#is neat from a reader's perspective and a technical perspective

[ahqkas]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesn’t know they have hero identities yet and they find out s/o has some merch of their hero side at their house? S/o just thinks that heroes neat and uses one of the figures as a door stopper so the door does not slam when it’s windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesn’t go flying everywhere?

♯SECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS

— gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT STARTED OUT LIKE ANY OTHER MORNING AT WAYNE MANOR. the first rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains of bruce’s grand bedroom, the golden light pooling across the floor. you shuffled out of bed, your feet cold against the hardwood, and grabbed the nearest hoodie to ward off the chill. you’ve never been a morning bird. but what would change it now?

unbeknownst to you, bruce was already awake, freshly showered and shaved, nursing a steaming cup of coffee alfred made for him in the kitchen. he was going over the morning’s headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like this—quiet, unhurried—were rare but cherished.

“morning,” you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning,” he replied, glancing up from the paper. the casual warmth in his voice faltered the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

you were wearing that hoodie. black, oversized, and emblazoned with a bright yellow bat-symbol on the front. he recognized it immediately—he’d seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. he’d even scoffed at the inaccuracies back then, not expecting you to own one, let alone wear it. and now you were draped in his merch.

bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality. “what are you wearing?” ( curiosity on the outside , panic on the inside ) . what if you knew of his nighttime activities?

glancing down at yourself and your choice of clothing, you tugged at the hem absentmindedly. “oh, this? yeah, i love it. it’s super comfy. got it on sale a while back.”

“you’re a fan of batman?”

you gave him a curious look. “who isn’t? he’s gotham’s hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.” you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. “though i guess it’s a little weird wearing merch of someone who’s technically, like, a crime boss for good.”

bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. “crime boss?”

“well, think about it,” you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. “he’s got henchmen—like robin and nightwing—and a lair filled with gadgets. he’s just . . . on the good side.”

the batman fought the urge to laugh. he leaned back in his chair, observing you with a mix of affection and amusement. who knew he had such a lovie around his finger? “that’s one way to look at it,” he replied smoothly, though he couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. “why? you don’t like him?”

his brows arched, genuinely curious. “what makes you say that?”

“you’re awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think he’s amazing or a total menace. you’re, like, switzerland on batman,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“let’s just say . . . i have a unique perspective.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LAZY AFTERNOONS WHERE THE TWO OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO STAY IN. the sun filtered through the curtains of your cozy apartment, casting warm, golden light across the room as you lay curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while dick was sprawled in an armchair across from you, pretending to do his own stuff at his phone but mostly watching you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

everything was perfectly normal—until he noticed what you were wearing.

it was a t-shirt, oversized and clearly one of your go-to comfy options. but not just any shirt. emblazoned across the chest was the bold, angular symbol of nightwing, printed in that unmistakable electric blue. now that got his attention.

dick blinked, lowering the glowing screen slightly to get a better look at you. for a moment, he felt a mix of pride, amusement, and sheer panic wash over him. you had nightwing merch? did you know? were you teasing him? or had you just picked it up as a casual fan of blüdhaven’s vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.

“nice shirt,” he commented casually, though his voice had an edge of curiosity, asking you with saying the question out loud.

you glanced up, oblivious to his sudden attention. “oh, this?” you plucked at the hem and grinned. “yeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guy’s kinda awesome, you know?”

he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. “kinda awesome?”

“okay, really awesome,” you gave in with a laugh. “i mean, he’s out there keeping blüdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesn’t have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.”

your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “sounds like you’re a pretty big fan.” talk about narcissism.

“well, yeah, who wouldn’t be? he’s smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen his—” you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.

“seen his what?” dick was intrigued even more now after your little slip up, leaning forward with his smirk deepening. oh, he was just starting.

you waved a hand dismissively, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “nothing. forget i said anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because you’re a fan, or . . . ?”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. “what’s with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?”

“me? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,” he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement—and the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.

“good,” you teased, leaning back into the pillows. “because if i ever run into him, i’ll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.”

dick laughed, shaking his head a little. “oh, i’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

seeing you in his symbol was both endearing and a little surreal. part of him wanted to come clean right then and there, to tell you that the guy you admired so much was sitting right across from you, teasing you about your t-shirt. but for now, he decided to keep his secret.

still, as he watched you lounge in that nightwing tee, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest. if you only knew the truth, he had a feeling you’d still think he was kind of awesome—though he wasn’t sure you’d ever let him live down the spandex comments.

. . . JASON TODD !

IT WAS A BREEZY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and the windows of your small apartment were wide open, letting the crisp, cool air in. papers were strewn across your desk as you worked on sorting through bills and notes. to keep the occasional gust from scattering everything, you’d grabbed the closest thing you could find—an action figure.

( not just any action figure, though. )

sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gotham’s infamous red hood, complete with his signature leather jacket, red helmet, and pistols. even the little red bat on his chest matched the original.

your boyfriend walked in, carrying takeout bags in both hands as he kicked the front door shut behind him, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “babe, i got—” he froze mid-sentence when he spotted the figure perched on your desk. his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

no fucking way.

“is that . . . ?”

you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. “huh?”

he set the bags down on the counter, crossed the room in a few strides, and picked up the small figurine. jason held it up, examining it with an almost comical mix of horror and amusement on his face.

“this,” he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, “is red hood merch.”

“yeah, and?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.

“and?” he repeated, incredulous. “why do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?”

“no, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, he’s kind of a badass.”

jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. “you think he’s a badass?”

“yeah, don’t you?” you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. “what, are you jealous of a figurine now?”

his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. “jealous? no,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. “i just think it’s funny that you’re using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, don’t you think?”

you laughed. “oh, please. i’m sure gotham’s notorious anti-hero doesn’t care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.”

“honored?” jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “yeah, i’m sure that’s exactly what he’d feel.”

you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what’s with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?”

he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your desk—albeit more carefully than he’d picked it up. “oh, yeah, totally. i’ve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.”

“hm, i bet you do,” you teased, grinning as you watched him retreat to unpack the takeout.

jason shook his head, his smirk lingering as he pulled out the food. internally, he was debating how to feel about the whole situation. on one hand, the fact that you admired red hood (even if you didn’t know it was him) was oddly flattering. on the other, the sight of his miniature self keeping your papers in line was downright hilarious.

as he set the table, he couldn’t resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. “just saying, if you’re such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.”

“oh, relax,” you shot back, laughing. “if he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.”

jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. “careful what you wish for, babe.”

don’t be surprised when red hood comes knocking on your door, sweetheart!

. . . TIM DRAKE !

THE NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN and tim was stretched out on your couch in your apartment, his phone resting on his lap as we tiredly watched the tv. the soft hum of the crime documentary filled the background as you dug through your bag by the door, fishing around for your keys.

“found them!” you declared, holding them up triumphantly.

tim glanced over with a small smile tugging at his lips. you were adorable like this, excited over the smallest things. “that’s a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.”

you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. “it’s not about the keys, it’s about this little guy.”

you held up the ring, pointing specifically at a tiny lego figure hanging off of it. the miniature figure wore a domino mask and a red-and-black suit with a yellow “R” emblazoned on the chest—a miniature red robin.

your boyfriend froze on the spot. his brain seemed to hit a wall as he stared at the tiny version of himself dangling from your keys. the little figure swayed slightly, as though mocking him.

“ . . . where did you get that?”

“oh, isn’t it cute?” you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. “i found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought it’d make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.”

tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?

“you’re a fan of red robin?” he asked carefully, tilting his head.

you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s kind of underrated, though, don’t you think?”

“underrated?”

“yeah!” you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. “i mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwing—and robin, obviously—but red robin? he’s like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?”

tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. “so, he’s your favorite, then?”

“mmm,” you pretended to consider. “he’s up there. though nightwing’s a close second. sorry, but the guy’s got moves.”

he snorted, leaning back against the couch. “can’t argue with that.”

“but red robin’s, like, the total package,” you continued, gesturing animatedly. “he’s clever, he’s got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesn’t get as much attention, so he’s probably not as cocky as some of the others.”

your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. “not as cocky?”

“yeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?” you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. “plus, he’s got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.”

tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. “so you carry him around everywhere?”

“of course,” you said, grinning. “he’s like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.”

he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. “you’re something else, you know that?”

part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally him—but there was something too sweet, too hilarious about the situation to ruin it just yet. besides, you looked genuinely happy talking about red robin, and he kind of liked seeing himself through your eyes, even if you didn’t know it. he made a silent vow to tell you the truth soon. but for now, he let you keep your little lego protector, amused and endeared by the fact that you unknowingly carried a tiny version of him wherever you went.

[npdkondraki]

hey okay, can you give me the top ten most vital (from your perspective) scp stories to read. i don't know what's actually good and what's nothingburger

smiles!!!! of course i can!!!!!!! deciphering whats really 'vital' is pretty difficult since it really depends on if ur more interested in the doctors or the actual foundation / the scps themselves, and from there whether ur more interested in the actual scp documents or the tales, etc etc. it gets overcomplicated quick ^-^;;. ANYHOW. yes yes of course yes look at our recommendations. these are primarily world-building based, but feel free 2 ask and i'll req some tales instead .:3

1) scp-3001 - mild warning for? derealization? maybe? its reality bending based so its Strange. the plot with this one is that a man named robert scranton gets transported to essentially a void-esque plane of existence and slowly rots away. its primarily his logs that hold the article together but i think its interesting, and the scranton reality anchor* (*which comes up semi-often when dealing with any reality bending based thing) is based on this so its nice knowledge that kind of ties it together

2) excerpts from physics division field manual 13: special circumstances, humanoid threat entities - this ones just fully about reality benders & i think it is SO fascinating. reality benders also play kind of a large role depending on what tales & characters & scps you read about, but most often youll hear the term "type green" be thrown around and thats where THIS handy thing comes in!!! .:-)

3) extended biography of "the administrator" - its the admin!!!! the admin is in a weird spot as hes technically not.. a character? really? hes more of an 'idea' i guess lol. anyway point being this entire thing features small bits of him speaking to the reader through the form of little notes. i think its really interesting and kind of humanizes the higher level staff (as the admin is like. to my knowledge one of the highest level staffers, if not THE highest level depending on the canon????)

4) yesterday - this is specifically from the daybreak canon, where the sun basically kills fucking everything. its good! it provides a lot of characterization for pretty much the "main" characters (or at least the ones who pop up the most lol). it's a REALLY fascinating look at how all of them interact when faced with certain doom, esp given they were/are all friends at some point

5) incident 239-b-clef-kondraki - ok despite the title im not biased here i swear. this one just comes up a lot Generally and i would amiss to not recommend it. it slips between written visual & audio logs and notes clef (& co) wrote, which i personally just think is pretty Neat .:-)

6) duke 'till dawn - ignore my biases about kondraki this ones again just relevant and comes up kind of often and i would, again, be amiss to not recommend it. storytelling is primarily told thru written visual logs as well as interviews with staff

7) personal log of dr gears / personal log of [redacted] "iceberg" [redacted] - im grouping these together since they tell the same story and are two halves of one whole. gears & iceberg are both fairly important and these are also just interesting looks at how they operate. both are told thru the format of journal entries

8) 7 things that new level 3 researchers should know - this is an entire like essentially a pamphlet styled booklet written by sophia light to share knowledge with mid-tier staff. its neat and i think its fascinating to see what actual workers say about the foundation, and specifically working in the foundation .:-) (also ill admit im biased here sophia light is just very cool to me. i recommend reading about her sometime! ^_^)

9) a recording of prometheus innovations' pitch for the scranton encabulator mk vi, and the ramifications of its existence - this is primarily a bunch of reality bender based technobabble but its cool!!!! theres actually some interesting things that are mentioned in here!!! also its just fun. there isnt a whole lot i really remember about this one but from what i do remember its great and i enjoy it .:-)

10) founding - this ones part of classical revival canon, a canon based in, of course, reviving the older canons of the scpverse from when it first started But Better Now. it particularly is about the kind of 'main guys' creating the foundation basically. (oh, fair warning, youll see a lad named 'francis' be mentioned, that's alto clef from before he was properly alto clef ^_^)

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

hello I relistened to Kiera's reading of Eucatastrophe again recently and wanted to come tell you how much I enjoyed it and again appreciated many many things you did in it. in no particular order, and knowing I have mentioned some of these to you before, here are some things I enjoyed:

rotating perspectives and how we get to see everyone's thought processes on what's going on

on that note, your characterization, damn, Min, is fabulous. so good. so so so fucking good. their actions, their thoughts, their motivations and opinions and reactions. very excellent, very Them-Shaped. Amazing

so many foreshadowing bits and callbacks. Of note, the two bits near the beginning where they made very wrong assumptions, of "oh yeah stepping into a fairy circle and then taking and eating fruit from it is not going to cause any problems," which we the readers knew as they were saying it was absolutely incorrect, and then "no there's nothing eldrich horror shaped going on" which absolutely seemed to be the case up until the story appeared to be wrapping up!!!! amazing, fantastic, good job you funky little author

Roman: everyone likes a song that speeds up until you can hardly make out individual words! — Logan, a few chapters later: nobody likes a song that speeds up until you can hardly make out the individual words

Remus: and I swear—fuck, shit, ass, etc—

mr clean getting the kisses off Thomas's eyelids cause it's a magic eraser and yes that usually is taken as "eraser that is magic" ie "eraser that works so good it's gotta be magic" but those words absolutely can be taken as "erasor that erases magic" and it is lovely

the entire plan to trick the earl king into giving them instructions. so clever I love you logan. and the fact he was inspired by Janus saying they should dress up.

the mirror people in general. very cool very neat, fun little bonus puzzle in the quest to get Thomas back

different people having different information and priorities (other than the shared priority of Get Thomas Back) shown in particular with Octavian's Cittern / Guitar Thingie / Lute

the fact that it's the human changeling who seems more fae on first impressions

Remus being down to fuck Forest Octavian (and Fairy Octavian's reaction/non-reaction to that lol) and offering to fuck the Earl King

Janus being the most prepared and packing a bag with useful items, thank you Janus you are awesome

the fact that they kept their fairy clothes from the ball

also the fact that they didn't stick to just traditionally masculine fancy clothes, I like that multiple of them wore dresses, just cause they felt like it

how Nyarlathotep also has sides like they are

Virgil punching the one creepy one

the dance at the end

Janus likes his scales and was sad when they were gone and glad for them to be back

the ballad at the end, I wanna hear it it sounds neat

also on that note I love the recording you did of the twins' fairy ball song

also the fact that fairyland makes improv songs easier

Roman and his thoughts about "plot relevant"

Janus stealing Thomas's driver's license because they all do have the same face and are technically all him

Patton protesting this but also later introducing them as Thomas Sanders collectively

also Patton protesting the toll of a charger cord not because of morals but because it's expensive

evocative imagery and descriptions. I am thinking particularly of the noodle-slurp of Janus's extra arms but this is far from the only example

Bea!!

Bea is cute and I love him. also how he and Virgil mirror each other

how everyone danced with their mirrors at the end

gifts for their new friends 💕

they may have fucked things up by acting without all the information because nobody told them anything, but then they saved the world and also quite improved the general situation from before! for almost everyone. (and tbh kinda net zero for Tomas and the Earl King? since if things went to plan Tomas would've died anyway and the Earl King would have been heartbroken anyway and also betrayed by his lover, so.)

there's another Remus bit I know I was thinking about repeatedly afterwards, and it was tangentially related to his "I swear" bit but I can't remember rn. I will try to remember later

all the bits that made me laugh

"we're taking an unconscious man to the forest in the middle of the night, driver's licenses are the least of our problems"

the thing that Roman called lovecraft. Racist mc Racism face or something. I think you may recall, I overheard that while Kiera was recording in the next room and I was trying to be quiet and not really listening, and I ruined the take by busting out laughing very very very hard

they all Love Thomas so so much

one thing I thought of this time that I didn't on previous ones, Logan wondering how the Earl King could be any version of him when he doesn’t love Thomas...... well the problem is that he loves Tomas.

all of them finding their physical forms to be inconvenient for various reasons, even if some of them like some of the things about being human

Janus being the perfect pick to pretend to be Thomas, both for his acting skills in a very similar situation and for the fact that his scaly face is quite distinctive and yet currently makeup and therefore removable

him trying to claim the returning scales are acne xD

there's more. there's a lot more. but i think I will leave it here for tonight. or I will be just recapping the entire fic in your inbox and I do not have time for that atm lol

god, thank you. it means so much that people still read and reread and have thoughts like this about eucatastrophe, one of my earliest works in this fandom. thank you ESPECIALLY for noticing all of the tiny little brick jokes (like the speed of singing thing) that i thought nobody would actually pick up on because really I wrote them just for me. but i was wrong. because apparently they're for everyone else too. and that rules actually

[musi-exe]

4000 Degrees Kelvin

For the last few months I’ve been working on a fanfic about THE Walking Dumbass Gaster. This is a little title card I drew for the first chapter! I want to make one for each but considering my schedule that may not happen. Either way I think it’s neat. My rule for these paintings is that no character is present in the image. The title is in reference to the song of the same name from the Portal OST.

Two people of completely different backgrounds and ways of existence die at the same time, in almost the exact same manner. Due to a grand, universal, mathematical error, they are now forced to live out their lives sharing a single consciousness and body. For the first time, someone is able to understand his speech. For the first time, someone is able to understand things from her perspective.

The fic is title Last Moments of Pure Recall and is an x reader by technicality, but it is more of a character analyst (or lack there of haha). It is ultimately about Plight of the Foreigner, connection, and being a “dingbat”. This is about him, not us. There is no yn. I go more into this in the terms and conditions authors note I posted before the story begins. It acts more like a Forward if anything.

If you, dear reader, decide to check it out. It would mean the world to me. My coauthor and I have been hard at work making sure the story is a soul crusher.

The fic updates monthly and can be found on Ao3 respectfully. :>

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64794412?view_full_work=true

(The story is completely planned out already. So if Toby drops any new information about WD, I’m still not changing anything about the story.)

[deathbecomesthem]

Hey! Completely okay to ignore this but i was wondering of you have any tips on how to find your writers voice? Like your own style aswell as get into the flow.. i have a sense of how i want to sound but i can never get it out on paper. maybe its a struggle with vulnerability thing who knows. Im also really struggling on how to start at the very beginning of a story or structure my paragraphs :/

I find reading helps alot but my adhd dyslexic brain just wont let me soak anything in rn

I don't actually think I'm qualified to answer these questions. 😆 But. I will try.

Write all the time. Write for yourself only. If a thought pops into your head that is interesting, write it down. I've been keeping personal journals since the age of 4, and I know for a fact that's how I've developed my voice. Don't be afraid to write the weird shit down.

I would argue that I'm not a great writer when it comes to grammar rules. I have very little interest in following rules. My work requires a lot of technical/legal writing, and I'm not interested in carrying that over into my hobby writing. I also think that letting myself play outside of the box a little helps to build your voice.

As far as getting into the flow - I will give you advice that I should be following myself because I have been in a veeeerrryyy long dry spell:

Read all the time. (Audiobooks DO COUNT. Never let someone tell you they don't.) Try out different techniques you find your favorite authors use to see if they work for you. Read people's autobiographies, it's really neat to listen/read stories about someone's experiences in their own voice. Especially true if you like to write fanfics from a Reader's perspective.

Don't delete whole paragraphs of writing when you edit. Copy into a new doc and revisit another time. Maybe it fits with something else.

When you sit down to write, DO NOT edit as you go. Just write. Get words down, even if you think the words are not quite right. When you go back to edit you might find the right words.

Use Comic Sans or a font that uses symbols. Comic Sans helps take the pressure off. I use it lots. Fonts that are symbols allow you to write without getting hung up on catching mistakes.

Don't view your work as "done" when you publish on your blog. Everything I've uploaded I view as a draft. Not completed. Doesn't have to be perfect. You can always go back later and make revisions.

This is what I have to offer. I love you, I kiss you.

[oliviabutsmart]

Physics Friday #15 [DWQ]: Multiverse theories

Preamble: What is DWQ?

This is another mini-series that will be ongoing. Similar to opinion posts, there is another type of post that I want to explore.

DWQ - Dealing with Quacks (alternatively, Crackpots or Nuts)

Both crackpots and quacks are unified by what they do. They propose there is something "fundamentally wrong with physics" and that they have this new theory that will change everything.

Their theory is about some fundamental truth with the universe. That the "physics establishment" is constantly attempting to chase ridiculous theories because they don't want to accept reality.

A crackpot is someone who generally has expertise in physics, or a related field like chemistry or engineering. Often they are motivated by a desire for fame.

A quack is someone who has no experience in the field, often with a monetary interest in what they are selling.

"Nuts", which is short for "religious nuts" are those who promote their ideas out of faith and a desire to spread their beliefs. They are more likely to strawman existing ideas first.

I hope that you, the reader, can already understand why I don't like these people. They muddy the waters, mess around with science communication, and give the profession a bad rep. They also lie and pedal disinformation, which ends up acting as a gateway to more serious conspiracy theories within the medical or political realm.

It's also important to identify that this acts on a scale. Technically, some string theorists are a lite form of crackpot - particularly in the way they present their theories and ideas to the public.

But they are significantly more respectable than a flat-earther, or a self-help guru, or a evangelical apologist.

The Multitude of Multiverse theories, or the MultiMultiverse

Multiverse theor(ies) are usually strawmans made by religious fanatics. Think PragerU as a great example.

The argument goes like this:

Scientists have no empirical explanation for fine tuning or the reason for the existence of the universe

In order to explain it, they constructed multiverse theory to explain the source of it

By occam's razor, the simpler argument is the existence of a creator entity, that fine-tuned things for us

Of course you can see how bad the arguments are. The problem is of course that science hasn't accepted any multiverse theory.

Multiverse theories are neat explanations or consequences of other theories, but they are either limited in their explanatory power, or their efficacy to test.

But what are the multiple multiverse theories? Here's three that people claim are multiverse theories:

Many worlds interpretation (a QM thing, and only a multiverse theory in pop culture)

Inflation multiverse theory (one possible consequence of the cosmic inflation hypothesis)

Just an actual multiverse theory (arguable cosmic inflation can lie here)

Many Worlds Interpretation

I've already run through the main gambit of what the Everett interpretation is, so I'm going to tackle this from a pop sci perspective.

When you were younger, you might've heard that the many worlds interpretation literally means many worlds. That with every decision you make, you create a new seperate branching reality. And that multiple realities can simultaneously exist.

Of course, there is an issue with this. Mainly that there aren't multiple realities - there is just one reality, in a superposition of states.

This superposition dictates there is one reality, just that this reality is probabilistic. These realties aren't separated by physical space. It's just one big 'wavefunction'.

Decisions in the many worlds interpretations are also examples of when pop sci goes wrong. It's not necessarily the religious nuts who cause this misconception.

What causes more splits in the wave function is the interactions within it. When an electron collides with a positron, when a chemical in your brain goes from one end to the other. Interaction is what creates these splits.

Technically, decisions are caused by the interactions between electrical signals in our brain, and us making a decision often involves interacting with the world around us. This is how the misconception arises, but the reality is that the split occurs well before and well after a choice is made.

Of course, it's important to state that, the many worlds interpretation is still not the "correct" interpretation. What it posits hasn't been proven.

Inflation Multiverse theory

Inflation theory in itself is already a bit on the rocks in terms of an explanation of why our universe is the way it is. There isn't really any way we can use GR/the standard model to explain why inflation happened. At least, without having to add an extra field or constant in our equations.

Generally, inflation is explained using the addition of a new inflaton field, which in the higher temperatures of the early universe, caused a rapid expansion of spacetime.

This rapid expansion is generated by the field living in a heightened energy state.

At some point, the field reaches a sudden drop-off, at which point the expansion rate suddenly slows down to our expected GR level. The inflaton field then remains at a local minima.

Where does the Multiverse theory come into this?

The drop-off of the inflaton field is not universal. It only occurs at particular points in spacetime. This creates a 'bubble' of space that slowly expands in comparison to the surrounding ocean of space that is rapidly expanding.

We exist in one of these bubbles, which expands at a normal rate. But we aren't the only bubble.

There could be several bubbles surrounding us. All separated by physical space that expands at incredible rates. These bubbles create an effective multiverse.

It's not technically a multiverse because every bubble is still in one single physical universe.

Generally, this version of inflation multiverse theory is better accepted as it has inflation theory to back it up. But it's still not provable, so it's not regarded as truth.

The actual Multiverse theories

There are several multiverse theories. But the key thread linking the other multiverses, is that there is no physical way to traverse the space in-between worlds, and that each universe is seperate in beyond a physical capacity.

I can't go into many different multiverse theories, because the main point is that they're all either bullshit or thought experiments.

One example is the "temporal multiverse theory" which states that time is actually a 3-dimensional quantity, were our multiverses are caused by separations in time.

When you go back in time and alter the past, you end up in an alternate timeline future. This is a common way to interpret most time travel movies or scenarios.

Another is the "10-dimension" theory. There are 3 dimensions of space, 3 dimensions of time, and 3 dimensions of "universe". What is this universe dimension? Well it's effectively supposed to be an altering of the fundamental physical parameters.

The problem is that we don't think that the universe happens to perfectly have three degrees of freedom in it's construction.

The 10th dimension is usually unexplained in this theory.

So what was that fundamentalist strawman about?

There is an idea in physics called "quantum darwinism". This theory basically states that from the many worlds interpretation, there will be one probabilistic reality where human consciousness lives in. And thus that version of reality will be the one we see, as it was fit for human life.

This principle can be extended to various different versions of multiverse theory. That out of the many possible realities, we observe the reality that created the perfect conditions for human life.

This argument, that the universe was predisposed to observation, because it had to circularly, is called the anthropic principle. It can be said that it's an extension of the copernican principle.

And that's it. That's the strawman. Of course, this form of darwinism is not really an actual theory, more a thought experiment.

Conclusion

This post is slightly less long than the other ones but still a lot. Oops! Ruh roh!

Anyways, I hope y'all like this post with a different topic. They will be rarer because I want to take my time tackling these types of posts. Please lmk if you think this post was informative or if you'd like to see more!

Next week will probably be on Baryon Acoustic Oscillations. Follow if you wanna see more!

[confiscatedpeaches]

William Afton x [Stalker] Reader (Afton's Perspective)

Technically William Afton is also a stalker in this case, but the og title is "William Afton x afab [Stalker] Reader" so yeah. I thought it would be neat to see his perspective when he first saw you. The reader is not necessarily gendered in this version, so I removed afab.

DNI if Under 18. The reader is assumed to be at least 18.

CW: masturbation, stalking, age difference

Afton has always been the obsessive type. Though he hasn't been interested in anyone since his wife divorced him. That was until he saw you.

Frustrated with paperwork, he turned to look out a small window; something he usually does to gather his thoughts. However, once his eyes landed on you his mind began stirring and whirling with twisted thoughts and desires.

He saw you from a distance. Your hair was slicked back from sweat, either into a ponytail or just slicked behind your ears he wasn't sure. A look of concentration was spread across your face as you lifted and placed boxes from your truck onto the concrete below. He found your rather young figure intriguing. You were so concentrated on your work that you failed to notice him. He silently admired and praised your dedication, he loved watching submissive little worker bees.

As you got closer, he recognized you. He had actually met your parents before when initially working out a deal between him and your parents' catering/food delivery company. They were kind and (un)fortunate enough to show him a picture of you. They said you tried attending college, before dropping out to help out with the company. At that moment he felt a small tent begin pitching in his pants, and was glad the desk was in the way. Even though he was imagining you spread out beneath him on that same desk. Quivering and shaking like the shy-whore he imagined you to be.

However, now alone in his office, he had no need to hide his growing erection. Still watching you, his hand slid into his trousers. He started with small strokes, imagining your soft tender hands instead of his own. It gave him a sense of power over you. You had no idea, yet he was pleasuring himself to you for the first time.

His strokes quickened and intensified. He knew he needed to have you. He remembered he had a spare room in the basement, the perfect place to bring in prey. He would take you, and force himself on you until you gave in to his dark desires, and you'd come to enjoy him too, he was sure of it.

He thought about pressing his body weight into you as he pounded into your smaller frame. God how he needed this. This wasn't just a simple desire anymore, he craved you deeply. He imagined cumming inside of you, filling you up with him.

He came inside his pants, still watching you from afar. A filthy mess, for sure, but a delicious one. Though he was finished, for now, a twisted desire began growing in his chest.

"Mmm, little bunny... I'll get you soon enough."

[dragonfly0808]

holy shit, I’m not from the USA and like, I know that things are getting all kinds of fucked up over there but this is a whole other level (like I’m actually planning on reading a bunch of books that they’re trying to/have already banned just as a big fuck you, How to Kill a Mockingbird is the first since I have my mom’s copy but have never read it)

I cannot believe the amount of insanity that is going on over there when it comes to banning and censorship its just insane and I feel so bad that this is happening

Like Mexico is supposedly ‘less progressive/less’ in the eyes of a lot of USA people especially older folks but I cannot imagine smth like this happening here, like i cannot imagine worrying about going to school on a daily basis and now that they’re banning books it’s giving very concerning vibes, reminds me of a certain horrible group of people that burned a lot of books (a lot of which were from queer authors/queer stories) and we lost so much history and so many stories to censorship already that I just… as someone who first read about a queer couple when I was fucking 7 years old I can’t understand how people think that this shit is protecting people. At seven I was like, ‘oh, two guys are kissing. Neat…. Oh, this is pretty cute!’ And that was fucking it

Like- I just can’t even put myself in their minds even for a split second I just cannot understand banning books like this with not giving a single fuck about children that need to form their own opinions and that books are so important in helping kids look at the world from different points of view.

I remember being 6 reading The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan and not understanding why one of the main characters, Carter Kane spoke about having to be cautious of cops from the moment he lost his baby fat and being like… but why? cause I didn’t understand racism and bias and that helped me gain a new perspective at just 6 years old I may not have fully understood it but over the years tidbits of reading so many books from people that are nothing like me has helped me with the way I see the world and I can’t just- I hate this. I hate this so fucking much.

I can’t imagine not getting to read books from queer authors and about queer/black stories not just because of many beautiful love stories that would be taken away but just, stories in general that are so precious even if they sometimes deal with heavy subjects, heavy subjects are a part of life and a part of the world and I do not understand wanting to limit the view someone has of the world in this way

I feel like I’m witnessing the start of a fucking dystopian society. I realize that might sound like an exageration but, I think most people who have been readers from a young age can agree that this is just so insane, like… banning books for having a few queer characters because ‘OH THE CHILDREN’ no. Fuck you. You don’t and have never cared about the children.

I know I rarely get personal or ‘political’ on my blog but this is smth that is just outrageous and so wrong to me and truly just breaks my heart. I’m in my room, surrounded by books. I have 2 bookshelves (3 technically) about 400 books in my room not counting hundreds of books that I have given away or donated or sold to make room and to think that at least 50 of these would probably be banned in the USA is just so gutwrenching to me.

And then to know that they would likely target sites like AO3, specifically because they often involve many queer stories/couples is just… ugh…

I don’t know if this is fully true but the idea that sites could be sued for HAVING QUEER CONTENT is just fucking insane

I’ve been reading a few classics lately. And to think that even those might not be safe from these idiotic acts is just… wow.

We have so much to learn from stories and books. Or even if you just read for fun there is still so much there. Stories help people, stories have helped me my whole life. This should be criminal

I am so tired…

We all know about the DDOS attacks on AO3 as it is still down. So it is very important we talk about the KOSA(Kids Online Safety Act) that is going to hit the floor soon. Because if that act goes through this could very much be the new reality of not only AO3 but online fandom spaces within the next year. The point of this act is to limit queer media and to eliminate online queer spaces.

Let me stress, the politicians are lying to you. Democrats and Republicans are lobbying for this. It is not pro trans rights and it is not pro lgbtq rights. This is very reminiscent of the Restrict Act! Politicians can SUE websites for having QEEER CONTENT. This act will not protect kids, it will further separate and marginalize the queer community!

If this bill goes through AO3, Wattpad, TikTok, Tumblr, and Twitter will be limited and fanfiction websites could be wiped out all together. If you are apart of fandom spaces pay attention and ACT! Call and email your senators! AND SIGN THE BELOW PETITIONS!

Reblog this! Send the links to people who aren’t on Tumblr! If you care about fandom, fandom spaces, your ships, your blorbos, fanfiction writers’ works, freedom to create, etc. Spread this!

If you aren’t American you can still sign/send some of these!

[society1989]

gus van sant: the art of making movies by katya tylevich & the de palma decade: redefining cinema with doubles, voyeurs, and psychic teens by laurent bouzereau | BOOK REVIEW

🗓️ DATE RELEASED;

NOVEMBER 2021 & SEPTEMBER 2024

📚 GENRE;

NONFICTION/FILM

⭐️ PERSONAL RATING;

ENJOYED BOTH, THOUGH I PREFERRED TYLEVICH’S STRUCTURE AND WRITING. EXTRA THOUGHTS BELOW THE CUT.

💭 thoughts;

i love behind-the-scenes info on film, so when i saw these two books in my library, of course i picked them up lol! gus van sant is one of my favorite directors, and while i haven't seen much (or any) of brian de palma's filmography, his work is undoubtedly iconic and has inspired so many, so i had to check it out! in katya tylevich's book, she goes over the creative life of gus van sant from his college days to possible future work. meanwhile, laurent bouzereau focuses on a specific decade of de palma's work: the 70s to early 80s.

both books include interviews from the aforementioned filmmakers, but in bouzereau’s book, there is also interviews from cast and crew members. tylevich only presents to us gus van sant’s perspective and what he can remember. for visual readers, both books contain images to accompany the text, either of film stills or behind-the-scenes photographs and scripts. if you want a collection of interviews and analysis of the material, de palma’s book is for you. while well organized by themes, the movies aren’t presented in a chronological fashion. not my biggest complaint, but i can see why that would bother other readers. we get insight into most, if not all, creative choices - even deleted/scrapped scenes from earlier scripts! i will be honest, im not sure how much this information was publicly available before the book so i am gonna take it with a grain of salt. but what i do know is that even with the internet, some things just aren’t archived. so seeing reviews and public reception from that time period is really interesting, especially negative backlash from activist groups that are now extinct. regardless, still neat info!

gus van sant’s book follows a chronological order - as a said earlier - from his college days to the present. we get insight into van sant’s early trials and tribulations in figuring out the type of filmmaker he’d later create, finding the right crew and cast for his scripts, and why we see what we see on screen. i know my explanation is sort of lacking, but i think its best if anyone interested in more reads the book. still trying to keep it somewhat vague here haha. but if you like learning the technical and crew aspect of film, this book might interest you.

it was a really interesting experience reading both back to back and comparing the two filmmakers: tylevich directly compare and contrasts gus van sant and alfred hitchcock’s type of directing and style. since de palma has been called a hitchcock disciple, by extension this felt like a direct relation to de palma. even with hitchcock’s influence on his technicality and focus on images, there’s that sense of surrealism that’s also found in van sant’s death trilogy. the most ‘van sant’ film of his might be obsession (1976) and carrie (1976), and vice versa, van sant’s most de palma-esque film could be to die for (1995). but that’s just my opinion!

though very different directors with different artistic focuses, i feel that both their body of works share a theme of tradgedies and outsider characters (which the writers highlight in depth). palma has carrie, the psychic twins of the fury (1978), and winslow leach of phantom of the paradise. van sant has the found family in drugstore cowboy (1989), alex of paranoid park (2007), and scott favor in my own private idaho (1991). each of these stories focus on a character who crosses the threshold into an area that does not belong to them - carrie the laughing stock of her highschool made prom queen, scott favor is a rich boy/mayor’s son who rebels against his father by becoming a hustler, alex follows a stranger into an unknown skate park, etc. this intrusion culminates in a tragedy, almost always death. even with this bleak focus, there is something so emotional about the way the two directors handle these stories. the plot isnt just about the pain and the inevitable - there is real hope and sincerity that is made real through these characters - they were not created just to experience the ending. they become real to us throughout the film, in part becoming the tragedy and loss. tylevich and bouzereau both illustrate these connecting themes beautifully in their writing and, even through words, the work of van sant and de palma is palpable.

[notbecauseofvictories]

reading The Last Unicorn because I can’t fall asleep, and it’s interesting how faithful the Rankin/Bass film was (I grew up on it and remember the thing with shocking clarity; turns out it borrows whole scenes from the book, quotes lines verbatim---even the songs!) while simultaneously stripping out a lot of Beagle’s quite deft humor.

[choosing-criminalminds]

One More Time

Summary: Their love was years and years in the making, and even when prison quickly builds back up the walls they worked so hard to break down, Spencer learns just how strong the foundation of their trust is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader(ish) -> told mostly in the 3rd person, from Spencer’s POV

Category: angst (?)

Warnings: mentions of character death (Maeve, Gideon), mentions of blood (Maeve’s death), slight panic/anxiety, language -> let me know if there are any more to add!

Also, un-beta’d, we die like the trash we are.

Length: 5.6k

A/N: Okay yeah so first post. So…this turned out much longer than expected? This is for Ellie’s ( @spenciebabie ) writing contest/celebration and goodness I’m so nervous because I’ve barely written, much less posted, anything in years. Anyway, I guss I decided to challenge myself to write this? I hope you guys like it?

Also, if anyone wants a new friend, please hit me up because I’m too shy to say hello myself.

Prompt was: “Why don’t you make me?”

-*-*-*-

“Trust has to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time.”

—Arthur Ashe

-*-*-*-

For all his genius, Spencer didn’t know what to make of the fact that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

It wasn’t until years down the line that he realized he had been exceptionally aware of her since they met, carefully observing, cataloguing the way she so gently and kindly defied every expectation and pushed past every preconceived notion he had of her. By then, she had already settled in a little corner of his heart and helped seal the cracks in his life that he didn’t even know existed.

But when she first joined the team as an intern, he was more than a little reluctant to get to know her. It was during the summer between her college graduation and the start of her graduate studies, and she seemed too worldly, too perfect. She wasn’t like the girls from high school, or even college, for that matter, who were simply mean. On the contrary, she was wonderfully polite and incredibly ambitious, intelligent, and very much the type of girl that was far too out of his league, one that wouldn’t spare him a second glance before continuing down whatever focused path she was on.

That’s why he planned to avoid her as much as possible her first day in the office. She had, thankfully, spent the morning in Hotch’s office, since he was her official supervisor, but when he saw them about to emerge right before lunch, he panicked, muttered a random excuse, and shuffled out of the bullpen, leaving a bemused Derek and Elle in his wake.

It didn’t help that he was ducking out of rooms while JJ was giving her a quick tour and making introductions, and almost every member of the team had cornered him, encouraging him to talk to her, to befriend her due to their closeness in age. (“She’s only what? Two-ish years younger than you?” When he mumbled that exact date, Penelope had broken into a large, wicked grin, poking him teasingly in the cheek. Gratefully, she held back any further comment.)

Spencer had blinked, a little surprised, when Penelope Garcia, who generally disliked change, had only good things to say. Remarkably humble about her achievements, and not in the standoffish fake way, Penelope commented after admitting she had run a background check on her. Genuine, and quite sweet.

Polite, Derek had said, if a little quiet, trying to see where she fits in the team dynamic. You should reach out, be a friend, he suggested.(Spencer ignored the very pretty slipped somewhere in the comment, as well as the knowing smile shot his direction when he felt his cheeks flushing.)

A surprisingly wicked sense of humor, was all Elle said with a sly smile. (Spencer chose to ignore that too.)

And when Spencer tentatively asked the man, Jason Gideon, a man of generally few words, had spoken of her, however briefly, with surprising fondness, because of course Gideon had met her when she was a child, because of course her uncle now headed legal three floors up, and of course her uncle was the last third of the BAU’s Holy Trinity, of which Gideon and Rossi were a part of.

You’ll get along very nicely.

Spencer was incredibly intimidated, to say the least.

And then when he couldn’t avoid her anymore (because of course they were desked next to each other), all it took for her was noticeably catching herself from extending a hand, then offering a small little wave and a nervous smile to leave him breathless. (He pointedly ignored the look knowing look JJ shot him.)

He tried to stifle the little seed of hope—that she definitely wasn’t interested in him, and her saccharine smile was nothing more than a false front to make a positive impression during a lucrative FBI internship meant only to bolster her resume—but the resolve crumbled quickly. She turned out to be so genuinely kind and sweetly humble that Spencer cursed the fact that the internship lasted only through that summer.

It also certainly didn’t help, either, that the very first thought he had when meeting her was a single word.

Pretty.

-*-*-*-

It was almost ridiculous how well she got along with everyone in the office.

She clearly made it a mission to make the most of the time she had and was more than willing to put in the work and prove her worth. Although she was technically Hotch’s intern and her main role was to assist the core field team, Spencer watched as she managed to get on absolutely everyone’s good graces through a combination of unassuming charm, sharp wit, and willingness to learn and to help that was so uniquely her.

For Spencer, it meant that she happily listened to what he had to say, encouraging him to continue when appropriate or saving a quiet question for later when it wasn’t. When she told him that she enjoyed listening to him talk, Spencer was taken aback, stuttering as he tried to figure out if she was only saying that to be polite. She gave him a gracious smile, ensured that she “quite honestly enjoyed” listening to him, and proceeded to ask a few well-timed and well-pointed questions to smoothly nudge him back to their previous topic.

Spencer stared at her, slack-jawed, then smiled bashfully, and allowed himself to hope.

(He definitely didn’t know what to do with the fact that when she knowingly reached out to his hand resting on the table and lightly tapped the back of his hand, he didn’t have his typical knee-jerk desire to pull away. He also mostly certainly didn’t know what to do with the fact that when her thumb grazed over his knuckles to sooth the tension he didn’t even realize he had, he felt an inexplicable calm ease into his very bones.)

-*-*-*-

“It’ll take a good five, six years to finish my J.D./Ph.D., but Hotch offered me an open invitation to join the team when I do, and I’m more than inclined to take his offer when the time comes.”

Spencer peered at her, breathing out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding. It was the last day of her internship, and she was making the rounds to say her thank you’s and goodbyes individually to the members of the team. He was the last one, and he had been dreading the conversation the entire day.

While he wouldn’t describe what he felt for her as anything beyond a genuine, platonic friendship—in the grand scheme of things, they’d only known each other for ten weeks—their easy companionship had become very dear to him. And he was terrified and nervous that her time with the BAU would be just a small chapter in her life before she moved on to the bigger and better things, leaving him behind as a fond but distant memory.

She laughed softly at his surprise, before it trailed off into a sigh. She then took a deep breath and asked. “Do you trust me?” Spencer looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. Did he trust her? Her gaze was heavy on him and the question weighty, a gentle demand for an honest answer. Did he trust her? Yes, he did, he supposed, they were friends. Right? He breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders just a bit, and answered in the affirmative.

As if she sensed his hesitance, his unease, she gave him a knowing look and took one of his hands into hers, fingers brushing over fingers, before hooking her pinky around his. “Because I promise you, Spencer Reid, I’ll be back, right here. You’ll be waiting for me, yeah?”

He looked at her in awe, the dim light of the nearly-empty office reflecting off her kind eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, and she smiled so brilliantly that he nearly forgot to breathe, to answer. To answer. He smiled back, twitchy, introspective, and considered the weight of her question. He nodded and responded simply.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She managed to remain on the Bureau’s consulting payroll over the next several years, though she was primarily based in the Bay Area as she finished her graduate studies at Stanford. The team as a whole still went to her for a fresh perspective when needed; she video called in to help on cases when necessary and met up in person if a case called them to California.

He knew that she kept in touch with JJ, Penelope, and Derek, and that Hotch and Emily (whom she met shortly after Emily joined the team and a case brought them to LA) were also friendly, if professional, contacts. Spencer himself was known to receive the odd phone call from her.

However, what had Spencer almost covetously pleased was that they had something they shared exclusively between the two of them, because she had steadfastly kept her promise to write to him.

-*-*-*-

Her letters were as beautiful as they were constant, and Spencer handled and read each one with care.

Her handwriting suited her; while it generally was neat and clear little scrawl, he knew it would get a little freer, and little loopier when she was tired, if she was particularly excited, or if she found herself a bit tipsy. (And yet she still managed to always write in an almost perfectly straight line even on a blank sheet of paper. He was envious, and when he told her as such, he could hear the laughter in her response as she wrote it a little more wobbly than usual.) And while he knew her to be tilted more on the quiet, introverted side of the scale, she had a way with the written word, each phrase poetic and thoughtful.

And they were remarkably therapeutic to write in return, Spencer found. Their initial letters mostly consisted of light banter about their mutual and individual interests, updates on the progress of her research (sprinkled amusing tidbits of her exasperation and frustration), bits and pieces about his cases and updates on and amusing anecdotes about the team.

However, over time, he slowly opened up to her, about his fears, his hopes, his dreams. And when he hesitantly divulged bits and pieces about the drugs, his mother, the headaches, he felt the relief in his entire body when she responded with empathy and grace. In turn, she did the same. She was vulnerable, she was open, and as wonderful and quite near perfect as he knew her to be, he was pleased to find her so incredibly human.

Those letters he slowed down to read, committing them to memory with more intention.

(He kept her letters in the drawer of his desk at his apartment, and eventually moved them to a specially designated box when he needed more room. When he learned that she did the same, he couldn’t help the tender warmth that fluttered in his chest. He still didn’t know what to do with the feeling.)

-*-*-*-

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It took six years, and an additional five months at the Academy (and then another few weeks as she was introduced to the legal team, with whom she would also be working with in her role as legal liaison), but she kept her promise and found her way back to the BAU, and it was like she was never gone.

This time, in her re-introduction to the team, she was a breath of fresh air.

When she approached him individually with a nervous smile, she reached out, then hesitated, and a sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer. But then, she had placed a hand on his elbow, and when she smiled, he breathed in a sense of peace and familiarity, of comfort.

“You waited.”

He smiled back, and in a rather forward gesture on his part, he adjusted so he could take the hand on his arm into his.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She was too good for him.

Whatever relationship they had—Spencer didn’t know what to call it, though friendship seem too trivial of a word for it—he knew it was too good, too perfect to last.

Because in a cruel twist of fate, her first case back on the team, however unofficial it was, was Maeve.

He was hyperaware of the neutral expression on her face when he finally brought his fears to the team. To anyone else she would seem serene and put together, but to him the slight sag in her shoulders and the realization transitioning to acceptance were clear as day. Spencer never mentioned Maeve to her in their letters, but later, in retrospect, he believed she had an inkling, at the very least. You seem happier, she had written, once, not too long after he first became acquainted with Maeve, and that makes me happy.

Did it? Then he didn’t want to know what his misery would do to her because then, Maeve died, and in his grief over another woman, he fought desperately to push her away.

She could share his happiness, but he refused to let her share his pain, his brokenness. She did not deserve that, and he would not be the one to destroy the beauty and sunshine and hope she brought everywhere with her.

But when they finally took Maeve’s body away, and when the blurred commotion of sirens and law enforcement and emergency services and constant hammering of half-hearted condolences and check-ins finally died down, he felt the blanket around his shoulders be adjusted, and a now-familiar pair of hands take in his own, firm, and refusing to ever let go. Thumbs traced over his knuckles as soothingly as he remembered, and only then did he begin to vaguely process the fact those hands had been tucked into his almost the entire evening, anchoring him through the haze and the fog.

As if on cue, she squeezed his hand gently, like she knew exactly when he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, and he suddenly found he lacked the strength to do what he initially intended.

Still dazed, he felt her shift, and she was kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sat on the curb, and softly drew him into a hug. Any form of resistance he previously had dissolved; he clung to her, tears stinging his eyes once again.

It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll stay, she whispered, I’ll stay, always and always.

Just don’t push me away.

“I-” His voice cracked. “I loved her.”

He paused, his voice weakening.

“I love her...”

Hands ran soothingly through his hair.

“I know.”

She always did.

“…so much.”

He didn’t need to see her face to realize that she was crying with him, for him—he could feel her trying to contain the trembling in her chest, trying desperately to remain composed. He tried to do the same, but when she tilted her head and let him bury his face into her neck, Spencer finally felt fresh tears begin to flow, and he allowed her to take his face into her hands and chase the tears with her fingers.

And Spencer wept freely, first for death of the woman he loved, and then for the tears and the grief he caused the one person he could call his kindred spirit, his soulmate.

-*-*-*-

He healed, slowly.

There were good days, when the thought of Maeve did not stir up memories of blood and fear and gunshots but, rather, of auburn hair and admiration and hushed conversations on the phone. On those days, he felt like he was no longer haunted by a ghost and could finally begin to move on. On those days, he could slow down, appreciate the small things again, and focus on how a pair of familiar, steady hands pulled him out of the past, anchored him in the present, and allowed him to hope about the future.

But then there were the bad days when her touch scalded and burned his skin. The warmth and the pulse of blood rushing through her veins and the germs on her hands and her life was overwhelming because Maeve was dead and cold and gone. So, with every glare and with every sharp comment aimed at where he knew it would hurt, he finally made good on his desire to push her away.

It was on those days the bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered how it was supposed to be Maeve, not her, there alive with him, holding his hand as they faced the world.

It was also on those days he chose to disregard the regret that settled in the pit of his stomach each time he heard his own biting voice, and disregard the horror brought on by even thinking of wishing she were dead instead. He began to ignore the tremble in her hands when she reached out to him and brushed her fingers against his in concern, and he ignored how she gradually began pulling back, hesitant, nervous that her touch would be unwarranted, unwanted. He certainly ignored the unconscious flex in his hand, the ache for the reassurance and comfort he had become so accustomed to—

He ignored it all until he woke up, one night, to an empty bed, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through his body and bile rose in his throat. She was right there, when he fell asleep, giving him a small smile and nod when he asked if she could read to him, to stay the night. Now, without a word, she was gone, she was gone, shewasgone and Spencer could feel the tightness in his chest and tears sting his eyes when realized that the only one to blame was himself, himself, himself.

Why, he thought bitterly, why was he like this? Why must he try to push away every good thing in his life?

But then, there he stood, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks and ice running through his veins, as he found her curled up on his couch, franticly wiping away her own silent tears and exhaustion from her eyes. He stumbled forward, upset, upset at himself because he made her cry again. And when she flinched when he cradled her face in his hands, apologizing to him, he nearly choked back a sob, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the tears that did not belong on her face.

Neither of them went back to sleep that night, and Spencer began to realize just how strong she was, as she gently told him through her tears the hard truths of his situation and where she stood in relation to him.

I can’t fight with a ghost, she had murmured hoarsely, but I can work with her legacy and her memory.

And then, with a pinky wrapped around his, she promised that she would be there to help him through it, but the only way was if, and only if, he let her.

It was that night (or, rather, morning, as the sun rose) that he began to come to terms that, whether he deserved it or not, she—and her pure and unadulterated goodness—was more or less a permanent fixture in his life, and he felt more at peace than he had in ages. And when the early rays of sunlight filtered through his windows and caught her in a soft glow, he found himself once again in awe. He reached out, hesitantly, and his heart soared when he felt the familiar pressure of her hand slipping into his.

She was steadfast and loyal and strong. She was brave, she was patient, she was kind. Moreover, she was alive, she was breathing, and she was here, present, by his side. It took time, and more painful conversations and more painful realizations, but eventually, the good days were a bit more consistent, the sun just a bit brighter, and his breathing a just bit freer with her hand pressed firmly into his own, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers until his heartbeat synced with hers.

And Spencer was finally learning, learning about what to do with the fact that with her by his side, he felt like he could truly face the world.

-*-*-*-

Face the world he did.

When Gideon died, he felt his hand twitch, and the compulsion to escape and hide tugged at the back of his mind, and an old, nearly forgotten itch made its way from the crook of his elbow, slowly ebbing into in his veins and nagging in the crevices of the back of the mind.

But when he felt her hand slip into his, he felt it abate, the tension in his muscles eased. When her lips twitched into a knowing, gentle smile, he could see the underlying grief and frustration. Of course. She had known Gideon just as well as he did, if not better.

He breathed deeply and smiled back. It was weak, it was twitchy, and it was sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless. He wasn’t in this alone.

-*-*-*-

They were seated on a large blanket in a secluded park in D.C. on one of their rare days off when she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, and suddenly it seemed like all the right pieces finally fell into place.

And when she whispered those three little words, and everything made sense. He looked up from where he laid, and again he was breathless at how the setting sun caught in her hair and reflected off her skin and her eyes. But then, when he opened his mouth to respond, the same three little words caught in his throat and his breath hitched, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to respond, to let her know that her feelings were returned, but the words failed him.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, and he trembled as he felt her hands cupping his face and fingers gracing over his cheekbones, “if you don’t reciprocate; I’ll live. But I just wanted to let you know–know that I’ll be by your side no matter what happens.”

It wasn’t until they were at the door of her apartment, when he found the strength to push past the nerves and respond.

“I do re-reciprocate, and I want–I want to say it, because I do,” he stuttered out, “but I just…don’t know how to say it yet.”

He suddenly felt like a prepubescent schoolboy, nervous and quaking and terrified. But then, magnetic as she was, she brought his gaze back to her face, and her knowing smile breathed air back into his lungs. His heart blossomed, and the fingers rubbing circles into his hand anchored his attention on her. “Then I’ll wait until you can. Always. Forever.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer peered up at her, brows furrowed. Unbidden, the memory of the first time she asked him the same question floated to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t help the breath of amusement. The question caught him off guard, but this time, when he found his voice it was resolute, quick, and sure.

Yes.

He felt a pinky hook around his, and the now-familiar warmth bubbled in his chest.

“Good, because it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This time, the tears her fingers caught were those of appreciation and relief.

-*-*-*-

And then, the sun set, and prison happened.

-*-*-*-

At first, it was easy to ignore.

Prison changed him. He knew it did, and he knew that she wasn’t naïve to the fact either. He was a bit harder, a bit more defensive, and while he tried his best not to show it, he knew she could see the darkness had just a little bit more of an edge. He was well aware of how she watched him just a bit more closely.

It seemed alright at first. It took a while for him to adjust; there were certainly bumps and bruises along the way, along with some admittedly choice words exchanged in frustration, but that was expected.

But he supposed it was the small things, and small things add up.

The first week her hand naturally slipped into his like nothing’d changed, but his grip was tighter and more desperate than normal, like she’d disappear or slip through his fingers if he didn’t. At the same time, he was also too terrified to touch her otherwise, as if she’d break like glass if his grip on her waist was just a bit too tight.

She never commented, gave him space, and allowed him to initiate physical contact.

She didn’t need to know, he rationalized, it wasn’t her burden to bear.

Then he began to hold her at arm’s length. She pushed, gently, and he pushed back, harder. He knew she was only trying to help, but he needed to figure it out for himself, lest he hurt her again. She only sighed, and relented. While her concern was apparent with how she watched him with just a little more unease, she gave him space.

However, while she was an exceptionally patient person, there was only so much distance and space one could handle. When she reached out, worried, and pressed just a little harder, he withdrew completely, and his rationalization slowly evolved. Stop hovering. Don’t need you treating me like I’m broken. Don’t need your pity.He ignored the pain that flashed in her eyes, the quiet desperation in her voice whenever she called after him after he refused to listen, and the increasingly familiar ache in his entire body when he began to avoid and refuse her touch.

It was the small things, because when the nightmares started, it wasn’t so easy to ignore.

-*-*-*-

“—eathe, Spencer. That’s good, breathe.”

The mumbled affirmations continued as he slowly processed his surroundings.

Queen-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. Breathe in. Goose-feather down pillows. A firmer memory foam pillow that smelled of her shampoo. Breathe out.

Safety.

He was still bleary-eyed when he sunk back down, burying half his face in the pillows and ashamed as he mumbled a quiet apology. Her voice was kind, understanding, telling him it was alright as she tucked a stray lock of curls away from his face. When he seemed to settle back down, her hand gentle rested on his jaw, thumb absently tracing his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No.”

She frowned, sighed, took a moment to flick on the lamp light and collect her thoughts; he could see, through his lashes, the gears turning in her head about how to proceed. Meanwhile, he heaved a sighed, and sat up against the headboard. His eyes closed, doing the same as her. She then reached out, touched his hand, grazed her thumb over his knuckles and drew circles on the back. It started slow, hesitant—she was surprised that he didn’t recoil, and frankly, so was he—but the motion was familiar, grounding, so he let her continue. He knew it helped her focus as well.

“Spence, you’re…you need to talk to someone—it doesn’t have to be me! But bottling it up all inside, it’s clearly tearing you apart.”

“I agreed to start talking with my therapist, haven’t I?”

His voice was flat, defensive.

“But you haven’t, and…knowing you, you won’t be telling them the whole truth.” His jaw tightened and his lips pursed, his hand gripping the sheets flexed, and he looked away from her, intently staring at a random point in the room that wasn’t her. As always, she seemed to know him far too well.

She let out a breath of a sigh; she knew he was beginning to shut her out again. Her free hand lifted to his shoulder, rested in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve told you before, that you’ve started to shut people out. I know–I know you’re so, so strong, but you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders; we’re not as fragile as you seem to think we are.” She paused, contemplating. “If you need someone with distance that you can trust, call Derek, call Hotch, even, but remember, Spence, I made you a promise: I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

When he didn’t answer, still staring off into the mid-distance, she sighed.

“I’ll leave, give you some space. Think about it.”

She was at the bedroom door when he finally cleared his throat and responded. His voice was bitter as he bit out: “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A quiet ‘wha–’slipped from her lips as she angled toward him as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“If you want to leave, fine. You seem to be doing that quite well recently. The door’s right there and you don’t have to come back until you want to make me a charity case again. But if you want me to talk, if you think you can handle it, then be my guest. Take a seat and why don’t you make me?”

He instantly regretted the words, but some dark part of his mind as pleased that he could see the anger and annoyance spark through her as she inhaled deeply and slowly turn around to face him in full. “I will if that’s what it will take.”

Spencer’s gaze hardened.

“You don’t have the fucking guts.”

A brief moment passed as she took him in full, eyes flashing. Spencer raised his gaze, challenging, daring her, and then, the same, shadowed part of his mind was savagely happy that he had finally gotten a rise out of her, because she bit back with venom.

“Fucking try me.”

And then, he watched her warily as she visibly froze, then deflate, her jaw tightening and eyes welling with unshed tears as she stumbled backward to the door.

“But–but not like this. Not like this. I’m–I’m so sorry you didn’t–you don’t deserve…” Her voice was quiet, but it was hitched with a swirl of emotions Spencer couldn’t pinpoint, and he was suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m going–I’m going to go…” He heard the doorknob turn, and suddenly the sound of gunshots rang in his ears, and he could the taste the metallic bitterness as blood and dead brown eyes filled his vision.

Wait. Wai- She was halfway out the door when he called out, voice cracking, and through blurred tears he saw her shut the door and shuffled and stumbled back into the room toward him, kneeling in front of him. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the whispers of his name and the urgency of the apologies. And then his eyes fluttered closed when she reached up to brush the tears away, and the motion opened the floodgates. It was one of the many little touches they shared—thumbs wiping over cheeks and hands cupping faces—and he had half a mind to shove her aside, but dear God he hadn’t felt it in far too long; he leaned, almost desperately, into her touch and he could hear her sniffling back her own tears.

Fuck.

He was always like this.

His passive aggressiveness was his defense mechanism; he lashed out blindly whenever he felt vulnerable, not caring who he hurt and how much. It was something she had been helping him work through, and he thought he was getting better, but here he was, hurting her because of it again.

Not like this.

He barely noticed that she had pulled him into a tender hug, but now that he did process the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he wanted to push it away. He didn’t – he didn’t deserve this but now she was pulling back, and it sent a brief course of panic through his body, a fear that she was pulling away, away from him, away from the darkness and shadows that loomed permanently over him. He wouldn’t blame her, but–but…oh.

Her eyes always spoke volumes for her, and now that she had firmly tilted his chin up, her gaze firm, resolved.

“I know you are feeling vulnerable, and I know that you believe you can do this on your own.” She breathed in deeply. In turn he gazed up at her through his tears, as evenly as he could, and she met it without wavering. “You are strong, Spencer Reid, so, so strong, been so for so long. But…but I made a promise that I would always be by your side, and I’m never going to break it. So please.” Her voice hitched, and his breath caught in his throat. “Please, trust in me, one more time. Just one more time.”

Moments ticked by to the time of his heartbeat before he finally nodded, and the relief and the elation in her eyes soothed the dull pain inside his heart. This time, he drew her into his arms and into his lap and sighed as he leaned into the crook of her neck.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

-*-*-*-

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—Maya Angelou

-*-*-*-

[samwisethewitch]

a real witch reviews the arcana (aka that phone game based on tarot cards that keeps showing up on your explore page)

I’ve been seeing The Arcana all over Tumblr and Instagram for several months now, and since I am a Genuine Real Life Witch™️ and have been reading tarot for several years now, I thought it would be fun to play the game and review it both from a gamer perspective and a witch/tarot reader perspective. 

Spoiler: I really, really like it.

Please note that I have done virtually no research into the developer or development history of this game. This review is based purely on my experience from my playthroughs. 

So what is The Arcana?

The Arcana is a fantasy/romance visual novel created by Nix Hydra Games. A visual novel is an interactive, text-based story with static visuals, so it’s almost more like an interactive graphic novel than a video game. Honestly, visual novels remind me of those “Choose Your Own Adventure” books that were really popular in the 1980s and 1990s more than anything else. 

(Note: I recently learned that a visual novel is NOT the same thing as a dating sim, although the two genres are similar and do sometimes overlap. Dating sims... simulate dating. That’s really all there is to them. Visual novels typically have a more plot-focused story, and may have other stuff going on besides the romance.)

The story of The Arcana follows the player character, a magician’s apprentice living in the fictional city-state of Vesuvia, who is enlisted to track down a suspected murderer. Where the story goes from there depends on which route you choose to play. There are currently six routes, each with a different love interest. Each route has its own unique story, although obviously there are some overlapping elements.

Sam the Gamer’s Review

Like I mentioned, The Arcana is essentially an interactive novel, so I’m reviewing it the way I’d review a book. So, let’s just run down some of the typical book review questions, shall we?

Is the content good? Yes. It has gotta be difficult to juggle six parallel storylines and make all of them equally compelling, but this game pulls it off. There were parts that genuinely had me in suspense, other parts that had me giggling at my phone, and some parts that were (intentionally) frustrating. I’m really impressed with how each route is totally different from the others -- not just in content, but even in tone. For example, Portia’s route comes across as much more lighthearted and fluffy, whereas Julian and Muriel both have a lot of angst in their respective stories. It’s really well done.

Are the characters well-rounded and realistic? Again, yes. Okay, “realistic” may be a bit of a stretch in some cases Vlastomil but all six of the main romanceable characters have fleshed out personalities that feel natural within the story world. The side characters in this game are also really interesting, although I do wish some of them had bigger roles in the story.

What about the technical stuff (dialogue, grammar, etc.)? For the most part, it’s pretty good. The dialogue flows naturally, and different characters have different speaking styles, which is a little thing that makes SUCH a big difference. I noticed a couple of typos, but nothing too crazy.

The gameplay was pretty good. The only real mechanic is choosing one of two or three dialogue options at certain points in the game. There are a couple of places in each route where these choices are timed, but other than that it’s a very stress-free gaming experience.

Another thing that impresses me from both a writing and a gameplay angle is the multiple ending mechanic. Your choices matter in this game. Each of the routes has an “upright” ending and a “reversed” ending. I’m not exactly sure which choices affect the ending you get, but I’ve only managed to get “upright” endings so far, and I didn’t have to do anything special to unlock them.

Sam the Witch/Tarot Reader’s Review

Honestly, I did not expect this game to be as accurate with its depiction of magick and the Tarot as it was. 

Each character is based on one of the Major Arcana, and I feel like they did a really good job of matching their personalities to their cards. Nadia is based on the High Priestess so she’s very intuitive and intelligent but tends to be distant and hard to read, Julian is based on the Hanged Man so he feels the need to sacrifice himself for others (with lots of gallows humor along the way), Lucio is based on the Devil so he’s a fucking bitch all about power and excess, etc. 

I reeeeaaalllyy like the use of “upright” and “reversed” endings instead of the typical good vs. bad endings -- based on upright vs. reversed meanings of Tarot cards, of course. I also really love that the reversed endings aren’t 100% negative, just like how reversed cards in readings aren’t necessarily negative.

I don’t wanna spoil anything, but I also really like how the upright endings deal with the upright traits of that character’s Major Arcana card, while the reversed endings deal with the reversed traits of that card.

This game also includes some pretty realistic depictions of witchcraft and magick. Obviously because it’s a fantasy world there is fantasy magic involved, but astral travel is a major theme in pretty much every route, and the way it’s depicted in the game is very similar to my real life experiences with it. 

There’s one character who is a kitchen witch and makes homemade enchanted food with magickal herbs, which made me feel warm and fuzzy because it reminded me of all the times I’ve used kitchen magick to make charmed food for myself and my loved ones.

Tarot readings are obviously a big deal within the story world, but there’s also a character who uses runestones! Which I think is neat!!

They mention some real-life magickal plants. Myrrh being used for protection comes up a lot, which, in case anyone was curious, is actually one of the common uses for myrrh in spellcraft.

They clearly did their research and honestly I’m thrilled.

Other Cool Stuff About This Game

It’s probably the most queer-inclusive video game I’ve ever played. Right off the bat, you’re given the choice to choose between he/him, she/her, or they/them pronouns for your character. The pronouns you pick do not affect the story in any way.

All six love interests are romanceable no matter what gender you play as. Which means this is canonically a universe in which everyone is queer. Hell yeah.

Two of the six current romanceable characters are women, and one is nonbinary. The routes for these characters are just as well written and romantic, with just as many wink-wink-nudge-nudge innuendos, as the men’s. There are also multiple nonbinary side characters.

Also! Racial and ethnic diversity in the main cast! And the main characters all have different body types, which is another nice touch.

This is nerdy as hell but I love how the different cultures and ethnic groups in the game are based on real-life cultures? It’s just one of those little things that makes my heart happy.

The art style is pretty as fuck.

In conclusion: I feel like this review is overwhelmingly positive but I just genuinely can’t think of any major criticisms of this game. It’s fun, it’s free, there was clearly a lot of thought put into it. I was really pleasantly surprised. Everybody go download it and play it. You’ll have a good time, and afterwards you’ll understand all the memes.

P.S. I know people are gonna ask so: I chose Julian for my first playthrough because he’s tall and goth and has messy hair and that’s honestly all I look for in a man. Now that I’ve played all six routes, Portia’s is probably my favorite because it’s so cute and wholesome and I just really want a soft bookworm girlfriend, please. Lucio’s route is a close second because after seeing him as an antagonist in everyone else’s routes it’s actually really interesting to see his story told from a sympathetic angle! But like I said, I’ve played all six routes.

[stabletwooriginals]

CHAPTER FOUR: Perspective

LittlePip had the bright idea of looting a building she is way too underleveled for. That's not really a Gamer Joke, as FoE really does seem to take a lot of rules and mechanics from the Fallout games. But it's also funny.

Her opponents are the classic brain-bots we know from the games, made more horrifying with the simple detail of sounding like children. "Come on out. We only want to kill you for trespassing!" also reminds me of the turrets in Portal.

This is also where we get our first reference of the zebras as the enemy, via the intercom playing an ancient, automated message. Oh, and the first mention of the Minstry of Technology too!

The Mr. Handy equivalent of a plasma weapon is said to look like a unicorn's horn. That's cool.

While trying to escape on collapsing catwalks we get the first instance of self-levitation! That's a creative use of the canonical ability unicorns in the show possess. I'm not even sure if a unicorn levitaed *another* pony in season 1. But I think they never levitated themselves? This also gave me flashbacks (or rather flashforwards) to all the cool stuff LittlePip can do later with her levitation, I'm excited to get there.

 Oh fuck me with Celestia's forehooves!

The first instance of a PipSwear! Now, I love them. They are iconic. But heck, gosh, darn it if they don't sound awkward when said out loud. Which kinda makes them not work as swears, in my opinion. But for me, they are dumb fun and sometimes that's enough. Her remark that she picked these exploitives up from the raiders is a nice touch. That she keeps them up and builds on them is all her, though.

IRONSHOD FIREARMS How do you like *them* apples?   I didn't get it.

So, I am not a native English speaker. I know this saying, but I was curious where it comes from. *Apparently* that's not really known, but according to this article the phrase was used like this in 1895 already. However, it was also used to refer to anti-tank granades in World War I, for their apple-like appearence. Since granades also look like apples in FoE, I will take the risk and say that I think I do get Ironshod Firearms' slogan.

The anti zebra propaganda found in the factory overmare office is both creative and glossed over. The slogan ("Better Wiped than Striped! Join the Equestrian Forces Today!") is heavily reminicient of the German rhymes of similiar racist nature from the world wars. And the depiction of the zebras as some dark creatures with evil glowing eyes is over the top, but only a reread might reveal this as the neon sign it is, as the zebras have not yet been introduced as the enemy force properly.

In the overmares office Littlepip finds a ton of useful items, from spark batteries , a StealthBuck and gum (which could be the first instance of MintAls, altough not called such, as LittlePip doesn’t know them yet (and if they aren’t, she finds some later in this chapter in an abandoned camp under a bridge), to the one, the only: little macintosh. This revolver will become LittlePips iconic weapon that she keeps until the very end of the story. Presumably made for or at least by Applejack, so this also gives Littlepip a neat little tie to one of the original shows main characters.

Hacking the terminal LittlePip discovers that she could have opened the safe she picked with a bobby pin remotely from there. Intentionally or not, this is a dig at Fallout 3′s design philosophy of giving you several ways to open locks, making only learning one of them enough, while skilled characters are left feeling a bit overqualified.

Leaving Ironshod Firearms, LittlePip admits to having given up on finding Velvet for now and being set on just exploring the world instead. Again, very Fallout 3 in my book.

Past a playground that became a graveyard for little ponies (dark!), she finds a “Sparkle~Cola” vending machine. This becomes LittlePips favorite drink and when I first read it, I was super happy about that for some reason. The book keeps mentioning how she sipps on carroty cola sometimes and every time I remember thinking it was a fun detail. I have no idea why.

Resting on a bench closeby we get a description of this poster:

(Art by Droakir - DeviantArt)

First mention of the Ministry of Morale, first instance of Pinkie Pie and a really fun description of how her graying mane makes it look like a candy cane. Like the poster on the zebras, this is also great, classic propaganda writing. Obviously it is a reference to the episode Green Isn’t Your Color, but while I feel that it is referencing some real life propaganda, I do not know a specific one.

Watcher suddenly is back, helpfully explaining that the MoM is “another well-meaning idea that was so much better on scroll.” What a fitting description of pre-war politics in FoE.

Getting jumped makes LittlePip call back to the slaver, that complained about sprite-bots sneaking up on ponies. If I recall correctly this will be one of the biggest sources of fun in FoE: Callbacks like this, that help paint the world in your mind by connecting the dots for you. Im certain some find this aspect annoying, as they rather enjoy doing that work themselves, but as a casual reader (of a very long story) I always welcomed it. I will also stop pointing them out from here on, unless they strike me remarkable in other ways.

A quick reminder of the raider armor she is wearing and some foreshadowing how it makes her look like “a nightmare pony”, before Watcher offers that she needs to find her virtue. This will be as important as in the original show, but also almost take LittlePip until the end of the story to really figure it out. Right now, she doesn’t quite believe him and his connection to the sprite-bot drops. Now we get a different voice from the radio the sprite-bots play, when Watcher is not in control of them. Similiar to President Eden of the Enclave in Fallout 3. This however, is Red-Eye, altough not named yet, giving a motivational speech about the posibility of rebuilding Equestria. Naturally, this confuses LittlePip even further, having seen no trace of any leaders or reconstruction efforts.

Well, technically she has seen slavers, so, unbeknownst to her, she actually has seen a part of Red-Eyes plan.

But it gives her the idea to look for settlements and actually finds one in the distance. A undamaged looking caravan is moving away from it, all in all a great disovery.

While a fun and memorable scene in itself, what follows is meant to reflect a corner stone of LittlePips character. As she approaches the settlement she gets mistaken for a raider by her barding and shot at. Remembering the caravan she collects her strength and stands up to her agressor, threatening to kill them if they attack the others. This reveals the misunderstanding -- her attacker thought she was endangering the caravan -- and LittlePip exits the chapter loosing consiousness from her insuries.

Footnote: Level Up. New Perk: Egghead -- You will add +2 skill points each time you gain a new experience level.

What a chapter! While it might feel like not much happened, so many pivital and iconic elements were introduced here. Even if a lot weren’t named yet. Like Calamity! It does feel weird that LittlePip just admits on giving up on Velvet like that, though. On my first read I didn’t mind, because I just enjoyed how similiar the experience felt to playing Fallout 3, which I liked more than any other entry at the time. Now it seems odd, but there are a lot of other things to focus on and enjoy in this and the coming chapters.

[writer-dreams]

Love Potion (Part 5) (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Part 5 is here now!!!! I'm sorry for the wait!! I hope all if you enjoy!

Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / End

Update Tags: @celestialceci @marvelobsessedteen @imaginesforthepeople @danidomm @marvelrose @vogueworthy-barnes @glossysoph @stevesvibraniumshield @bi-mama @fiveisadorable @paulalucianap1 @drama-llama-04 @mellow-delight @hahaboop @awesomehannaha @stantalentstanclc @queenskyster @outsider-underwater @babebenhardy @imaginespnr5er @riddikuluslypotter @pitkins @bughug1999 @drawlfoy @onyxbunny22 @sorgenprinzessin @vivianhuynh77 @dauntlessdracarys

House: You choose

Blood Status: You choose

Warnings: Possible swearing

Note: The reader in this story is female / uses female pronouns

Word Count: 2,514 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd Person POV

Day 5

Y/n walked out of the common room, feeling much better after a refreshing night’s sleep. She was glad that there were no classes today, which offered her some time to relax after the horrendous situation yesterday. Y/n scowled at the thought of Pansy. She was going to kill that pug-faced twat one day. Oh, that wench was going to get it someday- Caught up in her thoughts, she crashed into the hard chest of someone. Blinking rapidly in confusion, she looked up and noticed those familiar grey eyes and infamous blonde hair. Draco.

Draco grinned cheekily at her. "Hello, Love. How are you feeling this morning?"

"Oh, fine. My head has stopped spinning and I feel stable enough to be able to walk around properly."

"It’s good to hear that. I was actually looking for you anyway. Walk with me?" Draco asked, flashing a charming smile at her and extending a hand towards her. Y/n’s heart fluttered at his sweet smile, but she managed to return a small grin and placed her hand inside his. Maybe in the beginning of this, she would have been disgusted at even the thought of touching him, but now....it felt almost pleasant to do so.

She thought about how much she despised him in the beginning, and her new-found adoration for him. She wasn’t in love with him, but she wouldn’t mind being friends with him.

Draco ended up dragging her to the black lake. The water gleamed a deep shade of blue, concealing all the creatures that lurked below the surface. The bright sun already high in the cloudless sky, showering them in warm light.

"What are we doing here?" Y/n asked curiously.

Draco gestured towards the large wooden pier that overlooked the lake. He then tugged on her arm and pulled her towards it, like a child excitedly dragging someone to see their greatest creation. The old wood creaked under their feet but Draco didn’t seem concerned. He took a seat at the end of the pier, swinging his legs over the edge. He then looked at her to do the same. She sat down next to him, feeling oddly comfortable in his presence. She felt Draco’s warm hand rest of top of hers but she didn’t pull away. His grey eyes stared intently into her (e/c) orbs.

"Merlin, Y/n. I’m so glad you’re alright." Draco stated.

"Me too, Draco. I don’t think I can thank you enough for saving my life. I owe you." Y/n replied sincerely.

"You don’t owe me anything, Love." Draco took her hand in his as he placed a soft kiss against the back of her hand.

The moment was ruined when the pair heard some footsteps. The loud steps were accompanied by an obnoxious voice that caused Y/n to roll her eyes.

Not again.

"Drakie-Poo! Why do you constantly choose someone like her over me??" The annoyingly high-pitched voice of Pansy Parkinson whined.

"Excuse me, Pug-Face? I’ve had just about enough of you and your jealousy. How many brain cells does it take to understand that he’s not interested? Clearly, you prove it takes more than one."

Pansy’s face twisted into a snarl and she quickly turned to Y/n. She opened her mouth to retort but Draco quickly cut her off.

"Parkinson," He said Pansy’s name in such a cold, hostile manner that Y/n felt shivers run down her spine. "What the hell are you doing here? After what happened last time, I’m surprised you still have the guts to come near us."

"Draco, you have to believe me. She’s drugged you or cast a hex on you or something! Don’t you remember how much you despised her?! How much you hated the very sight of her in the same corridor as you?" Pansy cried out.

Y/n averted her gaze down to the floor. Pansy wasn’t completely off with her accusation. Technically, she had drugged Draco with a love potion. He didn’t really love her, it was all because of a stupid potion. This whole situation was changing her perspective of Draco. She was beginning to fall for a fake version of the blonde-haired prat.

"What is with your obsession with me and Y/n? Even creepier, you claim that I’ve been spelled to fall in love with her? How dare you! You’re just as annoying as Saint Potter. Now leave us be, Parkinson, or I will have my father know about this!" Draco snapped at Pansy.

Pansy gazed down at her black shoes. Her fists were shaking violently at her sides, as if she were trying to keep herself from shouting at Draco. She looked back up and her eyes were filled with pure hatred as she threw a burning look at Y/n.

"I’ve tried everything. I’ve been by your side since forever, I’ve supported you through everything. All of a sudden this twat waltzes into your life and you’ve fallen for her?! Where have all my efforts taken me?!" Pansy said through gritted teeth.

Draco rolled his eyes and nudged Y/n slightly. She looked back at him to see him getting up and walking towards the castle, his back turned to Pansy. "Come on, Y/n. Let’s just leave."

"I pushed her off the Quidditch stands for you!" Pansy shouted before gasping and covering her mouth with her hands quickly.

Draco stopped walking immediately, his whole body visibly stiffening. He slowly turned back around, his bangs covering his eyes.

"What did you do?" He hissed.

Pansy didn’t answer. She stood completely still, as if afraid that the slightest movement from her would cause him to attack. Her stance reminded Y/n of a deer caught in a headlight. Draco switched his gaze to Y/n, who was slightly taken aback by the intensity of his grey eyes.

"Is that true?" He asked slowly. Y/n could see he was trying to restrain himself from lashing out at the Slytherin girl. Pansy looked at Y/n with pleading eyes, begging her not to tell the truth. Y/n knew she couldn’t lie to him and Pansy didn’t really deserve to be saved from Draco’s wrath. She hesitantly nodded, watching as Pansy’s knees buckled slightly, a defeated look in her eyes.

With an enraged look, Draco swiveled back to Pansy, his wand whipped out and pointing threateningly at her. Even then, Pansy refused to move from her spot.

"I can tolerate you annoying us and interrupting our dates. However, I can not tolerate you trying to kill my girlfriend." Draco brought his wand closer to Pansy, who was still frozen with fear, "I wish I could say that this will not bring me great happiness."

With a wicked smirk, Draco shouted, "Densaugeo!" A purple light shot out of his wand and hit Pansy directly in the face. Pansy cried out from the impact and fell to the ground, screaming as she covered her mouth. From between Pansy’s twitching fingers, Y/n could clearly see that Pansy’ teeth were growing longer and longer. She looked almost like a demented kind of beaver. The Slytherin girl scrambled from the ground and rushed towards the hospital wing. Watching the girl’s form grow smaller and smaller, Y/n ran towards Draco and pinched him roughly on the arm. The Slytherin Prince let out a yelp, pulling his bicep out of her grip.

"What was that for?"

"How could you be so foolish? I understand that you only wished to protect me but you’ll be expelled for hexing her!" Y/n cried. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much if he was expelled or not.

"Oh, relax. Pansy would never want to get me expelled. She cares too much," Draco said, "Even if I don’t."

"I’m also sorry that I couldn’t do more." Draco continued, "I want to hurt her even worse than I already have but her family’s part of the Scared Twenty-Eight."

"It’s alright. I think you’ve done enough." Y/n smiled, "Now let’s just enjoy the rest of today."

Draco nodded, allowing himself to be dragged back to the pier. The pair sat down together, back in their original position. Y/n then leaned over and rested her head on Draco’s shoulder, admiring the water. Draco didn’t seem to mind and pulled her body closer to his. Y/n’s mind was swimming with questions. Why was she feeling so comfortable around him? Why did her heart feel so fluttery? Why was she literally leaning on him? Her mind screamed at her to get off of him, though her body didn’t move. Y/n silenced her thoughts, just wanting to enjoy the calming sight of the lake.

"Ah! I’ve almost forgotten!" Draco snapped his fingers, sitting up straight and rummaging through his uniform’s pockets. He then pulled out a crumbled piece of paper, unfolding it and holding it out in front of him. Y/n squinted her eyes to look at the words through the paper in the light. She could make out Draco’s fancy and neat handwriting, though she couldn’t actually read the words that were written. The blonde male caught her stare and flipped the page over so that she could see.

"It’s a poem." Draco smiled at her from the top of the paper. He flipped the paper back before clearing his throat and reciting the poem.

"(Y/n), we haven’t been together for long,

Yet, I feel obligated to write you a song.

To confess the deep affections I hold for you,

And I hope you feel the same way too.

This may seem quick, yet I know you are the one.

You may scoff at me, but my heart cannot be stolen by just anyone.

My feelings for you have changed so much,

Switched with a simple touch.

This love you have given me is a drug,

Intoxicating, addicting and given by hugs.

I assure you that my love for you is not fake,

No, there has been no mistake.

A goblet of pumpkin juice,

Raised to you in truce.

You return the gesture, as if it was planned,

A cup of (f/d) in your hand.

I love everything about you,

I could not say anything more true.

I love how clever you are or how beautiful you always look,

Merlin, if I could write it all down, I’d write a bloody book.

Know that this is no joke.

Your love envelops me like an invisibility cloak.

We’ve stitched our love together with needles and red thread,

It’s about time we’ve set aside our differences and learned to accept them instead.

The world has given me such an amazing girlfriend.

I never want our time together to end.

Love is often called weak, useless, something you should not feel.

You have shown me the hidden strength that love has concealed.

Potions class was where our love first began,

If I were to leave it now, I’d be a mad man.

I wrote this poem for you, filled with endless rhyme,

To show that I love you, (Y/n), until the end of time."

Her heart swelled as he finished. Without thinking, she gave him a tight hug, feeling his body shake as he laughed lightly. Coming back to her senses, she released Draco, feeling slightly embarrassed. She wondered why this poem filled her with happiness while the first poem had disgusted her. What had changed? She used to gag at such a sappy poem, why was she suddenly feeling like she was flying? Why did her heart skip a beat whenever she looked into Draco’s grey eyes? Why did she feel completed whenever she was with him?

She was brought back to reality when she felt Draco kiss her cheek. He pulled back with a grin.

"Did you like it?"

Did she like it? Yes, very much. Even if it was written by Draco, Y/n wasn’t really bothered by that fact anymore. Nobody had ever wrote her a poem, as cheesy as they’ve been. Draco had been the only person to do that.

"Yes." She breathed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They spent a few more hours at the lake, enjoying each other’s company. Although Y/n didn’t want to admit it, she truly did enjoy the date. (She also refused to call it a date). The sun was beginning to set, changing the sky from bright blue to a beautiful mix of yellows, oranges, pinks, and purples. Y/n’s eyes began to feel heavy as she watched the sun disappear behind the mountains.

"Tired?" Draco asked.

Y/n nodded, causing Draco to shift over to allow her to lay her head in his lap. He took off his robe and wrapped it around her like a blanket.

"Sleep." Draco whispered.

Y/n didn’t need to argue, as she found that she was quickly losing consciousness. Before she fell asleep, she let one last set of thoughts ring through her head.

You do realize this is fake right? This side of Draco, this feeling, it’s all fake.

I know, but I’ve already fallen in too deep.

**********************************************

Hello everyone! The long-awaited Part 5 is finally completed. I'm extremely sorry that it took so long. I really hope that this met your expectations. The poem was probably one of the most difficult things to write, though I pushed through because I wanted poems to be a special thing in this series. I'll try my best to be more on time with Part 6. Thank you for reading. Until next time.

-Jade

[aotopmha]

Attack On Titan Chapter 115 Thoughts

Yeah, looking at the full chapter, Levi isn't dead.

This is frustrating to me for various reasons.

Levi's face is smashed in and it looks like one of his hands is probably unusable, as it seems like fingers were blown off of it and are stuck on the blade he was using:

Hange also dives into the water with him - with that kind of setup, I think it would feel off if he died here.

He might eventually, but that wouldn't feel as weighty to me anymore because he already survived here.

In addition, if Levi dies or survives without having any effect on the plot from here on out, all this dangling of his fate and the cliffhangers were pointless and just there for shock value to keep the readers coming back.

My least favorite part of the serum fight at the end of the Return to Shiganshina arc was how contrived it was. Both, but particularly Armin, surviving that long felt like a pretty big stretch and I think we see some of that here with Levi, too. I think his survival is a pretty big stretch because he took the Thunder Spear head on.

We know the Ackermans could possibly have healing powers since we had a possible hint like that with Mikasa back in chapter 51, so Levi could end up having this kind of healing and it could somehow save him:

We also now know they are products of Titan science, so it would "make sense", but it all still reeks of character favoratism and flies in the face of one of my favorite thematic ideas of the story: the idea that all of the lives of the characters are equally valuable and each character is treated the same way regardless of how major or minor they are. 

Unlike Levi, Armin, for example, was involved in a choice (so either way, one had to go), while this was an individual moment for only Levi alone, singling him out narrative-wise. Most of the big survival moments (Eren, Ymir, Reiner) were also related to Titan powers, making it all specifically dependant on the narrative element of the Titans and leaving the human aspect fairly grounded, only mostly limiting the impossibilities to the Titans. The serum was there the whole arc and the Titans/shifters have specific established abilities that might be twisted and turned, but are still consistent and related to prior abilities.

Armin surviving wasn't as much of a favoratism-filled of a moment to me because of these aspects (the reach/contrivance came from how the situation was set up to me, rather than the components and content of it because it went against the more grounded way of how regular human characters were treated, and I think the only other time this was stretched to it’s limits was with Erwin in chapter 50), but I also don't think Levi is a nearly as well-developed or potential-filled of a character to merit giving him more chances. I think interesting stuff could still be done with Armin and we see glimpses of that, but I don't see much of that with Levi - I think most of the potential in his character was wringed out in the Uprising arc.

He softened up and became more of a protector figure and we saw the results of that in the Return to Shiganshina arc.

Thematically, the contrast between Zeke and Levi was neat, but it was also the general contrast between the SL and Marley. Levi keeping his promise and killing the Beast Titan is also something that the whole SL (specifically those that aren't in fractions working against them at this point) is fighting for in a general sense - it’s one of the SL’s general principles that they fight to make sure all of the sacrifices made by soldiers that came before could have meaning.

There isn't much going on for Levi *specifically*. Anyone could avenge Erwin or defeat Zeke because it would have the same thematic meaning regardless of who does it.

The counter-argument to this would be that Levi had the most fleshed-out relationship with Erwin, but that doesn't really translate to actually doing anything new or interesting with his character.

Plot-wise I can accept him healing, but not completely regenerating. Again, in comparison, I think the Titan stuff with Zeke is also just fine because he actually is a shifter (and has the Founding Titan power at that, the most special of them all) and the whole point of the story and the Titans is that we don't know much about them - not even the characters that know the most about them don't know everything.

This is why I was okay with Reiner surviving in the Shiganshina arc, too. The characters and, by proxy, we, didn’t know everything about his and the others’ powers, that was the point. Their survivals are, again, dependant on the established rules of the Titan element of the series. You could argue there may have also been some reaching with these cases (Reiner in the Shiganshina arc and Zeke here), too, but it is also backed by smart plotting in a different sense - by the fundemental plot design of the series, which is actually a unexpectedly thoughtful detail when it comes to writing.

Many stories don’t actually make the inherit plot structure of the story as part of the thematic point of the story, and you could still see it as an cheap excuse, but I always appreciate whenever that happens because I feel like it shows the writer’s self-awareness and that they are actually thinking about the story and how it would have as few holes as possible. It might seem cheap on the surface, but it’s also smart in it’s own way.

Moving on, though, technically the Ackermans are related to the Titans, but the connection seems to be intended to be pretty loose, so anything that reveals a bigger similarity than just a vague connection automatically feels like a reach to get the plot where it needs to go to me.

I have that problem with the more magical-leaning abilities of the Titans, too - how did we get from regeneration and creating armour to memory manipulation and rewriting the DNA of a whole race?

If they actually turn out to be the same, this is another huge reach and something I am getting tired of - at this point, every Eldian might as well turn out to be a super soldier because they all have a loose connection to the Titans. I could deal with some of the reaches because they were exceptions and they weren’t as big leaps of logic. If these exceptions grow numerous, I can't believe in any of the established rules of the story anymore, be it the point of the plotting or not. There has to be some rhyme and reason to everything from a storytelling POV. 

On the other hand, though, I love AoT's wierd and grotesque imagery and along with that we got some possible details about the Titans, specifically the “paths” cleared up. The whole scene of Zeke regenerating with the help of the mindless Titan was really interesting, nasty and creepy.

I think it also makes it much more likely that Ymir could actually be alive by the end of the story.

Since not being absorbed into a Titan requires willpower and all Eldians are part of a big Titan "mass", the “paths” could work like Evangelion's LCL where a strong will allows the person to not be absorbed into this giant hivemind and remain their own person - it seems something like an invisible network of all of the Titan Shifters and mindless Titans of the past, present and future, maybe even all Eldians - though that's a less certain possibility to me. We know the matter that appears when the shifter transforms also comes from that network (as we learn from Kruger first and for now have confirmed by Xaver):

(Chapter 114)

How the matter is stored, created or appears at all is another thing entirely, but I feel like that’s how the “paths” thing works in the basics, looking at everything we know as of this chapter. So because they are all technically of the same flesh, the mindless Titan could reform Zeke’s body.

Basically, if her death wasn't a fakeout, Ymir (or any other shifter) might technically be able reform themselves, given a strong enough will and presence of appropriate flesh. The current shifters fighting the wills of the previous ones to be reformed back to their own bodies has always been a interesting idea with a bunch of character development/exploration potential to me - such as Eren fighting with the First King/his father/Frieda/Kruger/Tybur (man, he has like 5 people in there at this point), Armin fighting with Bertholdt, Ymir fighting with Porco and so on.

If it’s not something like this specifically, then I feel like these details would be relevant somehow anyway.

Finally, we have the Eren stuff. While talking with Zeke, he basically goes against everything he believed in prior to the development of his more pragmatic perspective.

It's either his father's memories and the moment in the cave having more of an effect on him than we thought or judging by his calm demeanor, him actually appealing to Zeke and manipulating him. In both cases he needs to be smacked.

In the former case, it's him agreeing with Zeke because of his hyperfocus on the moment he went through in the cave and Eren not really having truly grown past it.

In the latter case, I think his plan might actually be to rewrite the Eldians so they wouldn't have the Titan ability anymore.

One steals even more of the freedom of the Eldian people from them by denying their continued existence. The other takes away their only ability to protect themselves against the much better technology of the rest of the world and lessens their chance of survival even more, even if it removes the Titans from the world.

I think Mikasa, Armin and everyone else have to reach Eren and return the favor he did for them - telling him to fight again.

Also, hi there Pieck, I'm curious what you're planning to do.

This was a pretty alright chapter - I wish Levi died because I think it would've been a much better writing choice in comparison to the options we have now - if he dies later, I feel like it wouldn’t have the same weight, if he miraculously recovers, it's a massive stretch, if he is injured and gets no plot importance from this point on, this was all pointless shock value drama and if he pulls some miracle stunts while injured, it's also a pretty big stretch.

I think a swift death by the hands of Zeke would've been much more thematically powerful and interesting in comparison to the alternatives we seem to have now.

The most optimal option with the current situation I see is Levi mattering in a stealthy way - with a seemingly small action that matters a lot.

I guess prove me wrong and make this good, AoT, you've done it before.

I found everything else pretty interesting, though.

This back and forth between who is manipulating who between Eren and Zeke is the longest, most dragged-out seesaw game ever. It drags, but I still want to know where it eventually goes.

It might be Eren still not having moved past his moment in the cave or it might be him manipulating Zeke. These are the two options I see, but I’m not entirely sure which I lean towards because both have some holes. Maybe slightly more towards the first option because I feel like his talk with Zeke is more consistent with his talk in the cave, but I’m not sure.

The details about the paths through the Zeke scene were nice and actually did possibly tie up some loose ends about how the Titans work, just like all the info in the previous chapter.

This is such a strange chapter to me as a result. Great, interesting stuff and not so great stuff together and much of it's quality also being dependant on how it all pans out in the long run.

We'll see.

[techmomma]

A Little Perspective

Perspective is a tricky, fickle fairy to master. Our entire lives are lived in perspective, we see it from the day we’re born. We know what’s far, near, middling, when something is above or below us, we’ve seen perspective since the day we were born, we’ve seen it longer than we’ve known what hands and eyes look like—the things most artists know that even small mistakes can spell disaster for.

Which is why when perspective is off in an image, we know. Even if we’re not good at perspective, we know. Which is part of why perspective is such a tricky, tricksy principle to master.

In order to master perspective, you must have a solid foundation in the facets and aspects of perspective. Different types of perspective, vanishing points, horizon lines, everything. Your tower will fall without a foundation.

How do you build a foundation? With the basics. And yes. That goes for you advanced artists too (like me!!). This is the same shit that every artist has to go over, again and again and again.

Until you die. Or stop doing art. Whichever comes first.

So what is the first element to master when learning perspective? That, dear readers, is the humble…

Dot.

Open a sketch page, be it digital or traditional, and make a dot.

Congratulations, you’ve mastered the first element of perspective.

The dot on your sketchpage represents what is called a vanishing point, or sometimes a point of convergence. The vanishing point is the point at which two parallel lines will converge in the distance, or essentially, the farthest your eyes can see. (Not really, but for the sake of learning this aspect before I introduce horizon lines, you can consider it so.) Fun fact: in real life, if you stand on ground that is perfectly flat, that distance is actually about five miles! Go about 100 feet up and that distance increases to about 20 miles. Neat!

Now what I’d like you to do is around the dot, somewhere on the page, draw three shapes, or polygons. A square, a triangle, and a circle. Anywhere on the page, just make sure they have some breathing room, like this.

Something like that will do. Plenty of room for each, we aren’t going to get overlap.

Now we’re going to give these shapes depth. These are going to be 3D shapes, with their flat faces toward us, and their back halves receding into the distance. So what you’re going to do is head to that triangle. Now I want you to draw a line from each vertex (corner) to the vanishing point. And do the same with the square, while you’re at it. Leave the circle alone, we’ll get to that one later. You should have an image sorta like this now, with lots of lines.

Those lines are going to help determine the edges of the forms you’re making! You actually have a 3D shape here, one that extends way out into the distance! It’s transparent right now, because you can see the secret edge that you wouldn’t be able to see normally, if these shapes were opaque. Watch what happens when I make the line on that secret edge dotted.

Does it look 3D now? Just watch for now. How about if I delete that back line entirely?

Yeah, lots more 3D! I’ll  make those lines black…

Oh those definitely look like 3D shapes now! Receding off into the distance! Now, obviously, there aren’t many blocks that recede off for miles into the distance, right? So let’s shorten these down. Pick an arbitrary spot somewhere along the long side of the triangular prism, and make a line from edge to edge--making sure it’s parallel from the corresponding edge on the triangle. Do it again for the square shape, making sure your new lines are connected.

Now erase some of the lines from those new corners you made, all the way down to the vanishing point.

Now we have polyhedrons! 3D objects! Objects that are in perspective! All of these objects are actually parallel to each other: you’d see it if you looked at them from a top-down perspective! The reason their lines appear to converge in the distance is the same reason that you can look at a straight street or pair of railroad tracks for miles, extending into the horizon, and the lines eventually appear to converge at a point. 

But that same street is going to look like this from above. They never actually converge! This is the illusion of depth.

Going back to our shapes! 

“Ah, but what about circle friend there?” you ask. No, circle is not a friend. Circle is the shitlord who steals your money in a backalley and leaves you minus a kidney. Circle is an asshole.

Circle is already technically in perspective, but what we’re going to do is make a cylinder. A long tube-y thing, you know them from using them to whap people after you’ve used all the wrapping paper. Traditionally, you would use a ruler to find the tangent point of the circle to create the “edge” of the cylinder. Now you can use an actual jpeg of a ruler like I did here.

But most digital programs these days have a line tool, and you can just put one point on the vanishing point, and extend the other out past the circle and move it around until the line and circle intersect, like this.

And erase some of the line extending past the circle.

WOO! We have a cylinder extending into the distance past our sight!

But… now what do we do to shorten it? That requires getting around circle’s asshole nature. We can do this in a digital program by duplicating the circle, and shrinking it down. (In a traditional setting, you’d need to eyeball the angle of the circle’s curve.) After you’ve shrunk it down some, move it so that the circumference is touching the lines headed to the vanishing point, in two places, like this.

That’s actually what you were doing, drawing those lines to shorten the cube and triangular prism way back at the beginning! You were making duplicate planes of the faces... facing us. You were making another 2D square, and a 2D triangle.

Now just erase some of those lines, like you did before with the square and triangle.

Look!! You have a cylinder! A transparent cylinder!

Now to make it a fully opaque 3D object, like the square and triangle, go to the smaller circle and erase some of it. It’s a little harder to tell with a cylinder where to erase, so here are the dotted lines showing the obscured parts.

Now let’s erase those obscured lines fully.

Ta-da! We just created a 3D cylinder, in correct perspective!! Cylinders are hard!! 

Honestly, a lot of perspective stuff is typically learned traditionally with rulers and pencils and string and imo, physically handling and learning perspective in such a way was super helpful and informative for me. That really taught me how to do perspective and I highly suggest starting out with pencil, paper, and a ruler, if you can. If not, that’s okay! There’s still lots of ways to learn.

Repetition is also key here. You have to build muscle and brain memory with perspective. I recommend doing this practice a good ten, fifteen more times, until you really start to get a feel for this! And do it every day, for a week. Or y’know, five times every day for three weeks. Do different, simple shapes, like rectangles, more squares, triangles, and when you get comfortable, try for things like pentagons, stars, plus signs, diamonds, crescents, so on and so forth.

If you have questions or you did this exercise and you’re just not getting it, or did this exercise and would like to see if you did it correctly, please do feel free to visit my inbox! I’m always happy to help.

Next will be horizon lines and one-point perspectives!