#misinterpreted . but i think its something i would like to see outside opinions on but idk if anybody else has been struggling with it so

[itsalwaysdark]

just wrote a journal entry for the first time in like ages. yay

[mae-i-scribble]

I rewatched a few of the early episodes of spyfam today bc getting to see the movie gave me an itch to scratch, and in particular episode two made me finally able to conceptualize what about fandom twiyor that irks me so deeply. If you like widespread fandom interpretations of them I would uh, look away bc none of my opinions on it are positive.

Episode 2 of the spyfam anime remains one of my favorites because of all the little flourishes the studios add to sell you on Yor as a character while also expanding a bit on the manga's original commentary on the stigma that follows older single women. What draws Yor and Loid together as a family is that neither of them are capable of having conventional relationships. Both of them are war orphans forced to grow up far too soon and who threw away aspects of their humanity to fight for what they believe to be a better world. While Loid's position as a spy and mastery of deception allows him to avoid the stigmas that would come from the ordinary person discovering what he does, that is not something that holds true for Yor, whose weakest point is that she simply cannot understand "normal." She's aware of the way her coworkers demean her and insult her but can do nothing about it because her only conflict resolution skill is murder. She is constantly reminded that she is an outsider, hence why Loid's declaration at the party is so meaningful to her, and what convinces her to ask him to continue the facade as a married couple.

Underneath it all however, is a quiet showcase of amatonormativity that drove both Loid and Yor to their arrangement. Eden requires a student to have a perfectly nuclear family. Societal conventions dictate that Yor, happily single at 27, is someone pathetic (to her coworkers) or someone in need of help (to her brother). Marriage is an expectation that Yor is pressured to commit to, and a societal requirement that Loid must uphold for the sake of his mission. And while this showcase begins in episode 2 it is something that spyfam continues to highlight when it comes to the expectations both Loid and Yor struggle to meet when they try to hard/become to anxious over what is "expected" as a married couple vs what the other person is actually thinking/feeling.

Now, what the fuck does this have to do with fandom you ask? Here's the thing. Spyfam reached the broad range of anime fans when it exploded in popularity, which is when I started engaging with it beyond just comments on the latest manga chapters. Modern fandom already has the issue of classifying ships into tropes rather than actually like, shipping characters as they are. And that's exactly what happened with twiyor. People began going "oh my gosh this is the moment she fell for loid," "oh he's so in love with her just look at him," before we had even reached episode 10. Which was incredibly frustrating to me because clearly Loid and Yor are not anywhere near in love that soon in the story- and the basis for that frustration starts in episode 2 for me. Because Loid and Yor's marriage is one that is unconventional from the very beginning, and it is that factor that defines their dynamic an allows them to function as healthily and sweetly as they do. People don't need to be in love to be married or to be a parental unit. None of that requires romantic love, it is simply an expectation of our society, the same sort of expectation that cripples Yor and makes her think she has to find a partner, then that she has to find a husband to appease those around her. Seeing that completely erased in a large portion of art/commentary/fics written about them angers me because its something baked into the foundation of their dynamic and something I feel enhances them as a potential romantic pairing rather than detracts from it. But we can't have that because of course a man and woman living together and caring for a kid fell in love almost immediately.

And don't even get me started on how people misinterpret Loid for their far more romantic interpretations of his motivations and relationship with Anya and Yor or else I will start losing teeth from how hard I am clenching my jaw

[llorom4nn1c]

♡ A guide to emo, goth, and scene! ♡

So since I see a lot of confusion over certain subcultures are and the differences between them, I thought I would make somewhat of a master post basically outlining the characteristics and differences of three aesthetics that I see misinterpreted a lot. If I do at any point get something wrong, feel free to correct me because I really don't intend to spread misinformation.

🎀 Emo

Emo is a music based subculture that first emerged in the 80s out of the hardcore scene. The name emo came from the music genre emocore, which was short for emotional hardcore. The fashion is typically pretty casual, with some staples being straightened and teased hair with a sideways fringe, black clothing, band shirts, arm warmers, sneakers, skinny jeans, fishnets, arm warmers, wide leg pants, studded belts, and merchandise from various properties like Emily The Strange, Nightmare Before Christmas, and Ruby Gloom.

Since the early days of emo, the music in the subculture has expanded outside of hardcore and post-hardcore, and has since gone on to include alternative rock, horror punk, metalcore, pop punk, and screamo. Some of the most prominent artists in the scene are Avril Lavigne, Blink 182, Fall Out Boy, Green Day, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Pierce The Veil, and Sleeping With Sirens.

Since the subculture is mainly music based, fashion is not as important to being considered part of the scene. Therefore, not dressing in a specific way while listening to the music wouldn't make you a poser, but dressing emo while not listening to the music would. What is not considered emo is listening to a random genre of rock music. Bands like Metallica and Nirvana, while enjoyed by many emos, are not emo bands and therefore don't make someone emo. Furthermore, I can't believe I need to say this, but, contrary to what many people seem to think, kawaii people are also not emo. While it is common for kawaii people to listen to metal and other heavy music genres, their style is not at all similar to emo and they don't consider themselves as part of the subculture either.

🎀 Goth

Goth is probably the oldest subculture here, with it dating back to the 70s English punk scene, with bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees and The Cure pioneering the culture. The post-punk band Bauhaus' debut single 'Bela Lugosi's Dead,' a song inspired by the famous horror actor Bela Lugosi, who portrayed Dracula in the 1931 film adaptation and also starred in White Zombie which is a film that's typically referred to as the first zombie movie, is often considered the first gothic rock song.

Goth is a subculture with many different sub-subcultures. Some of the most popular are batcave, bubble goth, cyber goth (formerly referred to as gravers), death rock, mall goth (formerly known as spooky kids), nu goth, romantic goth, steampunk, vampire goth, and, my personal favourite, gothic lolita. Contrary to what many people think, I don't consider aesthetics like pastel goth (which I do love) to really be a part of goth since it doesn't have roots in goth. Obviously I'm not going to go over every substyle because that would take way too long and would have to require its own post, but some common staples in most of these styles is lots of black, horror-inspired imagery, very big teased hair, black or red lipstick (red was the most common in the earlier days), and very pale almost white skin. Therefore, e-girls and emos (e-girls especially) are not goth. Also, the fetishisation of the 'big tiddy goth girlfriend' is very demeaning and offensive to goths, as well as just not funny at all because of how it objectifies and reduces them to simply walking breasts who wear black.

Goth music is, in my opinion, some of the most accesible and palatable alternative music. The most popular genres are dark wave, electronic rock, gothic rock, industrial metal and rock, new wave, and post-punk. Some of the most popular bands are Bauhaus, Evanescence, Joy Division, Marilyn Manson, Rammstein, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Birthday Massacre, and The Cure.

🎀 Scene

Scene is an aesthetic that originated in the 2000s on the website MySpace as a derivative aesthetic to emo. Many scene kids were considered emo posers because of their unconventional style and the music they listened to, which included genres ranging from crunkcore to metalcore, often being considered 'trashy' by other subcultures. Despite all of the hate towards scene kids, many embraced their label and many of the most popular people in the subculture started being known as scene queens who are also often credited as the first influencers. This included people such as Ambrehhhisdead, LedaMonsterBunny, and Melissa Marie Green.

Some staples to the style are colourful clothes, straightened and teased hair with colourful raccoon hair extensions, the scene swoop fringe, brass knuckles or diamond necklaces, bows, leopard print, zebra print, colourful shorts, tutus, tight clothes, sunglasses, knee high converse, band shirts, and merchandise of characters like Gir from Invader Zim, Gloomy Bear, and Hello Kitty. Personally, I would consider the modern rendition of scene, scenecore, to be a different aesthetic that, while it is pretty similar to scene, typically borrows from aesthetics like glitchcore rather than emo or mcbling.

Scene music is pretty diverse in what it provides, as it ranges from very heavy genres such as deathcore and metalcore to more pop and rap adjacent genres like crunkcore and neon pop. Some of the most prominent artists are 3OH!3, All Time Low, Asking Alexandria, Blood on the Dance Floor (unfortunately), Bring Me The Horizon, Brokencyde, Cobra Starship, Dot Dot Curve, Jeffree Star, Ke$ha, Metro Station, and Millionaires. A lot of the music is known to ignore many of the typically conventions of music, with the lyrics often containing themes relating to partying and sex.

That's it, byeeeee! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

[skelebellie]

DISCOVERY

vash [tristamp] x plant?reader

content: close contact, minor violence, suggestive

synopsis: vash finds out your a plant, shenanigans happen

that man has a gorilla grip on my soul

—————

you met vash coincidently the same time as meryl and roberto, since you were hired by they’re employers to guide them through the badlands. despite being a shady company, they would prefer their employees alive.

when they removed vash from tree he kept feeling the hairs on the back of his neck raise up, unsure as of why. little did he know that some weird plant / human amalgamation was right next to him. aware of what he was and who he was. the perks of being able to talk to plants.

you were quick to offer him a swig of water packed to the brim with rehydration salts, not only because he was a plant but also because this is the badlands. its hot and dehydration can kill a person.

meryl and roberto were talkative enough, but you seemed quiet. you kept to yourself as you would right down notes and observations into a leather bound book you lugged in your satchel. sometimes he would get a glance at you looking at him, then writing something. diary maybe? you kept him a little on edge so he did his best to avoid you.

a little disappointing to you. this whole “plant” lifestyle was new to you, and you had been pushing through it alone. it would have been nice to get some knowledge on it.

outside of those few interactions, you seemed to just tag along. only opting in your opinion when your interjection would benefit the group.

————

he saw a new side of you as one night you decided to go with the group to the bar. deciding to tag along instead of drink.

it was new to you, to go and drink out instead of with yourself. you’ve never gotten so involved with an assignment before. maybe it was because of the familiar sense of sadness behind vash’s eyes, but you wanted to see him succeed.

you saw meryl do something stupid, likely falling on her back end after she had gotten drunk off her ass, and bursted out laughing. vash noticed a strong wave of floral scent and a buzzing in the air. the origin being you.

seeing vash stare at you will bulging eyes made you tilt your head in a quizzical manner. what did he see? did you have something in your hair? you didn’t think much of it. since a lot of your senses that would have helped you identify other plants were neglected. you had no idea how to tap into them, and thus you didn’t think you had done something out of the ordinary.

honestly it made you nervous as he held the stare between his conversations with roberto, so you left to go the bathroom. maybe you were misinterpreting them and a splash of cold water would wake you out of it.

you took your gloves off and allowed the water to pool into cupped hands, admiring it momentarily as your mind drifted away to other distractions. failing to notice the door open and the click of the lock turning. you always kept your gloves on. if you made contact with anyone, plant or human, you had the chance of sending or receiving information in a second notice. contact like that would cause those weird glowy patterns on you, and you had yet to figure out a cover up for that.

it was only when you looked up and noticed those fogged orange shades staring into you. vash standing behind you. it spooked you, and immediately you tried to grab your gloves with wet hands. instead a larger pair slammed down onto yours, effectively trapping you between vash and the sink.

“heyyyy” you elongated, desperately trying to calm your beating heart. it didn’t help when you felt vash’s blond locks tickle your neck, causing you to whine from the unsuspecting sensation.

his nose brushed against the duvet between your neck and shoulder, taking in a gasping breath as if the man had been deprived of oxygen. you could feel the geometric shapes stemming from your chest travel down your hand, the white lights transparent underneath your shirt.

“i knew it.” vash said, his hand gripping the backside of yours, fingers digging into your palm as his own energy responded, patterns mimicking your own. “your like me, aren’t you?” he muttered into your neck.

once both of your engravings had climb to your hands and made contact, you felt an electrifying buzz fill your head. happiness? joy? it wasn’t a bad feeling at all. vash’s demeanor did a 180 as he received a wave of red hot embarrassment. a flood of emotions caused by the intimate contact of him being right behind you, trapping you against the sink. it caused him to stutter and back away.

it caused you to lightly gasp, the cold rush washing back over you hand as you regained your focus and started putting on your gloves.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just got overly excited, I didn’t know there were other plants, I mean beside me and Nai I just thought-“ you slapped him with your glove. Not hard enough to cause damage but hard enough to shock him, before putting it back your hand. “We’re you ever taught personal space!” Your eyebrows furrowed as the red began to leave your face.

You stomped out of the bathroom, enraged. You would have time to delve into whatever happened in there. For not you dealt with the ruthless bullying of roberto, asking why you and vash were alone in the single stall bathroom.

[karin-miyoshi]

Do you think yuyuyu is ableist?

sheesh, talk about a loaded question

definitely opens up a lot of rabbit holes. ill give my opinion, but note im not the most educated on the subject itself so giving a definite answer is outside my scope.

ill put a read below, but for me, i personally think it isnt, but can be easily misinterpreted as is on a surface level.

tldr, ableism is discrimination towards those with disabilities.

the character in question most of the time when it comes to these topics is tougou, who uses a wheelchair in season 1 due to losing function in her legs. there are never any distasteful jokes made about this, and the show constantly shows various handicap friendly services throughout the show. something even more surprising is that these are never the core focus of the scene or pointed out, its always well integrated into the world as if it were normal (important).

just skimming through s1, we have:

wheelchair assistance integration for both cars and stairs

special swim courses for the disabled, not separated from the rest of the class

beach wheelchairs and separate assistants

now while we can assume a lot of these were due to her previous service as washio sumi, i dont think that would really be fair to the production team putting these in, and it really feels like theres a lot more heart than "yeah we put these for the big shock value realization later on". even after regaining function in her legs near the end of the season, tougou's priority was always towards yuuna and her recovery.

onto the next topic, which is the show taking away and then returning these characters functions throughout. whats important to consider here is what is considered tragic, is it the characters living without these certain functions, or is it the act of losing these functions themselves?

"It'll definitely improve. I mean, we haven't done anything wrong." (Fuu, s1ep9) again, no distasteful jokes made about their disabilities, and fuu even plays it off with her sick eyepatch. her worries instead stem from the loss of itsuki's dream, in the form of her no longer being able to sing. thats the key factor here, being punished for doing what is right, losing the ability to do what you could do before, losing the memories of the time you spent with your friends. (thats another thing i see with a lot of these arguments, they always bring up physical disabilities, but ive never seen one actually talk about ones regarding memory, arguably the most precious thing to them). tougou flat out doesnt remember sonoko at all despite being comrades in arms before, and understandably freaks out that the same might happen with her and yuuna.

now, understandably, the ending to s1 seemed super rushed, and them getting their bodily functions back seemed rather sudden. this put a lot of people off, and was really only explained in s2, which many didnt watch.

people should be allowed to grieve if they lose something important to them, and should be allowed to be happy if they get it back. personally, i dont think people realize the weight of their words when they say, "oh i wish karin wouldve stayed deaf, itd be really cool to see the club members learning sign language for it" or "yuuna in a wheelchair was really cute, i wish we saw more of it." yeah its a cool idea i guess, maybe something to see while theyre stil recovering, but forever? in a chase to see more representation, i hope they realize what they are wishing onto others eventually (even if fictional). while many with disabilities are satisfied with their life, they should be able to wish for better if they wanted to, its not like theyd wish their circumstances on anyone else, right? shouldnt the same apply here, to the girls who've actually lived both with and without disabilities?

just my two cents, hope this wasnt too hard to read! theres a lot more i could write up, especially regarding sonoko, but thats a whole other discussion i should probably save for another time

[angeart]

hello asks part 3 here (i hope you dont mind i find it easier to organize my thoughts and what i want to say like this)

hhhhhhh ari au art

that art is awesome i love the lighting in the first one and the framing of the last one is so interesting it really shows just how invasive the press and the outside world all is i also love the posing of the second one and its just. they cant get away from it. from the pressure and the anxiety and the news and all those opinions

each step in the art is a deterioration of grians situation in that au idk i think its interesting that these are the pics you were inspired to make theyre so good i love your art

and yeah it is darker in some ways than hhau, because it deals so heavily with active suicidal impulses and its a different type of dark. hhau is so focused on the fear and desperation and trying to escape, where as the ari au feels like pressure bearing down on grian and a lack of way out.

its just........... hard

grians stuck in a really hard place and i get why she cant find a way out for herself because it would likely require starting over completely and even that might not get them away from the public and that would require him to fully give up on something that brought him so much joy even if it also brought pain and anxiety.

anyway my most coherent expression of my thoughts and feelings about ari au consists of this:

qoiuwheajishuiawfdosugyhiewjorwsdfgyuhijoqwepdghusjoipahpiuwpajsd

-burny anon

i do find it easier too when the topics are split across asks so this is good!

YAY ARI AU! wahhh thank u for liking the art 🥺❤️

i picked those scenes because ben suggested i draw a sort of 'then' vs 'now' comparison, and i thought of doing it from the perspective of photos the press could get. i have one more sketch tucked away that is a private moment of scar and grian that i might draw one day. we'll see.

and yeah. yeah, they absolutely cannot get away from it, from the scrutiny, the pressure, the sense of privacy absolutely crumbling into something non-existent. together with the sense of self outside of all of these expectations and being constantly observed, every action or word an opportunity to be misinterpreted without anyone asking them what the truth is. (they don't have a voice here; they're just there to provide drama and entertainment. to be consumed. their consent in this does not matter.)

the press and the stalkers and (some of) the fans don't care about grian as a person. grian—ari—is an idea, an idol. they craft her to be perfect in their eyes (something nobody can live up to and remain seen as a human being), only to decide they then need to tear down and decimate that perfection.

it's just so harrowing and horrible.

you know, grian started with a dream. he just wanted to sing and have fun and be seen. (not like this. not like this.)

now some people might sneer and point, saying he's got exactly what he wanted: she is seen. she will never not be seen again.

i think ari au is so dark not only because of the topics, but also because it feels so real? hhau has hybrids and different world, wings and magic and whatnot. but this? this has none of that. this is set into a real world, and they're just normal human beings, struggling. and there's no easy solution or a way out.

love your thoughts on this au hehe <3

[icaruswasadreamer]

If We Were Villains: a book review

Or, the power of environmental storytelling, amazing characterization, theatrics and what it does to a STEM student with a passion for the arts

A/N: This is my first time writing a book review, and I decided to make up a little formula for myself to follow for the rest of my reviews. Truthfully, IWWV is not my first book, but it has defintiely inspired me enough to write something for it that isn’t fanfiction so here it is. Feel free to share your thoughts and bring up discussions, as this book is dear to me in many ways and it deserves to be talked about. Do note all of this is my opinion and that is all it will ever be. Hope you enjoy this review/semi-analysis of IWWV that I am less than qualified to talk about, but that is the beauty of self-expression. Please be warned of spoilers which will be marked as to where they Start. 

How I was Introduced to the Book

I first learned of the book through booktok. And I know the implications of that statement and the reputation of booktok in the bookish community. I, myself, don’t think too highly of booktok (as it is where all the colleen hoover fans worm about), but I have to admit that it is, by far, one of the best avenues to discover authors and books, no matter the romanticization of reading as a hobby or the misinterpretation of these books. Truthfully, without booktok, I would not have asked my friend to buy me a copy of If We Were Villains for my birthday and I wouldn’t be enamoured by its narrations and characters as I am right now. There was a specific tiktoker that I followed for the fact that they have read a lot of dark academia books – which is a genre that I’m getting into right now! If We Were Villains was introduced to me as a really great book with a lot of twists and turns, and I went into it with that expectation.

The Book Itself in My Own Words

Imagine that one picture that comes up whenever you search “dark academia aesthetic” on pinterest. There is a manor at the far end of the photo, distant and castle-like. Vines and greenery cling to it as if it were the old cobblestone shrine of a forest God and its windows are hauntingly grey with dust as if it were lived in by no one except ghosts. You are only outside looking in, and there is no scene you can manage from the manor. What you can observe, however is a lake. It reflects the greyish bluish white sky above it and it does not move against the life, the nature that surrounds it. It is ever present and everlastingly still; ultimately very boring to the people who spare it a glance, but go beyond depths you and I can comprehend or imagine. Think of that image, but in book form. Oh and add several other complicated things in it too, just for flavor.

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio is a hauntingly, tragic mystery about 7 friends who made the mistake of being gay theatre kids. It’s the found family trope in reverse as you watch as their life fall apart in the incident of a murder that no one is really sure who did. We follow Oliver Marks, essentially the main character and the narrator of the story as he describes what his life is like and how it’s about to be ruined because some guy was too petty to accept that he isn’t always the star of the show. Watch the 6 of them go through the motion, pretending everything is fine and that they’re all not mentally ill in some way while quoting shakespeare that no normal person does. 

As sarcastic as I sound, it is genuinely a wonderful, captivating story about grief, friendship and art. Everything is so complicated (in a good way) and you’re not really sure what to feel about all of it, but at the same time, you stay for the ride because the feelings are worth it, just to see this show to the end just so these characters can reach their epilogue finally. The way I would describe it is imagine all those reading assignments and book reports you had to do in your english class about a sonnet or play, then mix it with all the gay fanfiction one would read in the witching hours of 3 am as you sob quietly to yourself because you know your ship will never be canon. It is a culmination of these two things, and it’s awesome. 

First Impressions/Last Impressions

I struggled with getting through Act I of IWWV. And I do genuinely believe that this was not at all the fault of the author or the story as the set up was interesting and mysterious and curious enough for me to get hooked. It just so happened that the fish was uninterested and busy with other things that I did not get into immediately as I would have hoped. Despite this – and after several months of not reading – I managed to pick up the book again and return to where I left off.

Perhaps it was the fact that there was a large gap of me not reading IWWV and then the sudden bolt of me reading it religious explains why I found the first parts of IWWV quite slow. I do recognize this as a part of the set up and exposition of the book and was entirely necessary for the emotional impact that it would give me by the end, but prowling through those first few chapters was hard as someone with a short attention span and have several hobbies aside from reading and writing. 

But now, after almost a year of trying to finish this book properly, I have to say that I am wrecked and I will never be the same again. I thought I was going to hate the endng, truthfully, as its implications was bleak and somehow, undermines the efforts of its characters. But, the epilogue had me pleasantly surprised and relieved, that I would have to say that the ending was exactly my cup of tea. I’m still not sure on where I stand with happy endings or tragic endings, but I do in fact love open endings – endings left to interpretation, the kinds that will make you tear your hair out because where is the rest of it? Why is the book just- done? And here is where fanfiction comes to play, my friend. 

The journey has been a journey, and I definitely have to say that I have learned a lot from this book and that it was easy to fall in love with the book despite the rough beginning. 

//SPOILERS START HERE//

How I fell in Love with It

The atmosphere IWWV gave me which was extremely immersive and can only be described as delightfully haunting. It is peak gray – and gay – atmosphere that I really enjoyed as it felt like the right amount of theatrics to not be too dramatic and satirical. Something also surprising is the fact that it is oddly humorous despite being a book about murder, shakespeare and what makes a tragedy. Actually, considering it is inspired by shakespeare, the humorous aspect is not so surprising if you take into account some shakespeare being pretty absurd as it is. The unironic things these characters do like randomly quote shakespeare out of nowhere is so pretentiously funny, but also contributes well to what the book is going for. 

As unnatural as that would be for like a normal person, because Oliver and his friends are so deep into the shakespeare of their classes, they make it feel natural and you get used to that as the story progresses. Oliver had a really good justification for this which he explains to Colbourne in a way that I truly resonate with. This book, as well as the characters, are so in love with Shakespeare’s words that it’s hard to not find yourself enamoured by it to. I love the way they describe taking art like this as I feel, as an artist and creative, that this is an artist’s ulttimate purpose. To capture the things that cannot be said properly through ordinary words, and to encapsulate those moments of heightened emotion and feeling. Any piece of art is an attempt to reanimate emotion, and we use art to deliver those emotions that we, ourselves, cannot fully comprehend. 

This is what I love about this book, aside from its brilliant storytelling and interesting and raw characters. It feels like it was made with the intention of appreciation for art, and I really respect that as art means so much to me. This book is art and it is about art as much as it is about this specific friend group dealing with whatever just happened, and I really really love and appreciate that about this book. 

Strong Points/What I learned from It as a Writer

IWWV is genuinely a master class in environmental storytelling. The Castle, where everyone stays at during their time in Dellecher is the most effective use of environment I’ve seen in a book (which I’m sure there’s more, I just haven’t read it yet in which I will at some point). The way the castle has a place for everyone, and the scene wherein Oliver is seen cleaning the different rooms of the Castle goes to show the amount of detail the author puts into each little cranny of their descriptions of the Castle. One specific detail I remember was in Richard’s room where a chess board was described with one horseman toppled over and another missing. I may be tweaking, but that might just imply something about story. Aside from the environments, IWWV also makes good use of its inspiration material which is shakespeare.

I definitely should have gone into IWWV with some knowledge of shakespeare and I would encourage anyone who wish to read IWWV to read at least one shakespear book, because I didnt and I am incredible lost on how IWWV uses those narratives of Shakespeare’s plays to reference its own tragedy and characters and I am extremely upset that I didn’t get to experience that other narrative of the what the play were trying to tell the reader. But of course, you don’t have to have a background in theatre or shakespeare to read IWWV. It would extremely as they constantly quote shakespeare and if you don’t know what those quotes mean, you will get lost at some point, but you can manage through it (as I said, the book does well with these quotes that it starts feeling natural enough that you, too, would start to make sense of these quotes even if you would struggle at first). But, from what I have heard from people who have read the book and Shakespeare, the plays do reference and foreshadow the story within IWWV. 

The play Ceasar directly reference how Richard is going to die and who’s going to kill him. Like Richard is the modern Julias Ceasar, he is someone who has caused tyranny in their group of friends and provoked James to hit him on the head which led to his friends eventually leaving him for dead. I still struggle sometimes with that betrayal because in truth, Richard was their friend for 3 years and then they’re just gonna throw him away like that? I think it’s just how I view friendship, but to be fair I don’t like Richard enough to be angry that he died. And that’s a good way of utilizing source material! Because who killed Ceasar if not his most intimate of friends. 

This is kind of like Chekhov’s gun in a way except we’re talking about multiple guns and you’re in a gun shop and the fact that the guns are constantly being fired. Everytime the environment is being described, it doesn’t get boring or go into super great detail. I’m always seated for those descriptions of the environment because at some point one very specific detail will mean something to the story more than you expect it would. Otherwise, it contributes to the atmosphere and helps you feel incredibly immersive. I think much of what I read are heavily character-driven (which isn’t a bad thing!) and IWWV is also heavily character-driven in terms of plot, but it uses its environment well. Like it exists and isn’t just an extension of the actors themselves, but it doesn’t just exist as a setting, it exists as a plot device. A carefully crafted set for a performance. IWWV was a wonderful case study for me to be able to spot those little details in the environment and try my hand in interpreting what they mean, like a detective looking for clues – which is very fitting!

Characters and characterization was also very good in IWWV. Every character was equally flawed and all of their actions warrant a “What the actual fuck?” from me. The amazing thing about IWWV is that despite its title, none of these characters are bad people, just very flawed with poor decision-making skills. Even Richard, I would argue, is still a gray character despite being an asshole! It was entirely his fault for becoming needlessly petty and aggressive towards his friends, but I don’t really think that undermines their 3 years of friendship together. I genuinely believe that Richard was just a guy with a big ego that was too fragile for his own good and he did really dumb and shitty stuff about that. He isn’t your 2D Villain, because his actions were triggered by the event of something – being casted as someone that wasn’t the main focus of the play. And his friends and the reader have in their every right to be angry at Richard for the shit he’s done, but you have to admit he wasn’t always like that. He changed and that is the most admirable thing about the character writing in IWWV.

Everyone is very dynamic, but not too drastic for it to be jarring. They fit well together despite having contrasting personalities and all of them have something going on in terms of their personal life. It’s a shame we don’t exactly see ther perspectives as we are limited to Oliver’s narration, but we do get glimpses of it and I believe that is enough for the characters to feel real. My favorite character, Filippa, is the most mysterious one from the group in terms of backstory, but I know enough that she is willing to do everything – even hide a murder – just to protect her friends, her family, probably because she doesn’t have one of her own in more ways than one. And I got that from a single line that she said to Oliver when he asked why she hid the fact James did it. 

“You all were the only family I had. I’d have killed Richard myself if I thought it would keep the rest of you safe. [...] I was terrified you’d do exactly what you did.”

Each main character of IWWV have their own tragedy to their character which is rooted upon the “type” of character they are in the beginning of the story. They all both defy and fit perfectly in their own roles in the narrative and that is their tragedy. Oliver is the sidekick who became the center of attention by his arrest, James is a hero who murdered a friend, Richard is a dead tyrant, Meredith is a temptress who wishes she was seen as anything but, Wren is the broken and frankly, no longer as innocent as she ought to be ingenue, and Alexander is the villain with good intentions. Filippa is the curious case as she does not have set role, this does not excuse her from being tragic, but it does makes sense how she is the only able to stay relatively stable throughout the story. In the very beginning we were already told of what tragedy these characters would have and it is all connected to their role in a stereotypical narrative, how they are type-casted in their plays.

I would go into each of the characters and their own personal tragedies and flaws, but that would be really long, so I won’t. But these characters and the play on the type-casting of these actors are perfectly executed. I would like to cite James’ arc for this as he is described as being the hero, but slowly, as we see how he and everyone else copes with Richard’s death and how he gets casted into the villain role, we saw how this changes him and how his archetype of being the hero slowly crumbles to make way for a darker James filled with immense amount of guilt that only perpetuates with Oliver’s arrest. We see how it breaks him as his hero persona is no longer his. He takes up the role of the villain, and that kills him because he was never meant to play that role. Everything about him screams hero and I think he himself believed that, so his sense of self crumbles away as it is slowly revealed that he is in fact, the villain of this story. And yet, what makes him the villain is still technically a heroic act. He killed a tyrant after all. And that is just hella clever.

IWWV almost reads as really complicated fairytale if you think of it as these characters as the archetypes of their roles. It is definitely the most fascinating and creative way of character writing I’ve ever seen and that is a feat on its own. It follows a formula, yet it defies the routinely-ness of that, the audience can understand what’s going on like in the middle of the book and I think that serves well in this scenario because now, it’s only a matter of dread and waiting for the final act to commence. I never felt like I was reading an intermission in any parts of it as everything, both character and environment, serve the plot really well. 

Criticisms/Pet Peeves

But of course, despite all my praise, this book is not free of the criticisms and I did feel frustration for some parts of it whether it was good or bad frustration. It’s not a perfect book and I have a few gripes with it. 

The way it treats Meredith and Wren specifically is appalling. It, sadly, goes into that really bad trope in some queer books of the women getting in the way of the men hooking up. I really feel bad for these women because, even if they still have their own things going on and they are able to be their own characters, they somehow become extensions of the men that they are involved with, and everytime, it is extremely unfair. 

I’ll just say it, Oliver is just using Meredith to forget about James. I don’t doubt he loves her or doesn’t think of her as attractive because he does, but there is an aspect to their relationship that they both don’t deny is really connected to Oliver’s and James’ relationship. This is a flaw of Oliver’s character that I don’t like because it’s so unfair for Meredith and the way they started their relationship is also kind of dubious? I mean, Meredith went for Oliver not only because he was “nice��, she also went for him because he was the only one available and the complete opposite of Richard. Meredith had no interest in Oliver in the first few scenes of this book and Oliver also didn’t really think of her much because she was already with Richard, but he couldn’t deny she was pretty. I just don’t like the implications of their relationship to Meredith’s character and her struggle with objectification and her constantly being sexualized by the men around her. I know Oliver wouldn’t do that, but at the end of the day, isn’t he just using her? 

I desperately want to believe in their love and I do! But it gets so bad when you mix in James because suddenly, Meredith no longer exist to Oliver. He literally went to jail for the guy, of course, his love for James isn’t equal in any way to his love for Meredith. I also just don’t agree with how the ending has Oliver and Meredith together only for Oliver to essentially leave Meredith because he finds out that James might still be alive. He admits that he was still in love with James! I understand that polyamorous relationships are a thing, but clearly Oliver has shown to be neglecting of Meredith whenever James comes to his peripheral vision! I just think that, maybe, Meredith deserves better than how Oliver is treating her. 

And god, don’t get me started on James and Wren. They, frankly, came out of nowhere! I think its because we are limited to Oliver’s perspective so we don’t see how their relationship developed and how their dynamic would go. I do see that James cares much for Wren and vice-versa and that they could totally work, but god, when you mix Oliver into it, Wren just doesn’t exist. I am extremely upset about the part where James gets incredibly drunk and then drags Wren to sleep with him for the same reasons Oliver sleeps with Meredith! And I hate it.

It’s very messy, and very well-written and very in-character, but god the implications. The way these women are being treated in the relationship drama is just to serve the men’s own relationship and how they totally belong to each other, but somehow they’re not together and they have to stay with the women and it’s really messy and Oliver is a disaster bisexual. Maybe I just don’t like love triangles or love squares, but this is just a prime example why you shouldn’t date someone in the same friend group. It’s messy and sometimes, I debate with myself if it was necessary. Either way, it happened and I can’t do anything about that.  

Overall Thoughts/Scoring

I have a lot of thoughts about IWWV and the book itself has a lot of themes and messages that really struck me. One thing that I really liked about IWWV as an aroace-spectrum person is the friend group’s relationship because despite all the tragedy around them, they manage to be really wholesome and there examples there of platonic intimacy that I don’t usually get to see in books. I love how Oliver and Filippa are essentially like siblings with how they are always there for each other and Filippa is always looking out for him and their other friends. I love the brotherly relationship between Oliver and Alexander. And despite my gripes, there are moments in Oliver’s and Meredith’s relationship that remind me that they were friends first and lovers second, and I really appreciate that.

I didn’t mention Oliver’s and James’ relationship as much because I’m pretty sure that’s what you would expect for me to say. It’s a good relationship, I like it since I’ve always been a fan of that kind of dynamic where they transcend the meaning of best friends, they’re gay essentially, but they are also each other’s person and their intimacy is beyond physical. I’m just describing sexual/romantic tension here but everytime they are in screen together, you just know that they are looking at each other with so much emotion. And of course, what Oliver did for James was incredibly stupid, but also just states what James is to Oliver. And it’s really codependent, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a kind of love that makes you feel thing.

I also would like to comment on how it tackles grief and guilt as those are major themes in the story. I appreciate how despite being dead, Richard is still ever-present in Oliver’s mind and everyone else’s that no one even bothers to go to his room aside from Oliver who just has to because he has to clean it. Guilt haunts everyone in If We Were Villains and I feel for that, especially when it comes to grief. It captures perfectly what mourning for someone who did some really bad stuff to you is like with the added guilt that you somehow contributed to his death. And it’s cruel how these people just have to deal with that major change; nothing is ever the same when someone dies and we can’t do anything about it. The show must go on, unfortunately. And that’s what happens to these characters, on or off the stage, life will continue with or without them and they have to go with out, otherwise they might end up drowning in their own misery. I think that is much the moral we can find in IWW, if it even has one.

//SPOILERS END HERE//

My scoring would be an 8/10. It’s really good and I recommend it to anyone who’s a fan of shakespeare or really into dark academia. I wouldn’t say it would be the best introduction book for this genre, but it got me into it so maybe it could work for you too!

[aesethewitch]

#OcculTea - Topic 2: Influencer Authenticity

Out of what I share on social media, how much of it is staged vs reality?

Pretty much everything I share is reality. I’ve mentioned before that when I publish spells and rituals, I’m usually leaving out a step or two that are deeply personal to my practice. They’re not things I want to share with the public, so I keep them to myself.

But I’m not staging pictures or publishing spells that I haven’t actually done myself. Everything you see here is Real, Bona Fide Witchcraft that I actually perform.

That said, I’m definitely not fully me while I’m posting out here. It’s a facet of me, sure, but it’s a persona I choose to put on. This is for my own sanity and protection. Folks who interact with me one-on-one in more private, casual settings see more of The Real Aese, but you’ll likely never actually Know Me on a personal level just by what I publish online.

Nothing personal. It’s a safety thing.

Do I think there is an element of censorship in online spaces?

In a general sense, yes — websites censor activity they deem unsafe or against their terms and conditions. Sometimes for incomprehensible reasons which might appear borderline indefensible (narrow look at this website’s recent moderation tactics). Some sites are more strict than others. I know that TikTok has a reputation of shadow-banning people for swearing or for creating certain content, which has, in turn, created this odd tendency to censor words like fuck or kill on sites that don’t do that (like Tumblr, for example). In regards to platforms silencing witches specifically, I haven’t really noticed anything.

Now, censorship between individuals? Perhaps. I’ve seen it happen where folks share their experiences or views and get shut down because they disagree with the “popular version” of witchcraft. Note that this doesn’t apply to cultural appropriation and bigotry in all its forms. I mean innocuous posts about opinions and personal experience being taken in bad faith. Complaints about certain laws that don’t apply outside those certain traditions, arguments surrounding correspondences, demands for more accessible/easy/beginner-friendly additions or substitutions… It ranges from simply annoying to downright threatening sometimes.

It creates an atmosphere of anxiety. I’ve experienced it myself: the worry that publishing something too personal or too niche or too “out there” will bring in nasty commentary. I have exactly one hex published on Tumblr. I haven’t gotten anything on the post itself, but I’ve gotten anonymous asks deriding me for “risking the consequences” of casting a hex. I just delete them and move on, personally.

But it does cause problems. Folks I know personally — good, intelligent practitioners who would absolutely love to share their practices and views — refuse to post anything online. The reasons they cite are fears over backlash.

This is where I’m uncertain how to define it. Does this constitute censorship? It’s definitely something. We see the effects in copious disclaimers. “This is my personal practice!” “These are my views, it’s okay if you disagree!” “In my opinion… It’s my view that…” “Not to put anyone else’s practice down or assume I know everything or put myself in a position of authority or pretend I know best or or or or…”

Don’t get me wrong. It’s important to delineate unverified personal gnosis (UPG) from other sources. But there’s such a fear over being misinterpreted as speaking like “my way is the only way” that we crowd our words with apologies and defenses before anyone even speaks up to complain. We do see folks who act like that, talking as though it’s their way or no way, sure, and that it’s a privilege that they’re sharing this information with the unwashed masses. Holier-than-thou is a solid term for that.

But most folks talking about their practices on here are… talking about their practices and the way they do things. Of course, they’re going to talk like it’s “the only way,” it’s their only way.

Bad-faith interpretations run amok on Tumblr, and it makes us fearful that we’re next in line for a callout post. Is this censorship? I don’t know. I do think it encourages self-censorship. It inhibits creators from being honest and sharing interesting, useful information that they otherwise would without hesitation.

And that’s a damn shame.

How do I decipher what is “appropriate” to share online vs what to keep privately? Is this based on “social media etiquette” or a personal preference?

For the most part, it’s basic internet safety. You know, don’t share your name or location or personally-identifying information. I don’t take pictures of myself to post publicly for a reason. My identity has to be secret and protected. Unless we’re friends, you won’t ever see my face. If we’re only ever friends online, you may never know my IRL name. I like it that way. It keeps me safe, but it also helps me to draw a line between myself and my online identity.

Witchcraft-wise, that’s personal preference. I won’t ever share the full details of my spells, because there are things in there that I can’t share. Many of my workings involve collaboration with spirits, and part of those agreements is that I don’t talk about them in detail. A lot of my kitchen-based spells involve practices that have been handed down to me by my family — superstitions I observe and rituals I perform in order to make spells work better and faster (and at all, in some cases). I won’t share those because… I don’t want to doxx my family? Lmao.

My general rule is that if sharing something would interfere with an existing working or get too close to my home, my family, or myself, I don’t share it. Like, if sharing a spell would give someone a way to reverse or fuck around with a ward or something? That’s not something I’m going to publish.

General information is usually safe. Spells I no longer use or that were one-time castings are often fair game. Methods and techniques are, for the most part, fine, with a few exceptions. Research is always on the table.

Stuff about my local environment, not so much. Practices I’ve developed to connect with the nature around me are so specific to where I live, I wouldn’t want to publish them. Practices involving spirit work are usually fine; but individual relationships with spirits are less so. I think there’s only one relationship I’d talk about in detail, and that’s because the little bugger is an attention hog who loves to chat with whoever’s willing to listen.

Have I ever encountered or heard of grifters in our community? Do I recognize them? What are significant signs of grifters in the community?

YES. Oh, my gosh, yes. There are so many people who are desperate for you to buy what they’re selling.

We have a thriving community of professional witches who offer all sorts of services for pay (I’m among them, hello!) here on Tumblr. From tarot readings to custom spells to astrology services to spell kits and more, there are tons of very legitimate shops on this platform, staffed by knowledgeable, experienced practitioners of all stripes. It’s awesome.

However.

Not all witchcraft services are equal. Always, always, always vet the people and shops you look at before making a purchase. There are folks out here who will overcharge you for subpar services and goods if you let them.

But there’s another type of grifter in these Tumblr wilds. I won’t name names, of course, in the interest of keeping the peace. You may know who I’m referring to, or have thoughts on who this might apply to, but keep their names off this post. Alright? No tagging anybody.

I talked in a previous question about creators hedging their statements in disclaimers about not being the end-all, be-all Knower Of Things and how it’s exhausting and frankly disheartening to have to do. We do it for two reasons:

Backlash; and

Grifters.

There are absolutely folks on Tumblr who can and will claim that their way is the only way. Or the best way. Or the original way. Or the “people call what they’re doing one thing, but in reality, they’re actually doing this, because that’s how I/my practice/my culture/my “ancestors” say it is.” (Note: I’m currently editing this post, and I just saw someone saying literally that shit — “people call [spirit] this and that, but it’s ACTUALLY this, and I’m right, because that’s my tradition, which is the Right Tradition, obviously.” Nonsense.) They make claims that they come from long lines of witches with long-standing traditions that are so secret, you can’t even imagine. And yet, they come onto this site and… share all of those secrets? How odd.

Anyone who claims that Their Way is the Only Way is full of shit. The truth is that none of us really know how all of this works. In many ways, we can’t. We can visualize and describe and try and cavort with spirits and work toward the Ultimate Answer, but there will always be an opposing viewpoint that somehow discredits ours. There’s no telling who’s right. It’s unknowable.

It’s… y’know, it’s esoteric. It’s occult. That’s sort of the point.

Even if the person promising that Their Way Is Perfectly Right isn’t directly selling you something (a shop, asking for tips, etc.), that doesn’t mean they’re not a grifter. They have something to gain, even if it isn’t your money. It could be your time, your clicks, your attention, your belief. Truthfully, though, it’s usually your money.

Anyways, visit my Ko-Fi page if you’re enjoying th— [gunshot]

Claims like this are the a solid way to know that someone’s pulling a grift. Other red flags might include New Age ideology, buying into conspiracy theories, using inflammatory language to get attention, plagiarism, and so forth. I also, personally, wouldn’t trust someone to provide a metaphysical service if they either have little experience or refuse to elaborate on how much and what kind of experience they have. A genuine, trustworthy practitioner will be happy to explain their background and methods when asked. If someone gets upset when you respectfully ask for details about their services and history, that’s a good sign that they’re up to no good.

In general, be wary of people who claim to be absolute authorities on anything. Even the highest-ranked member of a religious order has something to learn. A good leader knows they’re never done. The truly wise recognize that there’s no end to learning. Someone who pretends they have nothing left to do but teach is either a fool or a liar.

Again, even if they’re not demanding your money for services “only they can provide” (note: not services at which they excel or talents which they’ve perfected their technique; specifically claiming that “only” they can do it “the right way,” explicitly stated or otherwise) they want something from you. What is it?

What tools are helpful to decipher misinformation, and how can we as a community prevent widespread misinformation?

This is a tall order sometimes, especially when the most popular search engine in the world is providing dangerously incorrect results at the top of every search page.

If you’ve ever taken a class on journalism, among the first things they teach you is how to read an article. One of the most important things to take note of is the author’s goal. What are they trying to say? What do they want from you? What ideas are they sharing, and why are they sharing them?

Another important thing to consider is the sources being cited. Who is the author quoting, and why? Where is this information coming from? Are the sources reliable? What are the goals of the source material?

These two sets of questions can reveal some pretty damning red flags. If someone refuses to cite their sources for something they’re claiming is Absolute Truth, that’s a sign that they’re dealing in misinformation. If their sources are dubious or debunked elsewhere but they won’t reconsider their beliefs in those sources, that’s misinformation. If the tone of their work is inflammatory, throws out wild accusations with little proof, and otherwise is attempting to get a rise out of you, it’s not just misinformation — it’s a strategy.

Learning how to vet a source is crucial, and I would suggest doing so through mundane avenues. Read up on journalism and rhetoric. Familiarize yourself with persuasive speaking and writing techniques and learn to discern when someone is trying to sway your opinions and beliefs. Learn about cults, cult tactics, and common conspiracy theories. Learn the signs of conspiracy thought and propaganda. If you notice someone sharing information you know is untrue, tell them. Be kind, and don’t shame anyone, because they really may not know the information they’re sharing is wrong.

Our strongest allies against misinformation are each other. If we can kindly hold each other accountable and point out falsehoods respectfully, we can root out near any issue. The other side of this, of course, is being open to receiving that sort of heads-up. The knee-jerk reaction of needing to be “unproblematic” and free of guilt isn’t helpful. Learn to admit you were wrong, thank the person who reached out to you, and delete the dang post. If it spread around, put up an addendum letting people know it was misinformation.

Shame is the enemy of progress. Be kind to each other and to yourself.

How does a large following impact the perception of the creator?

Perhaps a tough one to answer for me, personally, since I don’t have a particularly large following when compared to other professional/content-creating witches out there (as of this writing, I sit around the 1,500 mark on Tumblr).

With that said, I’ve been a fan of YouTubers since YouTube became A Thing. I’ve been online and following creators on various platforms for a long time. I’ve seen the rise and fall of so many, been part of creators’ fandoms, witnessed from the inside the insidious rot that can easily take over lives.

Having a large following, whether earned or not, imparts some authority on a person. The feeling is that, well, they wouldn’t have such a following if they weren’t doing something right. Right? Surely this person has a vast array of fans and supporters because they’re right about things. Right?

Consider the humble Tumblr post. When you read a post, no matter the content of it, do you check the notes count before you reblog it? Not the contents of the notes, not the replies, not the tags. The number.

Popular posts with a ton of notes expand exponentially up to a plateau point. They’re more likely to receive interactions agreeing with the most recent addition on that post, and not necessarily because it’s right, but because the assumption is that, well, everyone else agrees with it. That’s why they’re reblogging this version. Right?

Right?

A larger, more popular witchcraft blog publishes a post on a subject. Their large following interacts with the post, liking and replying and reblogging, thus spreading it to their own followers and adding to the notes count. The more notes something has (without people within those notes debunking any misinformation or adding context), the more “trustworthy” it seems to be. Again, if everyone else is reblogging that post on that topic, surely it’s correct. Right? The witchcraft blog, thanks to this post with lots of notes, sees a rise in followers. They post something else, and their followers reblog it.

The point is, even though we can’t see people’s follower counts on Tumblr (a good thing, in my opinion), the perception of popularity lends credibility to posts and posters. Calling out misinformation on posts like that is a dangerous thing sometimes; the more dedicated the creator’s fans are, the likelier they are to send hate and vitriol to the whistleblower. Thus, the cycle of call-out posts comes into play...

This doesn’t even touch on the distortion that can happen to the creator themselves when they obtain a large following. All those eyes, all that attention… Terrifying and thrilling in equal measures, I assume. So easy to fall into the role of Great Leader, so simple to fool oneself into believing those ardent followers’ words of admiration and dedication. Parasocial relationships do go both ways.

It’s tough. We want to make an impact and have our work seen, but we don’t want to fall victim to the curse that comes tied to fame. Other, more popular witches might be able to speak more about this particular facet of things. I can only talk from the perspective of watching the rise and fall and rise and fall and rise of so many different creators from the dawn of Social Media to now.

Does this immediately make them an “expert”? Or are there other assumptions as to why they may have a large following?

I mean, no. Of course not. There might be the assumption of expertise, particularly from practitioners who are less experienced, but a large following (or lots of interactions on a given post or posts) doesn’t automatically equate to expertise.

I can recall a blogger I followed when I returned to Tumblr a few years ago. I’ll be vague and ungendered here to avoid pointing fingers at that blog. Essentially, they were publishing content and answering asks about witchcraft with the air of a teacher. After a while, they admitted that they weren’t nearly as experienced as they thought when they’d started the blog. They abandoned the blog, stating that they were going to refocus on their own studies and step away from the teaching role they’d assumed. It was a brave thing to do, and I very much admire this blogger for it.

When a magical practitioner gains a large following, it’s often because they publish content with an air of confidence. Whether that content is vetted, correct, and otherwise trustworthy depends on the individual. It can be hard to know when someone actually knows what they’re talking about and when someone is just trying to seem like they know. The only way to know for sure is over time and by vetting their sources yourself.

Personally, having been burned by bullshit artists in real life, I tend toward the people who are happy to say “I don’t know!” when asked questions they have no idea about. If I can find evidence of a creator admitting that they don’t know something, I’m likely to trust them more solidly. If I can find them apologizing for being wrong about something… That’s a very good sign.

How does one maintain the balance of authenticity and content creation?

It can be hard, to be sure. We want to protect ourselves and keep the core of our crafts to ourselves, but hiding away too much feels like leaving out important information. It’s the context by which we measure our experiences and write our posts.

For me, I keep that balance by allowing my true voice to come through in my posts. I don’t overly-edit them to sanitize them of swears and grammatical flubs. Believe it or not, this is kind of how I talk. I’m a verbose bitch. The Curse of Long-Winded Explanations was cast upon me at birth.

I like to think that it’s my voice that draws people to my work. It’s the cadence and tune beneath the written words. It’s the way I write my ideas out and explain the way I’m thinking. It’s the charm in them, and the honesty. At least, I hope so. I hope that comes through.

I refuse to just make shit up, and that includes my core personality. Yeah, there’s a sort of persona going on, what with the esoteric tone and the smoke and mirrors around the actual way I’m doing the magic I post about. It’s almost a character. But it is me, at the end of the day. Just because I don’t share every detail about my life doesn’t make me inauthentic.

This is part two of a series! Click here to view the masterpost to see all #OcculTea posts in this series. Replies, reblogs, and asks on any or all of the topics covered in this post series are very much welcome.

[midnightsunnyday]

I agree. I think one of the more interesting aspects of the game is that these characters aren't entirely what they seem. How an angel isn't necessarily good natured or a demon necessarily bad natured. I'm not a theology expert either, but I have read a bit about the nature of angels and demons, and I know that in some cases, angels aren't necessarily "good" by human standards. They are shown helping humans in the sense of leading them upon the right path or providing wisdom, protection, etc. but they are mostly there to enact the will of God, whatever that may be, and if a few or a lot of humans die, then that's just how it goes, I guess.

I also know that demons aren't necessarily "evil" either. Some cultures describe their demons as purely chaotic evil, yet there are other interpretations where demons are actually benevolent in the sense that they will help humans obtain their desires or are even amicable towards them. It's all rather interesting, really.

And I guess in Obey Me! we do see those contradictions within their actions or behaviors, and I love that the writers, whether intentionally or not, attempt to show that.

Now, I think it's important for me to state what I personally mean by "demons being demons." This is really long, but I feel I must stress this point since people love to misinterpret things online.

It is of my opinion that if one is to create a world with non-human characters, then it's expected that those characters will behave in a way outside our normal or respectable human standards.

And yeah, sometimes those standards do include "squicky" themes or things that make us uncomfortable, and I'm not going to sit here and pretend that they don't just so some random stranger on the Internet can feel comfortable or superior in their morality over me. At the end of the day, I'm an adult. Meaning that I've spent enough years on this earth to know my principles, morals, and values completely. And a lot of what y'all complain about online with these fictional characters is something I rarely care about and will never equate to the violence and harm enacted against real living, breathing people.

And, stressing further, this doesn't mean you or anyone else can't find it uncomfortable or dislike it. But while a lot of people don't like hearing this, it's something that always stood true for me: in an online space, if you're someone past the age of 18, then it's your responsibility to curate your own online experiences. My feeds and socials are throughly curated. Some things do slip through the cracks, but I block, reorganize my tags, and move on. That is the extent of my crises with what other people write and ship. Despite me finding it gross and uncomfortable myself, I'm not sure what else to do about it, nor can I keep people from writing it.

Despite the above, I then further go on to say that no, "demons being demons" doesn't mean making every character a justifiable horrible piece of shit. As you and I have stated, these characters are more than that, and I think that makes for good media in general. There are characters whose entire purpose is to act as the hate sink and have no redeemable qualities, but those characters tend to be boring and juvenile, and having an entire cast of them would just make for a bad experience. Making a story and its characters darker doesn't necessarily mean it'll be good, and if executed poorly, can be just as shallow, distasteful, and downright offensive.

Right now, Obey Me! needs that balance, and it's been sticking to mostly one side, for obvious but unfortunate reasons. I do get it's an otome, but there are other games within the same genre that handle characters and topics with darker themes yet still find a way to balance it with the romance. It doesn't have to be either or, and I think the writers should take further risks with their story regardless of the fandom, and I really hope Obey Me! Nightbringer does so.

So, I've been thinking over this, and I'm really not trying to come across as rude or offend anyone with my take, but...

What exactly does this fandom want from this game and its characters?

Do y'all want a game featuring good, uncomplicated human men who live by good, uncomplicated human standards and never do anything wrong but with tails, horns, and wings?

Or do y'all want a game about the literal lords of hell and whatever that may entail?

Because I can't be the only one who finds it ironic that the characters who act the most like demons are widely disliked, while the characters who act less like demons are widely liked, right? In a game about dating demons, being demonic or showing any kind of character flaw isn't attractive, and those of us who actually do enjoy the darker themes, when we do get them, are treated as having somehow failed morally for liking it. It makes no sense to me.

And this is in spite of so many posts from this fandom stating how they want their "demons to be demons." That they want complex and interesting characters. That they want to feel like they're in a realm surrounded by devils and engage with all the hostilities and angst and drama and blood that comes along with that, yet in the same breath, can't even handle characters like Lucifer, Belphegor, Asmodeus, Solomon, Simeon, and Diavolo. Characters who aren't exactly nice or fully transparent about their goals or actions. Characters who are a little or a lot fucked up. Characters who are gray at worse, but ultimately, show they are capable of being more. Even if poorly executed by the writers, they tried to show us, to some extent, exactly what we've been asking for. Now we rarely get events or chapters where the brothers so much as even swat a fly, and I can't help but blame that on the knee jerk reaction of the fandom to scream about anything less than flattering.

Which is why I can't help but wonder if Obey Me! Nightbringer does happen to touch on darker themes and characterization, than I can only imagine how well the fandom will handle any of it (my guess is poorly).

Feel free to leave a comment. As I'd really like to have some more opinions on this.

[juniorgman187]

Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments. 

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events. 

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt. 

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it. 

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate. 

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend. 

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts. 

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me. 

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong. 

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point. 

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun. 

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.” 

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us. 

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room. 

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug. 

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself. 

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?” 

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.” 

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery. 

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me. 

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction. 

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime. 

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today 

Grant: don’t need to. 

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me. 

“Who keeps texting you?” 

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business. 

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.  

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!” 

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it. 

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it. 

“No one.” 

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going. 

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me. 

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously. 

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet. 

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing. 

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?” 

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?” 

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.” 

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’” 

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade. 

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. 

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.” 

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid. 

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him. 

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub. 

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance. 

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly. 

“No, sir.” 

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me. 

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him. 

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field. 

“You are not going in without a gun,”  Reid ordered. 

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again. 

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in. 

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me. 

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling. 

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?” 

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more. 

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?” 

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”  

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return. 

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent. 

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out. 

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.” 

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red. 

This war was far from over. 

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good. 

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them. 

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing. 

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly. 

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.” 

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied. 

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.” 

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked. 

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all. 

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.” 

What you feel. 

I clung onto those words. 

What was I really feeling? 

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me? 

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me. 

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast. 

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me. 

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely. 

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added. 

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier. 

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked. 

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer. 

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence. 

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too. 

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _ 

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation. 

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way. 

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual. 

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?” 

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew. 

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.  

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken. 

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat. 

“A dating app, actually.” 

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this. 

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?” 

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.” 

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.” 

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now. 

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung. 

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed. 

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice. 

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though. 

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.” 

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?” 

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling. 

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead. 

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face. 

He felt sorry for me. 

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book. 

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field. 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.” 

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.” 

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.” 

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words. 

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t. 

But I should’ve. 

_ _ _ 

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being. 

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end. 

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat. 

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would. 

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative. 

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?” 

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it. 

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction. 

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.” 

_  _ _ 

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however. 

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it. 

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this. 

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were. 

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now? 

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me. 

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic 

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them. 

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones. 

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head. 

You deserve more than that. Much more. 

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said. 

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened. 

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see. 

“I asked you first.” 

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.” 

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before. 

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know. 

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me. 

“What? What is it?” I urged. 

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?” 

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth. 

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?” 

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.” 

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?” 

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was. 

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” 

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second. 

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed. 

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that. 

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize. 

That never came. 

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust. 

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments. 

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness. 

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.” 

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).” 

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either. 

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up. 

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it’s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too. 

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I. 

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well. 

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field. 

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room. 

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon. 

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?” 

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet. 

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer. 

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it. 

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.” 

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?” 

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart. 

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat. 

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.” 

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here. 

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?” 

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least. 

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity. 

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though. 

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something. 

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.” 

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar. 

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me. 

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me. 

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again. 

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again. 

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.” 

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image. 

“Always, trouble.” 

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know. 

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help. 

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.” 

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation. 

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her. 

_ _ _ 

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left. 

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied. 

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety. 

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D. 

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful. 

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright. 

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened. 

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?” 

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?” 

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.” 

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before. 

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?” 

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before. 

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit. 

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority. 

She was my priority. 

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear. 

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver. 

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms. 

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand. 

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms. 

She was so cold. 

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute. 

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again. 

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all. 

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.” 

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car. 

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way. 

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly. 

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible. 

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there. 

I need to be somewhere I feel safe. 

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _ 

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself. 

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize. 

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever. 

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?” 

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly. 

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?” 

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.” 

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.” 

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too. 

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that. 

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind. 

“You’re smart. Figure it out.” 

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence. 

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?” 

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?” 

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point? 

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt. 

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?” 

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth. 

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’ 

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never. 

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him. 

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything. 

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us. 

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet. 

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting. 

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler  @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid 

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent 

[storm-of-feathers]

Alex hi coucou I just had - not an epiphany but some kind of realisation. I have not watched RWBY I do not plan on watching RWBY the only things I know about RWBY come from Hbomberguy's video and your posts. Now I watched his video before I saw you post about it, so my first instinct was "well Hbomberguy has good points on lots of other media so...?" but well you're talking about the whole thing and he's talking about the first few volumes so that probably changes things and also. There's the way you talk about RWBY. You talk about it like people with Correct Opinions™ in my little Star Wars bubble talk about the Jedi. So I know nothing about RWBY and I will never know anything about it. But your posts evoke a deep kinship in me because going "[name the fandom has given the group of people who don't get it] will say that [wild misinterpretation of canon a 10 year old would not make] and explain it with [one (1) singular cherry-picked moment that is also misinterpreted] and then act like they're good at analysis?? Did we watch the same thing???" just reminds me of home. For all I know you have terrible opinions but I actually will never know and your plight resonates with me. I think it's the fact you so clearly love the show despite anything it might not have executed well? I'll automatically side with anyone with an attitude of love towards something because that's what's fun. Why would you spend your time saying so and so sucks when you could find the things you like and have fun with them in your corner. Why shit on stuff you don't like all day long. People who try to understand what the story is about and wants to tell them and love it despite its flaws my beloved. We do not know each other's fandoms and yet we have the same attitude of love. I am waving at you from the other side of the Tumblr. Hope you have a great day.

I never did watch HBomberGuys video </3 Joe said he had some valid points but I love RWBY far too much to yk. Listen to it. Anyways.

Yeah. RWBY means the WORLD to me. And while there is a lot of valid criticism (especially for volumes 4 and 5) a lot of the criticism I do see is just. Not valid. Like at all. It's a lot of "I sure do hate women" in more words than that.

My most recent argument was about the protagonist herself, Ruby. One of the STRENGTHS of RWBY is the fact that Ruby is presented as a "smaller, more honest soul." Her kindness and genuinity and true belief in doing the right thing BECAUSE it's the right thing is among her best traits as a character. And the show absolutely shows that, over and over.

So when people say she's "screwing people over" it's genuinely just BAFFLING. Especially about characters like ironwood, who absolutely screwed himself over and is also a military dictator.

And yeah the RWDE people are just. Equally as baffling. I get it, they hate the show, but holy shit don't they have?? Idk lives??? Something to make them HAPPY????

I feel you bro. Idk much about star wars outside of the memes but I feel you. I feel what it's like when you love a media so fucking much and people hate on it for generally invalid reasons. I feel it.

I love you <3 coucou!!

[officialtrashbin]

~* Alone & Again *~

An Edelgard x Claude ficlet for @villtura inspired by their ‘Learning to Trust’ art pieces!

~* *~

It didn’t occur to him that there was anyone else in the Black Eagles classroom until he was already half-way over the threshold and a sudden shadow breached his peripheral vision. It was too late for him to turn back now and instead he accepted Edelgard’s petulant gaze as it fixated on him with the same swift calculation he’d seen from her only once before, on the battlefield last moon: a Beast had made the mistake of flanking her from the right and he saw a lethal flash in her eyes as she felled it in one hit. It was the look of someone who'd almost been killed before. Maybe that was why she reminded him so much of a spider holed up in its burrow, watching the world’s natural motion, always poised to strike.

“Princess!” he said, assuming his casual facade as his feet carried him over scuffed floorboards to close the distance between them.

“Claude,” she deadpanned back. She didn’t step away when he came closer and he tried not to think about that too much. “What do you want?”

At that, he stopped. He squinted against the low sunlight filtering amber through the classroom window panes. Formalities were for people who hadn’t yet developed an opinion of the other, and since they were already an accidental hand brush at tea yesterday beyond being strangers, he supposed there was no longer the barrier of unfamiliarity dividing them.

“Just dropped by to ask the Professor a few questions,” he said, the lie coming to him as easily as all the others preceding it. “Lots of exams next week, as you know, and equal amounts pressure to perform at the top like the good imperial puppets we are. I figured I could butter the Professor up and get some helpful pointers—”

“Enough—please, don’t do this today.” She dug the heel of her palm into her left eye. “I’m...not in the mood.”

But he did have questions. About the church, about the Professor, about the Flame Emperor, about Rhea. Right now he wanted to ask why she sounded scooped hollow, and what she was doing alone in the classroom when sessions ended three hours ago, and if what’s bothering her would dissuade her from accepting another vicarious tea invite—but that would mean he’d have to admit to his own unlikely auspiciousness in face of it all and she already looked too worn to care. Still. He could tell, even from this distance, that she’d been crying, or something close to it.

“Did—something happen?” he asked.

“What does it matter? With all the poking around you do, I’m certain you have enough blackmail material on me as it is.”

Claude folded his arms and reminded himself not to take her tone so seriously; Dimitri had alluded to Edelgard’s rather poignant personality earlier in the semester. People who guard themselves that closely do so out of self-preservation. It’s nothing personal.

Sure as hell felt personal. “Okay, then I won’t make the mistake of being concerned for the Princess’ wellbeing.”

He appertained the resounding silence to the end of their miserable attempt at a conversation but neither of them moved to leave. Edelgard lowered her chin towards her chest in thought. Laughter and the low thrum of voices filled the courtyard outside, giving him a sense of being back home, the sound of it as bright and near as sunlight. Claude considered drawing her close to him so she might feel it too.

Finally she said, “Some days are harder than others. Especially after...”

What happened to those students. Carefully, he reached for her hand and replicated the moment they endured only yesterday, the splaying of her fingers over a shimmering spoon and his incidental misinterpretation of the ownership of silverware as it was arranged upon the table. When he took her fingertips in his palm he was surprised by her reciprocation and the subtle softening of her scowl into something blank, mendable.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was beneath me.”

The depressions under her eyes were made deeper and darker by the shadow cast upon her face, her back slanted away from the window. A stubborn fraction of light was lucky enough to fall across her left cheek. He wondered if she’d always been this beautiful.

“I don’t have blackmail, if that makes you feel any better.”

She said, with same casual tone she used to recommend a meal at dinner, “It won’t matter if you do.”

For the second time this week, but not in his lifetime, he became aware of the wrongness about her. More questions he needed answers to: Her denial to say things first. That shadow standing in her shadow. The unnamable tint of emotion in her eyes when he noticed once a scar on the underside of her wrist and made the irreversible decision to question its happenstance. Why those gloves seemed little more than an extension of her own flesh.

“I really did come to see you,” he admitted, treading over whether he should include the part where Ferdinand had been an octave too loud about Edelgard’s explicit gloom since Jeralt’s passing, and whether his tone just now was too dry, too wanting.

She offered nothing in repose. Instead she retracted her hand and turned to leave, and he heard himself ask, “Will you join me for tea tomorrow?”, not even dimly aware of why he sought her out so fervently that he could be persuaded by his own mind to find a fractional tidbit of disappointment in her absence, or in her hypothetical rejection. Despite her strangeness, or maybe in spite of it, he still wanted her near enough to know that if he spoke she was capable of withstanding it.

“Yes,” she answered finally. “I...I look forward to seeing you.”

She left him standing in a classroom that didn’t belong to him. He kept his head bent low, ducking his eyes away from the streams of old crepuscular sunlight falling upon everything around him and within him, turning all it touched red and gold.

[sketching-shark]

I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

-----

PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure. 

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work. 

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst. 

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels. 

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).   

----

Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity. 

----

 As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

[nestable]

Feminism in ACOTAR

(This is a bit long so bare with me)

As a politics student and general member of the public who's curious about feminist themes, I've read a lot of feminist writings which have informed my opinion in saying that none of the acotar books can be described as feminist.

I've noticed that the big motivator behind describing the books as feminist is feyres appointment of High lady. Though that may be pivotal in prythian history, we cant ignore the fact that it is still a fairly patriachal society. Having a few women in places of power like mor, amren, feyre etc. Is not enough because women don't grow up on an island and are also influenced by patriachal views or mindsets. In short, just because someone is a woman and is in a position of power, doesnt mean that they will cater to the needs of women or are feminist. Women, especially white women(this is important because sjms writes white feminism) have often gotten into positions of power and actually ignored women and done the same that their male predecessors have done and often threw other women under the bus in order to retain their tokenism status. And the main flaw of white feminism which is the reason why it coined the term 'white feminism' is that it doesnt encompass all the intersectionalities that women reside in and only focus on a western model of what it means to be a woman and anything outside of that is backward and 'barbaric. We see this in the judgement and disregarding of POC's experiences and outlooks on life because they are different to theirs. There are more than enough examples of the white women in the series judging the illyrians which are seen by the fandom as POC's and how they maliciously drag their customs through the mud. Instead of getting these views from illyrian women themselves, we get them from white women who arent connected to that culture whatsoever and who have nothing to say except judgement and critique instead of actually helping.

We see this with the white characters views of illyrian cultures and their conclusion of the condition of women without even having a single conversation with illyrian women. Illyrian women in this set up have no agency and no voice and that leaves the women of the IC to speak for them which is counterproductive. This is wrong in that many western cultures have misinterpreted different cultures and ignored the women in those societies as being disenfranchised and have used this as an excuse to invade and colonize under the guise of liberating women when in actual fact they dont care about the women at all, and are only concerned in reaping the benefits of that culture and keeping them under their control. An example of this is rhys ignoring the treatment of illyrian women but reaping the benefit of having illyrians fight in his wars.

Feyre as high lady

It's unfair to judge feyres actions as high lady as yet because we've barely seen her act, but from the little that we know, she follows Rhys' every action and decision without question. And rhys hasn't done anything for the improvement of women's position socially or economically at all (we all know the state of the illyrian camps) in all the 500 yrs he's been high lord. Apart from Rhys, the inner circle has 2 women in the highest leadership positions and even they havent done anything and have even ignored the plight of women under their jurisdiction, (mor with Hewn city) I dont even think amren cares about anything besides her jewels tbh. So it's fair to assume that feyre will follow in those very footsteps. She already has biased and low views on the illyrians and people who reside in hewn city to the point where she participates in the 'pimp and whore' act that she puts on t deal with them. And we've never seen her speak to illyrian women so to her their voices and autonomy dont matter.

Male feminism in the IC

The only male who can be seen as being feminist in the series is Cassian because aside from simply declaring that wing clipping is illegal, he actually does the ground work to ensure it doesn't happen by offering the women to train with him. Though this is a weak cure for the issues the women face in Illyria, it's a start and far more work than anything the other characters have done in the name of women empowerment.

Another so called feminist figure in the series is rhysand. Why he's described as such defeats me, but I'll go through some points to prove that hes nothing of the sort.

1. He created a library for sexual assault survivors.

Though this is a nice effort, it can't be described as feminism because he doesnt extend the same courtesy to the other women in his territory and is only concerned with women in Velaris. Supporting women who worship you isnt feminism isnt feminism either and we know that the entirety of Velaris see the IC as blameless gods. Based on mors history, its obvious that the women in hewn city are suffering just as much if not more but hes forsaken them to live under mors parents/abusers rule. And creating a safe house for sexual assault survivors isnt as much feminism as it is human decency. Especially considering how much money hes got.

2. Banning illyrian wing clipping

Wing clipping is still a pandemic in the illyrian camps meaning that he didnt put enough provisions to ensure that it stops. Passing a law and ensuring that it is followed are two different things and rhys clearly dowsnt know the distinction. An additional point regarding illyrian women is that it was mentioned in acofas that they were joining the men in rebelling, and if that doesnt say anything about their feelings with him being high lord and how he doesnt cater to them, then I dont know what does. This also speaks to the point of the assumption that women of color dont have agency in their own societies. He said something like the men 'manipulated' the women into joining their rebellion, which insinuates that they can't think for themselves and are completely voiceless and this is a factor of whit feminism, the belief that WOC colour cant speak for themselves and are meek and susetable to being controlled or manipulated. It is a huge possibility that the women can't really express their opinions because they are suppressed by their men, however we dont see rhys interacting with any women and getting their opinion on things. He assumes that they are forced into everything and though we havent gotten the book yet I'm gonna say this is false. The reason being if rhys was such a good high lord and cared for women's issues, why would the women side with their 'abusive' men instead of their so called benevolent high lord?

3. Rhys appointed women in his IC

First of all, appointing women based on merit and qualifications is feminism, not appointing family members and you underaged bride just because 'you love her'. Though mor and amren may be qualified, and that's a massive 'maybe', they haven't done anything to improve the lives of women. Like their high lord they are complacent and Hewn city and illyria are more than enough to prove this. What rhys has essentially done is nepotism and corruption and no one can convince me otherwise.

Going further on the inner circle women, rhys was willing to sacrifice these very women to achieve his goal and this is self serving and anti feminist. The first being abusing feyre UTM and then using her as bait for the attor, then later making a deal with eris even though he knows his history with mor. If anyone believes that these actions are remotely feminist or excusable, then feminism is not for you and need help because its abusive and patriachal.

In conclusion rhys isnt feminist, mor isnt feminist, amren isnt feminist, feyre isnt feminist, azriel isnt even in the conversation and cassian is the only one scratching the surface. Also, white feminism is an exclusive and limited way to portray and execute feminism, women getting leadership positions based on their proximity to men just advances the false notion that women can only succeed if they 'sleep' their way to the top and just because a woman is in a leadership space, thag doesnt make that state of affairs inherently feminist because women are also carriers of patriarchy.

I tried to sum up my points but for more on white feminism, feminist intersectionalites and how being female doesnt make a person feminist, I advice you read Bell Hooks' writings because she touches on these topics in far better ways than I can.

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, Part 1

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I'm outlining stems from my own views and experiences. I am a 30-something European woman, and therefore may not view the matter from certain angles. That said, I'm always open to more input from others. If you believe that I've missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. If we can make this a team effort, I would love that.

The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. I am of the firm belief that characters are no more than a tool created to serve a narrative purpose, therefore the question I'm posing is whether or not Barok van Zieks serves this purpose. That's all I'm doing here.

I'm using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what's said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent.

It doesn't matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. He's not real anyway, so he can't suffer from it. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people. If you know you're morally in the right, there should be no need for insults to begin with. Let's keep this conversation civil and constructive! As the first post in a series, let’s first start by examining the expectations we would have for a character like this. The purpose he was meant to serve.

1: Expectations

As I said in a different Barok-related essay, the main prosecutor of any Ace Attorney game has been, and always will be, an antagonistic force. Not a villain, not even necessarily someone who exhibits immoral traits. (Hi Klavier!) Just someone who impedes the protag’s goal of getting a not-guilty verdict. In order to have an effective antagonist, they need to mirror the protag's weaknesses back at them. Ace Attorney does this quite well, as the prosecutors represent the obstacle/turmoil that the defense needs to overcome. Often times, the prosecutor is also tied to a pivotal moment in the attorney's past, making sure the strife is quite personal.

Considering the game's plot and settings, it would've been difficult for Barok to be tied to Ryunosuke's past. (He is tied to Asogi's past, funnily enough, but that's a matter I also addressed in that other Barok essay.) So instead, Barok represents Ryunosuke's struggle in more of a figurehead capacity. I've seen people dub him the 'CEO of Racism', and I'm not gonna lie, in a way that's correct. Barok was designed to be the mouthpiece of the harmful sentiments Japanese exchange students would have encountered in the 1900s. By extension, since Ryunosuke is an exchange student unfamiliar with the British courts (or even courts in general), the prosecutor would target the fact that Ryunosuke 'does not understand how things are done here'. Which he does- a lot. This makes it all the more satisfying when Ryunosuke proves him wrong by outsmarting him and using Britain's own laws (such as the closing argument) against him. So yes, you may hate Barok for uttering racist sentiments and dismissing Ryunosuke's abilities, but the ultimate goal here is that Barok's defeat is made sweeter as a result. The narrative end-game is Ryunosuke's triumph and validation in the courtroom.

Was there a different personal struggle Barok could have represented? Yes, but also no. Sure, his vendetta could have been strictly with the Asogi family and Ryunosuke could have admitted to carrying Asogi's resolve, not knowing what it meant. Though that would’ve implied very early that Asogi had a history of sorts in Britain and would’ve destroyed some of the surprise we experience in game 2. Alternatively, there was also the 'parallel' antagonist angle. The sort of villain who says the line “we're not so different, you and I.” The antagonist who shows what happens when someone with the same skills or motivations follows the wrong path, which emphasizes the right path for the protagonist. However, I can't see that working in the plot of this game.

A purposeful decision was made by the writers to have prejudice be a central theme of the plot. This is the matter that hits the hardest in an emotional sense. Therefore, having Barok be the centerpiece of this prejudice ensures he leaves the biggest narrative impact.

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However, another long-running aspect of the AA prosecutor is the redemption arc, so let's turn our attention to that!

I'm not going to put too much effort into explaining this, I just want to talk about the requirements of a redemption arc. We all know these types of arcs, a lot of Ace Attorney prosecutors have them. We see them in fiction all over. Noteworthy examples of redemption arcs done well include Zuko from The Last Airbender, Michael from The Good Place... For argument's sake, let's toss Edgeworth in there too. I'm not saying Edgeworth's arc is done well, but at the very least it is accepted by most as something that served its intended purpose. I've never seen anyone question Edgeworth's transformation.

See, what we have here is a bit of a misnomer when it comes to what people expect to get out of these types of arcs. Redemption in itself is only 'deliverance from sin' or 'being saved from evil'. It's the thought that a horrible person can still see the error of their ways before it's 'too late'. However, when it comes to absorbing media, often a character gaining knowledge that they were in the wrong isn't enough to satisfy the audience. Would Edgeworth have had a satisfying redemption arc if he'd acknowledged his arrogance and dirty tactics, only to retire as a prosecutor? No way. We needed him to return in the following games to give us an update on his status. Standing in court as a defense attorney, at the risk of damaging his reputation, was the moment we knew he'd grown for the better.

What we require for the arc to come to a good conclusion is atonement. The character in question must not only apologize for their actions, but repent in a more active manner to show that they've changed their ways. Following that, the atonement must be acknowledged by others. So for example, Zuko joins the ATLA gang to help them in any way that he can until even the most skeptical of the group, Katara, acknowledges his transformation into a better person. Now add to this the notion that the character's atonement must be virtuous and sincere. The Good Place is a fascinating look into the debate of 'is it ever too late for a person to change?' and the moral complications of changing in the first place. If you're only doing good things because you want to be saved from damnation, are you being a good person or are you being selfish? There's such a thing as corrupt motivation; only doing good because it is expected. For example, does sponsoring a library make Magnus McGilded a good person? It does not, since he's only doing it to boost his own reputation and have people believe he's selfless.

As a final note, I want to ask: Does a redemption arc require a backstory to justify the character's immoral ways? Personally, I don't think that it does. It's good to have, since it allows an audience to empathize with the character and give them more of a reason to root for them. It turns the redemption arc into a tale about overcoming past trauma. However, it can backfire when done badly and lead to frustration. (I'm looking at you, live action Disney movies!) Some characters are evil just for the sake of being evil and even then, they can turn over a new leaf because they realize it is just so much more rewarding to be good. Just look at Michael from The Good Place.

What's more effective than a backstory, in my opinion, is smaller details to humanize a character. Humanization can also lead to empathy, perhaps even relatability, and helps us believe that they're capable of change. We need to be told that a character has their own fears, their own flaws, their own odd little habits which deviate from the norm... Again, I'll point to Michael from The Good Place for this. Another humanization tactic, which we see employed often in Ace Attorney, is to display a prosecutor's likes and hobbies outside the courtroom. Edgeworth's fanboying over the Steel Samurai, Blackquill's love for birds, Nahyuta's willingness to stand in line for hours to get his hands on a delicious burger... I've feel ya, Nahyuta. This tactic is more readily employed in Ace Attorney because it's difficult to place a prosecutor in a position of weakness before the final showdown. You can show them tending to hobbies during Investigation segments, but you can't show them waking up from a nightmare or wondering whether their father loves them. Well, not until case 5 of that game, anyway. By then, it's too late to serve as the sole humanization factor. Did Van Zieks need to be redeemed at all? The way I see it, the only correct answer is yes. What do we want to see in our world? Do we want people who hold racist prejudice to acknowledge their faults and become better, or do we want them to die clinging to their shitty moral compass? Do we want a world where everyone learns to get along, or do we want a world where people continue to be in the wrong and act like assholes until they inevitably get punished by law for something or another? Van Zieks needed to be redeemed in order to teach that valuable lesson that it’s never too late to be a good person and that it pays to be a good person.

So to summarize, what we needed from Barok van Zieks was the following:

1) Present an antagonistic (possibly immoral) force who personifies Ryunosuke's biggest personal obstacle/weakness, in this case racial prejudice. 2) Humanizing traits begin to show. OPTIONAL: A backstory to justify any immorality he has. 3) Over time, Barok has his realization and sees the error of his ways. 4) Barok atones for his immorality, not simply through apology but by taking decisive steps. 5) The cast around him acknowledges his efforts and forgives him.

This leaves us with the question: Does the game deliver on these points? Well, let's boot it up and find out! Stay tuned for The Adventure of the Runaway Room! (as a warning, it’s gonna be LONG)

[ask-spider-man-61610]

The Infiltration: Part One of Three

To say that two shapeshifters stood in the basement laboratory of a government building wouldn't be quite accurate. One shapeshifter stood in the basement laboratory. The other could more honestly be described as meticulously sculpted into shape. The particles that made up his body were arranged into the shape of a standing man, held in place by static cling, but that wasn't really standing. It was a rough approximation of standing, just like everything about Flint Marko was a rough approximation of a human being. He'd long since gotten used to the fact, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant.

The other shapeshifter, Reed Richards, leaned against a table that was great for projecting holograms but terrible for holding papers or drinks. Fancy and impractical equipment like this was one of the Cape Code Authority's most well-known features.

A third man stood in this laboratory too, off to one side. He was, in a way, the exact opposite of a shapeshifter. More on him later.

"I've taken some time to look into your request," Richards said as he tapped a few icons on the tabletop. "Here's the basics of my thoughts so far. A shell to house your nervous system and respond to electrical signals."

There was a sound like sand sliding down a dune before Flint began to speak. It had taken him a long time to relearn how to talk after becoming the Sandman; even now, it took effort to hold the shape of those granular vocal cords as he spoke in a deep and raspy voice. "Yeah. Y'said that last time, Doc. What's changed?"

Richards, in response, pinched an image on the tabletop and widened it out, his fingers stretching like rubber bands to expand the picture further. He raised his arm--he seemed to ignore his joints, the entire limb bending like a garden hose--and flicked one finger up, and a hologram rose out of the table's display to cast a soft white glow over the room. The hologram looked like eggshells glued to an Erector set, arranged into the shape of a bipedal form that lay on the table as if it were a stretcher. "What's changed is that I've done some research into actually making that shell. Take a look, I've drafted up a basic schematic for what it'd look like."

"And you decided it'd look like a Phantom?"

Richards snorted, but ignored the question. "The outermost shell is solid-light holography," he continued, making a vague swiping gesture through the air above the image. The eggshell faded out, revealing the bare animatronic beneath, which (judging by the sculpted face made of sand) Flint found even less impressive. Frowning, Richards looked down at the hologram again and added, "We could, given some finagling, calibrate it to resemble an actual human. But generating these 3D models is a pain, so I didn't bother."

Perhaps a more critical mind would have asked why, if 3D models were such a pain, they bothered to use holograms at all instead of pen and paper. But Flint's mind had never been an especially critical one; he was in no way stupid, but for all his life had tended to take things as they came. Instead he asked, "Is that why it looks like a Phantom? 'Cuz you're just recycling a picture you already had?"

"Not letting that go, eh?" Richards replied, the ghost of a smirk on his face as he glanced up at the Sandman again. He waved his hand again, and the computer misinterpreted his gesture and deactivated the projection of the suit. Rolling his eyes, Richards reactivated the hologram and said, "No. Well, partially. It looks like a Phantom because that technology is what a lot of my idea is based on. You see, what you're asking for is very similar to how the technology works anyway--an artificial support structure for a unique nervous system. The only difference is that your nervous system is two gallons of granulated silica, whereas the Phantoms are currently working with--"

And here he stopped, falling silent and stoic. His eyes, suddenly devoid of their smiling crow's feet, glanced Flint's way before his disgusting elastic fingers returned to typing on the touchscreen between them. The pile of sand, insomuch as it could, looked confused.

"What?" he said, in a voice like a seashell crushed underfoot on a beach. "What're the Phantoms workin' with? I thought they were just robots."

This was a common misconception, and Richards, like most of the Cape Code Authority, had a vested interest in upholding it. "Phantoms" were the colloquial name for Perpetual Holographic Avatar/Nano-Tech Offensive Monsters. Bipedal, autonomous drones with light weaponry, they were the foot soldiers of the CCA, the beat cops, the cavalry when an agent wanted reinforcement. They had been in development since the War of the Worlds had brought the Chitauri and all their technology to Earth six years ago, and some of the core technology of the drones was better kept unknown. What Richards had said threatened to jeopardise that secrecy.

The third man in the room chose then to speak. Stepping forward, his black cloak obscuring the entirety of his six-foot-plus form, he spoke with a voice that was digitally altered to be an octave deeper. "They are robots," he said, his white face mask moving like genuine flesh. "Their processors have a unique method of operation, though. They have some of the most sophisticated A.I. in the world, and their microprocessors are similar enough to a human's that it won't require too much tinkering to render it compatible with your...situation."

This was Scrier--or rather, a Scrier; one of many--and he was a champion liar. Nobody quite knew when he had joined the CCA or what level he occupied, but the executives of the organization seemed to treat him as a special case. He never answered distress calls, except to break up protests and strikes. He had no patrol routes, no assigned partners, and the only training courses he attended were the ones he taught--the ones about corporate rights and the agency's responsibility to them. Agents weren't allowed to try and investigate Scrier's identity. For all they knew, he was an undercover boss trying to hear his subordinates' opinions on him.

This was true, but it was a little more specific than that.

"Yes!" Richards said, gesturing towards the man gratefully. "Thank you, Scrier. I didn't know how exactly to put that. Yes, Phantoms run on a very human-like system. In theory, adapting it to suit your nervous system should be far easier than trying to create something out of whole cloth."

"I thought you were like a super genius," Flint said, sounding a bit annoyed. "You've invented flying cars and indestructible fabrics that let you go to space. You have yer own interdimensional portal. Why is this taking so much thought? Why does this need to be made out of other stuff and spit and prayers?"

Richards gave him a blank glare for a few seconds before sighing. "Okay," he said, leaning on the table. "First of all, I am a genius. I'm one of the smartest people to ever live, but that doesn't mean I know everything. I have to research and experiment. Any innovation, even one from me, takes time." He waved his hand again and the hologram vanished. "Second of all, remember: I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

"You're doing this because that was my condition!" Flint shot back, and the pile of sand swelled slightly and grew almost half a foot. He raised his arms; granules fell from the sculptures and scattered across the floor. "That's what I said when I joined this stupid super-cop thing! I hate being the Sandman, Doc! You guys offered to give me this--this job of disrupting protests and taking down unregistered super-guys because your bosses told me you could make me...not."

He glanced down at his hands. And indeed hands they were; years of practice had let him sculpt the sand at the end of his arms into an incredibly realistic form, with perfectly jointed fingers. You could almost see what must have once been his fingerprints. But as he looked at them a small stream of sand fell from them to the ground.

"I'm not expectin' you to make me human again," he said. "But just...something that'll make me feel more human. Something that feels like a body." His features hardened again, sand dunes into sandstone. "If you're just half-assing that--if you're just giving me something that-that makes people treat me like a Phantom and that'll break in like a week--"

And here he stopped. There was more than just a salary that kept agents of the Cape Code Authority in line. You had a lot of wiggle room as a superhero registered under them: you could slack off on the job, you could issue arrests for what you were pretty sure was a crime, you could stop and frisk anyone you liked, you could be sure that the beatings you gave to unarmed suspects were graciously forgiven by your superiors. But one thing you couldn't do was leave. Quitting the CCA was a surefire way to bring the coworkers you had once trusted down on your head; no longer registered, you had no more immunity than a child experimenting with the most basic powers did. Nobody wanted to find themselves imprisoned in Complex 42--stranded inescapably in the Negative Zone, tortured by armed guards and experimented on to replicate your powers, only protected from the hostile, annihilating environment outside the prison by a few wafer-thin force fields. But that was exactly where Flint's line of thinking threatened to take him.

"...Forget it," he mumbled, defeated, and as he slumped down slightly his face and body lost much of its detail.

Richards stared across the table with an uncomfortable air. Glancing down at the table, he tapped a few keys on it and the hologram vanished. With one hand he pushed his glasses up, and then his arm stretched the five feet across the table and patted Flint's semblance of a shoulder.

"Look," he said. "I can't make any promises. You're...unprecedented, Marko. The only shapeshifter of your kind. I'm doing the best I can to help you. But if I can use technology we already have to do it, then I'm going to. You're not my only job in the CCA. But I'm working on it." He took his hand back, and then needed a second to brush off the sand that had come with it. "...It's getting late. We ought to call it a day, I need to head home."

"Have to convince Susan not to walk out on you again?" Scrier suggested, already heading for the door.

Reed just dragged his hand down his face, his features stretching in his grip, and didn't answer. His eyes were bagged and his posture tired. Instead he began to trudge towards the door, each leg bending like it was made of plasticine, and followed by an animate pile of sand.

The light of streetlights and storefront signs shone through the windows as the three of them stepped out of the laboratory. About ten feet away, a custodian looked up from the floor he was mopping and gave the trio a quizzical expression, but the only one who paid him any mind was Scrier, whose expression was hard to parse through the prosthetic mask. Richards and Flint just began to head the opposite direction down the hall.

"Hey! Scrier! Don't you have some skulking to do somewhere else?!" Flint called back.

As the door to the lab swung closed, the janitor adjusted his grip on the mop and looked back down at his work. Scrier, after a second more of staring, turned away and began to saunter off.

It was a long hallway. They kept walking for a good long while before they turned and were out of sight. And for all that time the janitor continued to mop and silently sweated, waiting for them to notice that the security cameras weren't moving like they usually did. Even when the three Cape Code Authority agents were gone, the custodian continued to work. He worked until the vibrations of their footsteps through the floor had faded into the background tremors of the environment. And even longer than that, until the buzz of spider-sense in the back of his mind had subsided slightly, no longer quite so focused on them.