#overcome a pessimistic mind

[world-prayers]

Develop A Positive Mindset: How to Overcome Pessimism

Are you tired of being trapped in a negative mindset? But doubt, concern, or fear persist despite your best efforts? If you’re ready to break free, we have a time-tested and proven way to help you do it. With our approach, your brain can be trained to develop a positive mindset. Schedule a summoning session Continue reading Untitled

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

50 Character Personality Traits + Meanings (For writers, worldbuilders, and artists) Part 1

Adventurous - Enjoys trying new experiences and exploring the unknown.

Ambitious - Driven to succeed and achieve their goals.

Analytical - Tends to think critically and examine things in-depth.

Artistic - Highly creative and expresses themselves through artistic mediums.

Assertive - Confident in expressing their thoughts and feelings.

Caring - Shows compassion and concern for the well-being of others.

Charismatic - Has a natural charm and appeal that draws people in.

Clever - Able to come up with creative solutions and make astute observations.

Compassionate - Displays empathy and a desire to help those in need.

Confident - Believes in their own abilities and is self-assured.

Conscientious - Reliable, responsible, and attentive to detail.

Curious - Eager to learn new things and explore the world around them.

Cynical - Tends to be skeptical and distrustful of others' motives.

Dependable - Can be counted on to follow through on their commitments.

Determined - Persistent in pursuing their goals and overcoming challenges.

Diplomatic - Skilled at navigating social situations and resolving conflicts.

Eccentric - Displays unconventional or unusual behaviors and interests.

Empathetic - Able to understand and share the feelings of others.

Ethical - Guided by a strong moral compass and a sense of right and wrong.

Extraverted - Enjoys being around people and draws energy from social interactions.

Flexible - Adaptable to changes and open to trying new approaches.

Forgiving - Willing to let go of past hurts and give people second chances.

Friendly - Approachable and enjoys building positive relationships with others.

Grounded - Practical, down-to-earth, and focused on the present.

Hardworking - Diligent and dedicated in their efforts to achieve their goals.

Honest - Values truthfulness and integrity in their words and actions.

Idealistic - Driven by a vision of how the world should be and a desire to make a difference.

Imaginative - Possesses a rich inner world and creative problem-solving abilities.

Independent - Prefers to think and act for themselves without relying on others.

Indecisive - Struggles with making decisions and often second-guesses themselves.

Introverted - Finds energy and fulfillment in solitary activities and introspection.

Jealous - Experiences feelings of resentment or insecurity towards others.

Kind - Gentle, considerate, and thoughtful in their treatment of others.

Leaders - Able to inspire and guide others towards a common goal.

Logical - Approaches problems and decisions through a rational, analytical lens.

Materialistic - Highly values the acquisition of possessions and wealth.

Organized - Maintains order and efficiency in their personal and professional life.

Perfectionistic - Strives for flawlessness and can be overly critical of themselves and others.

Pessimistic - Tends to focus on the negative aspects of situations and expect the worst.

Resilient - Able to bounce back from setbacks and adapt to changes.

Risk-taker - Willing to take chances and step outside of their comfort zone.

Sarcastic - Uses irony and witty remarks to convey their thoughts and feelings.

Sensitive - Deeply affected by the emotions and experiences of themselves and others.

Stubborn - Unwilling to change their mind or compromise on their beliefs and opinions.

Suspicious - Inclined to doubt the motives and intentions of others.

Thoughtful - Considerate of the impact their words and actions have on others.

Timid - Shy, reserved, and hesitant to take risks or assert themselves.

Trustworthy - Reliable, honest, and worthy of confidence.

Unpredictable - Displays an element of surprise and spontaneity in their behavior.

Witty - Possesses a quick, clever, and humorous way of expressing themselves.

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[astrow0rldx]

PAC 18+: How they view you and their Sexual Thoughts

Random pictures, no theme. choose what your intuition guides you to do. We will cover, How do the person on your mind view you as a person generally & sexuality wise. Also their sexual thoughts about you.

Pile One:

Pulling your tarot first, I got the star, 8 of cups, 10 of swords, and 5 of swords. Which is ironic for the most emo picture pile lol. This is for how they view you. you might have a fear of abandonment, you might get played, led on, bad luck, loss hopes. Be Down all the time, pessimistic perspective or experiences. Playing the victim, being the victim of life. Someone that had bad mental health, and may have avoidant attachment, where you could up and leave, detached. Definitely looks at you as someone who either comes and goes with them or life in general, every card except 8 of cups which is the pirate, and one that leaves has wings on it. Been through a lot and trying to fill a void, or some type of happiness, achievement. Being hopeful, and faithful. Someone always trying to find better for themself even when down.

Pulling oracle, I got Self Assurance(Sacral Chakra) and Pele (Solar Plexus). Orange and yellow aura. Purple and blue can also be significant in someone style or favorite color. This self assurance card, she has a hoodie on with black eyeliner, bangs, while pele raises up the moon coming up from a volcano, bursting into this yellow atmosphere. You are an individual to this person. Comfortable in your skin, connected with yourself. Confident, Passionate and Desire, Powerful and Transformative. Authentic, Assured. Firey. Could be fun, intense, loud, definitely bold in some way. Creative energy, artistic, musical. Sexually open, liberated, free?

They view you sexually as someone who may have worth, be of high value of someway, and them being a spark like a passionate, sexual, firey, dominant man. Or they view this as your sexuality, and sexual dynamic you may like. Fun and free, but stable and committed. They see you as probably submissive, someone who likes to serve and give yourself. Someone who is maybe a quiet freak, runaway and have sex, need for privacy. Probably like to go on vacations, do it in the car, travel for sex. Maybe into candles, or dimmed lights, or lights. Someone who may overcame a lot in hookup culture, don't have to be a hoe, but learned a lot. have a different perspective on sex. Omg, for the pile two picture to be a living room, i am channeling living room flow by jhene aiko for this pile. lol. "its whatever you want, i want to please you most, whatever turns you on. you are so creative the way that your making love to me, you do me, like no one ever done it, that is all i wanted. not your heart or love, do what you do to my body, i just want to fuck." something like that.

Their sexual thoughts about you is conquering you as a sneaky link. getting sexual access to you and slutting you out. relax you, take you in. may be a third party involved, group setting or three some?? omg but their sexual desire for you is strong and maybe a desire for commitment, relationship, or long term. you turn this person on, they think about getting freaky with you. going somewhere to fuck. being this person you come to for something, to be taught, loved, secured, guided. they want to see you bent over in their bed, laying behind you in the bed, spooning. they want to feel you, intimacy with you, sex with you all night, over and over again. they think about straight up sex. a lot of sexual cards came out. they want you to be theirs, foreal foreal. love your side profile, may want to do a lot to your legs during sex, touch them, caress, put them in different positions. hips to, your arch. they want to eat you all up, and kiss on every part of you, pleasing you sensually in every way. they want to overcome obstacles with you sexually, lol, make love.

Pile two.

You got 3 of cups, 6 of wands, the devil, page of swords. How they view you? Some keywords, not all has to resonate. popular, party person, likes things like sex and drugs. thrilling, rebellious things. thot, cocky, thrill/pleasure seeking, attached, addict, obsessed. shining, attention getter, victorious. Curious, communicator, funny, dark mind, dark humor, dark thoughts, in the clouds, airy, open minded, thoughtful, learner, listener. Social media, texting, calls, emails.

Universal Understanding (Solar Plexus) Sacred Learning (Third Eye). Sees you as very intelligent, sharp minded, wise. understands, and can see others, probably psychological. angel eyes, acceptance of others or dont judge people. Wisdom through experience, spiritual growth. Sharp eye!!!! Open third eye! and sharp mind with stuff to say.

They view you sexually as a very feminine, nurturing energy. whos on their level, an empress to an emperor. very loving, and caring. someone who likes to work together in the bed, help each other. put effort in. connect with the other person. create and build on one another. maybe some toxic, drama involved, chaos maybe. likes to celebrate one another, fight with each other.

Their sexual thoughts about you. One part is very loving, intimate, romantic bonding sex. They want to love you, feel loved by you. take it slow, learn and explore your body. admire you and take in your beauty. then another side of them is kind of wanting to take you down, tap you out. Where you kind of let them see this new side of them, and they have full control over you even if your like a victim, like your helpless. handcuffs, holding your hands. using their strength, to kind of hurt you, like a pain and pleasure thing. and wont mind if you dominate them and use strength and confidence.

Pile three

They see you as this ball of energy whos like sneaky, and gets away with things. goes with the flow, lucky with time. akeakeake hopping around sneaking like a ghost, moving with fate. but you have this youthful, playful, fun, adrenaline, passionate energy in you that's ready to explore. take on adventures. they see you as someone who may steal or be sneaky to find security or control within your life. if your confused or stuck. they may see you as a rebel who does what they want on their own desires. they may see you as slightly immature.

They may see you as someone who is social, good with the world, in public environments. can connect to people. or this is maybe how they see you with them, connective, receptive, chill and cool. centered and grounded. maybe someone who goes through lessons in the physical realm, and has these spiritual awakenings, clarity moments, ephianys. Someone who has a good heart, and connected to everyone around them, very connected to nature, yourself. Mind, Body and Soul Balanced.

They view you as a erotic, have you sent them nudes, made a sex tape. they view you as someone who is good in the bed, and may could give good head. You may get your heartbroken, but you overcome, and challenge and travel through them. You may like that sexual dynamic, where they feel bad for you or something, or maybe you want to know how they will hurt you. some emotional kink that involves pain. (this is how they view you) they view you as maybe a cheater though, someone who could sneak around.

Their sexual thoughts, they like it when you know what your doing, and they know what their doing, and you help each other, and go fast. they like it when you guys are transparent, honest, clear. they like to cum, nut, squirt, any liquid of pleasure, and maybe being on top of you, hugging you, connecting and bonding. wanting to have sex to bond and heal things within the connection.

[januaryembrs]

YOU CAN HEAR IT IN THE SILENCE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [9]

description: the TWO big steps you take together.

word count: 13.5k

trigger warnings: entire mr scratch episode including drugging and suic!de, gore, violence, blood, mention of Diana's schizophrenia, mention of hotch's upbringing

author's note: lets do this again UGH. also set throughout season 10 so even though it seems like a jump its been a whole year bcus I can't write about every day my babies spend together.

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‘Cause you can hear it in the silence, you can feel it on the way home, you can see it with the lights out,

You’re in love. True love,’

The one where you meet his mom. [you have the parenthood talk]

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her thumbnail instinctively picking at the side of her forefinger as her eyes trailed over the dress in the mirror. 

It was a little too chesty, were the sleeves too short? Would his mom not like that it was backless? Backless meant suggestive to some people. Would she hate her piercings? She could take out a couple of her earrings just for one day, cover the hole where her nose ring slipped in with foundation easily. 

Smile, she needed to remember to smile, not that god awful resting bitch face that Elizabeth used to say looked like she’d sucked a lemon between her cheeks. Smile. No, not like that, that looks fake and awkward. 

Was her make up too much? She would hate for Spencer’s mom to think she looked like a hooker. A cheap one at that. 

She felt his hands on her shoulders before the throes of her vicious mind could nab her once more, and her eyes trailed behind her in the reflective, if not slightly fingerprinted, mirror. 

“You’re thinking loud,” Spencer said as if it was a fact, though that tended to be the way with him, since he knew damn near everything there was to know. Especially about her. “Why are you so worried, it’s my mom. Besides, what’s not to like about you?” 

She huffed, shaking her head even though she really tried her best to give him a smile, instead turning to look down at her hands with wincing, cynical twinge of her lips. 

“Maybe my tattoos or my make up or my slutty dress or my piercings that make me look like I just raided Penelope’s collection of ‘goth chic jewellery’, her words not mine,” She said pessimistically. She didn’t want to dampen the mood, honestly she was looking forward to the woman who graced the world with Spencer Reid (she wondered if a handshake or a hug would be appropriate, she would ask Spence in the car she decided,) “People don’t tend to see me the way you do, honey, I can be blunt and rude and snappy and cold. And it’s your mom, she’s like the most important person in the world to you.”

“She’s joint first, actually” Spencer corrected, trying to lift her spirits even a little. He knew none of the things she was saying were necessarily true. He suspected that voice that had overcome her was not her own at all, more likely her own mother nagging into to her for years to sit up straighter, smile more, make an effort to network and socialise, or any other piece of shit observation about how she acted for Elizabeth to badger her about. 

But then she smiled at him, her eyebrows drawn together a little like she guessed he was lying or perhaps sugarcoating things. 

“You’re allowed to have her first, you know,” Bugsy reassured him, her eyes melty and soft as she looked at him and he nodded, wrapping his arms around her stomach, almost like he was trying to suck the negativity out of her whole body through diffusion of their skin alone. “She’s your mom,” 

“I know,” Spencer said simply, their eyes never breaking the gaze at one another, and Bugsy felt herself warm inside when she saw just how besotted his forest hues were, “Please stop worrying, she’s going to love you,”

“You can’t know that for sure,” She pushed back, because when had she ever allowed herself to enjoy a good thing when she had it. She knew she was being somewhat of a Negative Nancy, and she didn’t mean to be, truly. But Diana Reid was possibly the most significant person in Spencer’s life, despite what he said. And Bugsy was… Bugsy. All teeth and chaos and bite and vicious tongue when she didn’t mean to be. 

If Diana didn’t like her, she wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to look at Spencer again without blurting out the million ways she’d try to make it up to him.

“Oh, I do know for sure actually,” He said, spinning her around so he could see her first hand, not in a reflection or a mirror image, and she smiled despite herself, pressing into his lean body and taking a big whiff of his freshly washed clothes. It was the same detergent she used, the same one he’d always used, and yet it was so Spencer it made her skin crawl with what she thought felt like warm goosebumps.

“Oh yeah?” He nodded proudly, and she progressed to a grin, her chin leaning against his chest as she spoke, and he stroked her neatly braided hair away from her face to see her better, like he’d won the second he saw her smile properly, “How do you figure that one out, wonder boy?”

“I’ve mentioned you in almost every single letter I’ve written to her for three whole years. When she saw the photo of you I sent her, she asked if I’d cut you out of a vogue magazine,” Spencer said and she burst out laughing. He couldn’t say he blamed his mom, the photo he’d sent had been one of Bugsy’s best, but then he’d be willing to argue all of them were just as newsworthy as the last. And nothing compared to the real thing. “You make me happy, happier than I ever thought I was allowed to be. Believe me, I know she’ll love you, because I love you,” 

Bugsy smushed her face into his sweater to hide her modesty, and she pressed a small, barely there kiss to where her lips met even if he wouldn’t feel it. 

“Does my hair look okay?” She checked again, her voice muffled by his thick knitted clothes, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, stroking a gentle hand down her spine. 

“You look beautiful,” He said softly, pulling her away from his body and holding onto her right hand, “Give me a spin,”

He lifted her hand above her head, despite the fact she seemed reluctant and embarrassed, “Spence,”

“We’re not leaving until you give me a spin,” He teased, and his smile was infectious as she twirled around beneath his grasp, the long, floral, sundress fanning out around her knees, “And back again!”

“Spencer-” She said with a chuckle, but he seemed to ignore her, or judging by his smile that spread across his whole face he didn’t care.

“Sorry, it’s just the rules,” He said, though she was almost certain there wasn’t ever such a thing as a rulebook on how to make your girlfriend less of a whiny bitch.

He spun her back around, and by the time she whirled around to face him a second him, his arm dropped down to secure around her waist, yanking her towards him to press a scorching hot kiss to her lips. 

She kissed him back, her tongue trailing against his lip and Spencer’s obscenely large hand released her waist, trailing up her sides to cup her cheeks. Spencer kissed her like she was sucking air right out his lungs, like he was receiving life saving medicine, like he was being graced by an angel, a non-believer, a man of science reaching out to the white gates of heaven as if they were about to disappear under his touch. 

They parted with a small smack that reverberated in the bathroom, and Bugsy looked at him as if he’d infected her with a drug, because truthfully that was how his touch, his kiss, made her feel. 

They settled in his car, a few soft and loving affections later, because she really did look beautiful and he could apologise for smudging her lipstick another time, and Spencer it was the first time in a long time that Spencer felt like his future was laid out in front of him. 

–

She fretted some more in the lobby, the woman behind the desk at the sanitarium lighting up at the sight of Spencer walking towards her with a smile. 

“Dr. Reid,” She enthused, noting the woman next to him that squoze a book to her chest tightly like she wasn't sure what her fingers might do if they were let loose, “She’s been so excited to see you, her doctors said she’s responding well to the new medication,” 

“I heard, I’m glad to hear she’s feeling calmer,” He said, his eyes trailing past the brunette who tapped away at her keyboard idly, “Where is she?”

“She’s just in the sunroom. She’s been learning how to crochet, just like you said,” The receptionist smiled kindly at Bugsy, who looked all but terrified, though she hid it well through tight lips. 

Spencer nodded, reaching up to put a hand between Bugsy’s shoulder’s to lead her through the lounge area where a few other residents watched a black and white movie. 

“Are you sure my make up looks okay, my mascara hasn’t ran has it?” She whispered, because a few other people, some even her age, were sitting in comfy armchairs flicking through books. 

Spencer smiled at her, because she was so cute when she was nervous, usually it was the other way around, “You look lovely, you always look lovely,”

“I believe that’s what’s called voter bias, Dr Reid,” She said, because jokes and wit always seemed to release the pressure on her head when she was stressed. 

He chuckled, opening the door to a large room filled on all sides with windows, and the cosy heat hit her in the face, “Not if what I’ve said is a verifiable fact.” 

“Who’s your secondary source, Dr?” She said, because they seemed to fall into a nerdy sort of teasing when they were like this. Facts and figures were predictable, getting your boyfriend’s mother to like you based entirely on your personality was not. 

“My mom,” Spencer said, and her head whipped to his, ready to protest when he led her to the corner of the sunroom, where a woman sat with her ocean blue eyes screwed up in concentration where two blush pink hooks were crossing and bobbing between a cream thread of yarn, “Mom,”

Her eyes flew up from where she sat, immersed in the delicate movements. Spencer had said a few weeks ago her hands were becoming stiff on her new tablets, that the side effects were making her circulation poor and so Bugsy had been out to help him pick up a crochet kit from Walmart the very same day.

“Mom, this is Bugsy,” He said, and it was his turn to be almost shy as he gestured to the young woman. “The girl I was telling you about,”

Diana stopped for a moment, as if assessing the new face, the way her hair fell around her ears, and Bugsy clutched the hardback tighter to her chest, thinking that maybe she should have gone for something a little fancier than the small piece of twin that wrapped around the present. First time meeting his mom and this was the best you could do, really Bugsy? Where’s the flowers or even another ball of yarn to keep her occupied? 

Bugsy swore her breath caught, her brows furrowing together worriedly as she went to hold a shaky hand out to Diana, but then second guessed herself when she wondered if the loathing of spreading germs was shared between Spencer and his mom. She’d forgotten to check when they were in the car- stupid- stupid girl.

“H-hello, Mrs Reid,” She said quietly, shakily, holding out the book to the woman. Diana Reid looked good for her age, considering Spencer had told her on numerous occasions that she struggled to pretty herself up the way she used to before her Schizophrenia had spiralled. But her hair was a warm blonde with only small traces of grey in it, short around her neck likely for practicality, and despite the fact her face seemed somewhat grumpy, though Bugsy would describe her as lost more than anything, she lit up like a damn firework on the fourth of July the second she saw her son. 

“Spencer!” She exclaimed, holding a hand out for her son to take, which he did so without hesitation. Bugsy thought she might be going in for a hug, maybe that she’d missed the hint that Bugsy was trying to greet her, which the young girl didn’t mind one bit. She was well aware she was stepping on their time together, “Help me out of this chair, I left my glasses in my room, I want to see her,” 

Bugsy felt heat rush to her cheeks as Diana all but threw her crochet set to the little table beside what seemed to be a lukewarm mug of coffee, and Spencer helped her out of the recliner, Bugsy holding out another hand in case she needed it. She was tall once she stood to full height, taller than Bugsy would have thought she would be, and hands were on her shoulders the second Diana had released her son. 

“Oh, look at you!” Diana exclaimed, and Bugsy tried not to falter with embarrassment under her words. But his mother’s hands were soft, if not rough on the tips where she had spent her life flicking through pages on pages of literature, “I’ve always told Spence he was a looker but, my god, you’re a catch even for him,” 

“Mom,” He said indignantly, but Bugsy chuckled through flaming cheeks. Diana waved him off in favour of smiling at the girl, and the second she met eyes with the woman who had raised Spencer Reid she saw where he got his good heart from. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Reid,” She stumbled over her words, trying for a second time to give her the book, and Diana looked almost aghast that she had brought her a present, “Spencer said you’d finished all your books they let you keep here so I bought you one of my favourites-”

“How could I resist The Great Gatsby,” Diana said, running a polished thumb over the gold printed writing, a small smile playing at her lips, “I’ve been meaning to brush up on Fitzgerald,”

Spencer smiled at his mother, who seemed more full of life than she had in weeks, before she waved her hand in front of the two of them, and Bugsy wondered if she had done something wrong. 

“And none of this Mrs Reid crap. You're not the IRS, Diana is just fine, honey,” She said, and Bugsy grinned, nodding in agreement with the older woman. “Mom is even better if you’re feeling brave,” 

“O-okay, absolutely,” She said, smiling even wider when Spencer seemed almost aghast his mother was being so brazen. Though he needn’t be so prudent, Bugsy was certain she loved her already. 

“And how is my big strong FBI agent?” Diana turned to her son finally and he shook his head, his eyes full of boyish affection for the women. 

“There’s dozens of words I think would perfectly describe me yet ‘big and strong’ fall nowhere in that category, mom,” He said, smiling widely at his mother who rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder. She seemed more like herself than she had in years, her eyes were clearer, her nerves weren’t shot like usual. She seemed like the mother from his best memories. 

“Alright, how does ‘contumelious’ work out for you?” She cracked back, and he laughed, shaking his head and he caught the pure warm grin radiating from Bugsy’s direction at the two of them. 

And Bugsy saw in the kind, devoted eyes that hid behind Diana’s fluffy white, blonde hair where Spencer got his gentle soul; as if no amount of medication or illness would ever make his mother let up on the tenderness she held for him. She felt it in the air alone, the way they fell into sync only blood could ever achieve, and for a flash of a thought, Bugsy wondered if Spencer would be so doting on their children. 

And for the first time all day she didn’t need to second guess herself. She already knew the answer. 

–

“And this was Spencer in the mathletes,” Bugsy’s hand flew to her mouth to suppress the ‘aww’ threatening to tumble from her lips, because she knew from the way his cheeks had turned a bright rouge that he was embarrassed and she hated to make him feel like she was finding humour in his shame. 

It was easy to see which one was him from the offset. Three college boys who had probably spent the best part of their first years begging sorority girls to fuck them and eating funny brownies stood at the back, atleast in their late teens judging by their late-adolescene acne and braces. Yet there, standing in front of them dressed in a tweed sweater vest and pressed brown trousers as if he was a small grandpa, was a scrawny pole of a boy, peeking out from behind a sweeping fringe in need of a trim and a pair of  bubble-like glasses. 

He was smiling wide, holding some sort of trophy in between his slender, little fingers, and Bugsy could bet her entire savings that he had answered almost all of his team’s questions. 

“Spence,” She murmured, taking the photo gently between her fingertips where she sat in between her partner and his mother at the foot of Diana’s bed, “You were so cute,” 

“You can just say dorky,” He corrected, fighting the urge to cover his cheeks with his hands, because he could feel the way they gave away his self-consciousness. 

But she shook her head, leaning into him with adoring eyes as she stared at the photo, “No, I mean cute. Look at your little hair, you were so tiny- aw!” 

He laughed awkwardly, not missing the way she put a hand on his leg in reassurance, and Diana handed her another photo of a toddler with thick dark hair, those hazel eyes she loved, huge and round on the baby's smiling face. Bugsy melted when she saw the milk teeth gleaming in the midst of his laugh, yet she burst into sheepish giggles when she realised baby Spencer had no clothes on. 

Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the thing dangling between his legs as the picture captured him crawling towards where Diana had the camera. “Mom!” 

Diana rolled her eyes, producing another one of Spencer watering the flowers with the garden hose, barely one year old in a bucket hat and, yet again, nothing else. “Oh, Spencer, don’t give me that, look how cute those little butt cheeks were,” 

Bugsy slapped a hand over her mouth, her brows pulling together at the endearingly innocent photos, and she met Spencer’s gaze again, the urge to squish his cheeks in between her fingers suddenly itching her hands. Though, judging by the embarrassment in his expression, he wouldn’t like it very much even if she did mean the best of intentions.  

“You were so adorable,” She confessed, looking back down at the two tiny, round butt cheeks that made something well in her chest because it was Spencer, so small and vulnerable and helpless. She turned to Diana, her eyes wide with love, “How did you not want just millions of them?” 

The woman laughed, leaning against Bugsy and palming off another photo, this time of Spencer in swimming trunks at the beach, likely around two or three, a line of white sun cream running down his nose and cheeks as he looked to be grumbling about the sand on his legs. 

“Because I knew none of them could ever be as special as my Spencer, and then that just wouldn’t be fair on them.” She said simply, and Bugsy smiled at the woman, truly smiled, because despite everything her illness set against her, she loved her son more than anything in the world. “You don’t win the lottery and then pawn in your rings for a couple bucks, now do you?” 

Bugsy chuckled, shaking her head. Elizabeth had never been so doting on her. She knew she shouldn’t think about her, shouldn’t compare the two of them because they weren’t similar even in the slightest. Diana was a single mother of a deadbeat husband who left, she battled a disease day in-day out that threatened to eat away at her brain, her memories of her son who thought the world of her, and she was still a better mother than hers had ever been. 

Part of her felt that bitter sting that never really left her since she was thirteen, since she saw the maid at breakfast time more often than she ever saw her mother, the kid that got picked up and dropped off in another country like she was furniture, a barbie doll for her mother to primp and clean and boast about her big brain to her colleagues without ever showing a semblance of affection for the girl reading material eight years above her grade level. 

Diana was living proof that no matter what, it’s not a challenge to love your children the way Elizabeth had always made it out to be, that she was difficult to love even for her own mother. 

Bugsy bit the emotion back, knowing it was just the baby photos ramping up her hormones, and felt herself fall perhaps even more in love with Spencer Reid when she saw the photo of him at Christmas dressed as a Jedi. 

–

She was quiet on the way home, her stomach warm with fondness, her hand warm with his palm as they held hands on top of the gearstick. 

She watched the last of the sun peek through the trees in a cantaloupe orange and candy-floss pink swirl, and she let herself close her eyes under the day’s worth of laughter. 

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer said after a moment, giving her hand a small squeeze when she didn’t answer right away, and he wondered if she may have even fallen asleep, feeling immediately guilty for waking her. 

She looked at him with an uneasy smile on her face, and his brain threw up a million different reasons for it, almost all of them making him worry.

“I know my mom is a lot,” He said, his tone jittery and she started shaking her head immediately, forgetting he couldn’t see where he was looking at the road, “I know she’s-”

“She’s wonderful, Spencer. God, no, it’s not that. I loved her,” Bugsy cut him off, and his shoulder’s immediately sagged in relief. She moved her hand to tuck a single lock of hair behind his ear, and he nudged into her touch on instinct. 

“Then what’s wrong?” He asked, his brows pulled together in worry as they came to a red stop light, and he put the Beetle into neutral. He looked over at her then, and he saw the way the grin had slipped off her face, leaving her with something oddly unreadable, though if he had to put a name to it, he would say doubtful, and she swallowed thickly. 

“Do you ever worry…” She paused herself, because she already could see their picture perfect day spiralling down the drain like yesterday’s woes, “It’s nothing, just forget I said anything,”

“No, tell me,” Spencer insisted, and the road around them seemed to hold its breath waiting for her reply. He’d taken a nice route home, claiming he wanted to skip the eight pm traffic, whatever that was, had cut through one of those neighbourhoods they show on holiday brochures or estate agents' windows. The kind people with kids and volvo’s and yoga mom groups lived in.  

Her eyes snapped out the front window when four young boys zipped past them on their bikes, their knees muddy from where they’d probably spent the day playing soccer, their clothes just as messy and torn, likely waiting to be scolded by their mothers for their recklessness. And pulling up the rear was a kid smaller than the others, jogging after them, wanting to cross the road before the light turned green, his glasses slipping down his nose with every step, and some weird, small part in Bugsy’s gut wanted to throw her arms around him and walk him home to make sure he got there safely. 

Spencer’s hand was on her thigh, pulling her out of her thoughts for a second time, and she blinked a little too harshly, wishing she could just enjoy a lovely day for what it was rather than putting such a downer on things. 

“I haven’t spoken to my mom since Emily’s funeral,” She said, swallowing heavily, and understanding passed over his face then. He knew he would never have with Elizabeth what they had just had with his mother. Even if she retired tomorrow and wasn’t jetting off to another country every week, Elizabeth Prentiss was a cold, shrewd woman who could make someone, mainly her daughters, feel empty just by being in the same room. 

Her damning grey eyes, her tight lips that never smiled, her harsh brow. 

“I don’t think she even kept any of my baby photos, none that don’t have her in them at least,” She confessed, and the lights flashed to amber, then green, and he was forced to let go of her for just a moment as he pulled off again, “I don’t… I don’t think she ever liked me.”

He had no idea what to say that would make it better. Usually he was so good at wriggling her problems out from the core, proving all her worst fears were wrong with simple logic. Yet he was at an end. Because Elizabeth had never shown any sign of loving her daughters, truly loving them beyond trophies. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” He tried, pulling over to stop at the curb because he hated speaking to her when he was distracted. “Some people just have a funny way of showing these things,” 

But she shook her head, turning her eyes to her lap, “Your mom is… Amazing. And I feel like a total asshole for complaining about mine when yours is sick most of the time. And I know things weren’t great- I mean you were just a kid, you should have never had to look after her, it’s supposed to be the other way around, you know? But you’ll know she’s always loved you, like truly, truly loved you. I mean, you’re her whole world,” She rushed, like the thoughts had been bouncing around her head all day, waiting to burst out at the seams, which they had. 

Spencer took the keys out of the ignition, shuffling in his seat to face her, and he only realised then she was watching where the four boys had taken off down the street on their bikes, the smallest one trailing at the back like a lost puppy. 

“Don’t you ever worry sometimes I’ll be..” She started, and he knew where it was going before she forced herself to finish. Taking her hand in his, weaving his fingers between hers and squeezing them tight. 

“Like your mom?” He said for her because the words were lingering in the air like alphabet soup. She nodded silently, grateful that he always seemed to know how her brain was ticking over. She reminded herself to make it up to him later, “Never,”  

“But-” She started, and he grabbed her chin then, forcing her to look at him. He smiled dopily, because usually it was him who needed to be told how other people felt, and she swore his eyes had never looked so sweet. 

“Never,” He repeated, feeling the smile spreading under his fingertips as it took the second turn for her to hear it, “If anything, I worry more about becoming like my dad,”

Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head again. Sometimes Spencer wondered if she knew she was so expressive. It was one of his favourite parts about her.

“Never,” She echoed back to him, and they shared a sombre smile, squeezing each others hand just that bit tighter, “I tell you what, the second either one of us starts becoming our parents, we have the right to call them a jackass,”

He laughed, nodding his head and leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to hers, “Alright, deal. Although I think I hear Freud rolling in his grave at that statement.” 

She kissed him, hard, because she would never be able to tell him exactly how he made her feel with words alone. Over two hundred thousand words in the English Language, at least five other languages she could speak fluently, and yet not one of them knew how to describe this feeling. Like she had been absorbed so completely, effortlessly, by Spencer Reid. That she was disease ridden, riddled with Reid. 

And the thought made her giggle into the kiss, because she would have to tell him some other time. Her hand ran through his hair, pulling him closer, and his hand skirted down to her waist to tease underneath her shirt. 

They pulled away after a moment, staring with the same dazed look in their eyes. 

“We have three more days in Vegas,” She started, fixing his collar and hair with idle fingers and pressing an absent peck to his lips, “Do you think we could go back one more time? To see your mom? If that’s okay with her, of course,” 

And he smiled widely at her, nodding and pulling her in for another long kiss. They had a dinner reservation in a half hour, but he didn’t mind being five minutes late for once in his life, not if it meant he was with her. 

The one with Scratch. [he buys a ring]

He’d walked past the jewellers three times that week on his way back from the coffee shop. Bugsy had a fair bit of paperwork to catch up on, despite him offering to halve her load with her because Hotch had already warned them once about the complaints he got from the other agents that she was using Reid’s memory as an unfair advantage, although he would argue that her brain was just as capable as his. 

So, he’d been sent on a coffee run alone. He wasn’t complaining, it was just down the road, barely even a five minute walk, and it meant he got to look at the range of neatly cut diamonds in peace.

He wasn’t looking to buy it soon, at least that was what he’d told himself the first time he’d seen the pretty one in the corner. He was just having a browse, perhaps just looking at the watches they had on display and his eye had happened to fall to the women’s section below. The second time he’d stopped for a look, it was just to see if anyone had bought that one he’d seen the first time, and when he realised they hadn’t, his heart gave a somewhat relieved sigh that he decided he would confront later. 

By the third time, the shop keeper stuck his head out the door, making Spencer jump. 

“Either you’re buying or you’re fogging up my window, kid,” The old man’s voice was gruff, but he had kind eyes, that of a romantic, and Spencer supposed you didn’t sell a dozen engagement rings a day and not feel hopeful. 

“J-just looking,” He stammered, taking a step away from the rings and double checking he hadn’t gotten any smudges on the glass, “Not to buy right now, just for future reference,”

“No one comes back that many times for future reference, son,” He said with a chuckle and Spencer hated the part of him that said that he was right, “Why not for right now?”

Spencer huffed quietly, wondering if her coffee would be cold by the time he got back at the rate he was going, “It’s still a little early. I don’t want to freak her out,”

She had been his girlfriend for one year, seven months and two weeks (and four days but who was counting). It had been her thirtieth birthday just a couple months ago, as far as he was concerned Bugsy had never dropped any hints about wanting to marry any time soon like he knew other women did at this time in their life. 

He was happy where they were, in their apartment, in their semi-public relationship, with their boys that were starting to look a little grey and rickety on their paws. Spencer didn’t want anything to ruin that, even if that one ring did seem to call out to him like a siren song. 

The jeweller grinned slyly, like he knew something Spencer didn’t, but he nodded at the kid nevertheless, “Well, that little number in the corner you’ve had your eye on has had two offers already, incase that sways your hand at all,” 

And Spencer felt the jolt of injustice in his head at the idea of someone else taking that ring, one that he couldn’t get out of his head the entire way back to the office, one that only went away when he saw her smiling up at him. 

One that only dissolved when he imagined how she would look wearing it. 

–

“Tell Penelope I said hi,” Director Axelrod murmured, turning on his heel and heading back to his car as Hotch flashed a look down at the paper, the name ‘Peter Lewis’ scribbled out on the line and he passed the paper to Bugsy where she peered around his shoulder. 

“Get this to Garcia, Lewis has his final victim already,” He said and she nodded, the two of them heading back to the car. Bugsy pulled her cell out her pocket, immediately calling their tech whizz where the rest of the team were at the office an hour away. 

“Peter Lewis, born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. To call him a Math genius would be an understatement,” Garcia reported, her press on nails clicking against the keyboard as she worked in the candlelight since Lewis had hacked into their electric systems. 

“Where was he in the foster system?” Hotch asked, Bugsy holding the phone up over the centre console so they could both speak to their team.

“He was… ugh this WiFi hotspot is the worst,” They waited, Hotch heading for the freeway, “He was not in the foster system. He had two very biological parents and they ran the foster home until it- oh dear,”

“Looks like we found Mr Scratch,” Rossi sighed, and Bugsy’s brows furrowed, waiting for a response. 

“So one of the boys in the house said Peter’s dad would dress up as the devil then the other kids would follow suit, this has to be where all the victims stayed before they were adopted and their names were changed,” JJ chimed in. 

“Did Lewis’s father serve any time?” Bugsy piped up, chewing the inside of her cheek because the whole case had given her the heebie jeebies. Grown ups reporting sights of shadow monsters and waking up with dead loved ones. She thought by now she had heard it all. 

“The case was pending and then he was killed in jail for being a paedophile. Peter’s residency is still listed as Florida,” Garcia said, her mouse whirling around at the speed of light judging by the soft ticks they heard on their end. 

“He broke into FBI files to find someone in witness protection, did any of the kids from the home end up in WITSEC?” Hotch asked, clicking the blinker down to chand lanes and overtake the ford infront of them. 

“That would be… no? No, none of them,” Garcia replied, and the team shared a confused pause. 

“Who the hell is he still hunting?” 

Hotch spoke up, his own mind whirring as to who could possibly be Lewis’ endgame, “Garcia, who ran the investigation in Florida?”

“Hold on, that would be Dr. Susannah Regan, who went into witness protection on a very nice estate in Columbia, Maryland,” Bugsy and Hotch looked at one another, sharing the same thought and the unit chief floored the gas pedal, knowing Regan didn’t have a whole load of time left if Peter had gotten to her already. 

“Send Reid the location, we’re on our way,” Hotch ordered, and Penelope was already ten steps ahead, Rossi and JJ grabbing their vests and heading for the garage. 

Bugsy hung up, checking her gun was still holstered as Hotch launched them the final five minutes to Dr Regan’s home. 

And yet she couldn’t help feel like they were walking into the belly of the beast the victims had been describing. 

–

Garcia hadn’t been kidding when she said it was a nice estate. By the time they’d gotten out the car, the entire street was silent, a quiet only lots of acres and high gates bought you. 

“You stay behind me, we watch each other's six. We get Dr Regan and we get out, are we clear?” Hotch muttered, his eyes darling to the living room window where the curtains had been pulled closed, one single lamp left lit. 

She nodded, the two of them edging towards the door that had already been left open a crack, “Crystal,” 

He took a second to breath, wondering if they should wait for back up, but Savannah didn’t have alot of time, not if the unsub was already inside like he suspected, before he raised his hand up to the knocker and snapped it a couple times, pushing the door open. 

“Dr Regan?” 

“It’s open, come in,” The woman’s voice called, though it sounded too chipper to be authentic, some sort of uncanny valley as if it was an automated response from an answering machine. 

Checking Bugsy was still behind him, he pushed on, his footsteps light and quiet, eyes scanning the large antechamber, the grand piano sat in front of a huge fireplace cold to the touch, the lights all switched off despite the owner being home. 

Maybe Dr Regan was cheaping out on her bills. But Bugsy doubted it. Something in her gut didn’t sit right. 

“Are you alright?” Aaron called, his torso squeezing against his vest as he scanned what he could see from the room, and she held up behind him, flicking a look over her shoulder every once in a while for movement from the other rooms. 

“Agent Hotchner, I got Agent Rossi’s message,” She said, again in that cheery voice, despite her words claiming she understood she was in peril, and the sound of it made Bugsy’s chest seize with suspicion. 

“Doctor, you’re in danger, you need to come with us,” She explained, her eyes squinting to see in the damning lowlight of the home. 

“I understand,” That robot voice spoke, “I’m in the study,” 

They paused for a second, exchanging another look before pressing on because they had no time to lose over silly hesitations. Passing through the entrance into the room lined with bookshelves on bookshelves, expensive tapestry on expensive tapestry, their heads flicked over to a frail older woman that somewhat resembled the woman they’d been sent from Penelope, when she had was freshly turned twenty five with a sparkly new bookdeal under her nose. 

She sighed in gratitude when the entered, and Bugsy held back a moment as Hotch moved in, keeping her finger on the trigger, “I’m so glad you’re here, you need to see this,” Savannah produced a long, glass sharp letter opener that could easily pass for a knife with the eight inch edge of it, “He wants you to see this.”

And with that, without hesitation or caution she jammed the knife through her own windpipe as if puppeteered by a master, and Bugsy leapt forward to try stop the bleeding just as Aaron did. 

Only she never got that far, because no sooner had she stepped forward a hand reached out from the darkness, grabbing her by the scruff of her hair and throwing her to the floor while she had been caught off guard. Pain exploded behind her eyes as her nose met the hardwood floor, and she swore she cracked a tooth or two. Her hand scrambled out for her gun, only to watch a large black boot stomp down on her digits that made her hiss in pain. 

She heard a scuffle up ahead where Peter had managed to grab Hotch equally unaware, and she watched her unit chief tumble to the floor, smacking his head on the table on his way down. 

And it was then that she smelled it. A raw chemically odour that ran up her bloodied nose, went into her mouth when she tried calling out for Hotch, and it made her cough up a thick mucus before it had even slid down her throat. 

She heard shots fired, and it was enough for her to reach out for her own gun again, hoping that Lewis was distracted enough to not pay attention to her, only to realise somewhere in the scuffle he had kicked her weapon across the floor. 

When had he done that? Why hadn’t she seen him? Probably because the pain behind her eyes had damn near wiped her vision into a blur of white. 

It was then the nausea hit her, the vertigo washing over her like she’d stood up too fast, only she wasn’t standing up at all, in fact she was pretty sure she was on her hands and knees trying to crawl towards Hotch. 

Hotch, who lay on the floor with his own eyes rolling like the room was spinning for him too, and she wondered how on earth anyone could have beaten Hotch. He was a rock, immovable, irreplaceable, forever. 

“Hotch-” She garbled out, her voice tragic and weak in a way he’d never heard before. 

And he opened his mouth to speak, only to find his own voice gone when he saw the figure leering over her body, a glint of a knife in his hand, and Aaron wanted to know how he had managed to emerge out of the shadows when he could have sworn Lewis was right next to him. 

The drug, it had to be the drug. God his eyelids were heavy, what had they been in this house for?

But Aaron felt a scream lodge in his mouth, sounding more like a yelp, something that could have been a mix of ‘no’ and raw anger because Peter had brought one of those big black boots behind him and kicked Bugsy so hard in the gut she flew to her side like roadkill, the wind leaving her lungs with a whimper of pain, and her eyes never left Hotch’s gaze as he did so. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to need some alone time with Mr Hotchner here,” Lewis said, and before Aaron could plea or beg, he watched the man lean down and drive a swift line across her throat, as if he were simply gutting a pig, and her carotid artery was sliced clean in two, her blood spewing all over Aaron’s shoes, seeping into the floor. 

And Aaron went to scream, felt the tears well in his eyes because he’d failed her, only this time, unlike Hailey, he was forced to watch every second of life trickle from her face as she bled out onto the floor, choking and clawing at the floor for reprieve. 

What would he say to the team, to Spencer? What would he say to Emily?

Aaron let himself sob, shaking his head in denial and squeezing his eyes tightly shut, hoping to god medical would get here soon. It would be too late by then, he already knew it. 

Bugsy was dead. There wasn’t any miracle fix or band aids that were going to fix that. 

And yet in the next moment the sound of her body writhing in desperation against the floor, the sight of which he couldn’t even bring himself to watch, it had gone quiet. 

And Aaron peeled his eyes open, wondering if she had passed, if she was still in pain, if she wanted someone to hold her hand as she went, and he urged his heavy muscles to do something god damnit anything to help her, except his body felt like lead and even opening his eyes was too much for him. 

But there was nothing there. Not the puddle of blood he’d just watched spill over the flooring, not her hand reaching out for him, clawing at her throat for reprieve and certainly not a body of a girl he once loved like a daughter who would stay with him for a lifetime. 

All of it, just… gone. 

“Don’t you worry, Mr Hotchner, I’m saving the girl for later. Can’t have a pretty thing like that go to waste,” Lewis smiled toothily, and Aaron wanted to wrap his hands around the bastard’s throat, wring the life out of him until he was a crumpled mess on the floor, “But for now, it’s you and me, Aaron. And I think you should answer your phone. Your team are on their way for you,”

–

Her scream was piercing, cut through two walls. He could hear it the second they stepped out of the car. He’d all but thrown himself out the vehicle before Anderson had even stopped, probably would have barged right through the front door without even drawing his gun if it hadn’t been for Morgan grabbing him. 

“Reid, Reid, no-” Derek said, even though his voice wavered, his head flicking back at the house, “You can’t just head in there without backup, it could be a trap, man,” 

“She’s in there, can’t you hear her?” Spencer said, his eyes wide with terror as the sound of her screaming kicked up a whole other decibel and Spencer's stomach churned at the thought of what might be the root cause of it, “Please, Morgan, I can’t-” 

He didn’t even realise his eyes had welled up at the sound alone until he couldn’t finish his words, and Derek was staring at him with an equally solemn expression. 

JJ rounded the other SUV, Rossi at her tail, their guns drawn low to their thighs as they gave Derek a nod; ready to enter. 

“Just promise me you’ll keep your head, Reid,” Morgan said with a cautious tone. Realistically, Spencer should have stayed back at the office with Kate. He was too emotionally invested in the case, though no one wanted to be the one to argue that with him, knowing Spencer would only fight back that they would all struggle to keep their cool once they entered the house. 

Because the UnSub had Hotch and Bugsy. He’d taken family. He’d made it personal. 

And then, just as Spencer nodded, unholstering his own gun and making sure his vest was tightened at his waist, perhaps the worst happened. 

A shot fired from inside the house, loud and unmistakable over the deafening cries and Bugsy’s screaming stopped. 

–

Spencer didn’t even remember entering the house, not really, despite his promise to Morgan. He felt like his heart was in his throat, images of Maeve’s brain matter splattered over the warehouse floor flooding his head, because apparently a revolver can cut through two heads at once and still pack a punch.

Spencer was realistic, had sprung into a clinical sort of worry that told him exactly how many times he’d told her he loved her (two thousand, six hundred and seventeen times) and that maybe that wasn’t enough. It told him the amount of kisses they’d shared could have easily been doubled if he dared to steal them more often before bed, if he’d been honest with her years before he had, if he’d just taken five minutes off his showers. 

He had barely survived Maeve dying. If Bugsy was gone… there would be nothing left of him. Nothing important anyway. Just a body, limbs, a heart that would never beat again. He wagered even his blood would stop because the idea of her gone from the world had already made him cold. 

He heard movement in the living room, and judging by the way Derek’s head whipped over to their right, he had too. And before they could raise their guns up to aim, Derek edging forward to kick the door in with pure, simmering rage, a voice sounded out from the other side. 

“In here!”

Hotch. Hotch, who sounded like he was weeping, or at least had a frog in his throat, hummed his words almost. The men drew a breath of relief, Derek reaching forward to open the living room door, his weapon still tight in between his fingers as he pushed. 

“Hotch?” He said, though Spencer’s eyes cast around the room the second he confirmed his unit chief was okay. He had a nasty gash on his head, likely from where he’d fallen, and his pupils were dilated. Drugged. “Hotch, where’s Bugsy?”

“H-he took her-” Aaron slurred, attempting to get to his feet, holding out a hand to the sofa and using the furniture to claw himself up to a stand, “Upstairs I think- I need to get her- Where’s my gun-”

Morgan rushed in to grab Hotch under his arms as Rossi and JJ burst in from the kitchen, Rossi calling out behind them for medical attention. 

“Hotch, you’re not going anywhere, you need to- Reid,” Morgan yelled, but Spencer ignored him. Because he could apologise later. 

Lewis had Bugsy alone, had taken her upstairs, that was what Hotch said. And Spencer couldn’t stand by and wait while they had no idea what was happening to her. He heard JJ’s footsteps pounding behind him, following him up the stairs, and he knew he should be paying more attention for any hint if Lewis was still in the building. But he didn’t. All he could think about was those screams. Raw. Guttural. Like she was being skinned alive. 

His eyes trailed the empty bedrooms, any sign of movement whether it be Lewis or the woman he would trade his own life for in a heart beat if it came down to it. But there was nothing there, not even as JJ swept the other handful of rooms, leaving them with one small storage room at the end of the hallway, and the two of them cast a glance at one another. 

JJ nodded to him, and he reached out a shaky hand, praying on everything in the vast universe he’d spent his entire life learning about that someone heard him begging to keep his Bugsy alive. 

He slid the door open, cocking his gun up to the figure in the corner, his own weapon at his feet as he smiled in a smug manner. 

JJ took stock of their surroundings, waiting for the trap they were walking into to spring, only he held his hands out in surrender. 

Because he had already gotten what he wanted. He had killed Dr Regan, and taken two cops down with him. 

“Where is she?” Spencer spat, handing JJ cuffs as the woman grabbed him harsher than she should do, because the pleased look on his face was infuriating, only made worse by the chuckle that bubbled out of his mouth. 

“She’s in the closet,” He nodded his head to the smallest bedroom, and Spencer’s eyes narrowed, “She sure is a darling, isn’t she? So easy to tame once that smart mouth of hers was gone,” 

Spencer wanted to shoot him between the eyes there and then, put him down like the sick dog he was, but instead he fled after where Lewis had directed him, because he didn’t know if she was injured herself or if it was already too late.

For once in his life, Spencer Reid knew nothing. 

–

And then he saw her. 

She was alive, thank god she was alive, a dent in her nose that suggested he’d thrown her to the ground face first, her knees skinned, her palms scratched. 

But that wasn’t what worried him.

Because no sooner had he opened the door to the closet, reaching forward to yank her hands off her ears, or maybe pull her for a hug, or maybe break down into sobs and tell her how sorry he was he couldn’t have stopped any of it, she’d started screaming again. 

He didn’t think after so many years on the job he’d ever heard something so gut-wrenching. For a moment he thought he might even be sick. Because it was full of pure terror. Not the childish fright you get from a scary movie or a loop de loop on a rollercoaster, but blood curdling fear like he had never heard before. 

It was enough to have Morgan running up the stairs with his gun drawn, only to see Spencer frozen, his hands reaching out to grab her, and it was only then the agent realised Reid was trying to speak to her. 

“Baby, baby it’s okay, it’s me, it’s Spencer, you know me,” He said, his lip quivering, his words warbling with tears, “Please, please come back to me, I don’t know what to do- please just tell me what to do-” 

“Reid, she’s not herself. Hotch said Lewis made him see things, awful things, just like he did with the other victims,” Morgan said, holstering his gun, his own resolve crumbling when he came closer and realised she had her eyes screwed tightly shut, curling herself into a ball in the corner like a kid trying to hide from the boogey-monster.

But Spencer didn’t listen, he couldn’t accept that they had found her alive and still he had been too late, didn’t want to accept that he had her in his grasp and yet she was still living her a personal hell with no end in sight. 

“Please, please, come back to me,” He sniffled, leaning forward onto his knees to try hold her hands in his, maybe get her to hear his voice and wake up from whatever nightmare she was stuck in, “Come on, I got you,”

“No, no, no, you’re not real, you’re not real,” She screeched, shoving his hands off her, and it was then he saw the dribble of tears running off her nose, “You’re not, I won’t kill him, I won’t-”

It was the ravings of a mad woman. But Spencer didn’t doubt for one second that whatever was happening inside that big brain of hers felt entirely real. He heard Morgan draw a sharp breath, turning to face away from the girl and steady himself where his dark eyes lined with woe and salt. 

Spencer hated seeing her cry, hated not knowing how to help her even more, and he didn’t care if she pushed him away even more. He had to hold her, hold her and make her listen, make her understand she was safe because he was there. 

Spencer swore then and there that he wouldn’t let anything touch her ever again as long as he lived. 

It took everything in him to ignore the way her hands scratched at his wrists desperately, and he wondered if in her mind he’d taken the form of some beast ready to swallow her whole. But he was sure he could calm her down with some coaxing, get her to see what was real if he was patient and gentle enough. He scooped an arm under her legs that shook, and it only took him a second to realise he had peed herself in the throes of her nightmare, the sight of it causing another cry to roll from his tongue. He didn’t care about the mess, because his entire focus was on her as her hands thrashed against his chest, trying everything to get him off her, even when his other hand wrapped around the back of her head and pressed her tightly into his shoulder, squeezing her against him in his lap like she was an inconsolable child. 

“Please, please, I can’t, I can’t do it again, I don’t understand,” She wailed, her voiced croaking and pathetic and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d damaged her vocal chords, “I don’t understand,” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He cooed softly, pressing his head next to her ear and rocking her slowly, “It’s me, it’s Spencer. I’m real, this is real,”

Her hands stopped their fight against his body, his own grip tight and not showing any signs of letting go any time soon as he waited for her to wear herself out, for her body to lose its adrenaline and slip out of its fight response. She pushed him limply a few more times, with little more than the strength of a toddler, and he knew she was coming back down, at least something close to it. 

“I’m so tired,” Her voice was muddled with tears, slurring and stumbling over each other and it was then that JJ walked in with three paramedics behind her. 

The blonde’s face evened out when she saw the girl was alive, nothing but a few surface wounds, but it was then she saw over Spencer’s shoulder the way her eyes were clenched tightly together, the red marks on Spence’s alabaster skin where she had put up a fight behind cradled in his arms. 

And JJ knew then that something inside Bugsy had changed that day. 

“I know, you were so brave, you were so brave for me,” Spencer nodded, his cheeks flooding as he tried to keep his tone strong, stroking the back of her hair softly, “You did so good, I’m so sorry,” 

“I’m so tired and I don’t understand,” She said, like she was putting sentences together for the first time, and it was like suddenly the fight had been sucked out of her as she slumped against him, not even realising in her haze that she needed to be showered off desperately. 

“I know, honey,” He murmured, sniffling and pressing his face into her neck, “You can sleep now, I got you,”

She hummed like she didn’t quite believe him, like she still thought he was some figment of her imagination, but she hadn’t the strength to fight back, to call his bluff. And so she drifted in and out of sleep, as the paramedics got her on a stretcher, Spencer hovering over her face incase she woke up in a panic again, cracking her eyes open right as they got her on the back of the ambulance and suddenly it wasn’t Spencer’s face she saw flitting in and out of her eyeline, it was Hotch. 

“Hotch-” She tried, her hand swinging out at her side with her attempt of grabbing onto his face because there was a trail of blood down his cheek. Her voice was fried, just like Spencer had suspected, her words sounding as if she had swallowed stones, “Hotch, your head,”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I should have known he would be there,” Hotch said, as her eyes rolled back, straining desperately to keep herself awake. But she had said it herself. She was just so tired. “I shouldn’t have taken you in there,”

“I don’t think I like dreaming anymore,” She garbled childishly, a small frown on her face, and Hotch bit his lip to hide a whimper, raising a hand to her cheek, and Spencer sat at the foot of the stretcher, his neck and wrists sore where she’d clawed him, but he didn’t care. 

Hotch gave her a long kiss to her forehead, one Spencer pretended not to see for the sake of paperwork, because he knew Hotch needed it, even as she’d been sucked right back into the reverie of sleep, their eyes never left her frail form, not even when the paramedics started hooking things up to her wrists to take her charts. 

Spencer knew then he should have bought that ring. 

–

She’d been staring at the ceiling for about five minutes before he tried to pry an answer out of her. 

He’d tried not to smother her the second she woke up, had seen the hesitation and distrust swirling in her gaze when she saw him there, and he wondered if she thought it was another one of her dreams she had yet to wake up from. But he was real, and he was worried, and he loved her. God, did he love her. Loved her so much he couldn’t stand for one more moment to see her so dissociated from a world where she was his and he was hers and everyone was missing her.  

“What did he make you see?” Spencer tried, his voice as soft as he could try make it without crying, because her gaze remained in her lap, the side effects of the drugs making her a little woozy, “Baby, I can’t help you unless you talk to me, please just, let me help you,” 

Her throat was in agony the second she opened her mouth to speak, ripping with pain when she cleared her throat and in an instant, Spencer’s hand was on her thigh drawing comforting circles with his thumb. 

“Emily was there, she came to- r-rescue me,” She started shakily, her hands trembling beneath the covers and she breathed slowly through her mouth, “S-she wasn’t wearing a vest, and when I asked her she said she’d gotten the first flight out of London to get me; and then… Doyle,”

She swallowed, and he took her hand in his, giving her a reassuring squeeze, and she tried not to let her eyes well up only to find it was already too late. 

“He stabbed her like he did that night, but it was different this time. She was on the floor, trying to get away, begging me to call for help but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything, and I was trying so hard to scream and tell someone, but I couldn’t…” She sniffled, squeezing his hand so tight it hurt, but he didn’t care, “And he wouldn’t stop. He just kept going, over and over again, and I had to watch every second of it knowing it was my fault,” 

The floor was red, a horrible midnight ichor of Emily’s blood seeping from her body, more blood than a person should ever be able to hold. Last time Doyle had killed her, there had been a hairline chance that she would pull through and Emily had beaten all the odds stacked against her. 

But this wasn’t like last time. There was no miracle escape to Europe. Bugsy would be surprised if there was even anything left of her to put in the casket. 

Her eyes were terrified as she watched Doyle drive the knife into Emily’s skin, the scream lodging in her throat for a reason she couldn’t place. She begged herself to do something, say something, tell the man that she would rip him limb from limb if she ever got the feeling back in her legs, wail for help because that was her sister, her big sister, and she’d stopped moving a while ago. 

Stop, stop it, stop it.

But the words wouldn’t come out. She was frozen. Numb. Like someone had unplugged her from the socket, and the only part of her that did work was her eyes, why did it have to be her eyes. 

And the blade was red, so red she thought she’d never see anything else other than red again, as so was the floor, and his arms, and Emily’s clothes. Red. All over. Driving into her stomach with a wet squelch that made Bugsy want to vomit. 

Over and over and over.

She burst out crying then, the first real emotion she’d shown in days, and he was out of his chair in seconds, cradling her to his chest and shuffling to sit next to her on her bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it wasn’t real, baby,” He soothed, and she shook her head, her tears soaking his shirt through, and all he could do was stroke her hair down and press gentle kisses to her brow, “You were so brave,”

“And his face changed, and he wasn’t Doyle, it was Hotch. And he-he gave me his gun, and said I had to pick between him or you because one of you had to die and-and I wouldn’t do it, I wouldn’t pick-” Her words warbled into his shirt, an amalgamation of sobs and deep breaths in between sentences, but she needed to get it out. It would eat her alive if she didn’t.

“Choose,” It was Hotch’s voice. The same rough edge, same bite he used with the UnSubs they chased, the tone he’d never used on her. 

She shook her head, because the feeling had tingled back up her spine into her neck by now, and with it brought her voice, her sorrow. 

“No, no, Hotch, please don’t make me, I can’t, I won’t-” She sniffled, looking at the thunderous eyes of her unit chief she’d known for years. He didn’t look like himself, like someone was wearing him as a mask, yet she knew it was him by his steady hands that drew his gun from its holster. He had always been sure of himself. 

How had she got here? Had Lewis got to Hotch, brainwashed him into slaughtering and terrorising his own team. Whatever it was, Bugsy knew in her chest that whatever was standing in front of her was not Aaron Hotchner. 

“Me or him,” He said simply, as if it was that easy, as if he wasn’t pressing a gun to Spencer’s head. 

The sob fell from her lips before she could help it, looking to Hotch’s feet where he held the love of her life bound, his eyes rimmed with fear. 

“I can’t, please, I can’t,” She wept, her cheeks soaked, the salt trickling down her neck and into her shirt. Or was it blood. Had she hit her head? Why did her head hurt?

She couldn’t care, couldn’t think of anything other than the fact a monster had taken over the man she thought the world of. She knew if anything happened she would never be able to hold it against him if anything happened, even if it would always be his face in her mind killing Spencer. Because it wasn’t him. It was Lewis. It wasn’t him. 

Hotch’s finger clicked a bullet into the chamber, pointing the gun at Spence’s crown, and she warbled in protest, because her legs were still numb, her body from the waist down useless, but this time she could scream and fight and yell all the ways she begged for this to stop. 

“Hotch, please, please don’t. It’s not real, it’s not real,” She yawped, her chest in agony, her head spinning because she could have sworn Emily was just here, could have sworn she had been coming to save her. Why was Emily here? And she’d usually be embarrassed to admit it at her big age, but she wanted her sister. She wanted her big sister more than anything, “Hotch,” 

But the man who looked and sounded like Aaron Hotchner wasn’t listening. Instead he looked at her with a steely glare, cocking the gun once more between his fingers, “If you’re too much a spoiled little bitch to choose, then I suppose I’ll have to do it for you,”

And with that he pulled the muzzle away from Spencer’s head, and before she could say another word, utter another plea, he angled the weapon under his chin, pointing it straight for his brain, and pulled the trigger. 

She thinks she screamed, though her hearing had gone with a staticky blur, his blood spraying across the wall like something out of a slasher movie. She remembered howling in shock, her face soaked with ichor and salted tears, and she expected Spencer to rush forward, grab her in his arms and cradle her with soft words. 

But he did. Those hazel eyes she would know in every life time stared blankly at her, all trace of terror gone from his gentle face, and in a whirl of movement, he was standing where Hotch had been, his body gone in a wisp of smoke, like he was nothing more than a magician’s magic act, like her chest hadn’t just cleaved in two at the sight of him dying. 

And Spencer took his place, the lips she’d kissed a thousand times pressed into a scowl, the hands she wanted to melt under, to hold her and tell her he was going to fix everything and make it make sense again holding the loaded gun. 

And at his feet, bound by the same rope he had been was JJ. Freightened, beaten. Mother, wife, best friend, sister. JJ.

“Choose,” Spencer said, but it was cold and unfeeling. Nothing like the saccharine tone he used with her, and she felt the pit of pain and suffering and dread that had opened in her stomach grow only deeper, “Me or her,”  

–

She had cried for about two hours after that, and he had held her for all seven thousand, two hundred seconds of it, stroking her hair, reassuring her that Lewis was gone, the drug disposed of, and more importantly, telling her he would never let anything like that happen to her again, over his cold, lifeless body. 

And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer would never let an UnSub get so close to harming the woman he loved. Not a bruise, or a cut. Not even a scratch. 

And for the three days they’d kept her in for observation she’d slept, and slept some more like she hadn’t known a wink of rest in years. And with it came the nightmares, of all the people she loved splattering their own brains over the walls, Chose, chose, me or them?

But by the fourth day she was allowed more than one visitor in her room, the spot that had solely been filled by Spencer, who would take to his grave that he’d gone home and washed their clothes of the mess she’d made when she wasn’t herself. 

And on that fourth day, the team had arrived with love by the bucket load, because Bugsy was family, and family never let each other suffer alone.

“Oh, look at you!” It was Penelope first, ofcourse it was Penelope first, “Spencer, where’s that cardigan I told you to bring her, she could get cold, and that purple is so her colour- oh what am I saying, come here!” 

Penelope bounded over to her bedside, not completely blind to the way Spencer tensed up as she threw her arms around the girl, fighting his urge to chide Garcia into being more gentle because he knew he’d been hogging time with her while the others had been forced to wait. 

“Pen,” Bugsy said, breathing out and hugging the woman back as hard as she could, “Why do you smell like lavender?” 

Garcia released her clutches (reluctantly) and produced a big tote bag of trinkets, one of which Bugsy suspected was a candle. 

“Spencer said they might be keeping you another couple of days and so I brought you some goodies to cheer this place up,” She said with a chirp, reaching in her bag for two stuffed teddies, and Bugsy’s eyes melted when she realised they resembled Niko and Sergio, their colourings not quite identical but the thought had been there, “So you don’t miss your boys too much.”

Bugsy smiled, her chest spreading with warmth “Thankyou so much, Penelope,” 

And Garcia went to respond, her smile wide and relieved, when another voice spoke up behind her, “Quite hogging her, mama, there are people waiting to see the kid,” 

Penelope rolled her eyes which made Bugsy snicker slightly, moving out the way for Derek to lean over her bedside and give her a tight squeeze. 

“You gave us a scare and a half, baby cakes,” He said with a sigh, and she hugged him back the best she could, though his arm muscles were the size of her head. 

“I’m sorry,” She murmured, and he patted her on the back gently, before letting her go for the next person waiting to pounce on her. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to be sorry,” JJ shushed, her slender arms all but crushing her into her chest, and she heard the breath of relief from the woman’s throat as she stroked a hand over her spine, “Just get better for us, okay?”

And Bugsy knew she didn’t mean the crack in her nose Peter Lewis had given her when he’d grabbed her by the nape of her neck and slammed her face into the wooden door the second Hotch’s back was turned. She meant the screaming. The nightmares. The chill that ran down her spine even now when she looked at every one of her friends and remembered that night. Picturing their brains on the wall, their blood on her face-

“Henry drew you a picture,” JJ said, pulling away and presenting her with her own gift basket full of homemade goodies and fresh pyjamas because the ones she had from the hospital were starting to itch, “He said you needed magic kisses,” 

Plucking the card from the front of the wrapping, her lips quirked into a smile when she saw two stick figures, a small dot with yellow hair labelled ‘henry’ with an arrow, and a tall woman with a triangle dress and two glittery wings labelled ‘bugy’, and she was almost certain it was because they had played fairies and princes the last time she had gone over. 

She flipped the page, and saw his hand writing scrawled in a green crayon, a few spelling errors here and there where he had tried his best. 

‘to bugy

mommy said you wer hurt at work and needed somethink to make you happy agan.

I gave the card majick kisses before mommy takes it to the hospital to make you better agan. 

also plees coud we play princes again some time soon.

Love Henry’ 

She chuckled, her finger stroking over the letters gently, because she could imagine him at his little blue table writing it out for her, and she handed it off to Spencer to put on her bedside table. 

“Thankyou JJ,” She said earnestly, and the blonde nodded, squeezing her leg under the blanket gently before she moved over for Rossi to shuffle in, ruffling the girl’s hair because he would joke later that his back couldn’t handle all the movement when really he felt like she’d been mauled with enough affection for one day. 

“You okay, kid?” He said, his eyes roving over the bruise on her nose that had bled into her eyes, and she nodded, smiling up at him somewhat convincingly. 

“I’m still kicking aren’t I?” She said, and the older man chuckled, shaking his head, “Can’t get rid of me that easily,”

And it was almost true, the small seed of double planting in her own head because for a second in that house she had thought things were done for her. And Spencer had thought the same, judging by the way he nervously cleared his throat, playing with the collars of his shirt.

But Rossi nodded with her, “You kidding? There’s enough life left in you to resurrect all of my dead end marriages,” The team snickered, Rossi squeezing her arm the way grandads do, “Kate sends her love, she had to take Meg to her dance recital, she said she’s dropping by later with good coffee,” 

Bugsy took a sigh of pleasure, because she would kill for a steaming cup of good coffee, and Rossi smiled at her attitude they’d all missed in the office. 

And then there was Hotch, who looked damn near like a dog with a tail between his legs, sporting his own jagged forehead wound that had been stitched up, his lips pulled into a guilty pout unlike everyone else's grateful beams. 

“Bugsy,” He started mournfully, and he swallowed heavily, “I’m-” 

“Don’t-” She shook her head, looking up at him from where she’d sat up in the bed to accommodate everyone’s hugging, “It wasn’t your fault, so don’t give me that. He caught us both of guard,” 

But he still didn’t look like he quite accepted that answer, settling to reach out and squeeze the hand that was laying across her stomach, his skin warm and rough as he held her like she was cracking glass under his touch. 

She realised she had been wrong that day with Lewis, when she’d been damn near shaking in her spot because of the man who looked so much like Hotch, and she saw the fatal flaw that gave it all away. 

His face was set in a frown more often than not, and it was for that reason a lot of the agents on the other floors lived in fear of SSA Hotchner’s thunderous tone and barking attitude, but Bugsy knew that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Because while he could be cold and domineering and bossy, his eyes told her all she needed to know. 

He was hurt. He was guilty. He was worried. He was mourning. He couldn’t stop seeing Peter Lewis slitting her throat in that flash of a blade. He didn’t want to take his eyes off her incase it was all a dream in itself, that they had never been found, he had never woke up, they had never saved her. 

His eyes were haunted by the past twenty years of his life, perhaps what happened even before then because she wasn’t so stupid to miss how he was more rough on child beaters and abusive fathers than he was their usual UnSubs, how he was so extra gentle with Jack, how he hated raising his voice. And inside the big scary exterior, Bugsy saw a boy who only wanted to save everyone because no one was ever there to save him. 

She squeezed his hand tightly in hers, pulling him towards her and he’d resisted hugging her to start with because he knew the frog would leap into his throat, but he could never deny her. And he didn’t, he simply leaned over, caressed the back of her head over his shoulder with one of his enormous palms and gave her a warm hug no monster or demon or whatever she had seen could ever be capable of. 

And Bugsy felt stupid for ever believing anything she’d seen. 

–

They stayed for another hour or so, Derek running out to grab Bugsy a subway because the food at the hospital hadn’t been the best, and she had devoured the steak and cheese footlong so fast Rossi’s brows had raised into his hairline. Spencer handed her a strawberry flavoured pudding pot, the lid already peeled open for her and a spoon.

And it was then a figure came rushing through the door, so fast they were surprised they hadn’t heard the heels on the linoleum and the whole room stopped for a breath, Bugsy dropped her pudding cup down her shirt, barely even making her first bite count. 

“Why did no one tell me those two were screwing for eight months?” Emily barked, gesturing between the two agents that cuddled up on the hospital bed, and almost as soon as the pure joy to see her older sister had flooded her body, it ebbed again, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“Eleven hour flight, Em, and a buttload of head trauma and that’s all you have to say to me?” She snipped, mopping up her pudding with the edge of her finger. 

“I got weekly updates about the consistency of Sergio’s bowel movements but this you missed out?” She threw her hands up, sighing in contempt and almost immediately the girls were bickering like they hadn’t spent a single day apart from one another, but then Spencer supposed that’s what happened when you were blood. 

And part of him wondered just who was going to tell Emily about the proposal, the same small part that had gone and bought the ring just yesterday while she’d been sleeping. 

He supposed he could live with it being his secret for a few weeks longer. 

--

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[bellestarot]

Pick a pile

What You need to hear right now ☁️

♡ Take your time to choose

⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢

Pile I

Pile number 1, you are an extremely hardworking, creative, and funny person with an aura that makes people want to get to know you better. You have a positive energy, but you are very constrained.

At this moment, you are learning to leave something behind, and you often feel indecisive about whether this is really what you need to do to achieve your goal and happiness.

I see that you are an indecisive person, feeling a weight on your shoulders about shaping your future. Everything is so uncertain that you don't know if you are making the right choices.

This blockage that holds you back needs to be released. You need to overcome this fear of challenging yourself and trying something new so that you can achieve your desires and happiness. Your dreams will only come to life and flourish if you allow it to happen.

Perhaps you have people you can count on, a friend or a relative. So take advantage of this support and trust in what you are feeling is your goal because I see that when you do, good things will come to you. Taking risks is also positive; stepping out of your comfort zone is beneficial. For some of you, this is related to a dream of yours.

For some of you, this might be related to a step in a relationship you want to take, or it might be related to a job position where you will need to give a speech or represent an institution. For some of you, it is related to dreams you have.

You have often set them aside, but now a light has rekindled regarding them for you not to give up.

Pile II

Pile 2, I see that after a long time, you decided to open your eyes to what was around you. And after that, everything started to make sense to you, and you succeeded.

You understood yourself better, perhaps liked yourself more than before, and appreciated the person you are.

It says here that nothing happens by chance. Sometimes we have to leave certain situations behind so that a new path can open up and you can receive all the good things from a place that was previously unknown to you.

You stayed stagnant in a particular situation for a long time, but the moment you realized that you are the only one responsible for your own happiness, everything changed, right?

Because you learned to express your desires more?

What you feel and what you want for your life?

Maybe someone created a romantic fantasy for you, promising incredible things, including loyalty, which was broken.

This person deceived you, lied to you, and maybe abandoned you.

But let me tell you something.

There are people who will value who you are and what you deserve. Do not accept something that you do not deserve.

You need some time to be alone and take care of yourself. I know you will get through this, and amazing things are waiting for you.

Pile III

It's not easy growing up, is it? Some of you are coming of age. Currently, others of you are learning from life how to be an adult.

You have an energy of youth that wants to discover the world, to know everything, and thinks it knows everything.

You need to learn to face your difficulties and not run away from them because that only hurts you and leaves you with all the possibilities of what could have happened in your mind. If you had confronted them, you wouldn't be wishing for so many things, right?

I see you having folders on Pinterest. Maybe writing in diaries about your future, what you want for yourself, and you are determined to achieve this, to have this independence to fly far from home, from where you are used to being. But as I said, it’s not easy having responsibilities. You might be going through some conflicts in your life that shake your mental state a bit.

The way to face this is by being less pessimistic. And valuing and trying to see the good things that happen to you amidst so much that hurts you.

Sometimes we don't value what’s happening to us because we can only see the bad things. But when you change your perspective, it completely changes your energy. We only attract good things when we are vibrating positively. That’s what you need to do.

୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈୨୧

[ashabsynthe]

Shadow Work Prompts

With my last post being about shadow work, I thought I’d give y’all some prompts to use.

How does the feeling of envy show up in your life?

What do you need more of in your life?

What do you love most about yourself?

If you could get rid of one bad memory, what would it be and why?

In what ways are you inauthentic?

What irrational fears do you have and how do they hold you back?

Do you hold grudges against others that could be let go? What's your motive for holding onto them?

What do you hate about others? Why? What might that say about yourself?

What do you need to stop running away from?

What do you need to let go of?

What should you attract into your life?

How do you feel about "love"?

Why do you think you don't deserve love?

What do you minimize about yourself? What do you flaunt?

How do you deal with criticism?

How do you perceive pain?

Why haven't you dealt with your past before?

What don't you like about your life? Why? How can you change it?

How often do you lie to yourself and what about?

What emotion(s) do you try to avoid? Why don't you want to feel those ways?

Write a letter to someone who hurt you and then burn it.

How does your inner child see you?

How are you deceiving yourself?

What does success mean to you? How are you standing in your own way?

What is going on in your life that you are actively ignoring?

What keeps you motivated?

What inspires you?

Who or what is making your life difficult? How can you deal with it constructively?

How have you been betrayed in your life? What did it teach you?

How has your voice been stifled in the past?

What areas of your life do you excel in?

What are the most important/integral things you have learned over the past few years?

In what ways are you too defensive? Why?

How are you pessimistic in your own life?

Why do you not trust others?

What hardships have you overcome? How has it changed you?

What are you doing to pursue your dreams?

What do you still need to forgive yourself for?

What did that relationship teach you? (you know the one... that one)

How can you maintain your individuality?

In what ways can you be more true to yourself?

In what ways are you lying to yourself? Why?

How can you lead with your heart in your life?

How have your dreams fallen short of reality?

What is your relationship with your mother like?

What is your relationship with your father like?

Write a letter to your inner child. Maybe apologize for what has happened to them and that you couldn't protect them, tell them how far you have come and how much you have done. Say whatever comes to mind.

How have you been a martyr/victim in your own life?

I’ll keep this post updated with more prompts when I find them

[krisluxxeeempress]

Astrology Observations

Those with Mercury in Cancer tend to eat, to process their thoughts. For example, if a mercury in cancer individual has a paper to write and are struggling to formulate words, they will stop to get something to eat and while they’re chewing, their thoughts become clearer about the subject matter. Cancerians love food and when placed here, it helps their mental functioning.

Mars Square Pluto Aspect will force a MF to face and fight their battles, fears and WIN. Mars is the God of War ruling over soldiers, warriors, fighters, champions and heroes. You have the spirit of a champion but with every champion, you must TRAIN as such. Whatever sign or house Pluto resides in, will reveal the type of training you undergo during your “training camp. (ex. boxers do not train the same as soldiers but they both have an opponent they need to take out/ down)  The Individuals  who stick the course and endure- usually come out of mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually stronger. They come out on top! If you have Mars or Pluto (retrograded) , this aspect is fought within. You are fighting yourself, you vs. you. You are your enemy, and you will have to fight the version of yourself that is weakening, sabotaging, discouraging and ultimately holding you back. The battles fought could be fear, denial, self-doubt, insecurity, inferiority, addiction, abuse etc. Anything or anyone that makes you feel powerless, you will be forced to overpower it/them or die trying.

The quotes “only the strong survive” and or “ death before dishonor” can be used to explain this aspect.

Pluto in Capricorn 6th House ( especially retrograded) Makes individuals obsessed with achieving greatness and success on a grand scale. If this isn’t accomplished Pluto can also make one begin to self-destruct in such a way that it’s hard to bounce back from. This placement promises a slow grind and slow demise. Considering Pluto is farthest from the sun, that is seen by all, no one will notice the trials and tribulations one must overcome until they either overcome or succumb. This placement can certainly be discouraging if one is unable to handle the pressure that is placement gives.  We all want to be successful until it’s time to put in the consistent time, effort and energy required. It’s a heavy weight to carry. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown”.

Saturn in Aquarius 8th house ( especially retrograded) Individuals with this placement do like people at all. They are forced to experience and witness all the negativity humans are capable of. Because of this, these people are not only rebellious towards societal norms but also resentful towards all who uphold and live by these societal constructs. These individuals categorize everyone. If they experience rudeness from one person, they will conclude everyone is rude etc. This placement gives these individuals a solid reason to dislike everyone. The sign of Aquarius is naturally rebellious and different in comparison to most. They do not have to try; however, Saturn in Aquarius 8th house gives them a REASON to be rebellious. There’s a major difference. They are constantly in situations where they are forced to see what others attempt to hide about themselves including the corrupt in governments, business and other countries. They observe everything that is wrong and experience injustices to confirm what is wrong with everything and everyone. These individuals really would prefer not to be bothered by anyone and wouldn’t be if it was possible. They are pessimistic because they are realist. This placement will make these people extremely indifferent to the suffering of humanity because they “feel” it’s deserved. High levels of intelligence are granted to those with this placement making it difficult to tolerate many people who are simple/ narrow minded and impressionable. This placement is unbearable especially in their younger years because with Saturn’s influence, they must learn to control their anger, resentment and hatred towards humanity. These are our misanthrope’s, sociopaths, psychopaths and murderers. If this energy is retrograded in one’s chart- they have more control over their disdain towards others. They are more aware of the consequences that would follow if they acted on these violent urges deriving from hatred. When the government is lying, they know and can’t stand when others can’t see or worse- accept they’re being lied to. When workplaces pull some bullsh*, they see if before it occurs and can’t stand when others “fall victim” or willingly conform. When people get caught up, confused and taken advantage of in relationships- these individuals can’t understand how others can’t see it or won’t leave it. Everything that most find so complex and difficult is the complete opposite for them. Lastly, These individuals may enjoy reading psychological thriller books that involve crime, death, detective work and anything considered DARK.

[nutklcker]

For your Swansea eye post, consider It relates to them both knowing what he's done? Also think about this, they probably didn't mean for this but like, think about it 'See right through you' Curly lost his right eye, he really cared about Jimmy, they were friends Swansea fucking hated him - he saw right through him, took some time to get there

death makes that no longer possible

YO WAIT YOURE ACTUALLY SO RIGHT: Context.

So like in Anya's case, she sees how absolutely fuckoff terrible Jimmy is but due to the manner in which she was abused (ie the way she's seemingly been forced into writing it off as "not that bad" or "deserving" [saw a post on this concept specifically a while ago but don't remember if I reblogged it, gonna go look for it now: edit I COULDNT FIND IT :(]) she excuses it. She excuses the absolute hell she went through due to the way Jimmy manipulated her.

And in Daisuke's case there's a handful of reasons why he could be either intentionally ignoring or unintentionally unable to realize Jimmy's worse-than-hellish behavior ranging from his age to his upbeat demeanor to a sense of camaraderie (in regards to that scene where Daisuke breaks down after drinking too much and reveals he's also pretty pessimistic about the situation but trying to put on a brave face. He might feel like he's putting on a brave face for Jimmy too because he sees that same pessimism in him), but whatever it is that led Daisuke to not really realize Jimmy's assholery, we can see by the time he gets into the vent he STILL thinks Jimmy's doing the right things. Like he agrees to follow his plan of getting in the vent of course, he also doesn't really bat an eye when Jimmy only mentions saving Curly and not Anya (which Jimmy probably does cuz Anya saying something along the lines of "I'm finally doing what you told me to" implies Jimmy told her to off herself after he learned of the pregnancy. So he knows what she means when she says that and probably knew in advance that she had killed herself and was now focusing on making sure she hadn't killed Curly too) and, even in death, Jimmy isn't the one that killed him.

Fun fact I just realized about that: the way he was killed specifically avoids both his eyes while crossing between them. I'd like to posit that this could mean that, in game, eyes symbolize the ability to properly see reality and the trap of being overcome with delusion or wishful thinking. The way Daisuke died separated those two, implying he was never able to choose one or the other and instead saw both, fully. He never got an answer. He never realized that Jimmy was an asshole, he never got definitive proof that Curly didn't crash the ship, he never got to "grow up" and face reality as an adult with a job. I also find it interesting that when Daisuke dies Jimmy is sitting on his side that the "sees reality" while Swansea is sitting on the "blinded by delusion side" which could imply that he FINALLY sees that Jimmy is the problem but is simultaneously still blinded by devotion to Swanson, unable to recognize the damage his alcoholism has had on him (Daisuke).

With all this in mind I LOVE the idea that Swansea and Curly both losing their right eyes symbolizes they've lost the ability to be deluded by wishful thinking, they both, finally, COMPLETELY see Jimmy for who he is. They are forced to only see reality. Anya is forced into a balancing act between the two, as is Daisuke until his death, at which point his ability to choose between reality and wishful thinking is split in half, forcing him to see the reality of Jimmy's existence and the wishful thinking of Swansea's predicament (meaning he might view Swansea's murder of him as a mercy killing).

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (November 26-December 2, 2023)

I wasn't over the moon when Toho announced that Takashi Yamazaki's Blockbuster Monster Movie was in fact the next Godzilla film. I had seen a few of his works—none bad, but none spectacular either. Well, I've set my sights on watching the rest in the new year, because Godzilla Minus One is an unqualified masterpiece. A tagline from the original Godzilla, King of the Monsters! comes to mind (as it often does when you're me): "Mightiest melodrama of them all!" A lot of the post-Showa films suffer from an abundance of characters who just spout exposition and look at monitors; here, almost everyone in the small cast gets at least one close encounter with Godzilla, and the monster's backstory is conveyed with extreme efficiency. This tale of a war veteran trying to rebuild his life in the ruins of Tokyo, stumbling into a family, finding fulfillment in blowing up leftover mines, and haunted by what he perceives as his cowardice in combat, would have been plenty compelling without Godzilla.

Since it does have Godzilla, it's high on my list of the best movies of the year, and I only need one viewing to call it one of the best installments in the almost-70-year-old series. Yamazaki patiently waited some 15 years after Always: Sunset on Third Street 2 for his shot at a Godzilla feature. You certainly get the sense, watching one of the most brutal, pissed-off incarnations of the monster ever to grace the screen, that he spent every day of it in preparation. Watch it often while it's still in theaters, and watch it big.

Godzilla Minus One will gross about $10 million in its U.S. opening "weekend", a third-place finish that beat expectations. For context, Godzilla 2000, the last Toho Godzilla film to receive a wide release here, made about $10 million during its entire theatrical run here. Ticket prices were cheaper then, of course, and Minus One was helped along further by almost half of attendees going to premium-format screenings. Conversely, it had to overcome Americans' subtitle phobia, and the first weekend of December is usually a slow one. I was pessimistic at the outset, but now I expect larger theaters to carry the film into the new year, especially with near-universal raves from critics and audiences.

Yes, a third section for Godzilla Minus One; it's well-deserved, I promise. MyKaiju is risking life and limb by hosting an English translation of the film's novelization, written by Takashi Yamazaki himself. It appears to be at least partially machine-translated, but the Japanese text is included for comparison. Haven't read it yet, as I want to see the film a second time first, but quite a breakthrough given how mysterious this sort of thing usually is.

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters could never hope to compare with the opening of a stellar new Godzilla film; unfortunately, I also thought this week's episode was the weakest so far. It's bookended by Frost-Vark action, but the rest just drags. All's forgiven if the teacher and the hacker smooch though.

Toho and Legendary used to let each other's live-action Godzilla movies breathe; now the U.S. opening weekend of one is coinciding with the opening marketing push of the other. IGN released a trio of pics from Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, showing Kong with his axe; Dr. Andrews, Jia, and Trapper (Dan Stevens's character) in uniform; and Godzilla "evolving into a powerful new form." The same article included an interview with director Adam Wingard. Naturally, he didn't give away much... besides the return of Doug.

Earlier in the week, Legendary put out a trio of posters featuring Godzilla, Kong, and the film's antagonist, now christened Skar King. The taglines ("Unite" for our heroes, "Bow to Your King" for SK) sound like kaiju campaign slogans. Makes me wonder if, like Godzilla vs. Megalon before it, the movie will improbably capitalize on the presidential election next year. To steal a joke from Titanollante: Godzilla/Kong unity ticket? They'd have my vote.

Godzilla's new form, meanwhile, has already been spoiled by a T-shirt on Legendary's own site and some dire-looking Playmates figures. It makes sense that Wingard would want to have his own spin on the character after keeping the design from Godzilla: King of the Monsters for Godzilla vs. Kong. Hard to cast judgment without seeing the real design in full, but there's one particular detail I really like.

The film also has a booth at CCXP in Brazil, with a panel later today, so I think a trailer is incoming (the main reason I hammered out this whole post so quickly).

I missed this one last week: Tsuburaya announced an anime project called Ultraman: DARKNESS HEELS. The DARKNESS HEELS branding has been around for a while, spotlighting prominent evil Ultras—and, of course, Jugglus Juggler. No details on the anime yet, but if the Juggleman's there, so am I.

The big toy reveal this weekend was Super7's ULTIMATES! MaiGoji figure. Previous Godzilla figures from this line haven't lived up to the official photos, but hope springs eternal. It's $85 (much less than the MonsterArts); preorders started Friday. Other highlights: a Super7 ReAction figure of the original Godzilla's skeleton, which comes with a little Oxygen Destroyer, and a plush Mothra from Surreal Entertainment that can flip to imago form to a neck pillow-shaped larva.

[kyouka-supremacy]

hello!

I saw your recent post and you hinted that Atsushi is actually kinda twisted and that yoh don't agree with his morals?

If its alr with you, do you mind elaborating? ❤️

Alright, to be fair, I *am* self aware enough to realize a lot of what I say about Atsushi is probably fairly detached from canon. When push comes to shove, he's just a guy trying to get through. A polite dude. I like to stretch on how a lot of his well-mannered behaviour and his desperate attempt to prove himself good are moved by deeply selfish reasons of validating his own right to live, but that said, that doesn't make him inherently evil, either.

Atsushi's double morality is something that comes up a lot, so please check out these posts!! (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8). But overall... Is a good action that is done for deeply selfish reasons, still good? I'm not sure. But when I watched the anime for the first time, and in episode 8 it turned out that Atsushi was not helping the train passengers out of spontaneous inclination to help people in need, but rather just due to a self-interested aim to validate his own right to live... Idk, it didn't positively impress me? I was even less positively impacted by the later line “people can't live unless someone tells them ‘it's okay to go on’! ” The thing is, both scenes feel like more of the author's underlying worldviews that end up being conveyed through the series' protagonist, and that's a consideration to be made by its own– it's not an issue I have with Atsushi specifically, as much as me fundamentally disagreeing with most of bsd's perspectives on the world, as I've already said before.

But that doesn't change the fact that Atsushi is fundamentally selfish¹, does it? The difference is - I think - that for the author, more or less all people are, while to me no one is born selfish. But that still makes Atsushi not really morally virtuous, and I think that's narratively interesting to explore by its own!!! What if there was a character who only did good because (he thinks) that's the only way he has the right to live? What if there was someone who believed the right to live had to be owned in the first place? After having overcome the admittedly jarring sentiment I felt when first engaged with the character, I must admit those are some compelling concepts to explore, even despite disagreeing with the underlying morals.

At the end of the day, it's just a complex nature of the character? I like to emphasize on Atsushi's uncommendable selfishness especially as opposite to Akutagawa's hidden selflessness; but all said, a man who tries to do good despite it not being his first nature is a better man than any of us, isn't he?

¹ And Atsushi is profoundly selfish. I think that Beast in particular proves that he's ready to commit evil just as much as in canon he is to do good, if it's to pursue the goal of his own survival. The first thing we see him do, at the very start of the series, is, symbolically, contemplating robbing other people for his own survival (though in real life I would never judge someone's morality in life and death situations... But maybe since this is fiction, that can still hold narrative value). He will stop acting good as long as it's no longer required of him (each of his interactions with Akutagawa). Maybe it's a little pessimist way to interpret the manga, but perhaps still a consistent one?

[nadobemoony23]

North Node Persona Chart observations P2

Part of their souls mission for people with Mars-Jupiter aspects in this persona chart are really supposed to learn to put more action and energy when learning what they want to learn from life wether that’s spirituality, religion, beliefs, or anything else. They also are supposed to learn to be more physically active and to put themselves out there more. These people could be really passionate about their beliefs and their ideology which they should learn to be more open to hearing other’s beliefs without letting their ego get in the way. Although these people should put a lot energy into what they want to do in life, they have learn to be careful not to be too spontaneous, impulsive, overbearing, and boastful with their actions and their energy since it is common with the negative aspects(Square, Opposition), but could be common with the positive aspects(Sextile, Trine, and Conjunction). These people are to learn that taking more action towards what they want to do in life will bring them more luck, optimism, and happiness.

Part of their souls mission for people with Sun-Saturn aspects in this persona chart are really supposed to focus on learning how to overcome difficult challenges and lessons that they’ll have in life. These people are gonna need learn to build themselves up and work hard for the things they want in life. These people could feel that they’re constantly getting tested a lot even if it’s something simple and need to focus on not backing down on the challenges they’ll face. These people will have lessons with being confident and secure within themselves since these people usually have a knack for putting themselves down, being pessimistic, feeling like a failure, and limiting themselves a lot. These people are to learn that focusing more on being persistent, strong, and taking responsibility is what will help them with feeling stable, self-assured, and secure within themselves.

Part of their souls mission for people with Mercury-Mars aspects in this persona chart are really supposed to focus on taking more action when it comes to communicating their desires and should also actively work towards changing their thought process. These people are supposed to learn to encourage and motivate themselves mentally. These people are also supposed to learn to dedicate their mental energy towards something positive otherwise they could explode in a fit of anger. These people could have a quick, restless mind, may be assertive with the way that they communicate, may be good at debates, and could be independent minded, but depending on how it’s used these people could be aggressive with their words, may have too much of a sharp tongue, hostile, and too argumentative.

Part of their souls mission for people with Mercury-Neptune aspects in this persona chart are really supposed to focus their thoughts and the way that they communicate on being more empathetic, understanding, and accepting of not only themselves, but others too. These people should to learn to open themselves more to spirituality and different ideas/concepts to it, although they should learn to not be deceived and lied to about false ideas. These people could be extremely creative, psychic, very imaginative, and very good at manifesting, but on the downside these people could have anxiety, may be deceptive, delusional, and liars. They are also supposed to learn not to cloud their own thoughts and should learn to connect with their hidden talents and gifts.

Part of their souls mission for people with Moon-Saturn aspects in this persona chart are supposed to learn how to be strong emotionally and will go through many challenges regarding their emotions. These people could emotionally restrict themselves and could’ve been emotionally restricted in the past, but must learn to open up. They could struggle with trusting their instincts and their intuition which they should learn to adapt to more. They are to learn that if they are able to control their emotions and not put themselves down emotionally or be too hard on themselves then they could master their emotions, could master how to care for their needs, and could learn how to be happy by themselves.

Part of their souls mission for people with Mars-Pluto aspects in this persona chart are supposed to take action into transforming and changing their ego. They are supposed to learn to put their explosive energy and aggression towards something that’ll really get them moving so they can burn it off. They could feel deeply passionate about the things that they want to go for in life. These people could have a strong vitality, could be strong physically, could have great detective skills, and could be courageous. These people are going to have lessons related to power issues, violence, obsessiveness, etc. They are to learn that they need to push themselves by being more assertive and dominant with their actions when it comes to getting what they want since these people are capable of making powerful actions and even being a powerful force to be reckoned with.

Part of their souls mission for people with Mercury-Venus aspects in this persona chart are really supposed to express more of how they love by communicating their feelings and will learn how to communicate their wants when it comes to relationships. These people must learn to be more loving, polite, and kind when it comes to their thoughts and the way that they communicate. These people are also supposed to experience communication within love that is sweet and beautiful to the point where they know that they are loved. These people could be charming, smooth with their words, diplomatic, and could be really creative, but depending on how it’s used these people could be a bit fake with what they say and could be too much of people pleasers.

Part of their souls mission for people with Venus-Neptune aspects in this persona chart are really supposed to experience unconditional love. These people are supposed to learn to not be so judgmental and to show forgiveness. These people could have lessons in love that deal with delusions, idealism, foolishness, etc. These people could experience intimacy and pleasure in a romantic, sweet, and transcendental way. They could also be good at manifesting material things and possibly even love in this lifetime. These people could be extremely creative and empathetic when they learn open themselves to universal love without restricting themselves.

[yourtoocleverfox]

"Something's Wrong."

You were late. You had never been late before. Maybe it had been the pessimist in him, or, heaven forbid, some latent paternal neurosis, but, that night, Miguel had found himself absolutely overcome with worry.

You could have been anywhere at that point- lost in Nueva York, lost here in the south of France, lost at the bottom of the sea. It was clear, rational thoughts were not his friend and had not been for a while now, but logic be damned, he couldn't stop his imagination from running wild.

And the alcohol hadn't done anything for him either. It was supposed to have cleared his head, given him solace from his increasingly stormy thoughts. Instead, he'd found his mood being dragged down, down, down until it was all he could do not to spiral completely.

It was you. You made him this way, with your soft laughter and your easy smile. You had a grip on him, like gravity incarnate- always pulling him in. He'd tried his best to keep you at arm's length- really, he had, but time and again he found himself watching you, missing you, craving you.

Que exasperante! He was a mad man; he knew that, had been told that countless times. It had never more obvious, though, than when he found himself prisoner to his own hellish thoughts.

So, he'd spent the rest of the night worrying and waiting and drinking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had a whole host of appointments he would have to attend to the following morning. An itinerary a mile long would demand his attention from sunrise to sunset. But none of that had mattered with each second that passed without you near.

He didn't remember falling asleep, didn't hear the rhythmic clicking of your heels when you ambled into the hotel suite at some ungodly hour. He hadn't noticed the sound of you skittering around the dark room, desperately attempting to bring order to the chaos of dress shirts and silk ties he'd left in his wake. Nor did he feel the slight shift in weight as you tentatively, carefully eased onto the mattress next to him.

Hours had passed before restlessly, he turned on his side and felt...warmth? He stilled in the darkness, waiting and listening. The sound of your breathing was soft and slow. You were sleeping, oblivious to the eyes peering curiously at you through a still drunken haze.

You were safe. Relief and frustration flooded him in a combination of emotions he'd yet to grow used to. Where had you been all this time? Why hadn't you reached out to him? Called on him? Put his mind at ease? Had you even spent a fraction of the time thinking of him that he'd spent worrying endlessly about you?

Had his eyes been better equipped to see in the blackness of the room, he would have noticed the line formed between your drawn brows, as not even sleep provided peace to the seemingly never-ending day you'd endured. If the coffee from this morning had been a little stronger, then maybe he would have caught the scent of your ruined shirt thrown limply over the armchair in the corner. If his senses hadn't been dulled from that damned bottle of whiskey, he probably would have noticed that it was one of his shirts that hung on your body instead of your own pajamas, those of which had been long lost somewhere between connecting flights.

He had no idea, and frankly, the longer he watched the gentle rise and fall of your blanket wrapped form, the less the details seemed to matter to him.

He should resist, shouldn't allow himself to indulge this way, but he was drunk, and relieved, and you were here. Slowly, so slowly, he reached out an arm and ever so carefully pulled you back against his broad chest. He curled around you, aware enough in the fog of liquor and sleep, that he needed to be gentle with your slight frame. The top of your head rested just below his nose, and he breathed in that warm, sweet scent of yours.

You were lying in the shelter of his arms, and as Miguel once again succumbed to the lull of sleep, peaceful in this stolen moment, nothing else mattered.

Tag List: @sukunash0e

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[talonabraxas]

Celestial Buddha Lotus by Talon Abraxas

The Four Noble Truths

One: Suffering exists. Life is suffering. Suffering is real and universal. Suffering has many causes: loss, sickness, pain, failure, and the impermanence of pleasure.

Two: There is a cause of suffering. Suffering is due to attachment. It is the desire to have and control things. It can take many forms: craving of sensual pleasures; the desire for fame; the desire to avoid unpleasant sensations, like fear, anger, or jealousy.

Three: There is an end to suffering. Attachment can be overcome. Suffering ceases with the final liberation of Nirvana. The mind experiences complete freedom, liberation, and non-attachment. It lets go of any desire or craving.

Four: In order to end suffering, follow the Eightfold Path.

The fundamentals of Buddhism are to be found in the Buddha’s first sermon. In it, he expounded the “Four Noble Truths.” These explain that suffering is inherent to life; that it is caused by attachment, desire, and delusion; that these things can be overcome; and that there is a prescribed way to overcome them.

While this can seem pessimistic — the whole thing is popularly summarized as “life is suffering” — Buddhists tend to see it more as an accurate diagnosis of “life necessarily involves suffering” rather than a nihilistic statement that “life is nothing but misery.” Importantly, the third truth is that there is a way past suffering. That route away from suffering and toward nirvana — a difficult-to-capture idea of the state beyond the cycle of suffering and reincarnation — is the primary focus of millions of Buddhists.

Dependent arising

“All formations are transient; all formations are subject to suffering; all things are without a self. Therefore, whatever there be of form, of feeling, of perception, mental formations, or consciousness, whether past, present, or future, one’s own or external, gross or subtle, lofty or low, far or near, one should understand according to reality and true wisdom: ‘This does not belong to me; this am I not; this is not my Self.’”

A key teaching of Buddhism is the idea of “dependent arising” — it is one of the few tenets that every school of Buddhism agrees on. This maintains that everything is devoid of inherent existence. Everything that exists is caused by something else and will cause other things. Nothing is independent; every phenomenon depends on something else. Metaphysically speaking, nothing has an independent essence and can exist in perpetuity. This also means that when you try to find your “self,” there is no single, enduring, isolated thing to point to.

Buddhism teaches that a great deal of the suffering in our lives comes from the idea that things are permanent, unchanging, and unconnected to everything else. The doctrine of “dependent arising” teaches that everything is in flux, that nothing is permanent, and that even we aren’t as enduring as we might like to think.

[anastasia-queen]

Character Appreciation: Chloe Carmichael from Fairly Oddparents (Proper Character Analysis WIP)

(Note: The discussion you are currently reading is a WIP. As for the reason, I wanted to post something about the subject just in case I lost motivation for this personal project.) Anyways, let's begin this discussion about Chloe Carmichael.

Chloe Carmichael is a heavily misrepresented character across the general or FOP community. She does have a source of misery, which is she is a child who has a sheltered lifestyle and must live up to her parents and other expectations and morals enforced upon her.

As a result of her sheltered life, she has a strong personality that makes socializing with kids difficult. Her conflict is purely internal, not external because her conflict focuses on the psychological effects on her character. The beauty of Chloe's Character is that despite having to enforce a sheltered lifestyle, it's due to that lifestyle from her parents' skewed reality. Chloe can see the beauty of small things and believes there's always a positive direction of thinking or behavior for anyone. She's an optimistic person.

However, due to how her parents unintentionally put their mindset upon their daughter, whether something minor or major that breaks Chloe's perception of reality, she often breaks down or loses it.

Chloe Carmichael is essentially the antithesis of Timmy Turner, Timmy, a child who had a neglectful life as a result of his parents' personal work life, escapades, and oblivious behavior interfering with his need for attention and guidance in his life, which led to him taken advantage of hence characters like Vicky, and Timmy begrudgingly accepts it because he has no one else to go to for help.

As a result of this consistent behavior cycle, Timmy had a very pessimistic outlook on people and life, resulting in Timmy having a noticeable blunt, sarcastic, and partly arrogant behavior in the earlier seasons, especially for Season Zero.

While Timmy and Chloe are both opposites in lifestyles and mannerisms, they also have the same problem of acknowledging both of their feelings ignored by the general public.

While Timmy's situation and source of misery are more noticeable and direct than Chloe's, Chloe is still miserable because she represses her feelings and thoughts of wanting more, to be heard, to be an actual child, for only to follow the morals enforced by her parents. Chloe even admitted in the episode Booby Trapped that she holds her parents and extension their thoughts in high regard. The episode Summer Bummer also amplifies this notion by having the physical manifestation of the inner child in Chloe's mind, saying Chloe is prioritizing the need for education over the liberty of freedom of being a child.

Someone would ask the question. If Chloe has an internal conflict that affects her perception of life, wouldn't that mean Timmy also has an internal conflict? The answer is no. Timmy's conflict is external.

An external conflict is about having a force of nature, like society or a situation set against the main character. Whether natural or not, it must be outside the character's control, which the main character must learn to overcome. Hence, Timmy's reason to have Cosmo and Wanda. Timmy is a child who had a neglectful upbringing outside his control, which led to people mistreating and taking advantage of him, which caused him to have a pessimistic outlook to only have Cosmo and Wanda to help him combat this.

While it's true that the neglectful lifestyle had taken a toll on the perception of the mindset of Timmy and how he interacts and perceives others. The definition of an internal conflict is about the constant inner battles of prioritizing your wants and needs for a set principle. Timmy doesn't have this problem because he doesn't have major internal battles of his identity to qualify. After all, Timmy is a person who suppresses his feelings.

A person who suppresses their feelings is self-aware of their problem. However, they are deliberately making the conscious choice to avoid acknowledging it. As a result, the issue remains unresolved. The only reason why Timmy's problem is being addressed is because of Cosmo and Wanda. Otherwise, Timmy wouldn't have had the inherent ability to do so, thus setting aside his feelings.

In contrast, a person who represses their feelings is not subconsciously aware of their feelings. Hence, Chloe often has an epiphany when her problem is eventually acknowledged.

Someone would probably ask me a question. If Chloe is a child from a sheltered upbringing who deals with the constant repressed inner battles of her parents enforce morals over her needs and wants of being an actual child, which had an unintentional effect of giving Chloe a strong personality that overwhelms or annoys people to be long lasting meaningful friends with her outside the things she can offer as her character conflict. How come no one mentioned this component of Chloe's character?

Well, dear reader, that is because no one thoroughly watched the tenth season outside the first episode and the notorious horrendous episodes of the Flash era. (Specifically, the episodes The Kale Patch Caper, Knitwits, Tardy Sauce, and the most popular contender everyone loves to use to belittle this season and extension of the modern era Fairly Oddparents as a whole, the episode Certified Super Sitter.) If you don't believe me, then go to YouTube and Twitter.

However, not every episode from the Flash era is terrible. Summer Bummer and Fancy Schmancy are relatively decent for Season 10B standards.

(Season 10B is only thirteen episodes across seven episode blocks. Season 10A is 30 episodes across 13 episode blocks.) I mentioned this because there is a noticeable misconception that the Flash era was half of Season 10. (7 out of 37 episodes is approximately 19%.)

Poor episodes that plague the reputation of Season 10A are The Big Fairly Scare Share, Girly Squirrely, and Return of the Losers. (3 out of 30 episodes is approximately 10%. In total this is approximately 29%, a third of the season, which is legitimately poor.) Leaving 71% of Season 10 undiscussed. "Yeah, that is definitely fair".

[gatitties]

Hi!! I recently found your blog and I love your writings! I wanted to know if you’d write skanks crew/the whitebeard pirates/and possibly the kid pirates if that’s not too much, which a crewmate who has really bad rejection sensitive dysphoria and feels bad because even when they logically know no one is mad at them they can’t help but break down at the tiniest critique or if their body language even suggests that there’s the slightest chance of them being upset about something? Thank you so much for your writings!!

─Red Hair Pirates, Whitebeard Pirates & Kid Pirates x reader

─Summary: You think that all you do is annoy but it's just your mind playing with you

─Warnings: none

Sure!! I'm glad you like the writings <3

─ It was probably Benn who noticed your behavior when they used harsher expressions towards you, even though it was not intended to offend, the simple serious tone made you feel like you were being scolded.

─ And indeed after that it became more noticeable that you were more sensitive to certain words, tones or movements, you seemed easily hurt by words, although no one in the crew would dare treat you badly.

─ After he mentioned it to Shanks, everyone seemed to notice that you were a little more sensitive, so they took care not to sound so serious around you.

─ Yassop was in charge of smiling at you whenever he spoke to you, Lucky Roux patted you gently on the back, Benn will relax his body around you, Shanks will take it as an excuse to drink more alcohol and not be so serious next to you.

─ But they know that they can't always be all smiles and love, although they make sure that it gets into your head that if they are ever serious or their body is tense, it's not for you, far from it, doesn't matter if you cause problems, you would never be a bother.

─ Although sometimes it's not their fault, there are many different types of people on the islands, good and bad people who can make you feel bad, if the intentions were to attack you they will have no mercy.

─ In any case, they try to make you overcome those pessimistic thoughts about being annoying or easily angering people, although they always cover your back, you never know when you have to function alone in certain social situations in which you cannot succumb to bad thoughts.

─ Whitebeard doesn't have a loving expression on his face most of the time, even if he's not angry with anyone in particular, his complexion and person intimidate you, it's impossible not to feel scolded when he's just talking normal.

─ Everyone can notice how you shrink in your place when they raise their voices more or their tone is serious, maybe Ace was the one you felt that way the least because he was always joking with you about anything.

─ Izo did his best to speak as softly as possible, Thatch was in charge of clarifying that his frown was not for you, but for a certain person who had broken into the kitchen again, Marco will pat your head to let you know that you're not being a bother.

─ As for Whitebeard, he told you that you couldn't think that everyone was upset with you, even less if they were part of your family now, he explained that not everyone has that pleasant aura but that despite that they weren't trying to be rude to you.

─ Of course no one on the ship would dare to make you feel bad even if you had gotten into trouble, they were there to help you with that.

─ Although they would have no mercy with people who really make fun of you or are aggressive with their words towards you.

─ They will definitely throw a party on your behalf more than once if they saw that you got discouraged thinking that they were being mean to you, they will let you know that they won't get mad at you for little things so you can rest and enjoy the party.

─ Calm down, inhale and exhale, this crew has managed to get on your nerves because they all seem so angry or tense, you don't stop thinking if they have really accepted you as one of the crew.

─ Of course no one will notice that you feel bad because they are simply that aggressive even though they don't intend to make you feel that way, perhaps the only one who noticed was Wire because he was more observant.

─ He did a little experiment and relaxed his body around you, he noticed how you didn't seem to have that constant sad face and he commented it to Kid.

─ Of course, Kid won't change his attitude too much, he just gave you a little talk about not being so weak and that if you were on his ship it was because everyone here accepted you as you are and for what you're worth.

─ The others didn't change much either, they just changed some ways of speaking that you could misinterpret, although Heat took it upon himself to tell you that you weren't a burden when you seemed to interpret it that way.

─ Killer always makes sure that they are not so hard on you on some occasions, the least he wants to do is make you feel bad because of idiots like them.

─ At least, their behavior improves a little to calm your conscience a bit, not as if you were one hundred percent calm but at least you wouldn't take each frown as if it were your fault.

[sensualnoiree]

astro notes: daily transits 9/7

Saturday 9/7, brings a day marked by tension and introspection as the Sun opposes Saturn, creating an atmosphere of increased stress, delays, and potential feelings of pessimism. This energy is further intensified by a quincunx between Mercury and Pluto, which stirs up mental unrest and the need to reassess troubling situations or thoughts. The challenge today lies in managing these heavy energies without becoming overwhelmed, while also making necessary adjustments in our thinking or approach to ongoing issues.

Key Influences

Sun Opposite Saturn: Increased Stress and Pessimism: The opposition between the Sun in Virgo and Saturn in Pisces can bring feelings of restriction, limitation, and increased stress. This aspect often manifests as a more pessimistic view of current situations, where obstacles and delays seem to block progress. Responsibilities may feel heavier than usual, and it might be difficult to maintain a positive outlook. This energy calls for patience, perseverance, and a realistic assessment of what needs to be done. The key is to not let temporary setbacks dampen your spirit but to use this time to build resilience and take a disciplined approach to overcoming challenges.

Mercury Quincunx Pluto: Mental Unrest and the Need for Adjustment: The quincunx between Mercury in Leo and Pluto in Capricorn suggests that something is weighing heavily on your mind today. This could be related to a project, a communication, or a contract that has become a source of stress or worry. News or information may have surfaced that is troubling, leading to obsessive thinking or a tendency to dwell on negative possibilities. This aspect urges you to seek out professional advice or engage in intellectual activities that provide a soothing distraction. More importantly, it’s a time to reassess your thoughts and let go of outdated ideas or attachments that are no longer serving you. This may involve releasing a person, project, or contract that is causing more harm than good, allowing you to move forward with a clearer and more focused mindset.

Integrating the Influences

Managing Stress and Delays: Sun Opposite Saturn: Start the day with a realistic and structured plan to manage the responsibilities and potential obstacles that may arise. Understand that delays are not necessarily failures but opportunities to reassess and refine your approach. Use this aspect to build patience and discipline, focusing on long-term goals rather than immediate gratification. Remember that this energy, while heavy, can also provide the foundation for enduring success if handled with care.

Reassessing Troubling Thoughts: Mercury Quincunx Pluto: If you find your mind troubled by a particular issue, take a step back and consider seeking professional advice or engaging in activities that help to ease your mental burden. This is not a day to allow obsessive thoughts to take control. Instead, use the energy of this aspect to make necessary adjustments in your thinking. Let go of what is no longer useful or relevant, whether that’s a person, project, or idea that has been dragging you down. By releasing these burdens, you can regain clarity and focus.

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