#is so weird on a psychological level

[sinnbaddie]

To say that Kakashi and Gai’s relationship (talking solely platonic rn) was mostly about him helping Kakashi cope with the loss of Obito is disingenuous to Kakashi and all of his relationships.

Any person is going to be traumatized after seeing someone — much less their teammate — be crushed to death under a rock. Kakashi is shown to be someone susceptible to depression due to 1. His environment 2. His initial beliefs and 3. His genetic line. Of course his life is going to be centered around one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, romanticizing it is so hurtful to his character because it destroyed him - and if Kishimoto actually cared about expanding other character relationships instead of making a “generational duo that falls apart” + wasn’t a misogynistic writer, Rin’s death would be the bigger influence on his life than Obito’s.

Yes, Gai had to help him numerous times in his grief but it wasn’t solely or even mainly about Obito. Rin was an absolute vital point in Kakashi’s downfall into chaos. The self harm he inflicted upon himself, the self hatred, the self shame. He became a whole different person after he was forced to kill her. I would say Kakashi’s father Sakumo is by far the biggest influence on him. He wouldn’t have needed any speech of “your father was a hero” by Obito if it wasn’t for Sakumo. His personality of today is thanks to his father’s own death.

Gai and Kakashi’s friendship is almost entirely about them when they’re in scenes together. Look at the chunin exams, look at any scene in the land of steam arc, look at their race, etc. naturally there will be grief the two bring to the relationship and it’s on them to work it out separately, together and with other people which did happen.

You’re actively ignoring every other character that has shaped and formed who Kakashi is by saying Obito is the biggest and only reason he is who he is. Gai is one of the strongest reasons why Kakashi is as motivated and strong as he is. Kakashi would’ve absolutely died at some point in (general) anbu if Gai didn’t pull him out and he was slipping so far when he was in it because of Rin and Minato.

Kakashi’s heart does not “belong” to Obito because he’s in love with Obito and can’t get over him, his heart belongs to the people he loves because that’s who Kakashi is at his core - a lover. He’s a person who cares so deeply, even for people he doesn’t necessarily like or get along with.

Kakashi is a person who is shaped by everybody in his life, that’s why he is one of the best written Naruto characters. He feels like a real person because real people are influenced by everyone in their life, in every way. It’s unfortunate to see those who call themselves Kakashi fans only to mischaracterize, limit and erase the bonds he was written to have to prop up one single bond for your ship.

Do you care for this character? His themes, parallels, relationships and writing? or is he just a placeholder / self insert for shipping content?

[dykedvonte]

Oh man, now that would be a really interesting au to explore! Manifesting a Polle shaped poltergeist kinda thing to get his own ass. Intriguing!

It just like, its so typical horror that the game avoids doing but what if.

What if what he had to be convinced it wasn't all in his head? What that fucking centipede thing was in the vent? What if Daisuke got sent in there with it? What is zygote Polle was always in the corner of his eye. It's a reminder of his sanity, the part of him that does feel bad in some small self-centered way.

It doesn't actively hate the others or even have a reason to hurt them other than it messing with Jimmy. He doesn't care but it's like his conscious forcing him to listen. He can't pin this on anyone else if he's the only one who can see it at first. It's meant to take away some of his agency, insisting things he would usually but it's not him. His actions aren't his own and possibly even his words.

It's subjecting him to himself in the worst way possible and its beautifully karmic as it is tragic and horrifying to the rest of the crew.

[crumbleclub]

There's this weird and very gory French + Canadian film called Martyrs (exercise caution when looking it up in terms of images if that stuff freaks you out) and the basic concept is like. Some cult trying to understand what happens after death by bringing people to the brink of it in the most traumatic and agonizing ways possible. And I just realized that that's really some William Afton shit, both for the original motive and for remnant extraction.

(Accidentally wrote an essay in the tags so, ah. Read those I guess)

[angy-grrr]

I can never understand men who whine constantly about how mistreated they are, but then turn around and spew the most vile bullshit to their peers and perpetuate it everywhere without an ounce of shame or self awareness. The gross reaction to the mha ending is such a clear exemple of that in fandom.

Izuku must be punished for not getting the girl, and that makes him weak for not trying harder. Bc boys need to have riches and fuck around or they're worthless losers.

And Ochako must be punished as well bc she never wanted to become his trophy wife. Bc girls need it to be worth a damn, otherwise they're ungrateful whores.

But oh hahaha dw it was just a joke guys. Do you get it. Do you get it yet.

Ask from august 16th

They dont even like the the characters lmao what are they doing here

[lanafemme]

:”)

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Had a huge day full of seminars in college today, some were great, some were good and than there was the crazy Instagram lady that came in to talk about how to market and sell your therapy sessions and kept forgeting psychologists can't post about their clients nor cases (and this includes familiar enough descriptions that they could be recognized by). So she just gave a bunch of tips about how to market our patients, was correct and keept going. She made some other coments (some good, some insane, some generalizations [i refused to go to a psychiatrist my therapist personally recomended and I could aford because he didn't had Instagram and I'm sure u'all would do the sane]) but the fact she deeply insisted we commited a crime (and a huge huge huge ethics violation that would certainly make we lose our licenses and get sued and is just icky on general and very harmfull) because her dentist clients post their cases was amazing.

P.S: But for real the "literature analisys as a tool for bibliographic psychological research (aka the relations between psychilgy and literature)" and the "studies of despersonalization in social psychology" were phenomenal and while not really my area the presentation about Young's Scheme Theory was also great.

P.S.2: For some reason they made people sing the national anthem. A thing me and my friends pointedly refused because what the fuck and I don't believe in patriotism.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

like i literally am obsessed with maybe the perfect old man for me specifically to be obsessed with. like it's so perfect and aligns so well ! it's a miracle, a coincidence, a blessing, a phenomenon. it's almost like there's a reason i like him so much or something!i

[weirdalienfrommars]

No idea why I wanted this but I got and now have it.

May I learn more the human brain and how it functions.

(Mind you, I'm not taking a psychology course yet, so I have little need for it.)

[cloudbends]

I've been in a pretty bad headspace for the past week but it mostly made me realize that what was before just "oh I love this little catholic guilt ridden bird allegory with a beautiful design from the gacha game" became "I have never mentally resonated with a character more and this is getting scary" very quickly

[isekyaaa]

I'm not joking though ace and aro ppl are literally so annoying because they can't shut up about being ace and aro. They're like the vegans of the not-heterosexual community. You do not need to tell us how you're oppressed for being aro/ace every single moment of the day. Like jeez it's not like you're being killed for existing.

[thatdisasterauthor]

👀 i would be interested in hearing the deviantart points rant

Alrighty, the deviantART points rant. For context, I had a dA account from the time I was 12 and used it steadily until I was about 20. I was also a volunteer moderator with them for about a year, and they even offered me a job at one point. (But there was no way in heaven or hell they could've paid me enough to move to southern California, and god forbid they offer remote work.)

dA was one of the original social media behemoths. Never quite to the level of Twitter or Facebook, but if you were an artist you were on deviantART. It was a fantastic site back in its heyday. Artists got their start on there, recruiters were on there, art directors were on there, the community building features were fantastic. Yeah, it had its share of weird shit, but point me to a website that doesn't.

Multiple famous artists got their start on deviantART. Back then, it was a place you got real, legitimate work from. A place you could use to build a real, legitimate audience. The titans of early 2000s digital art that pretty much everyone knows (in the West, anyway), the ones who still have a massive effect on art styles today, basically all got their start on deviantART. It influenced the entire western culture of what art looks like on the internet, and that bled out into what art looks like everywhere else because these people made beloved shows and comics and movies and books and everything else.

But one of the best things about deviantART was that it was created at a time before everyone decided social media had to be slimmed down to its barest bones. It was a complex site, and there was a lot to it. That made it really easy for all levels of artists (and just plain art enjoyers) to use, and easy for them to make it function in a way that worked for them. This fostered a great environment where people of all skill levels could interact, share knowledge, and just absorb skills from one another.

Now, one area deviantART didn't initially cater to people was built-in payment options. They had a print shop you could upload your work to, but it was like Redbubble or Printful; merch selling, not custom work selling. So if artists wanted to offer commissions, they'd have to take payments elsewhere. (Usually Paypal.) Which was fine! That worked great!

But, well. Corporations gonna corporate. I forget the exact year, but one day they launched a new feature called Points. Points were a site specific currency, and they were one of the first (if not the first) to have such a thing. There were also some other things launched with it, including the ability to accept commissions with points as payment. You could also use points to buy site subscriptions, badges, stuff from the print shop, etc., or you could gift them to other people. You could also cash them out for real currency, for a fee (I wanna say the fee was 10%, and less if you were a subscribed user, but I can't remember exactly).

The conversion rate for Points was 1 Point=1US cent. Which seems fine on the surface! But the problem was psychological, because what they didn't do was actually make it look like that. Points instead looked like dollars, because there was no equivalent to actual CENTS in the Points ecosystem. So, for example, lets say you want to charge one dollar for something. That would look like this:

$1

P100.

Or ten dollars for something:

$10

P1000

Or a hundred dollars for something:

$100

P10000

See the problem? They're the same VALUE, but points just look massively bigger. This was especially a problem for people who didn't know what the conversion rate was because they just didn't know, or they were from other countries and REALLY didn't know because it wasn't related to their own currencies at all. (I think there was also a max amount of points you could charge for a commission, like a couple hundred dollars worth maybe? It was low when you converted it to real currency, if I'm remembering correctly.)

It devalued the art market like a knife to the gut. People were suddenly taking commissions for literal pennies just because the numbers LOOKED bigger. And because deviantART was such a hub for the art community, it bled out elsewhere. Prices started to dip other places too, because people who DID understand the conversion rate knew they could go on deviantART and get shit for super cheap from the people who didn't know or care. Which made other people lower their prices to compete, and it just resulted in a spiral to the bottom.

Would the art market have still tanked in the same way without the introduction of Points on dA? Maybe. But Points were the first domino to fall, and they were a massive one. The art market has never recovered even though deviantART has been 90% dead for going on a decade.

So yes. There's my internet history rant on Points and art values. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[atlabeth]

heat lightning

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you end up at the heart of the bau's latest case.

a/n: took way too long but here's more gideon reader! just as irritable as ever with some actual human emotions this time around. send help and prayers bc she's gonna need it. and before you ask there will in fact be some more parts to close up this case, i just have to write them first and it may take approximately 10 years. thank you for your consideration

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): reader still has daddy issues, still hates spence, and still argues w gideon the whole time. more angst! typical cm case stuff (a stalker that has taken vulnerable pics of reader) read w/ discretion if you are sensitive to those things. more drama and more tension and more not being a good time for anyone but me

“On your right, pretty boy.” 

Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway. 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”

“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”

Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing. 

“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration. 

“That’s because this is important,” he says. 

“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?” 

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level. 

“This is ridiculous,” you spit. 

“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.” 

“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.” 

He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.

“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”

“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”

“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”

“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.” 

“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.” 

“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly. 

Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.” 

“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.” 

“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office. 

“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over. 

JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.” 

She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything. 

All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty. 

Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting. 

For all Spencer knows, it is his fault. 

“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”

“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”

“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”

Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable. 

“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

-

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?” 

Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.” 

“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?” 

“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.” 

“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.” 

He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?” 

“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?” 

“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly. 

You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo. 

A photo of you. 

You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower. 

You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin. 

“What the fuck is this?” you breathe. 

“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”

“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”

The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read. 

such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.

you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.

think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.  

“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?” 

“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken? 

You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?” 

Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.” 

“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” 

But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified. 

“...Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”

Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.” 

“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”

Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.” 

“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.” 

“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.” 

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.” 

Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad. 

“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—” 

“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”

You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face. 

Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door. 

A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office. 

You don’t really care. 

True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit. 

By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it. 

You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team. 

Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job. 

You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job. 

You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror. 

It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you. 

You recall their words. 

Pretty little thing. 

You don’t care about her, but I do. 

A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you. 

What the fuck are you going to do?

You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.

You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you? 

You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror. 

You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.

The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation. 

If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Are you alright?” she asks softly. 

“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?” 

She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.” 

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.” 

“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?” 

“What do you need?” 

“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…” 

“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.” 

In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.” 

“So I keep hearing,” you murmur. 

-

Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him. 

“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?” 

“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you. 

Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”

“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?” 

“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.” 

“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”

“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.” 

Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”

“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”

“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”

“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”

“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!” 

“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.” 

“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.” 

Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”

“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I'm going to be on this case, I need to know that she's safe. I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe. 

“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”

Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”

At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

-

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish. 

“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”

“You know, we’re about the same age—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.

“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”

You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”

“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”

“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”

“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”

You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.

“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”

“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”

He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you. 

You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it. 

“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out. 

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.” 

It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him. 

He says your name, but you just shake your head. 

“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.” 

“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says. 

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.” 

“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.” 

“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.” 

Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.” 

You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes. 

“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.” 

You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up. 

He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator. 

“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?” 

“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed. 

“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.” 

Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”  

“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.” 

“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.” 

“You have a go bag, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.” 

“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs. 

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his—admittedly small—plight. 

“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him. 

“About what?” 

“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.” 

You huff a laugh. “Really?” 

“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.” 

And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile. 

“...Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure. 

He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night. 

You really do have pretty eyes. 

And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures. 

You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him. 

Spencer lets out another short sigh. 

At least this safe house won’t have a pool.

[diz-eaze]

; yandere albedo.

the people of mondstadt know you. born and raised in the city of freedom, they've seen you grow from a small, boundless child into the refined adult you are today. your next door neighbor practically knows your daily routine by now: at 7:00AM you'll open your room window to let in the fresh air, then get ready. by 7:30AM you'll come barreling out of your house, dressed in your uniform and already heading off to the knights of favonius' headquarters as the acting grandmaster's assistant.

sara from good hunter will have your breakfast-to-go already prepared by the time you drop by. your usual, she'd say with a smile as she hands it off to you. you greet the local bard with gradient hair, and you'll bow down in respect should you encounter the cavalry captain, kaeya. amber high fives you by the headquarters entrance, and you encourage noelle when you see her struggling with training.

in your free time, you'll patrol around the peaceful city, looking out for any civilians that need the knights of favonius for mundane help. you encounter sneaky cats, dogs begging for treats, and dandelions scattering in the cool breeze. by sunset, you drop by timaeus' alchemy bench to see what he's been up to, and then retreat back to your little house.

you leave your mark on mondstadt that way, little bits and pieces of you are constructed together from countless interactions every single day.

they know you from your uniform to your civilian clothes. they know you from the type of smile you wear down to the subtle flinch you do when conflict brews.

though, from your recent behavior, it seems their belief in knowing you stands incorrect. an eerily quiet day passed through the city without any citizen seeing you at least once. the day after that, your odd behavior began.

your mouth struggles with the intonation of common mondstadtian tongue. your legs often give out on you mid-walk, and you stand up shakily, reminiscent of a newborn fawn. your memory is hazy, struggling to correctly place names onto people you've known for years. sometimes, you even look surprised when addressed by your own name.

it's... so very odd. you're like a newborn, in a weird, roundabout way.

but soon enough, your oddity begins to wane off. as if the puzzle pieces of you were all merely scattered to the ground, and it was only a matter of time before you piece it all back together to return to your former self.

you melt into your former routine, as if nothing ever happened. your neighbor sees you punctually leave at 7:30AM, sara gives you your breakfast, you greet venti, and you bow down 90 degrees when you see kaeya. amber high-fives you, and noelle is appreciative of your support. you patrol and help citizens, you drop by timaeus' stall, and go back home when the sun is no longer visible.

your previous behavior looks like a rough patch amidst the seamless silk that is your life. it was certainly a weird era for you, and people brush it off as a delirium of some sickness.

everything is fine. you're back to normal, and that's all that matters.

albedo knows you, more than anyone in mondstadt could ever hope to do so. they know you by your uniform and civilian clothes. they know you by your mannerisms. but albedo knows your inner wardrobe, the articles of clothing that you've yet to show to the public. he knows what makes you tick and what brings you joy. he knows the psychology behind your mind, why you do the things that you do.

they all claim to know you, but he deems that as a false statement.

anyone who truly knows you would know by now that the you in mondstadt is nothing more than a fake - an imitation, created by his own hands. a synthetic human being just like him. their claim of knowledge on you is nothing more than surface-level information; they never bothered to dive into the whirlpool that is you.

had it been him on the clueless end, he would've sniffed out the imposter long ago, because of how deeply invested he is in your identity and existence. he would know just from a glance, a simple overlook of your imitation, before he deems it to be counterfeit.

yet they never even paused to think why you were gone for a day without an excused leave beforehand, why you started acting different.

it was reckless, he'll admit. he should have taught the synthetic you properly before dropping it off in mondstadt. should've fed it everything he knew about you. but it leaves a bitter taste on his synthetic tongue when he thinks about your imitation knowing just as much as him about you. this being is not you, despite the 1:1 appearance.

in the end, he chose to drop the being off to mondstadt just hours after successfully creating it. it'll learn through its environment and grow to adapt, he's sure of it.

ignorance is bliss; a peaceful slumber. he'll let the people of mondstadt believe that the person they're with from now on is the real you. not that albedo has any complaints about their denseness, however, things are better this way.

this serves as proof that albedo is the only one who loves the true you.

the original (Y/N), stranded high up on the snow-covered mountain that is dragonspine. he's your only source of company, the only one capable of lighting a bonfire and putting a thick blanket on you. your hands are bound behind you, a safety measure until he deems you trustworthy enough to untie in the near future.

your new home is here, in dragonspine, where you'll learn to live and love the relentless blizzard and frequent snowstorms. his trips down to mondstadt are cut considerably short, for he aches to part from you. he starts to bring more equipment and items back to the camp to provide you with entertainment.

and when night falls, once he sees you deep in sleep, he'll gently raise the blanket so that he can worm into your warm embrace. a safe haven that is incomparable to the bonfire crackling a few feet away.

if there's one thing he's grateful to his imposter for, it'd be implanting the idea of a replacement in his head.

AKA; you've heard of albedo creating a synthetic baby from a single strand of your hair, now have an albedo who created a synthetic (Y/N) so that the real one stays with him <3

[fruitlicense]

I think I’ve figured out my favorite chemistry for the DC Trinity, as follows:

Superman and Wonder Woman are the kind of friends who treat each other like siblings, but they 100% mean it. They laugh, they hug, they get at least one meal together every week, they occasionally finish each other’s sentences, and when they’re in the same room you can tell they genuinely like each other. They know each other like siblings, too - one won’t know every detail about the other, but they can pull out years-old esoteric stories that no one else had any idea even happened, and they each have a keen sense of who the other is deep down. Clark and Diana know each other’s dreams, fears, and morals, and that trust is visible. The only thing that tells you they’re not actually related is that when they disagree, they argue like well-adjusted adults, without any psychological manipulation or maiming. Sparring is a bonding activity for them, not a way to express anger.

Wonder Woman and Batman have a bond that is entirely platonic but mind-bogglingly deep. They should have the kind of relationship where it’s perfectly normal for them to shower together after a mission and discuss what the Justice League’s next steps should be, but if you point out that it’s kind of weird for them to share a showerhead and a shampoo bottle they’ll act like you’re weird for pointing it out. Bruce is washing blood and concrete dust out of Diana’s hair. There are no sexual or romantic vibes whatsoever. They’re at a level where it’s almost like they’re two halves of the same mind, like if they got into some crazy magic mishap where they were sharing a body it would move like a well-oiled machine. Even when they disagree or argue it seems like a single entity having an internal battle. They have crazy trust, like knowing-every-corner-of-the-other’s-brain trust, to the point that the greatest way to show their affection to each other is allowing each other their secrets. Bruce doesn’t pry past Diana’s hard lines and she knows when to stop pushing him, and those boundaries are honored because literally all the others are gone.

Batman and Superman, however, have inexplicable vibes. At a glance they act like coworkers, or like good friends, but if you look longer than thirty seconds there’s something between them that’s tangible enough to cut - it’s also weirdly horny and literally no one else wants to get involved with it. You could walk into a room where Clark was making coffee and Bruce was doing paperwork and they weren’t talking to or looking at each other and you would feel like you were intruding on their marriage bed. They keep up the same level of professionalism with each other that they do with the rest of the Justice League but they might as well not fucking bother, because somehow it still seems like they’re incapable of not broadcasting that they want each other carnally. They also have a deep level of trust, but it’s not familial or platonic. It’s more like the kind you have with someone you’re so deeply in love with that you can’t fathom not sharing your entire self with them. The world could end in burning flames and they’d survive it without going insane as long as they had each other. No one is actually sure if they’ve ever acted on these feelings, or if they’re even aware that they have them.

All three of them would burn the world down for each other, obviously, so it’s a damn good thing they’re saving it instead.

[nathaslosthershit]

How Old? (LH44) [Blind Items AU]

(Part 7 in the Blind Items AU [can be read separately]) Summary: A driver, unknown to the public, seems to have found himself a younger girlfriend. There isn't anything morally (nor legally) wrong with the relationship, and the pair are doing quite well in their private bliss, but the internet likes to insert itself in other's business. Luckily, Lewis is doing too good to care about what the internet has to say.

‘Young, dumb, impressionable girls who don’t know any better’. Lewis laughed at the thought. 

He had met his girlfriend 3 years ago when she was 24, because no, she wasn’t 25. They had immediately clicked, being introduced by a mutual friend. His girl had just finished getting her PhD in child psychology, because she was far from a ‘dumb girl’. She had accelerated in her schooling from the time she started school. She worked with special programs to continuously learn at her level, not her age level. The party they met at was her graduation party that Lewis’ friend had invited him to, thinking the two would go well together.

Lewis would be lying if he said her age wasn’t something he considered when they both began to like each other. But it was more so that they were in very different stages career-wise. She was in a transitional period from school to practicing, and with the upcoming move to Ferrari, Lewis didn't know what his future looked like. How could they make a relationship work when their careers were their highest priority?

So they didn’t date, remaining ‘friends’ and seeing each other whenever possible. 

That was until around a year after they met.

One night, after Lewis had been having one of the best racing seasons in a while, and after she had been succeeding in her clinical trials, proving just how much this was the perfect path for her, Lewis came over to celebrate. 

Tensions had been building up since they had agreed to keep it friendly because they simply couldn’t commit to a relationship right now. That night though, it reached its peak.

Neither had been drinking, drunk purely on lust. After two hours of dinner and good conversation, one experimental kiss led to another, which led to a longer kiss, then full on making out, until the two were in a frenzy of trying to take the others’ clothes off as fast as humanly possible. 

That night then led to a weird period for the two. They cared for each other deeply, talked like a couple, acted like a couple, but when asked by friends on the status of their relationship, it was simply a friendship with ‘hot and passionate’ sex on the side. 

Nothing more, even though they both wanted so much more. But they refused to talk about committing again. 

That was till she found out she was pregnant. 

They had been careful, condoms and birth control, but it was just some freak accident, or a blessing.

She couldn’t tell Lewis for about a month, as he was on a triple header in F1 which thankfully ended in summer break. 

By then, she had enough time to sit and think about what she wanted. It wouldn’t be easy, both their careers are demanding. If it was anyone but him, she would have had way more doubt in her partner’s ability to balance both, but she had no doubt Lewis would be anything but an amazing father. 

She was about 9 weeks when she saw him again. They had made plans to go on vacation for a week during the break (supposedly as friends, even though Lewis had booked them a honeymoon suite), so she knew she had to ask right away, before they went on vacation. The last thing she needed was things going wrong and being stuck in the South of France, pregnant, with a man who didn’t want to be a father.

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out the moment she opened the door. 

They both stared at each other wide eyed. She hadn’t meant to say it straight away. 

Instead of clarifying, she immediately turned around and went to the kitchen. Lewis reluctantly followed, confused as to if she wanted to talk to him at the moment. 

She refused to look at him, busying herself with getting plates and utensils for the takeout Lewis had picked up.

“Are we- are we going to talk about it?” He asked. She turned around to finally look at him, seeing as he slowly walked towards her with his hands in the air.

“God, Lewis, I am pregnant, not a kicked puppy, I'm not going to bite if you come near me.” He quickly put his hands down. 

Silence fell as they both looked at each other, wishing the other one would talk first. When that didn’t happen, they both gave in, speaking over each other. “No- sorry you first.” He said.

“No, no its okay you can go.”

Once again they were both silent, til they both chose the exact same time to speak. It was thankfully what the situation needed. They laughed, immediately severing the tension and awkwardness in the room. 

As they finally calmed down, Lewis said, “So… what are we going to do?”

No ‘what are you going to do’, no immediate shut down. She was once again grateful that out of all people in the world, it was Lewis who was by her side.

“Its… hard and most would say it is not the right time for either of us. But I want to be a mother, and I want to do so now.” 

“Okay, do you still need time to think or-”

“No, no- I have had a month to think and my decision hasn’t changed since the moment I found out.” 

Now was the most stressful part, waiting for what he would say, how he would react.

“Then we can make this work, we can find a way around any complications. There is no one I’d rather do this with, honey.” 

The two of them sat in silence, but it was a comfortable silence, both envisioning the future they were going to work for, a future they were going to achieve no matter what. 

That had been almost two years ago, and they had been happy and in love ever since. Even more so when their healthy baby girl was born. 

A content smile covered Lewis’ face as his girlfriend walked in, holding their daughter. 

“What’s got you so happy?” 

“Just my two wonderful girls.” He responded.

She rolled her eyes, “Such a sap you old man. Will you please come help me build the chair for the baby’s room now?”

Happy to oblige, Lewis shut his phone and got up to help his girlfriend, completely forgetting about what the internet had to say about his private life.

[colorlessjay]

if cas was a uni professor what do you think he would teach? theology seems too obvious.

what about philosophy and he uses his and tfw’s collective fuck-ups as examples

Now see, you're thinking about him as a professor thematically to him being an Angel

I think he would teach Quantum Mechanics

Hear me out:

Castiel is a biblical ancient being. He has knowledge beyond compare, but he doesn't know jack shit about the human condition. He just started learning about the relations of religion on a human level. He doesn't know enough to teach philosophy without it being synical in nature, or getting upset because Castiel is a creature of Objectivity

You know what he CAN teach that uses facts, logic, and concrete reasoning that can evolve in logical leaps? Math. Science. Atoms. Electrons. Space.

And he WILL be weird about it. I want him to get lost in the sauce of his own lectures to the point where he ends up 10x more disheveled and crazed than when he started.

His class WILL be difficult, not because Castiel can't explain it well, but because he drops so much knowledge onto you that one lecture will end with a 100-page Google doc of notes

Like he gets ANGRY about it. Angry because he is limited in how much he can share, and he has too much to share.

At one point in class, he slams his fists onto the table and yells, "Your feeble minds cannot quantify the amount of knowledge I am burdened with. I am cursed to only discuss not even a FRACTION of what I know. And if I were given the opportunity to share my mind, your eyes would burn out of your skulls, and I will once again be alone in a cage of my own creation."

Then someone raises their hand and asks, "Is this gonna be part of the finals?"

and Castiel immediately unruffles his feathers and answers as if he didn't just give these people psychological damage. "No, we'll only be covering up to chapter 3 for now. Have a good weekend."