”

You didn’t have to say it twice. His lips crashed into yours in a passionate kiss that almost knocked you off your feet. Months of pent-up sexual tension and mutual curiosity were released in an instant. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, too many places to explore to stay in one place. Your hands finally found a home in his soft, beautiful curls while his hand firmly held the base of your neck. His other hand rubbed circles around your lower back, cautiously moving downwards. You smiled into the kiss and moved his hand to your bottom, granting permission to proceed.

Having the green light, he moved his other hand down to grab a handful of your ass and picked you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him as he pushed you up against the wall. The hem of your pencil skirt scrunched up at your waist. The thin fabric of your underwear and the bulge of his pants caused friction against your sensitive clit, and you wiggled your hips to get more from the sensation. You kissed him back with ferocity in an attempt to stifle the moans you desperately wanted to scream out, especially as you felt him harden from the contact. You pouted when he pulled away, only for his lips to land on the sensitive spot on your neck. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, unfortunately with too much gusto causing a loud *thud* when your head hit the wall. He immediately stopped.

“Are you ok?” His concern was immediately replaced by giggles when he saw you laughing. “Shhhh we still need to be quiet.”

“I know, I know,” you said between fits of laughter. “It’s just – are we crazy? We’re in a glorified closet with paper thin walls.” You paused, your laughter slowing. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you said with a sympathetic smile. He gave you a chaste kiss.

“If it were up to me,” Your eyes rolled back as his lips met the column of your neck again. “I’d wine and dine you so hard,” *peck*  “maybe somewhere in Monaco,” *peck* “and then take you home and fuck you on the balcony.” You were practically drooling by the time he pulled away to look at you. “This is nowhere close to being good enough for what you deserve. We can stop whenever you want.”

You looked at him, dazed. His warm chestnut brown eyes were so earnest, but it was hard to keep your head straight with him still firmly pressed against you.  You absentmindedly wiggled again but he steadied your hips with his fingers. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I need you to use your words. Do you want to stop?” You frowned.

“No,” you paused. “But I don’t know if I want to continue here.”

“There’s always tonight.” Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow.

“Go on?”

“Well, I can come to your room once all the festivities are over and everyone goes to bed. If you’ll have me, of course.” You swooned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I already told you I want you. It’s risky though, no?”

“I mean yeah, a little. But …” he grabbed your wrists and pinned them besides your head. “…trying not to get caught is half the fun.” His hot breath tickled your face. All sense of logic and reason went out the window. As a lawyer, this whole situation went against your very nature of rule following. 

“Oh,” was all you could croak out.

“Can I do something for you before we go outside?”

“Please,” you begged, eliciting a wicked smirk from him. It dawned on you that he enjoyed seeing you frazzled. But you enjoyed it too. Considering how intense your job was, the mental reprieve was just as thrilling as his touch.

Peeling you from the wall, he continued to hold you until he sat down on the massage table so that you were straddling him. Free from you prior constraints, you rolled your hips over his hardened bulge as you made out. His hands moved from your ass to unbutton your shirt partially, just enough to expose your breasts. He moved a hand to cup one, gently rolling a thumb over your unlined bra where your nipple lay beneath. He separated from the kiss to make his way south, not missing the opportunity to take you in.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He remembered when you burst into his own room just a few weeks ago to apologize for abandoning him in Austin. Flushed rosy cheeks, messy hair, clothes disheveled, panting - as you were now. He loved how easily he could make you come undone and that only he could ever see you this way. He raised his hips to meet yours when his mouth finally landed on your neck again. You leaned forward and gently bit his shoulder to suppress the noises that threatened to spill from your lips as you bucked your hips. Not trusting your ability to stay quiet, you began leaving a trail of kisses starting at his jaw and down his neck. He stopped you part way down his chest when he realized what you were doing, grabbing your hips roughly. You looked up at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You already make me feel good. This is about you.” He hoisted you back up on his lap, positioning so he could pick you up again. You let out a small yelp at the sudden movement, only for him to place you back down on the massage table. He leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead before spreading your legs and kneeling in front of you. If you weren’t blushing before, your face was now beet-red. His hands lightly caressed the length of your leg, starting at your ankles and slowly making their way up your thighs. Your toes curled in your heels in anticipation.

You took a sharp inhale as he leaned in to leave a trail kisses up your inner thigh. You held your breath when he stopped at your panty-line, his hands playing with the sides of your thong. He looked up at you intently.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Eyes wide, you aggressively nodded and he chuckled at your eagerness. He drew little patterns over and around you, but purposefully just shy of your clit. You bit your bottom lip in frustration, the teasing becoming unbearable. He lightly dragged a finger over the center of your underwear, feeling your wetness through the fabric. As cool, calm, and collected as he looked to you, he too was quite literally bursting at the seams. His hardened cock strained against his pants seeking release. He wished he could fuck you right then and there, but understood the obvious risks you so pointedly observed.

Your legs trembled as he slowly pulled the fabric down. You wanted to scream feeling his hot breath over your entrance. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he closed the gap. He drew little circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he switched to flicking. Your free hand found its way to his curls again, grasping for anything to keep you grounded as you felt like you would float away. Looking up from between your thighs, he saw the rise and fall of your chest and your bra peeking through your shirt. He unwrapped an arm to bring a finger to your folds, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You subconsciously bucked your hips, desperate for more contact. Accepting the sign, he inserted a finger, then two as he continued to lap at your clit. You arched your back in response to the dual sensations, doing your best to focus on your breathing. You wanted to shout his name to the world, to let everyone know that he was yours and you were his. Every obscenity known to man was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it in. His hands and mouth fell into a comfortable rhythm as your hand found a place in his hair again, running fingers through soft ringlets. Your core tensed, pressure pooling in your lower abdomen. He sensed you were close as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs around his head, encouraging him to keep going. He wished he could stay there forever. He looked up again a few moments later to see your eyes squeezed shut and your whole body convulsing around him as you reached your climax. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

You melted into the table as you came down from your high. You gave him a small pat on the head to indicate that you had finished, though your limp body was evidence enough to him. He smiled as he pulled away, giving a small kiss on your inner thigh before sucking his fingers that had been inside you moments ago. You lazily glanced at him slack-jawed. You still weren’t sure whether this was all just a fever dream. He began to wipe his mouth but you grabbed his shirt to stop him.

“No,” you mumbled. You haphazardly pulled on the shirt in your hands to encourage him to meet your lips and he happily obliged. “I want to taste myself,” you said under your breath just as the gap closed.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to deserve such praise but was thankful nonetheless. You felt another wave of pleasure pulse through you as you tasted your own salty essence on your tongue. You began palming him over his pants, moving to unbuckle his belt when he stopped you. Sometimes he even surprised himself with the amount of self-control he had. But he knew it was only because if things progressed, the little he had left would dissolve into oblivion. He would happily go to jail for you, but he was not worried about getting caught himself. The repercussions for you would be detrimental in more ways than one and he wasn’t sure his celebrity would be enough to shelter you from reprimand.   

“Nooooo,” you whined as he peeled your hand from his crotch. He gave it a kiss before returning it to your side.

“Not here. Later, I promise.” His cock was pulsating, he tried to think of the Bills, Zak Brown, or literally anything else to take his mind away from the vision in front of him. You moved your hand down to play with yourself, but he grabbed it again. Your lower lip jutted, and you spread your legs wider for him. He was pretty sure he would give you almost anything you asked for with the eyes you gave him. Almost.

“Why?”

“Because we’ll get caught.”

“If I go to jail, I go to jail.” He laughed.

“That’s not what you said earlier. Plus -” he gave you a peck on the cheek. “I can’t fuck you if you’re in jail.” He had a point. You closed your legs, finally conceding.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” Taking your hand again, he helped you to your feet. He knelt before you to pull your panties up, unnecessarily taking his time. He didn’t miss the opportunity to kiss your hips and gave your butt a light tap to close out the encounter. He straightened your skirt, taking care to smooth out as many wrinkles as he could. You bit your bottom lip, your heart felt so full with how delicately he handled you but you also ached for him to rip off the clothes he just took great care putting on.

“You’re being awfully needy.” He continued to dress you as you complained, buttoning your shirt back up.

“What can I say? I’m a strong, independent, needy woman.” He bit back his laugh. He didn’t need you to know this hurt him as much as it pained you.

You pulled him in for a kiss again, though it only lasted a second before he practically pushed you away. You frowned and were about to ask his what was wrong, but looked down and quickly realized his conundrum. You were reminded of one of the few benefits of being a woman: the ability to hide arousal in public.

“Oh – oh shit. I can help…?” You gently touched his chest and began kneeling but he placed your hand back at your side and encouraged you to stand upright.

“Nope. No. I just have to… think of something else for a bit.” You looked at him intently but he was very focused on the ceiling. You didn’t want to make him feel bad, so you pursed your lips together to hold back your laughter.

“Ok. Well, um, I’ll see you later then.” He shut his eyes hard when you went to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” you said again, realizing you were not helping the situation. “I’m just - going to go.” You turned around and bent over to pick up your work bag, which incidentally prominently displayed the curves of your rear.

“Oh my God, please just get out.” You immediately stood up straight to find him covering his eyes with his hands.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You walked backwards to the door to avoid any further accidental temptation. “This was fun, I’ll see you later,” you said with a giant smile.

Not removing one of the hands from his face, he waved with the other one. “Just be careful on your way out. But please, for the sake of both of us, you need to leave,” he said with a smile.

“I know, I know, I’m leaving. Byeeee,” you whispered as you shut the door.

You quickly checked your surroundings and made a b-line for the bathroom where you finally had a moment to process what just happened. You looked at your reflection. Your heartbeat had finally returned to normal, but your cheeks were still a little flushed from the encounter. Otherwise, you pulled your slightly tangled hair back in a bun – no one would be none the wiser.

You didn’t look much different, but your sense of reality had been permanently altered.

[jupitermelichios]

Hey, we need to talk about the way Batfamily fans write Cass using ASL, because a lot of it is really fucking ableist

But Cass can't speak, of course she needs to sign!

Not true! There is nothing physically wrong with Cass's vocal chords or mouth, there's nothing in her brain stopping her from making sounds, and she is not an elective mute. She actually learns to speak individual words really quickly after she puts herself into an environment where that's a useful skill. Basil teaches her to quote huge chunks of Shakespeare in Nu52, and that's easier for her than forming simple sentences. That would definitely not be the case if she had any physical limitations on her speech.

Cass's disability is that she was not taught any language, and so she is having to grok the entire concept of language from the ground up. Grammar and syntax; tonality; how to combine words to convey more complex ideas; how putting two words next to one another can change their meaning; how to break down a whole idea into the individual parts needed to turn it into words; the fact that people's words might not line up with their tone and body language so you have to pay attention to both; how to tell if someone wants a response or is stating a fact; how to work out meaning from context if a word is new or someone has an unfamiliar accent; how to know if someone is using a new word or if they actually just have an unfamilar accent and all the ways words can be bent and changed before they become something new; the fact that two words can use the same sounds but have the same meaning; the fact that there can be two different words that mean the same thing. This is all stuff she didn't learn as a baby, and not knowing it would be just as much an impediment to learning ASL as learning English (for accent, swap out things like having limited movement in their hands, or having learned slightly different forms of the same sign, using a lot of home-signs etc, it's the same concept in a different medium).

There is no language on earth Cass wouldn't have these problems with. ASL is not any kind of shortcut.

But she reads body language, and ASL is kind of like body language right?

Not true, also pretty abelist! Just as the sounds which make up spoken language are essentially arbitrary (there's no objective reason why the sound "gud" should mean good, English speakers just all agree it does) so most of the signs in ASL are arbitrary! There's no reason for

to mean good. ASL users just all agree that it does. Cass knowing body language would not help her any more with ASL than it would with English, and if anything, it might make it harder, because sign uses the whole body and therefore changes the way people use body language so unless she saw a lot of ASL users as a child (and there's no particular reason to think she did), she would have to adjust what she knows about body language to account for those differences!

But she signs in the comics!

Nope! She uses hand gestures to communicate sometimes, but that's not signing. Pointing at food and miming eating to convey hunger is not sign. Pretending to punch someone and pulling it at the last second to convey you could hurt them but won't (Cass's actual first communication with Bruce in the comics) isn't signing. I've done the point and mime thing in countries where I didn't speak the language, that does not mean I knew that country's native sign language!

But she learns ballet, that's like a physical language, so sign is the same thing!

Nope! Also low key kinda abelist. Dance is a method of communication, but it isn't a full language. There's almost no grammar or sentence structure, the vocabulary is extremely limited, and also you can just make up new dance moves or use moves from different styles of dance together and still convey your meaning (you cannot just make random gestures or use BSL and expect ASL users to understand you, because they're full complex languages). Cass vibes with dance pretty hard, but that's precisely because it isn't a language, it doesn't require any of the skills she struggles with in order to communicate emotion.

But ASL isn't like a real language, it's not as complex or nuanced as spoken English so it would be easier for her to learn

That is so fucking gross I don't even want to have this conversation with you. Go and sit in the timeout box and think about what you've just said, and then commit to doing better.

But I just think that once she learned it, she'd like using ASL because [it's very expressive/she's used to her world being very quiet/she can use it on stealth missions more easily/etc]

Valid, understandable, have a lovely day

But I'm writing an AU were she uses ASL because her backstory is too comic-book-y to fit in no-capes AUs but I didn't want to erase her communication difficulties so I've written her as having a different disability

Cool. Send me a link when you're done.

But what if I write her using makatong?

(For context, makatong is a form of sign developed for people who have intellectual or phsyical disabilities that affect language use, which uses more descriptive signs which require less precise hand possitioning than other sign languages, and which has very simple grammar, making it easier to learn than ASL). Yes this would be easier for her, because it's intended for people with similar difficulties to hers, but since her difficulties stem purely from a lack of experience which can be (and are, in canon) overcome with practise, it would be kind of needlessly limiting compared to her just starting out with very simple spoken language, and wouldn't give her as many chances to develop those language learning skills. Makatong is also not mutually intelligable with any other sign language, so she couldn't easily transition from that to ASL once she got used to signing, she'd have to start learning it from scratch.

But I HC her as deaf

There is 0 comics evidence to support that, but it's a headcanon, so who cares. You do you. Have fun.

But learning sign language would be better than learning to speak anyway because it's a universal language!

That is not even slightly how it work. Go read the wikipedia article on sign languages around the world or something. Do some research.

TL:DR; Cass does not use ASL in the comics, and nothing about her disability or sign languages in general would make learning ASL easier or more convinent for her than spoken English. That does't mean writing her signing is inherently bad, but you should examine your reasons for doing it to ensure you're not just perpetuating ableist stereotypes about the language.

[skylarsblue]

✦C.o.D Call Sign Inspo✦

(I've been having a bad writer's block, but, I do have some mini ideas that I can't flesh out. But, I know some people struggle with names/concepts for Y/N's/Characters. So! I'm giving them out for free in hopes it'll inspire something in someone so they don't go to waste!)

✧Somno; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's main trait is being a hyper insomniac. To the point they always seem tired, constantly consuming caffine, etc. But even if they're falling asleep where they're standing, they have incredibly fast reflexes. Could lead to some funny scenarios of finding them asleep in weird places, or, a cute concept (them only being able to sleep when they feel completely safe; ie: with one of the c.o.d characters)

✧Mama; Feminine. Pretty on the nose, but it could also be translated into a different language to match a country of origin. The concept is basically just...an aggressively maternal lieutenant/captain. Because I feel we don't have enough strong MILF's in this world, let alone in this fandom. This could also be used platonically because 141 specifically could use a mom type. Ghost & Gaz specifically.

✧Saint; Gender Neutral. Can be used for a character that's incredibly self sacrificing. Which would make for good fluff & good angst, plus, I think a lot of us can relate to feeling. Partially inspired by a random line I thought of - "If I die protecting you, that's far less frightening than you being gone when I could've protected you. Dying once for you is a peaceful passing, rather than dying every day you're not with me."

✧Salvadora/Salvador; Fem or Masc. Disclaimer; when I had this idea I imagined a woman. An alternative to the cartel story line in Las Almas. Y/N runs a civilian resistance against the cartel and has commandeered a village to keep citizens safe. It's basically a paradise in the crime ridden city. They've been providing sneaky support for Alejandro's men. (Honestly, this concept is pretty specific, and more detailed, and I might break it down more/write it on my own if possible)

✧Copycat/Mimic; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's incredibly skilled at mimicking voices. Whether in different accents or actual voices.

✧Mirage; Gender Neutral. Disclaimer; I imagined this also as a woman because I like powerful ladies. Similar to the one above but instead of just voices, they're just great at disguises in general & particularly sneaky. Like they "fade out of existence" if you look away at the wrong time.

✧Lynx; Gender Neutral. For a small, deceivingly cute looking character that's actually super deadly and quick. Do not trust the toe beans.

✧Nessie; Gender Neutral-Fem Lean. Pretty self explanatory. A character that's illusive and great in water. Bonus points for Scottish rep.

✧Sparks/Fuse; Gender Neutral. Just a fuckin' pyromaniac that can make their own bombs, super impressive and intricate ones. Thought of a scene where they're all in the heat of battle, low on ammo, and Y/N brings up randomly that they were a troublesome teen who almost had a criminal record. Price asks what the charge was and they just light something that doesn't look at all like a bomb, with a giant grin. "It was arson!!" And then they throw a fuckin' devastating bomb.

✧Iris; Gender Neutral. A character known for a very intense/intimidating stare. Inspired by those clips of people losing to Angelina Joline's femme fatal stare. Also, them being able to read a shocking amount about a person purely through eye contact.

✧Sage/Blister/Morphine/Plaster; Gender Neutral. All names for a potential medic!Y/N. (Plaster, for us Americans, is a word for bandaid in the UK. I know y'all prolly know that but just in case)

✧Bee; Gender Neutral. For a Y/N that's visibly smaller than those around them but packs a real hard punch. Also good if they're particularly good at physical combat. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."

✧Sugarcube/Honey/Cupcake; Gender Neutral-Masc Lean. I think the idea of a big buff, visibly masculine, intimidating dude being named something like 'sugarcube' is super funny.

✧Lasso/Big Mac/Stallion; Masculine. Isn't it obvious? Big cowboy man who's aggressively American even if he's actually been a UK citizen for years.

✧Bessie/Cowgirl/Chick; Feminine. Once again, aggressively southern Y/N. But, for fem!y/ns.

✧Tex/Stars/Anthem; Gender Neutral. See above, but this time, neutral. Cause I'm about equality in this bitch.

✧Cobra/Mamba; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that specializes in poisons to kill enemies, as well as a character with any association with snakes. Could be interesting for Ghost to hear.

✧Doll/Dolly; Feminine. A more "spy type" for the classic femme fatal who gets intel through allure. If you've seen my two fic concept posts, this is the call sign I'd give to the Y/N in Price's concept.

✧Tech; Gender Neutral. Pretty basic, a character that's particularly tech-y. Good with computers and hacking.

✧Bunny/Hare; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that's small, but super fast & alert. Bonus if they got Hinata jumping powers.

✧Clover/Shamrock; Gender Neutral. Irish rep. Use this for a Y/N that is somehow the luckiest unlucky person ever. Constantly ending up in situations that are stressful/intense but making it out with barely a scratch. Can add some dissonance if they actually hate this call sign because it's not luck that gets them out of these situations, and instead is there skill.

[heliosunny]

Yandere! Xavier x reader

Twisted sleeping beauty.

English is not my first language, please excuse me for that.

Some definitions are different from the ones in the game.

Have fun reading!

Once upon a time, there was once a peaceful country. No one knows what exactly happened as the civilians who live there were under a spell. The spell made them forget everything, including memories related to the royal family. Not a single soul remembers they once had a kind-hearted king and prince.

Y/n, a time traveler, got separated from her crew and landed her space ship on this foreign land. Her food already ran out, so she had to leave the ship behind and search for food. She stumbled across an abandoned castle. 'What is this place?' She wondered. The girl got inside, the place was left in such bad condition. Carefully, Y/n avoided the cracks on the stairs, thinking there might be food somewhere in this place, anything would do. Rather than risking her life hunting those weird-looking creatures for meat without a proper weapon in her hand, searching for left-overs in this castle had a higher chance for succeed. Speaking of the 'monsters' outside, the second she landed here, she knew something was definitely off. Y/n used up all her bullets on those surrounded her ship to prevent them from damaging the ship further.

'Where are all the people?' To think Y/n is the only one left makes her scared. She hates the thought of dying alone in a foreign land. Despite having checked every single room, no sign of life was found. That is, until she entered a room filled of strange flowers with white petals and star-like pistils. In the centre of the room lies a bed.

"Is that.... a man?" Y/n dashed through the plants, she had a feeling not to touch these things. The moment she got near the bedside, a scroll suddenly appeared in front of her. An invisible force made her grabbed the scroll, it lighted up and opened. Among the strokes on the surface of the paper, Y/n can only understand some of those which are [...... help ....... the ... prince..... curse...]. If only she had brought some translate device from the ship. The scroll burnt itself, leaving no trace of dust. "The hell? What am I supposed to do next?" Y/n sighed, the sound of her growling stomach signal her to keep looking for food or she might die of starving. She turned around only to find the door in which she entered was blocked by those flowers, now grown thorns on its stem. "Damn it, should've brought a knife.."

She sat on the bed and bumped into something. "What is it this time?" Y/n turned her head, she almost jumped after finding out there's about a man lying on the bed which was once empty. 'Is he dead?' She poked the man, once, twice.. no sign of moving. She placed her index finger under his nose, he's still breathing. 'Oh... so he's the prince?' She thought. Although she tried every methods possible to wake him up, nothing works so far. 'Could it be...' Her brain travelled to that one fairy tale she read 'Nope, not gonna happen.' She isn't going to kiss a strange man just to.. escape the place and possibly get some food.. Oh well, maybe she should try before finally giving up. "Here goes.."

It works. The man opened his eyes. "Y/n?" Y/n backed up, how does he know her name. "It's me, Xavier!" 'Who's Xavier?' It's all over her face, Xavier knew he made a mistake. He apologized, saying she looks exactly like a childhood friend of him. Still, that doesn't explain how that specific friend shared the same name as her. The growling sound coming from her stomach breaks the awkward silence. "You must've been hungry, come with me". The man named Xavier stood up from his bed, he made some weird gestures with his hands, the flowers opened a path for them both. 'That was cool.' Y/n thought to herself. Without facing her, Xavier smiled, he knew exactly what's going on inside her mind.

The moment they stepped outside, Y/n coudn't believe in her eyes. The castle which once cold and bleak now look like it's new. No vines, aged rocks, nothing, just brand new. The guards and maids are everywhere, they bowed the moment Xavier walks towards them. 'This is what will happen when I help the prince?' Y/n lost in her thoughts, so many things are coming up all at once. She tripped over his long coat without noticing and was caught by Xavier.

Xavier: You alright? Y/n: Y-yeah... Xavier then called a maid over to guide Y/n to the dining room, he said that he had other plans to do. Y/n nodded and simply went with the maid.

Night falls, Xavier hasn't returned. Y/n had a bath, a lavish meal, changed into a night robe. This literally is the best day since the moment she crashed here. Those monsters were still roaming outside, maybe Xavier is handling them. Eventually, Y/n got bored and sneaked outside. She changed into a more comfortable outfit and got to the top of the castle on her own. She was surprised she encounters no guards on the way here. The wind was blowing strongly, reminding Y/n of her home planet, sadly she couldn't return due to its destruction. A big howl woke her from the thoughts, followed by a bright ray of light.

"Couldn't sleep?" Xavier asked. His steps were quiet, so Y/n didn't notice him standing behind her.

"I want to see you." Y/n turned around to face the young looking man. She didn't know much about him, but he treated her kindly. That raises a lot of questions. "Is that blood?!" Now that she took a good look at him, not only some part of his clothes was torn, blood splashed almost everywhere. He's not even trying to hide the fact that he's cleaning the bloody sword on his hand.

"This? Yeah." Xavier answered nonchalantly, didn't even bother to look up to see the reaction on Y/n's face.

Y/n: Does it related to whatever is going on downthere? The monster and..

Xavier: What monster?

Y/n: The crouching thingy with claws? They're right... there?

She looked down, from where she is, there were plenty of them, but they vanished.

Xavier: You should go to bed.

Y/n: But..

Xavier: I'll answer your question in the morning.

After a restless night, Y/n sat on her bed as she couldn't stop herself from thinking of the eerie things she encountered the moment she got into the castle. A knocking sound, following by a female voice from outside told her to have breakfast.

Xavier: Y/n? You in there?

Y/n: Yeah, coming.

'Why is he rushing?' Y/n brushed her hair and changed into more proper clothes. She couldn't hide the tiredness from her eyes, but maybe he won't notice anyway. As expected from Xavier, one moment he was here calling out her name, the next moment he was already gone somewhere else. Y/n followed a maid, she's carrying some sort of tray with something covered in cloth. Xavier stood up when he saw Y/n entered the room. He ordered the maid to put the tray on the table and leave. "Come, sit next to me." Xavier pulled out the chair next to where he was sitting and gestured her to sit. Before she could ask, Xavier insisted Y/n to finish her breakfast first. Y/n was only able to eat half of what's on the plate. Her eyes wandered all over the place and stumbled upon some portraits on the wall with the face scratched off.

Xavier: That used to be the portrait of my father. I can no longer remember what he looks like. He loved himself and his family, so whenever he had the chance, he would hire artists to draw those.

Y/n: I see..

Xavier: As for the.. monsters.

Xavier seemed hesitate. He walked over to where the tray is and took off the cloth covering it. On the golden tray are some shiny crystals vary in different shapes and colors.

Xavier: They are called protocores. They are used commonly by soldiers to improve their combat abilities.

Y/n reached out her hand to grab one but was stopped by Xavier.

Xavier: They are also known as the core of the monsters you saw.

Y/n: Which mean the monsters are the people of your kingdom?

Xavier: You could put it that way. But, a protocore simply is harmless if it undergoes certain procedures.

Y/n: Then..

Xavier paused for a moment before continued: It's hard to admit, but my father's greed was the cause to the downfall of the kingdom.

The story of a king who loved his people and the greed for power lead him to foolish decisions. One important decision was to ask for the help of a witch. The king requested her to make his army the greatest of all, so the witch gave them mighty strength. The hearts of the soldiers were no longer human, they no longer experience pain or have the ability to express sympathy. They were bold, ruthless, everything to ask from a perfect army. But in return, they have to pay for a heavy price. Those who couldn't endure the strength coming from the protocore, which is now their hearts, turned in to monsters.

Y/n: So that's what happened..

Xavier: My mother sacrificed herself to put me under a sleeping spell, hoping one day someone would wake me up.

Xavier looked at Y/n tenderly.

Xavier: I took a stroll and found your ship. It's..

Y/n: I know... I don't think I'll be able to fix it without the necessary supplies.

Xavier: Then stay.. I believe you can fix it, of course, with my help.

There's no reason not to, Y/n doesn't know where to stay aside from this place. Xavier expressed himself sincerely and succeeded in gaining Y/n's trust. A week passed. Y/n adapted to the life here faster than she thought. Xavier and the others was kind to Y/n, but something feels off. She noticed the way the castle would change during the day compared to night time. How the maid and guards disappeared at certain times of the day. Aside from that, Y/n had a feeling of being watched all the time.

One day, while Y/n was digging up some 'scrap' around the castle, she found a path lead to the underground basement. She hates the dark but also hates to stay at this planet as much, she'd try anything to find materials to fix the damn ship. She misses her friends and probably so are they. Y/n doesn't hate the people here, they are more than kind to her. It's just the loneliness and the odd feeling this place brought her. 'What are those chains?' It was daytime but without the only source of light in her hand, she definitely wouldn't see a thing.

She stepped on something and it cracked, Y/n moved the light down to her foot to see some sort of skulls. Luckily, Y/n managed to cover her mouth before making any sound. 'The fuck?' Just as she was about to retreat, she heard a voice coming from inside.

"You came to draw my blood again?"

Y/n walked over to the owner of the voice, an old lady with both hands chained to the wall, surrounded by weird looking texts on the ground which seem to be drawn by blood.

"Who are you?" The lady's iris lighted up as if she'd found a savior.

Y/n: My name is Y/n.. You are.. the witch?

Y/n took a guess, maybe she was right, judging from the expression on the person's face.

Y/n: What do you mean by draw your blood? Did someone do this to you.

She let out a wicked laugh. "Dear, you don't know a thing. The monster you keep by your side.. he's-" Without letting the lady finished, a sword flew passed Y/n's head and sliced the witch's throat. Y/n dropped the light in her hand and almost tripped over. Rather than the pain from felling down onto the ground, she felt warmth surrounding her. "Xavier?" He nodded, he created a light orb inside his palm.

Xavier: What are you doing here?

Y/n: I'm just trying to find something that can fix my ship... Sorry.

Y/n didn't understand why she had to apologize. Maybe she was scared. 'Scared of what?' Y/n questioned herself but couldn't help but tremble in Xavier's arm. The two didn't speak a word after returning back to the castle. That night, before going to bed, Xavier decided to pay Y/n a visit.

Xavier: May I come in?

Y/n didn't answer.

Xavier: Y/n?

He had this uneasy feeling, Xavier kicked open the door to find Y/n not in her room. He looked out of the opened window, there's a vine lead all the way down to the ground, she must've glide down using it.

Xavier let out a sigh, he knew this day would come, but not expecting it'd be this quick. It wasn't a matter of time before Y/n discovered the whole truth he's been hiding.

Meanwhile, Y/n, who is at the basement, is trying to find more clues relating to the witch. The bodies was removed, no chains, no magic circles, no blood, no nothing. Just as she was about to give up, a wind suddenly blows her way. "Wind? At such place?" She turned back, some glowing texts appeared on the rock wall. There, she discovered the ugly truth, hiding from her. "That explains eveything."

Xavier: Had fun?

Y/n: Xavier!?

Xavier: Judging from the look on your face... how much did you know?

Y/n: You're the one who asked for the help of the witch?

Xavier: Well.. yeah.

Xavier took a step, two step, til he was able to corner Y/n, leaving no way out.

Xavier: Don't you want to know why?

Y/n: The witch left a message, saying that it was for your love. Why did you even blame it on the king?

Xavier: Y/n, my love..

His hand caress her cheek, but Y/n moved her face away.

Xavier: He is the man who ordered to kill her. I simply took my revenge.

Y/n: On the whole kingdom? Have you gone mad?

Xavier: YES! I can do anything for my Y/n. He and his beloved people must pay for taking away what I care most.

Once upon a time, there was a prince who fell in love with a peasant. He dreamt of building a strong kingdom for her to live in peace and devoted his life for her. Soon his father, the king, found out about this thwarted love. He ordered guards to get the girl, tied her to a post and burned her alive. "Such witch dares to charm my son shall receive the worst death". Witch? Xavier thought. Thanks to his father, he had such great idea. He went into the woods where the greatest witch live. "Are you sure about this? You'll have to pay a heavy prince, young man" She said. Xavier smirked, he had lost her, what could be worse? He gained an immortal body, an invincible power and one powerful curse to turn the people he want into the monsters called wanderers. Leaving only a small number of people alive, blessing them with immortal and erased their memories.

He revenged them. Now what. The witch came to collect the price she deserved. What she didn't expect, is that the prince had already prepare for a thing to encounter her spells. "Like what you see? I had to kill a dragon to get this sword. I won't kill you, yet." So the prince locked her down the basement. As he couldn't endure using such power in a long time, Xavier felt sleepier than ever. Each time he sleeps, the amount of time he spent in his dream was more than the previous one. He travelled the planet to find a cure, until he found an oracle in a dungeon. The one said that he'd fall asleep and woke up when the right person arrive. Searching for a clairvoyant is his next step. In the far future, Y/n will land on this planet. That's all he needed to know. He returned to his kingdom, met the witch. He controlled her to put a sleeping spell on him, while he himself wrote the scroll for the future Y/n to come and read. Everything was according to plan.

Y/n: You.. but I'm not the same girl, Xavier.

Xavier: You are.. you are just denying. I'll give you anything you want...

Y/n: I want to go home!

Xavier: This is your home!

Y/n: But I don't want th-

Before she could finish, Xavier moved in, his hand gripping her chin firmly. His touch was insistent, his eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that left no room for escape. Y/n’s heart raced as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a force that silenced her protest. The kiss was demanding, taking more than it gave. Her body tensed, a mix of resistance and shock coursing through her. When he finally pulled away, Y/n’s eyes were wide, her chest heaving with the aftermath of the unwanted contact.

“Stay....” he murmured, his voice softer now, but still charged with the weight of his actions. Y/n shook her head. "Then that leaves me no other choice.. I'm sorry.. But you can't escape from me." Y/n felt a strange power flowing inside of her, the next moment, she collapsed in his hands. "Let's start with making you forget this... then.. I'll give you an immortal life." He hugged her tightly "What's next, Y/n? How about I'll make you my queen?"

[shadowmaat]

Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

[darkkbluee]

What are your lawlight headcanons?

Oh, an ask? In my inbox? It took a while to realize there really was something in the inbox and it wasn't a bot this time. Anon, this is my first real ask, I'm so touched <3

To the topic! Lawlight headcanons! I have so many, I don't even know where to start. Some of them are AU genre specific, some are based on which arc/timeperiod it is. So many thoughts, how to summarize...

Warning: Below is a long ramble of a few headcanons and why I think that way. They're headcanons, and don't need canon or authorial proof to exist, thanks. Some of them might be AUs too, oops.

For AUs set in the early 2000s, where Light is first arc age. L realizes he's in love first. Not because L's older. Because of the circumstances Light grew up in.

Light is the eldest (and only) son of his family. He had his life figured out since childhood and never doubted he would do anything other than follow that path: Become a detective, chief, and eventually director. Get a girlfriend, buy a car and a house, marry said steady girlfriend, have two kids, the whole traditional family thing. You can even see hints of that in second arc.

When I first read the manga, I could see it in manga!Light. It seemed that way to me because it is sort of a common cultural thing between some Asian countries. Not anime!Light though, which is interesting, but not the point here.

So, Light does not realize he's in love, because he's never had the question of whether he's gay, because he never thought the reason he can't keep his eyes off L is because he's attracted to L, because 'attraction to L' is a non-existent concept in his consciousness.

Light is not dense, nor homophobic or anything. He recognizes when other men are attracted to him, he accepts that people can love whoever they want. He just never superimposes that image on himself.

It takes a whole long while for his brain to cook enough, to separate himself from the image he has in his mind. Then, he questions his sexuality and realizes he is, indeed, attracted to men as well. Or rather, one specific man. He has no sexual and romantic interest in anyone else and by that age, Light has experimented enough to know that.

Between Older Light and L, Light would be the first one to figure it out. But between 18 - 21 year old Light and L, it would L.

2. L is very specific about textures. His favorite, the one he discovers when he meets Light, is Light. Light takes very good care of himself, his face and body being as much a resource he uses as his brains.

Cue touchy L. L likes to run his fingers through Light's hair, he likes it when he can touch Light skin-to-skin, likes it when Light touches him back with his fingers.

As much as L likes watching Light (because L will freely admit he is a shallow creature and Light is very attractive to watch indeed), L loves touching Light more. He may or may not miss body language cues if he's too close to observe the full picture, but the trade off is worth it to L.

3. Light's long list of ex-girlfriends and admirers has stumped L many times. Especially when Light admits they all knew about the others. And that they don't begrudge Light for not committing 100%. And that they still happily help Light with whatever he wants them for even decades later.

Sometimes, it makes L wonder if he is just another victim of Light Yagami's charisma. Then he discards that thought because it doesn't matter. He has Light and Light is just as obsessed with him right back. L is the eventual winner and it doesn't matter who caught whom when they're both in it together.

4. They're both highly competitive. It translates over to board games as well. It's a Rule TM, posted on the fridge, notarized, signed and stamped by their friends and family, that they are never allowed to play Monopoly. And Uno. And Catan. And- [an increasing list of trade focused games].

Addendum - Twister should only be played in personal space, behind closed locked doors! — Sayu and Mello

Addendum 2 - Light is forbidden to play Jenga with Near. — L

That's all for now! If I continue, I'll never stop XD

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

[rimoriii]

→ O4/22/2O24 ᵔ₊.

ੈ♡‧₊˚ ❛ @rimoriii * .

momo's carrd

i hope you enjoy

reading this.

. . . . .

⌦ hello everyone !

this is my very first post <3

my blog today will be about . . .

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ESU

——— — - - - —— - - -

❛ tᥲbᥣᥱ ᥆f ᥴ᥆ᥒtᥱᥒt᥉. ୨୧♡ᵎ

—---———------—--——

:: OO . . . . . . . . . . . disclaimer + rant.

:: O1 . . . . . . . . . . . intro to esu.

:: O2 . . . . . . . . . . . my story.

:: O3 . . . . . . . . . . . signs you might be esu.

:: O4 . . . . . . . . . . . resources.

:: O4 . . . . . . . . . . . outro.

. . . . .

→ O4/22/2O24 ᵔ₊.

ੈ♡‧₊˚ ❛ @rimoriii * .

﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏

༄ ‧₊˚ ⌇ disclaimer + rant:: ↴ ! ❜⸼۰

before y'all start fighting in my comments section, nobody wants to fight you so hate will be deleted. you are entitled to your own opinion and i am entitled to mine and believe it or not, thinking this is valid IS an opinion. if you think otherwise, you're allowed to think that, what am i gonna do about it?? this post is really just me practicing argumentative responses, feedback or criticism would be greatly appreciated. i would love to hear your point of view as long as you're respectful !

esu, transracial, and rcta aren't the same thing so please don't say that. idek what transracial is but i assume it's the same as being rcta - rcta means "race change to another" and it is a newer term that we should NOT be using. why?

first off, race is a very broad thing, you can't just transition to a race, you have to be a specific ethnicity.

some of y'all don't know the difference between race, ethnicity and nationality so lemme just get that out of the way now :

race: race typically refers to physical characteristics such as skin color, facial features, and hair texture. it's a social construct used to categorize people based on perceived biological differences. however, there is no scientific basis for these distinctions, as genetic variation within racial groups can be greater than between them.

ethnicity: ethnicity relates to cultural factors such as language, religion, ancestry, and traditions. it's more about shared customs, beliefs, and history rather than physical traits. people from the same ethnicity may or may not share the same race.

nationality: nationality refers to the legal relationship between an individual and a sovereign state. it indicates the country of citizenship or allegiance, often determined by factors like place of birth, parentage, or legal status. nationality is about belonging to a specific political community, regardless of race or ethnicity.

now that you know that, let's continue.

the term race change TO ANOTHER implies that you were not that race before which would be untrue, it's a very hard feeling to describe but you've always been that race at heart, you're not "changing races"

this term was made by an awful person who is a groomer and pedo. they are also an asian fetishist. so by using this term, you'd be putting yourself under the same umbrella as them. im not going to talk about it but @.rctaisacult on tiktok has talked about it with screenshots and proof.

people who use ethnicity subliminals have ALWAYS been called ethnicity subliminals users, you can see that term goes back a lot of years, rcta on the other hand, very recent.

and for why you shouldn't use the term "transracial" ? there actually isn't a reason that comes to mind except for the fact that a lot of bait accounts or adults use it, there are many transracial adults out there that you can go to for help, large community! me personally, i don't really like to because i've noticed that most of the time, they have underlying mental issues that really need attention... im not trying to be like that so err i'd just not.

transracial is defined as: "Anyone whose physical makeup, emotional, racial, and/or self-expression is in conflict with current cultural racial stereotypes and racial norms, similar to transgender and sexual norms" (which it is not). it is actually the oldest term on the list, if you haven't heard of being esu, i'm sure you've heard of being transracial.

based on this definition, i feel like the difference between being esu and being transracial is one (has to) use subliminals and the other doesn't. they'll do things like cosmetic procedures instead.

i kinda wanna talk abt oli london but let's not address that

that tangent is over now and i just want to tell you that im not asking you to change your opinion, i just want you to be nice. the hate towards esu on the Internet is absolutely insane, i get it if you don't support, okay? if you don't like it, block don't report. we're just existing and it sucks that you think that's wrong of us. hate comments can be really damaging to someone's mental health, ESPECIALLY if that person is sensitive. if the hate is prolonged, it could lead to the death of someone, someone's child, cousin, uncle, aunt, mom, dad etc.

beating up someone because of their race/ethnicity or identity is absolutely insane, never ever resort to violence like that. what if that was a rumor? what if the person you just put on the brink of death was a bait account? what if they were framed? what if they lied? what if that was just a child? what if they were just minding their own business? you did that for what? for no reason at all.

i've lost many friends due to things like this happening, honestly just scroll, it's not that hard. the way that you'll just resort to violence like that is seriously disgusting, im sorry but you were not raised right. you all need to learn how to get over it, there's more to people other than if they're esu or not, it's their life, their decision, what are you really gonna do about it??

don't report, block me please

rest in peace to everyone we've lost and best wishes to everyone who has quit or left social media due to hate.

. . . . .

now that that's been said, let's start !

i hope you enjoy !

﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏

༄ ‧₊˚ ⌇intro to esu:: ↴ ! ❜⸼۰ ꒱

esu : ethnicity subliminal user(s)

what is a subliminal?

subliminals are messages that are delivered to the subconscious mind by means of music, speech or visual stimuli. these messages often contain negative or positive affirmations that are repeated repeatedly in order to reprogram or retrain the mind. subliminals are commonly used in self-improvement programs, weight loss programs and various therapy programs.

how do subliminals work?

subliminals work by bypassing the conscious mind and communicating directly to the subconscious mind. the subconscious mind receives and accepts these messages, if this goes on for a prolonged amount of time (varies), it can influence a person's beliefs, attitudes and behavior and may have a long-term effect on their thoughts, emotions and physical health. subliminal messages can be delivered through a variety of media, including music, videos, affirmations, and visual cues.

what is the law of attraction?

the law of attraction is a spiritual belief that states that positive or negative thoughts and feelings create a corresponding positive or negative energy that attracts or repels similar experiences, events, and people into our lives.

according to the law of attraction, if we focus on positive thoughts and feelings, we are more likely to attract positive experiences and people, and if we focus on negative thoughts and feelings, we are more likely to attract negative experiences and people.

what is manifestation?

manifestation is the process of bringing one's thoughts, feelings, and desires into physical reality. it involves concentrating one's thoughts, attention, and energy on a particular goal or outcome and taking action towards obtaining that outcome, believing that it is already a reality and that the desired result will manifest. manifestation involves having a clear and focused idea of what one wants, consistently holding that idea in one's mind, and taking action to bring it into physical reality.

what are ethnicity subliminals?

ethnicity subliminals are a type of subliminal messaging that uses affirmations, music, or ambient sounds to alter the physical appearance or identity of an individual. these affirmations are aimed at changing a person's ethnicity, and are often used by people who have a desire to look like a different ethnic group. while some believe that ethnicity subliminals can be used to alter one's appearance, many view this as problematic and potentially harmful.

so.. what's an ethnicity subliminal user?

ethnicity subliminal users are individuals who use ethnicity subliminals, to change one's physical appearance, ancestry or identity. these individuals may feel the need to change their appearance to conform to societal standards of beauty (invalid), to fit in with a different group (invalid), or to simply change their appearance to suit their personal preferences.

While some ethnicity subliminal users may see these messages as beneficial, others may view them as problematic and potentially harmful.

when you are esu, you're using these all of these things !

﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏ ﹏

༄ ‧₊˚ ⌇my story :: ↴ ! ❜⸼۰ ꒱

the purpose of me telling you this is so you can compare yourself to me and see if our stories align, i've noticed that most esu have similar childhood experiences.

as a young child, i was always drawn to japan, but i didn't really know why i was fascinated by everything about the country: the language, the food, the fashion, and the architecture. it all seemed to resonate with me on a deeper level, and i would spend hours researching japanese history, traditions, and customs. but i kept these feelings to myself, afraid that others would think i was weird or that they wouldn't understand. i tried to suppress my interests and conform to the expectations of those around me. however, the pull of japan was always there, and i couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about the country that i connected with on a deep level.

my connection to japan and its culture has always been a source of both fascination and confusion for me. i felt drawn to the country and its cultures from a very young age. but i didn't understand why or what it meant. i kept these feelings to myself out of fear that others would judge me or think i was wrong. as i got older, i couldn't shake the feeling that i was different from the people around me. it seemed like everyone around me was comfortable with their race and culture, while i felt like an outsider. i didn't look like my birth race, and i didn't feel like i was a part of it either. i always felt out of place, like there was something wrong with me. i wanted to be japanese, so much so that i would tell people i met that i was. but i didn't know a single word of japanese, so when people would ask me to say something in the language, i would freeze up and feel ashamed. i tried to learn japanese, but as an 8-year-old, i couldn't quite grasp it. i turned to subliminals to try and help me become more japanese, but i wasn't any good at sticking to routines and eventually gave up.

it wasn't until a bit later that i finally started to figure out what was going on. i was depressed and sad, trying on so many different gender identities and sexualities, but nothing ever felt right. i wish i could go back in time and change all of those years of confusion and sadness. but it isn't possible. my connection to japan was always more than just a passing interest; it was a deep-seated fascination that captivated me for years even when i didn't fully understand what it meant. i would daydream about living in japan, surrounded by the culture and the language, and would spend hours researching everything i could about the country, desperate to learn more. but even as i dreamed of becoming fluent in japanese, living in japan, and being part of the culture, i struggled with the guilt of feeling like i was somehow betraying my birth race and identity. i would ignore my birth race's culture, trying to pretend it didn't exist, and would become uncomfortable when others mentioned it.

as a self-proclaimed "anime hater" in 2020 i kept my distance from anything japanese for fear of being associated with the weird and awkward people who idolized the culture. but when the pandemic hit and we were quarantined at home, my curiosity began to get the best of me. with nothing but time on my hands, i started to explore japanese culture through something other than anime, and food. i started to explore the different kinds of sushi and discovered the deliciousness of onigiri, falling in love with the unique flavors and textures that were new to my palette. and even though i tried to ignore it, my obsession with japanese food slowly grew. (love it! #fat) but wasn't just my love for japanese food bun that was changing, as i struggled through the isolation of quarantine, l started to feel very sensitive and empty, like there was a part of me that was missing, even though i thought | had finally figured out my identity, something still seemed wrong.

then, again, i turned to subliminals as a way to find answers. i tried ethnicity subliminals, hoping they would help me figure out where i belonged in the world. but after a short time, i stopped listening to them, feeling like they weren't providing me with the answers i was looking for. and then, it was the summer of 2023. everyone was talking about rcta, something l knew a bit about from when i was young. lt seemed like a crazy fad, and i was one of the people making fun of t butt deep down, i knew that something was still missing. i still hadn't found that place in the world where i felt like i belonged, and i was desperate for answers. and thus began my journey down the rabbit hole of the rcta/esu community. lt started with me simply observing from the side, trying to understand what all the fuss was about. i was intrigued by the concept, but didn't want to go all in just yet.

however, as l spent more time in the community, i began to realize that i felt a strong connection to the esu identity, it was like a missing piece of the puzzle had finally been found! so, l decided to create my discord server, hoping to help others who were also struggling to find their place in the world. at first, i didn't claim to be esu, but rather acted as a supporter, helping others navigate their journeys. with over 800 members, it was like a second home to me. everyone was so supportive and caring, and i felt like i belonged for the first time in a long time. but then things took a turn. i took a short break from discord, only to come back to a complete mess. it was all my fault, apparently, and i felt like i had let everyone down. so i quit that server and started a new one, this time i started posting esu content and started "baiting" as esu japanese.

it wasn't a surprise that i got a lot of hate comments on my tiktok. people seemed to hate the idea of changing races, and they didn't hold back when it came to expressing their opinion. the comments hurt me, but i refused to admit it to

myself instead, i lashed out and doubled down on my beliefs, refusing to see the other side. my mom eventually caught wind of the hate i had been spewing, and she confronted me about it and defended myself. arguing that chänging races were racist but then she asked me a simple question: "how is it racist? they just want to be their true selves." oh, how that question hit me like a truck. i realized that i had been going against everything i had said and everything thought | had ever believed. it was as if a switch flipped inside me, and suddenly, it all made sense, i had to know more, to understand this newfound realization.

so i started researching my culture, devouring every piece of information i could find. i scoured the web for answers, for stories from people who experienced the same thing l did. and every article, every testimony, every piece of information. i felt my identity falling into place. it's been a few months since that realization, and i have never felt more connected to japan. i've learned so much about my culture, from the food to the customs, language and history. i feel a sense of belonging i never thought possible, and a newfound sense of pride in who i live, let's have been a journey, but one that i am grateful for. and know that there's still so much more to learn and discover. but for now, i'm satisfied with my new identity as an esu, and i am proud to be a part of a community that celebrates our cultures and identities.

༄ ‧₊˚ ⌇signs you might be esu:: ↴ ! ❜⸼۰ ꒱

you feel a deep affinity or connection to a culture or ethnicity that is different from your own background.

you have a genuine curiosity and enthusiasm for exploring and learning about different cultures, including their language, traditions, customs, and history.

you may feel like you don't fully belong to or identify with the cultural norms, traditions, or values of your birth culture.

you may desire to integrate elements of the culture you feel connected to into your own life, whether it's through language learning, adopting certain customs or practices, or participating in cultural events.

you have experimented with subliminals or other methods as a way to explore or express your connection to a different ethnicity or culture.

༄ ‧₊˚ ⌇resources:: ↴ ! ❜⸼۰ ꒱

you feel a sense of resonance or belonging when engaging with esu communities or content that explores themes of cultural identity, ethnicity, or belonging.

OR you feel jealous or almost violent when you see these communities^^

if you're feeling this way, please think about why !

https://cryptome.org/2017/05/in-defense-of-transracialism.pdf

˗ ˏ` ᥆ᥙtr᥆. ೄྀ࿐

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

: : : : . . . . . .thank you for reading!

hopefully this changed some perspectives <3

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿ 下次見 ！. . . . . .

see you next time ! 。。‿‿‿‿ ⌲

♡˖°꒰ @rimoriii is logging off :: . . . .

[literaticat]

As far as pen names go, would it be better for a pen name to reflect my ethnic origins the way my real name does or should I use something that sounds generically Anglo-Saxon? I feel like the latter would be more accessible but the first feels more honest??

You are free to do what makes you most comfortable and happy, of course -- but there is no need to whitewash your own cultural identity or heritage just to please random strangers.

If you were a rando white person who wanted to take on an "ethnic sounding" name in order to mislead people into assuming you were from a culture not your own -- that'd be cultural appropriation, and gross to say the least.

The reverse isn't true. There is a long, long history of people with complicated or so-called "weird"*** names changing them to something ostensibly "prettier" or easier for strangers to pronounce or remember, more "mainstream", etc etc. That goes for both entertainers and authors as well as regular folks going through Ellis Island or whatever. Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski became Joseph Conrad, English-language literary novelist. Archibald Leach became Cary Grant, Hollywood star. So-and-so Broniewski became So-and-so Brown.

That's NOT appropriation, that's more like assimilation.

And fair enough -- listen, obviously there's still racism and xenophobia in this country - can you imagine coming to the US or UK in the 1910's or 20's and wanting to, say, open a store or write for a newspaper or be in a movie or whatever with a lengthy and/or unusual and/or difficult to pronounce foreign-language name? Sadly, you probably would not have gotten past the front desk.

The thing is, this is not the 1920s -- while I'm not saying America is perfect now by any stretch, at least I DO think mainstream Whitemericans are much more used to and appreciative of Interesting Names these days than they used to be.

Meanwhile, it's not just Whitemericans who buy books. People of all cultures and creeds read books. Representation matters! Maybe kids with your cultural background haven't seen many awesome authors from wherever-you're-from with your less-usual kind of name. Maybe your success will make them feel seen. That's cool!

The Whitemericans who you presumably want to appeal to -- those who are nice and buy books -- won't care. (On the other hand, the type of a-holes who would discriminate against or make fun of somebody's name are probably not big readers anyway, so to heck with them!)

All of which is to say: You have every right to use a pen-name that is meaningful to you and reflects your own heritage/culture if you want to do that, and there's no particular reason not to. Especially if you are writing books that are set in or around that culture! Like -- you have legit claim to that identity -- you aren't pulling a Yellowface here.

BUT, if you WANT to pick an "Anglo-Saxon" kind of a name for whatever reason -- (Maybe your books have nothing to do with your cultural identity at all and you just want something that sounds "Romance Novel"-ish, or maybe you have a lengthy name and want one that is easier to sign, or maybe you want to hide your cultural identity because you have family in the Old Country who might get in trouble for your work -- I don't know!) -- that's fine, too.

Just know that, while it's VERY VERY common to have a pen-name, it's usually for general "privacy" or "I don't really like my given name" reasons, and authors often choose a name that is pretty close to their actual name, but a nickname or a family name or something like that, or something that is meaningful but "sounds better" to them.

I think, these days, choosing a VERY different generic Anglo-Saxon name for purely "culture-hiding" reasons would be somewhat a less common choice, and it's quite unlikely any publisher would EXPECT or DEMAND that you hide your culture in that way.

*** I put "scare quotes" around certain words here, like "ethnic sounding" and "weird" and "prettier" and "mainstream" -- because I don't think any names actually ARE any of those things per se, but some people might say they are.

[sinha-ri]

House of Leaves easter eggs I've found in Ch II by Zampano

1. "The labours of men are genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind"

the beginning quote is actually from Frankenstein (I can't tell if its by the guy himself or someone else) to finally let the reader know he will go through with his creation. Because as horrific as it might be, his research will do nothing but benefit mankind in the end. I haven't read enough to fully know how this fits in, but it can be a reference to how the House is the creation of Frankenstein here.

2. The 10th footnote, footnoting a guy criticizing Navidson for being a fraud and jeopardizing his career over this film. The publisher of said article has "Eddie Hapax Press"

Hapax, if searched up, is actually Hapax Legomenon. The definition is "a word/expression that occurs only once within a context" usually referring to language or text. Essentially a word only exists in one single text, used one time. Its unsure what this can be a reference to yet, but my leading theory is it could be the house itself. The only thing is house is consistently used throughout the text, but there only exists 1 House and the Navidson Record doesn't exist outside of Zampano's essay. Not even his references. Hence this is Zampano's Hapax, something that only occurs in his text (again, i could be wrong but this is my leading theory so far)

3. Footnote 16, footnoting what Navidson is trying to preserve of Karen through film and that he truly didn't mean to be mean, references an article titled "Omens & Signs" which is published by Taema Essay Publications"

Taema is actually a god figure used in Samoan mythology and folklore. Taema was originally a conjoint twin, but while swimming away from their birth home, they were split in two. They soon learned tattooing. When coming home, Taema stayed with tattooing while her sister became the god of war. However, Taema's name originally belonged to a god who was the Goddess of War instead and seen as an omen for war. While there's no war going on here, it's still important to see Taema's name was seen as an omen. Furthermore, the tale of them being conjoint twins that went their separate paths is interesting and can be seen as reflecting Karen and Navidson. They're married, joint together, yet they are so separate as people and paths.

4. Footnote 18, aka Traunt's long ass rant, on page 16 has a major reveal, but I'm here to talk about when he's breaking down talking about Birds of Paradise, stating, "I mean we'd all be so lucky to wind up a punching bag and still found our creates full of Birds of Paradise. No such luck with this crate."

While birds of paradise can be taken literally to the actual birds, it also references a flower titled Bird of Paradise. You've most likely seen them if you're american (idk about other countries lol). they're those orange flowers that look like the head of a bird.

The meaning behind this bird, is actually "Joy". While Traunt was most likely talking about exotic birds to make him rich, it's a double meaning to joy. He wishes to find joy, something he believes is luck or to come sooner or later. But it's a great admission he isn't doing well.

5. Footnote 22, referencing how Navidson puts himself in a bad light in his own film of life, is shown to be published by "Ascencion Gerson"

Gerson is actually the name of a french school (? its only in french but i assume so) while Ascension is a reference to a painting of Jesus ascending, this being one of the top results when you google Ascension Gerson

It's almost comparing Navidson with Jesus, a humble person who doesn't belong in a negative light even if its of his own saying. Although this could be a stretch and complete coincidence LOL

There may have been more, but this all i found my first read through!! gonna be doing these for every chapter :3

[starbunii]

. dad hcs 𓂃 ♥︎

𝜗𝜚 ┈ kaito, shuichi, rantaro, korekiyo ! ｡

how they would be as dads!

notes: i've been thinking of girl dad shuichi lately, which led me to think about girl dad kaito, and then adventure dad rantaro, and then goth dad kiyo...you get the gist. to describe the kid in question, i used the words kiddo and baby interchangeably!

headcanons ノ fluff ノno reader ノnon despair au

second person pov !! please enjoy! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

-- ♡ --

kaito momota

sweet; very sweet!! but sometimes doesn't understand when he goes too far with play fighting...

if his kiddo ends up getting hurt in some way, he scrambles to help them feel better, even if he ends up crying himself

does he know how to do his hair? no, absolutely not. but that won't stop him from trying!

listen, his kiddo might not look the most fashionable, but they're always wearing something they like, and he'll hype them every time

he'd 100% put on makeup for his baby, just to make them smile

smothers them when they're sick, even once they're a teenager

shuichi saihara

looks onto pinterest for cute hair tutorials for his kiddo

ballet dad!! goes to every recital and takes them out for a treat right after

strict, yet kind. he wants his kid to know that they can come talk to him, but there are still consequences to some of their actions, and that they can't just go around doing whatever they want all the time

throwing a fit about ballet practice? ok. no cartoons for a whooole week

does a whole bedtime routine; singing songs, reading stories, talking until they fall asleep. defs tucks them into bed like a little burrito

holds their hand everywhere!! he's terrified of his kiddo getting lost, and really just prefers to have them closer to him

rantaro amami

oh, you just know this man has a year-long pass to the zoo

he's the type of dad who takes his kid pretty much wherever they want; by the time they start kindergarten, they've already visited half the country!

rantaro wants his baby to experience as much as the world as they possibly can. it's a beautiful place, why not try it all?

signs up for all the extracurriculars. all of them! baseball, chess, volleyball, the library club; all the things. he's even signed up for the pta

doesn't really know any special hairstyles, but gladly brushes out his kiddo's hair gently and uses special products

he and his kiddo have daddy-and-me spa days! face masks, nails, fancy lotion! even baking cookies, if they're lucky

korekiyo shinguji

reads his kiddo fairy tales from diff cultures before bed; one night it could be snow white, the next it could be the king's daughters

has a lot elaborate hairstyles in mind, using expensive, nice products on his baby

speaking of hair; his kiddo gets lost in it from time to time: getting covered in it as a baby, playing and putting it in their mouth as a toddler, and gently holding it as a child. hair seems to represent love in this family

really focuses in on activities that strengthen language. his anthropology really seems to rub off on the way he raises his baby, wanting them to explore the world to the best of their ability. he knows language will be the best way to do so

extremely over protective, even if it's just a play date. he doesn't want his kiddo to get hurt. no dad does; but he's so afraid of it happening that it gets intense

all in all, very over protective, yet very open at the same time, if that makes sense

starbunii 2024 — all rights reserved. do not redistribute or translate to any other platforms

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Soul Mates: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: A man is accused of rape and kidnapping in another state, so he moved across the country to get away from those allegations. Now, the same thing is happening but this time, it might very well be true.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

On the way back to the station, you informed your team there of the news that there is a partner. Spencer immediately goes to work on trying to decode the messages on Will's computer. He's using two different colored markers to determine who said what, but to everyone else, it looks like gibberish.

"Spencer, tell me you found something on his partner," you ask when you walk back into the station.

"It's all so cryptic. They wrote a cluster of others right after the first victim, Kim Groves, was killed."

"We need to figure out how they met. There's gotta be something in all this about their courtship," Derek says.

"It all seemed so hopeless, but I finally learned to rise above it," Spencer reads. "It sounds like William confessed he was feeling incomplete."

"He was. He didn't start killing until he met his soulmate."

"Faith should never be broken." That's another line from the journals. "The longer they got away with it, the stronger their relationship got. Sounds like these two aren't just obsessed with rape and murder. They're addicted to one another."

Jeff and Hotch return back from the crime scene you were at. You were eager to get things moving along which is why you got here before they did.

"We could have saved her," Jeff sighs.

"There were no signs of his having a partner until now."

"I guess that's why he's so cocky."

"Well, his arrogance is typical of a dominant personality. He's found a submissive who's willing to kill for him. We found bite marks on Missy. Will didn't do it, the partner did, and he's white."

"They never did that before," Derek says.

"Well, with William out of the picture, he's changed his behavior. Maybe the partner went back to something that's comfortable, something he's done before. I've got Garcia checking dental records against other cases."

Rossi and Derek walk back to the interrogation room, and you quickly follow them to observe their talk with Will.

"The D. A. was ready to charge him when Missy was still alive. How the hell are we supposed to keep him now?"

"I'm surprised you're writing all this stuff to a fella," Rossi says when they walk inside the room. "It sounds like you have a real special thing going on."

"I mean, I'm thinking if the two of you had just got it on, maybe these women would still be alive," Derek shrugs. "So, where'd you meet him? Chat room? Porn sites? Gay bar? Whoever this guy is, he's looking out for you and cleaning up for you. Missy Dewald is dead."

"Has he called yet? Lee Jarvis, the D.A., I mean. I saw his name on the warrant. He's got the best conviction rate in Florida. Do you know why?"

"I wanna know why your pen pal killed her when he could have let her rot," Rossi glares.

"Jarvis doesn't like to lose. He's not gonna ruin his record over this."

Will refuses to talk about his potential partner thinking the D.A. is going to get him out of this one. However, your team is going to do everything they can to lock this bitch up.

"Wow, this friend of yours wants to please you badly, doesn't he? He's protecting you, doing whatever he's gotta do to make sure that you're innocent. He killed Missy so you could be together again. It's only been a few hours, but he misses you."

"And you've gotten what exactly from all this?" Will asks in a bored tone.

"Proof that someone out there is just as sick as you."

Penelope works her magic and gets results from the bite marks left on Missy. The dental records don't match Will but they do match a reported rape in Manatee County earlier this year. The teeth marks belong to the same person, but they've never been arrested so she can't cross-reference. Connie Mayers is the victim of that rape, so if you're going to have any hope in figuring out who this is, then you have to talk to her.

Emily and Hotch went over to her job as soon as they got that information, but she wasn't too happy about it. No one else knew about what happened to her, but your coworkers did their best to keep it discreet. She works at a flower shop, so Emily bought some flowers as she asks her questions.

Connie's attacker knew what he wanted like he was confident in what he was doing. Connie thought he was a control freak. He wore a mask but she could tell he was shite, proving what you saw using Missy's energy. The partner choked her which took a long time for the bruises to go away. It's not as bad as the bite marks which are just scars now.

"Connie described an anger-excitation rapist just like William," Emily says when she and Hotch return. "We're looking at two dominant personalities."

"It makes sense. They have a similar discourse. They're equally well-written," Spencer says. "It's rare in criminal partnerships. If their personalities are the same, their lives probably mirror one another's as well."

"Harris goes to church, he's on the board of the PTA, he coaches his daughter's soccer team, and he rarely drinks."

"He sounds like a saint," Jordan says.

"With a dark side," Hotch adds. "That's what he connected to in his partner. Prentiss and I will go talk to the family and see if they know who it might be."

Emily and Hotch leave but you stay behind to help Spencer.

"Two alpha males won't be easy to break," Derek says. "The partner is definitely following the investigation."

"Let's do the talking for them," Rossi suggests, holding up a newspaper.

"I think a chatroom might be better. It sounds like they do most of their talking on the computer, but I like where your head's at," you say. "Plus, it's quicker."

"Why would he read it? He knows William won't be writing," Jeff says.

"These men are addicted to each other. Right now, he needs a fix, and the words they've shared are all he has to cling to. His partner wrote 'Faith should never be broken'. A betrayal could devastate him."

"All we have to say is that William's cooperating and then hopes he takes the bait."

Derek and Rossi give you and Spencer some time to come up with something you hope will catch the partner's attention. It's not easy, but you have the journal entries they've already sent to each other. All you have to do is work with the words and language they've already used.

"What have we got so far?" Derek asks after an hour of working.

"We were surprised that you injected yourself into the investigation. You risked a lot in order to help William," you read what you have. "Killing Missy tells us how close you really are. It must be devastating to learn that William is here with us."

Spencer doesn't like what you've come up with in fear the partner will retaliate.

"He's not gonna like that. It sounds like William's cooperating."

"That's exactly what we want him to believe so he'll doubt their alliance."

Derek and Rossi use this information on Will, and you follow them so you can pay close attention to Will. You can talk to Derek and Rossi through the comms just in case you notice something off about Will. After they tell him what they've done, Will just smirks in thought.

"What's that smirk for?

"Sharon is posting bail. I'm thinking about where to go for dinner. Maybe we'll go to Salvatore's."

"Rossi, play it off as if the partner is the alpha male. It might set him off," you say.

"You know, maybe we got it wrong. Maybe they're not both alpha males. The partner made the first move. He's the one with the balls."

"Yeah, and it was pretty risky, too. Think about it. What if you did turn in here? Or at least your partner thought you turned in here, hmm? Then he'd have no choice but to turn himself in. Your lives would be ruined," Derek adds. "That's the reason it works. You both have everything to lose."

"He's only cleaning up because he can't afford to get caught either. Am I right?" William doesn't answer. "How is gonna react to the entry we wrote? He knows we're reading your little love letters, so we decided to send one ourselves and let him know you're in here helping us out."

"He's probably feeling pretty betrayed right about now. If he is, what do you think he's doing about it?"

"William, you wrote, 'Thanks for the perfect place to play'. What were you talking about?"

"Golfing."

"Right. What was it like?"

"Perfect," he smirks.

Will is so confident he isn't going to get caught that he's radiating energy that you can feel from outside the room. The energy is allowing you to see images of Will and his partner with a girl they've kidnapped. The girl is one of the girls who was reported missing and found dead. One of the girls was dead before you even arrived in Florida.

"Rossi, I see him and his partner with one of the three girls who were found dead. Keep him talking. The more he thinks he's getting away with it, the more I can use his energy to see more."

Derek sets out pictures of the three dead women since he heard everything you've said to Rossi. All of the women are happy and smiling as if nothing bad could ever happen to them.

"You probably don't recognize them like this, do you, William? Happy and smiling. All these gifts. All these girls."

"This is someone's child. You know, Missy Dewald was supposed to meet her parents for dinner. She was eighteen years old, an only child, and you just took her away."

"I feel sorry for those parents. I really do," Will says without emotion.

"Do you hear yourself? Not an ounce of sincerity. You just proved you were incapable of empathy just like your partner. William, you never would have done any of this without him, but you just weren't complete, right?"

Spencer walks into the room and hands you some papers. The pages are about the love between William and his partner.

"Rossi, we have something."

Rossi leaves the room while Derek stays inside, and you hand him the papers Spencer gave you.

"It's been so long, my heart aches. I need to see that face again soon," Rossi reads the papers when he walks back inside. "I mean, it's pretty obvious there's an emotional connection between you two, huh? You can't deny that, but this doesn't really sound like two buddies to me. Sounds more like two men in love with each other."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

This strikes a nerve in Will, and this is what you need to get more information from him.

"You're right. I have absolutely no idea what it's like to be in love with another man."

"You know, everyone who goes into law enforcement has this air of moral superiority. For you, it seeps out of every single pore. Black cop in the FBI. You got a big chip on your shoulder with a lot to prove."

"Now who's the one who has no idea what he's talking about?"

"Derek, don't let him rile you up. This is just what he wants," you warn your friend.

"We're not so different, you and I. We choose the games we play because they make us feel powerful. So, what do you have, special agent Morgan? Prove beyond a reasonable doubt that I have broken the law, but don't you sit there with that smug look on your face and judge me, boy."

This pisses Derek off.

"First of all, I am not your boy, and this look on my face is a look of contempt because you disgust me. You and I are nothing alike. When we do find this friend of yours, there isn't a jury out there who won't find you guilty."

Derek leaves the room, allowing Rossi to be alone with him.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[fairymint]

🔥

Send me a “ 🔥 “ for an unpopular opinion.

Creativity is a muscle, and recharging it is also important. So is investment! Listen. What I'm about to say is rather tongue-in-cheek, because I know all about ableism, anxiety, depression, etc.

But you can't just sit there and stare at a screen. One way or another. I was taught that 'only boring people are bored', which might be harsh for me to agree with 1:1, but it's a point.

There's no possible way you've published all the headcanons that you can. If you got nothing, you're forgetting something. Legit go look up the profession, hobbies, interests of your muse. Their country, their voice/accent. age group. Or, just anything. That's just surface level, as there's a whole world surrounding them as well. You can learn something new every day, just by observing. Take TV breaks, whether that's youtube, media, etc. Your RPing should take cues from real life without having to match up with it. (pokemon rpers, do you know the body language of your critters' base species? monsters, do you know how their bodies work? talk about that shit for example. Animal body language, or even a human nationality's body language is a good start for most people.)

Shit sucks? Do something about it. I'm not gonna fault the bored/depression posting at its core; but there's a lot of indirect handwringing about it. The community sucks, my brain sucks, etc. But you have to help start the solution. I'm a fan of productive posts, such as asking for reassurance when down, starter calls and opens, those're good. But don't be afraid to be productively critical; use "I" language instead of blaming or "you/we" if you have to. "I feel like my headcanon/meme posts are being ignored rn" sounds much more reasonable than "you guys suck at this" or "can we do this/that/etc.???" which a lot of psas can use. Try to be direct with your own wants, as those psas are simply the first step. You should probably still assume ignorance/apologetic/disability over things such as failure and malice, simply because of how we're wired.

Connect the dots. Lotta people don't know where to start, but you have to somewhere. tiny, "boring" opens don't have to stay that way after you answer them, and first impressions may be wrong, but they at least happen. Follow the animal rule; for every no that you have, give a yes. The more yes's and starting points, the better off you'll be. If you don't have any dots to connect, you probably need to do some reading. Bios, blog posts, just pick a person and start. You should know which muses yours would call like, an old-ass or something. Which they'd go to for a favor. Which they like. How they'd treat a stranger, etc. People do lore-correct when they diverge, but there's other paths to open. Find em.

Also like, you have a body. Take breaks to drink, eat, etc. RPing is a great customizable hobby as far as difficulty and speed goes, but you can't run well on empty.

to put it very simply, practice. If you can't, it's a sign something is amiss. Heed them.

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

There's a handful of reasons I relate to Wylan so strongly, but one of them has to be the unique experience of being an illiterate adult.

A few years ago, right before the pandemic, I moved across the world to work in a country where I didn't speak the main language. None of the languages commonly spoken in my new home uses the Latin alphabet so attempting to read and pronounce any letters/words in an unfamiliar writing system has been difficult.

Just don't be ignorant, you might think. Learn the language! For the record, I did. Well, I started to, but then the pandemic hit. My language class stopped and strict quarantines limited opportunities to practice. Two years and two babies later the world opened back up. Work and my tiny dictators, I mean, toddlers have kept me too busy to throw myself into learning the language with the gusto I once had. But over the years I've learned enough to get by with basic pleasantries: hello, goodbye, thank you, yes, no. Numbers 1-10. And how to order food at a restaurant. "How are you?" "Good." Unfortunately, that’s the limited extent of my conversational abilities.

The alphabet still trips me up and I often feel like a kindergartner slowly stringing syllables together and incorrectly sounding out words. Plus, there's the bonus of pronouncing the words but still not knowing they actually mean.

So I relate to Wylan a little bit in having to navigate the world at a disadvantage, one he cannot fully understand. Luckily for Wylan he can speak even though he can’t read, which gives him more coping strategies than are available to me. But you don’t realize just how much is written, especially in the modern world, until you are unable to read it.

Being an illiterate adult is a humbling experience. I cannot emphasize that enough. Book Wylan is a teenager, but was thrown into the “real world” and left to fend for himself as if he were an adult. Show Wylan is an illiterate adult who was also more or less thrown into the wild world. And I’d like to imagine that he shares similar illiterate adult encounters and experiences with me.

There isn’t a moment that I forget that I can’t read the language around me. However, it’s very easy to tune out the writing. To be blind to it and not see signs or labels because my brain stops looking for them, unable to to understand them.

Getting lost. Knowing the name of the place, a building, an address, the street that I'm searching for, but not being able to locate it by sight even though it is right there.

Walking past shops and stores unable to read their name and wondering what’s inside. What do they sell? What business do they hold? There’s no way of knowing unless I go inside myself.

Shopping and buying items based on the image on the packaging. Trying to figure out if there’s any difference between two items. Occasionally guessing wrong, buying the wrong thing.

Need instructions? Written directions (like for cooking)? Lol, Guess I'm going to wing it and hope for the best.

Being unable to read a written menu and ordering something generic because the restaurant probably serves it.

Putting off chores that require using the skill I don't have.

Having to act overly polite to everyone (regardless of how I feel) because I am the inconvenience when everyone else is just living their normal life.

Being treated like a child because, in my inability to read, I have the skills of a child so people will treat me the same way they would a child. And worse, all the while still having to act so polite about it because again, I am the inconvenience, even though I am being spoken down to like a child.

Accidentally, unintentionally being rude because I can't follow the sign's directions.

Pretending that I can read (or speak). Sometimes nodding along and agreeing with without any context is easier than a admitting I don't have a clue what's happening.

And in the modern day... I rely heavily on my cell phone to translate the way Wylan would use speech to text features. And there are times when there's no cell service, the phone or app stop working correctly. The translations/transcriptions are imperfect and confusing. It's scary when those safety nets stop working.

So yeah, being an illiterate adult is quite the experience. It can be exhausting. I am incredibly lucky that in my case it's due to living in a multicultural world and that given the time and patience, I could became literate and fluent in another language. The entire experience gives quite the insight on the hurdles and experiences Wylan might face.

[aneurinallday]

Gibson and the Shivering Soldier

Chapter 5: Armistice

It was the evening of Saturday, June 22 1940 - eighteen days since Dunkirk - when Gibson’s world ended. The music on the radio was interrupted by the breaking news that they had all feared: France had fallen. At a few minutes past half-six, an armistice had been signed, indicating the nation’s surrender. It was over.

Until then, Gibson had held onto a sliver of hope that his people might endure - that the tides might turn against the invaders, and France might emerge from the chaos victorious. But now, that hope was gone.

Gibson didn’t sleep that night - William could tell by the dark bags under his eyes the next morning. William tried his best to carry on as normal - hoping that by projecting an air of serenity, he might soothe Gibson. It didn’t work.

The cosy little flat they shared together had been their refuge. Now it had become terribly claustrophobic - so much so that William took any opportunity to go outside. He went for walks, went to the park, went browsing the shops with no intention of buying anything - simply to get away from Gibson and his stifling aura of sadness.

Gibson showed no interest in accompanying him, preferring to spend his hours sitting by the radio, listening to words he didn’t understand, jumping from channel to channel as if searching for some hidden message. He didn’t speak, didn’t wash, and picked at his food with no appetite.

His frustration and resentment were palpable. He couldn’t understand the people around him, nor could he make himself understood. He was a literate man - he could read and write perfectly well in his own language - but here, he had nobody to talk to, nobody to share his thoughts with, nobody to answer his many questions. He was alone in a country he’d never been to before, stranded among people he could not communicate with.

He was desperately lonely, but his loneliness was rapidly turning into bitterness. He hated the situation he was trapped in. He hated the unintelligible voices and the unfamiliar food. He was homesick for a home that no longer existed - a home he would never return to. As far as he knew, he would never set foot on French soil again. Everyone and everything he’d ever known and loved was gone forever.

Early in the morning on Tuesday, June 25 - just past midnight, in fact - the armistice officially came into effect, marking the end of the hostilities and the beginning of a military occupation. Gibson couldn’t read the headlines, but he could see the pictures in the newspapers and the expression on William’s face. He could feel the atmosphere of stress and anxiety that had descended over the city, and his own mood darkened with it. William could see him drifting further and further away, sinking deeper and deeper into himself.

Supper that night was William’s favourite: bangers and mash. He ate hungrily, savouring the slightly caramelised taste of pork-and-apple sausages, gravy-covered mashed potatoes, and fried onions. Gibson simply sat and stared at his plate.

“Eat,” William said, miming the act of putting food in his mouth. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Reluctantly, Gibson took a sip of water, but still didn’t touch his meal.

“Something wrong with the food? You don’t like it?”

Gibson glared at him.

“Va te faire foutre,” he muttered under his breath.

“Alright then,” William sighed. “Would you prefer to eat by yourself? One of us can sit on the sofa.”

“Ma patrie…ma maison…ma famille. Tous partis.”

“Listen.” William set down his knife and fork. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but I gather you’re having a bad day. I wish I could make you feel better. I really do. But don’t take your anger out on me. I certainly don’t deserve it.”

Gibson didn’t understand the words, but he understood William’s tone, which - to his ears - was patronising and hostile. Moving with sudden speed, the Frenchman snatched his glass of water and hurled it full-force at the wall, where it shattered.

“Fils de pute!” he spat.

“My God. Just calm down, will you?” William’s own exasperation finally bubbled to the surface. “You’re serving nobody by lashing out - and especially not by lashing out at me. All I’ve done is help you.”

Gibson's face flushed with anger. Grabbing his plate of food, he threw it on the kitchen floor, the ceramic breaking with a loud smash. Leaping up, he summoned what little knowledge of English he had at his disposal.

“Fuck you!” he shouted. “Fuck you!”

“Oh, so you can understand my language now? Fine. Understand this: you’re acting like a child. Act like a damn man instead! I let you live under my roof, I take care of you, I share my clothes with you, I feed you. I show you nothing but kindness, and you repay me by breaking my things!”

“Fuck you,” Gibson repeated, and lunged for him.

William saw his fist coming and managed to dodge, his chair clattering to the floor as he jumped to his feet. Gibson let out a rapid-fire string of what sounded like obscenities, and swung again. William grabbed his arm and tried to restrain it. He was surprised to find that Gibson was stronger than him.

Broken glass crunched under their shoes as they wrestled across the kitchen. It was a clumsy, embarrassing struggle - two angry men, neither one stronger than the other, trying to avoid stepping in the mess on the floor while exchanging blows.

“Stop!” William commanded. “Stop! Don’t you fucking dare act this way!”

He shoved Gibson against the counter and attempted to pin him there. Gibson reached for the dish-drainer, seeking another plate to smash over William’s head, but it was out of reach. William grabbed a fistful of Gibson’s short, dark curls and wrenched his head back.

“I said stop!”

For a second, Gibson hesitated. He looked into the Englishman’s blue eyes as if seeking something - some signal, some confirmation. Then he pressed his lips hard against William’s. The kiss was brief, more of a suggestion than an overture.

It took a moment for William’s brain to catch up with the unfolding events. Gibson was scanning his face for a reaction, trying to gauge if they were about to fight or fuck.

“Oh, we’re doing this, are we?” said William. He spun Gibson around and bent him over the counter-top, their bodies pressing together. Cursing, he yanked down Gibson’s trousers. “Is this what you want?”

Gibson squirmed around to face him, and kissed him frantically. His fingers fumbled at William’s shirt, trying to undo the buttons, then gave up and ripped them open instead. William tried unsuccessfully to remove his belt, struggling with the buckle. He broke off the kiss to look down, but Gibson pulled him back in with a jerk. A sharp pain shot through his mouth as Gibson bit his lip.

“Ah, fuck!” William recoiled, pushing Gibson away, checking his lip for blood. As he did so, the ridiculous reality of what they were doing finally struck. “What is wrong with you?”

Anger returned to Gibson’s face, but this time, it was mixed with hurt. He pulled his trousers back up in embarrassment.

“Va te faire foutre!” he snapped, and stormed out of the kitchen.

William was left alone by the sink, dishevelled, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

He realised the mess they’d made - the mess Gibson had made - and dealt with it as best he could, sweeping away the broken shards, mopping up the stains, collecting the fallen shirt-buttons. As he threw the spilled food in the bin, he seethed at the waste of precious rations. By the time he’d finished cleaning, his own food had grown cold.

He slumped down in his chair and put his head in his hands.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered. “I should never have let him come with me. Let alone brought him into my damn home.”

The last three days had been unbearable - he’d felt like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Now a line had been crossed which couldn’t be uncrossed. They couldn’t continue like this.

Something had to change. Gibson had to go.

Sighing, William rose to his feet.

“Gibson!” he said wearily, “Or whoever the hell you are. We need to talk, and you need to listen.”

He walked into the living room, and found it deserted. The sofa was empty, and Gibson’s stolen green jacket - which he kept hung on the wall next to William’s - was missing. Gibson was gone.

Chapter 6: Respirer