#I don’t feel like any of us are really in a relevant position

[thebaffledcaptain]

I’m going to sound like a filthy british bastard by saying this but one of the things I think turns me away from this heavily fandomized tumblrification of the american revolution is genuinely the lack of british perspectives. I obviously don’t fault tumblr for this being the case (it goes without saying that it is a far deeper issue than just that… cough cough american nationalism and exceptionalism and the effect that has on the media) but in spaces like this there really just isn’t… any nuance at all to this conflict which was so undeniably nuanced in so many ways. it’s all about gay founding fathers and cool spies which. I understand the appeal but at a certain point I’m genuinely not sure how much of it we can call history

[lis-likes-fics]

Perfection

Pairings: Spencer Reid x bau!adhd!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words Warnings: Mentions of rape, mentions of murder, dead body, crime scene, descriptions of gore, typical Criminals Minds stuff, character with ADHD, mentions of medication... A/N: This is a little more self-indulgent than I meant for it to be, but I do want to point out that this is some of my experience with ADHD, so I'm not just writing random stuff. It is slightly exaggerated, but I also say that about everything I do and it is pointed out that this is based off an off day.

The long alleyway makes for a nice crime scene, specifically because, despite the busy streets of this city, it's secluded and easy to overlook. It's not too small that the police team cannot fit, but it's small enough that you couldn't cram a really small building into the space. You don’t know how that’s relevant, but somehow it is.

The scene is relatively fresh, the latest of three that brought the BAU to the case. The police handling the scene had it cleared off for you, Spencer, and Derek to examine, via Hotch’s orders.

Spencer's watching you because he loves watching you, and because you're a little off today. There's something about the way you shuffle on your feet or the way you chew on the dead skin of your lip that he finds peculiar. To be fair, you're like this a lot, but today your symptoms are more obvious than usual.

Your eyes scan over the scene with a million different thoughts rushing through your head, less than fifty percent of them actually coherent and fit for conversation.

The three of you spitball ideas back and forth as you look at the man laying cold on the concrete. He's white, lean with light hair and a relatively thin frame. He's nothing like the other two victims, who's physical profiles were all over the place. The only thing they have in common with one another is a single occupation—male prostitution. While this and the first worked on the streets, the second’s job actually took place within a gay strip club a few blocks away from here.

He's got a starting blow to the back of the head, like the other two, and a number of bad bruising and heavy brutality to the rest with overkill to the chest, hands, and genitals. The message feels clear, but there's something a little off.

“Judging by the position of the body,” you speak, your hands restless, “and the way the weapon is discarded, I think our unsub snuck up on our victim in a blitz attack, hit him with the lead pipe, and ran that way.”

You don't point in any particular direction. Spencer glances up from his spot crouched next to the body. Your eyes are stuck on the bloody pipe several feet away from the body toward the secluded area around the back of the building that leads to more secluded walkways through more alleyways.

There is a long pause where they wait for you to explain, but you never do. Spencer thinks you look far off as he examines your face. Derek looks at you, his brow furrowed as he glances around. “Which way?”

“What?” you hum, looking up at him.

Derek elaborates, “Which way did the unsub go?”

It’s your turn to furrow your brow, turning the thin ring on your middle finger. “Did I say something about the unsub?”

Spencer stands, moving over to your side without spending too much time looking at your face. He doesn't want you to feel dumb or awkward, because he loves you and you're just a little forgetful sometimes.

“Yes,” he says in no particular way. “You said the unsub blitzed the victim and ran. Which way did he run?”

He achieves his goal, because you seem to make an “Oh, duh!” face before pointing in the direction of the street. “That way.”

He follows your finger, his brows knitting together. “That way toward the street?” He looks at the pipe, sitting in the exact opposite direction, like they ran and dropped it. “The pipe looks like he'd run the other way to avoid the street. Why do you think he ran toward?” It's a genuine question.

“To throw us off,” you shrug. “It's riskier to go toward the street, but it's also less suspicious than walking alone in the opposite direction where someone could see you and the victim and assume fault.”

He hums. You add on, speaking as quickly as Spencer usually does, “It also means he looks normal enough that he blends in with the crowd. Someone would see a strange figure coming out of a dark alley, no one would really notice a passerby turning a corner. And if this is a popular spot, it's too loud to hear anything going on all the way back here anyway, or no one thinks much of grunting noises when they do hear it.”

You trail off at the end, tight brows staring at the corpse. Derek shrugs, “But what was our victim doing all the way over here in the first pla–”

“There's something in his mouth,” you interrupt accidentally.

“What?”

You kneel down, taking the offered gloves from Spencer and putting them on. You open his mouth just a slight, spotting the white sticking out from under his tongue. Upon seeing it, both of the boys furrow their brows and tilt their heads. Spencer hands you some tweezers he'd borrowed from forensics for this reason.

Carefully, without disturbing the body as much as possible, you remove the strange object from under the tongue. It's a tiny slip of paper, folded up very small and still a little damp from saliva and any other bodily fluids it may have come in contact with. You unfold it.

“‘Unclean’,” Spencer reads from over your shoulder.

“That makes sense for the victimology mixed with the profile. He's a male prostitute,” Derek points out.

“Which explains the locale,” you say, rocking back and forth on your heels.

“What?”

“The locale,” you look up. “You asked why he was here. He must have been working, lured down here by the unsub, who waited for him to turn his back before he struck.”

Spencer agrees, taking a picture of the slip to send to Hotch. “He was killed at night. The streets are crowded, easy to slip into and not be seen. It's more risky to stray by yourself. What you said makes sense.”

You look up at him, standing to your full height again. “What did I say?” There you go again.

Morgan speaks up, “What you said about him runnin’ toward the street.”

Confusion passes your mind momentarily. “He ran toward the street.” You don't say it like a question, you say it like you're trying to back yourself up on it.

“That's what you said,” he insists.

You remember thinking that, but you don't remember saying that out loud.

Spencer swoops in like your hero, brushing his knuckles against the side of your arm. “Remember? You said,” he licks his lips, “ ‘it's riskier to go toward the street, but it's also less suspicious than walking alone in the opposite direction where someone could see you and the victim and assume fault.’ ”

You nod, remembering his word-by-word recitation as you watch him. “Yeah. I did say that.” You flag down one of the forensics workers to bag the evidence. She does so, taking your contaminated gloves with her as she leaves. You squirt a hefty amount of hand sanitizer on your hands from its place on your belt loop. “This is the first victim who's been left behind with a note, right?”

“Yes, autopsy results found nothing like this on the other victims.”

“If the victim was working when he was attacked, it’s possible that, paired with the brutality of the assault and the note left behind, our unsub may be experiencing some kind of internalized homophobia.” You trail off at the end.

Derek shrugs, looking down at the body. “There’s no evidence of sexual assault. Not on the other victims, at least.”

“How old do you think this building is?”

Spencer looks at you, your eyes scanning the wall of one of the buildings you’re between. Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth, picking at the dead skin again. He thinks you’re cute.

“Focus, honeybun,” Derek reminds you, pulling your attention again.

“Sorry.”

“Judging by the faded color and uneven edges of the brick, and the decay in the mortar,” Spencer says, “I’d say this building is at least 50 years old. Well kept at one point and then let go not long after its production.”

You nod along slowly, taking in the information with a hum. “That’s cool…” Now that that’s out of your mind, you think for a moment. What were you saying again? Spencer watches your eyes light up. “Oh!” You turn to Derek. “He’s obviously confrontational, but he may still be very insecure in his ability and, thus, have to make up for his pent up energy with an excess of violence. Homophobia would explain the obliteration of the chest, hands, and especially the genitalia.”

Derek raises a brow. “What?”

“You asked about sexual assault,” you shrug. “If he continues to escalate above the note, we may see these words carved into the skin as a substitute for sexual violence, or even just blatant rape activity.”

Derek thinks about that, considering your analysis with a nodding head. He sighs and hums, “Alright, I’ll talk to Hotch.” He begins to turn away, grabbing his phone.

Spencer thinks you may have gotten distracted again because you ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

Derek looks back at you, shaking his head and flashing you one of his charming smiles. “No, honeybun, you’re perfect.”

“Oh.”

He leaves to take that call. You start to walk after him and Spencer gently takes your hand. You turn to face him, confused at first but giving him a sweet smile only a second later. “Are you okay?” he asks gently, his voice soft.

You tilt your head, “What do you mean?”

Spencer shrugs, taking your other hand just to rub his thumbs over your knuckles. “You’re hyper today, a little more distracted.”

As if proving his point, you begin shifting back and forth on your feet, shrugging and then shaking your head at the same time. “I’m okay,” you assure him, squeezing his hands gently. “I haven’t taken my medication in a couple days.”

He furrows his brow, suddenly a little worried. “Why not?”

“Didn’t feel like it. Also, I forgot it.” That makes sense. Spencer makes a mental note to remind you to take them as soon as you get back home. “But I’m okay, prommy.”

He smiles. “Prommy?”

“Promise,” you clarify, letting both your hands down so you can swing his from side to side. He lets you.

“I know what you mean,” he says. Though he knows he should probably be more professional because you’re both in public and leaving a crime scene (and Hotch might reprimand the both of you for it if he saw) he raises a hand to cradle your cheek because he doesn’t care. He just wants you to feel safe and loved. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod definitely. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” The way he says it is soft, as soft as a kiss to your forehead or a brush of his knuckles on your skin. “You know, I love you, right?”

You nod, smiling at him like he’s the world—because he is. “Yeah. I love you, too, honey.” You kiss his cheek quickly and pat it. You probably shouldn’t have done it right then, but you did, and you don’t regret it for even a moment.

Spencer’s just happy you know he loves you. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s go before Morgan leaves us.” He takes your hand as you both begin walking. He swings your joined hands, just as he knows you like it.

“He wouldn’t leave me,” you shake your head. “He likes me too much.”

Spencer chuckles. “Everyone likes you.”

“Not everyone.”

He looks at you, furrowing his brow. “Who doesn’t like you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. And then immediately after, “Why does the sun look yellow? Isn’t it supposed to be white or something? I heard that somewhere.”

Spencer is happy to answer your questions as he opens the car door for you. Derek is already sitting in the front, his hands on the wheel. The passenger’s seat is empty, but Spencer sits in the back with you. You both speak gently so you’re not disturbing Derek. “The Earth’s atmosphere scatters blue light more efficiently than red light, so the slight deficit in blue light means the eye perceives the color of the sun as yellow. But, yes, the sun is actually white.”

“That’s cool,” you mumble. “I think sharks would look cool as hell with piercings. Do you?”

“I do,” Spencer chuckles. In the front seat, Derek shakes his head and smiles to himself, amused by your conversation.

“Did you know that sharks don’t have bones, so when they die, the saltwater dissolves their bodies so the only thing that’s left is their teeth?” You begin ranting, absent-mindedly picking at dirty under your nails. “And also, their bodies are primarily made of cartilage and connective tissue. It’s lighter than bone and keeps them flamboyant. Also, their skin has a similar feel to sandpaper.”

When you ramble, you sound like Spencer. You spend so much time with him and endorse his info dumps so much that you take on his speech style when you go on info dumps of your own. Spencer loves this because he knows that people tend to mimic the people they love as a sign of affection, and you mimic him a lot more than you think.

He also knew about all your shark facts, but he’s happy to listen. He smiles, “Is that what you were doing up late last night?”

You smile a little, turning away from him. “I got distracted.”

“What’s your thought process behind getting from the sun to sharks?” he wonders. “I’m curious.”

You shrug. “Well, you said your thing and I said it was cool. And then I remembered a post I saw that sharks would be cool with piercings. Then I remembered my shark things.” You glance down at your fingers, bringing them to your lips as you notice a tiny part at the very edge of the nail where it would probably tear off. “I just think sharks are cool,” you mumble around your finger.

“They are cool,” he says. He doesn’t want you to accidentally hurt yourself so he adds on, “Will you hold my hand? It’s a little cold.”

You look down at them, “Yeah.” With a nod, you take his hand between both of yours and let them warm his back up. They’re a bit chilly but they don’t feel that cold to you. You hold them anyway, because you love holding his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his and then cover what’s left.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says. He thinks for a moment. “Did you eat today?”

You nod, still watching his hand as you turn it to look at his palm. You gently trace the lines of it, forgetting for the moment that he’d wanted you to warm his hand up for him. But, as usual, he doesn’t mind. “I had a cereal bar this morning. One of those Coco Puff ones. They’re like Rice Krispy Treats.” He doesn’t think that’s sustainable. “And, before you ask, I did have water.”

He smiles. “I know. I told you to drink some before we left. You hungry?”

You shake your head, “Not really.”

“You want a snack?” he compromises, hoping—and knowing—you’ll say yes.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay,” he hums. “We’ll grab one on the way back.” Derek nods gently, remembering to do just that. It will only take a moment.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Spencer says, his voice lowering to a whisper. He knows Derek can still hear him, but he always just wants to whisper to you.

You look up at him, “For what?”

“Being so perfect.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately smiling at the warmth in your chest. “You’re so cheesy, Spencer Reid.”

He’ll gladly be cheesy for you.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 Tag yourself here...

[k-tarotz]

PICK A CARD; Your & Your F/O’s Dynamic

PILE ONE PILE TWO PILE THREE

hii and welcome to this pick a card! 🫶🏻 it will be a reading related to your fictional other! if that’s not your thing remember to not judge, everyone has different interests. that being said, if you are unsure how to pick a pile take a deep breath and choose the one your eyes first landed on, or the one you feel most drawn to. have fun and thank you for participating.

F/o reading | Kpop reading | personal reading | masterlist

PILE ONE

the sun, nine of pentacles, six of pentacles

so right of the bat this is someone who genuinely adores you a lot. they love the way you laugh, dress and carry yourself. they have a deep sense of love and adoration for you! not a single thing they don’t like about you.

they see you as the sun. the brightest, best thing in their life that they cannot live without. it doesn’t matter it you are a gloomy person, or not as positive as you could be. they will see only the good in you, never focus on your faults. they have a really high sense of love and adoration for you and nothing can change that. in their eyes you can do no harm, and that stays like that, most probably forever.

they would also most probably love to spoil you rotten, whatever you want is yours because they will get it for you in a heartbeat. they won’t accept a no. for some of you, your f/o could be really rich so they have no problem spending money on you. for another half of the group this is someone who doesn’t have a lot but is an insanely hardworking person and will do anything to provide you comfort.

they love you too much to just sit and watch you daydream about the things you could have. they are very action oriented and it will show in your relationship. there is also a possibility they aren’t good with words but they for sure will love you so much EVERYONE will know it. even strangers.

they love you dearly and would never ask for anyone else in their life, to them you are like a sweet summer song on a warm night under the stars. something that is impossible to forget.

this dynamic mainly sun x moon, but there is also a really strong power dynamic here. neither one of you less than the other but both having different roles. i don’t think theres a specific name for this one but the vibe is ‘would give up the world for them x not used to affection but secretly loving it’

some of you might be very shy receiving so much love and affection because you aren’t used to it or have never been loved this way before but this would only motivate your person further to love you deeply and show it to you everyday, let that be with big or small actions.

channeled messages: “ I love you, my dearest “, “ I wouldn’t mind dying in your arms”, “Do you love me like I love you?”, “Catch me before I fall”, “Wether you are 20 or a 200 years old I love you regardless”, “Summer Time Sadness”

other things that might be relevant:

ice, distance, natto?, orange, laces, black, aesthetics, gold, music/singing, fashion, pool (pool parties for some), king

PILE TWO

judgment, hermit, the world

this one is soooo cute! with all due respect, each pile is insanely cute, but this one is especially sweet. your f/o could be a person that has a hard time opening up to people and could be labeled as a cold person even if they are not. so, ultimately a misunderstood person.

regardless of that they do have a hard time with affection, as i have already said~ they could push people away on purpose and hurting them before getting hurt themselves. now with you this would change. no matter what happens and what they do you just keep loving them without needing a specific reason. you just love them for themselves without any bad intentions and it’s so new to them and they love it so much they just want to be around you all the time and they get so overwhelmed with this feeling they aren’t quite sure how to react to it but before they realise it they fell in love already.

you fell first, they fell harder. way harder. they love you so much they feel like their heart can jump out of their chest at any minute.

since we have the hermit & the world card together it is also very possible that you are their first and last love. (even if they are written to have romantic interest in the show.. it does not matter.)

however don’t be mistaken though, they do have a very ‘fuck it, i am going to love you on purpose’ energy. they want you to know that they love you, are in love with you and that it’s not because of some accident or uncontrollable force but they adore you for the person you are. for the things you do, for the way you talk and because you are you. they love everything about you, even your habits. they find it very endearing.

once they are comfortable accepting the fact that they are in love with you they will be very affectionate with you. let that be cuddling, holding you on their lap (or vise versa, whatever you prefer), kissing you, defending you even when they know you are wrong but correcting you in private, helping you cook, doing the things you have no energy for or whatever makes you feel loved they will do it. you won’t have to tell them. they are attentive and always pay attention to you. they adore you more than you could ever imagine.

channeled messages: “Please don’t cry for me”, “I love you the most”, “Don’t take your eyes of me”, “Theres a million worlds where I love you and I would destroy each one where I don’t if I had the power”

other things that might be relevant:

white cat, car, hell (??), tent, snake, help, healing crystals (?), bites, tags (?), spices, red, power

PILE THREE

queen of swords, nine of swords, four of pentacles

alright so for your person you are someone very healing, maybe not intentionally but you heal them in ways no one could ever do before and they adore you so much for it. you give them more perspective in life and teach them things they wouldn’t have been able to think about before. this could be views on life or specific things. definitely related to how different you two are as people, but in a good way.

do you know that saying? “i can change them” well you actually can, and it’s really cute.

they could be someone that is known as a powerful but morally not correct character, or perhaps just have a personal growth arc. well, with you they would have this not only faster but better. i am not saving that you would be their saviour and they cannot live without you, but that’s kind of the energy here.

maybe at first you wouldn’t be willing to get together or like them? either way, they would want your approval a lot, straight from the get go. they look up to you like to no other and want to be someone you approve of. they have this deep desire for your love. so they would naturally change themselves for the better.

i know some people look at change as a negative thing so i would like to say: they wouldn’t force their personality or anything of the sort to change, but rather their morals/principles and the way they view life. ultimately they would have more understanding and love in their heart because of you. they would want to see the world from your eyes, understanding what you think and why you do the things you do.

they view you as someone deserving of their love, their trust and such. you would be one of, if not the only, people they show their vulnerable side to. you are a diamond in a rough in their eyes.

you are also someone they wish to protect with all their might and will, they could be very possessive over you. (though not in a toxic way.)

channeled messages: “come with me”, “kiss me just one time”, “they might leave but i will never leave you”, “ i understand, you don’t have to say a word”

things that might be relevant:

royal, river, tenten (?), kelp, yoyo, yagami (death note), bandages, fire torches, silver, rings, sunlight

thank you for participating

- Candy

[celtic-crossbow]

Blood Ties Chapter 29

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Slightly graphic depictions of labor and childbirth A/N: Maybe a cliffhanger. Maybe not. You'll have to read to find out! ;) Daryl is definitely ooc in this. I'm sorry, I tried to get as close as I could to how he might react. Also, the saying he uses is one we use in the south that means "how is that relevant?" You'll know it when you read it, lol.

“About 4cm now. Progressing nicely.” Hershel informed, wiping his hands on a cloth that Carol had provided. 

Rick and T-Dog were out doing yet another night run in the van. It was also low on fuel but the map showed another town close by. Fuel, gloves, and other necessities were on the list. Glenn was on watch with Daryl for backup if anything happened. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it couldn’t be helped.

Thumper was calling the shots at that point. 

Before the men had left, Daryl had confiscated all the blankets except for those that were for Lori and Carl. When Glenn began to complain, one look from the anxiety-driven archer had brought the young man very close to hiding behind Rick. While some blankets were used for your comfort, others were fashioned into a tent-like structure over the bare branches of a decently sized bush. You needed some sense of privacy. 

Carol and Lori had dug through the maternity clothes that hadn’t been lost on the road and found a button up dress. It was comfortable and made things much easier than leggings. 

After your immediate needs had been met, Daryl then perched himself just beside your shoulder and hadn’t moved since. 

“S’the number we’re aimin’ for?” He asked with frustration lacing his tone, making sure the blankets were back over you and tucked tight to keep you warm. He had been muttering to himself how he wished he had made time to read the rest of the books. Daryl was not a man that liked being in the dark on anything. It made him feel helpless, as you had learned over the last several months. 

“She needs to be at 10cm and the baby needs to be in the correct position before she can push.” The old man positioned the ear tubes of the stethoscope before pressing it against several spots on your belly. “Heart beat is strong. Everything is looking good.”

You had remained quiet until that moment. “Do I just—I don’t know—lay here?”

“Walking encourages the cervix to dilate and soften. Once you dilate a little further, the contractions will likely be stronger, whether painful or not.” The calmness that man practiced really made you want to strangle him with that stethoscope. “Make sure you don’t go alone, and—”

“She ain’t.” Daryl snapped. 

Hershel shot him an admonishing look. “As I was saying, take breaks. Sleep when you can. I’ll check you periodically. You’ll need to keep timing the contractions, son.” Daryl nodded. “Sip small amounts of water, no food. Keep me informed of any changes. And as unpleasant as it may sound, if you feel the pressure and urge as if you may need to have a bowel movement, call for me immediately.”

You, as well as Daryl, reared back, lips curling. 

“The fuck that gotta do with the price’a fish?” The archer queried, not so nicely. 

“Settle down. The pressure from the baby’s head moving into the birth canal can feel similar to that.” Shaking his head, Hershel shuffled his way out of your tiny tent. 

Finally alone, you turned onto your side and scooted your upper body toward Daryl. He stretched out his legs so you could rest on his thigh. 

“Get some rest.” His hand wiggled beneath the blanket and rubbed up and down the length of your upper arm, but moved to your belly when another contraction took over. Without prompting, he slid his warm palm around to your lower back and applied the least bit of pressure, rubbing small circles. You buried your face into his thigh to ride it out, but you had to admit the light massaging helped, if only a little. 

“You’re supposed to be—” You were panting when you rolled your head to remind him, but found the watch already lifted to eye level, his gaze shifting from it to your stomach. 

“Sleep if ya can. I got this.” His brow was furrowed in concentration, your heart swelling and warm. Any worry you had entertained of him running when things got real, just gone in an instant. He was there. He was there. 

“I’ll try.” You whispered, the pain finally an afterthought. You felt him slide his hand back to the side of your stomach before you let yourself succumb to exhaustion. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Doc says up, so up ya get.”

You let Daryl take your dead weight and pull you up by a grip beneath your arms, making it as difficult as possible so you might get to stay in your warm little nest. You were still at 4cm. Hershel had said you had to start walking to help labor progress. 

“This isn’t fair.” You whined, rubbing your back once you were upright. The pain that accompanied each contraction had lessened but was still ever present. “Can’t you walk and I dilate?”

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think that’s how it works.” He placed a careful hand on the small of your back and kept your pace, slow as it was. 

“Okay, then how about if it gets worse, I kick you in the balls and punch you in the kidneys so you can participate properly?” You were only half joking. 

“If it gets ya through this, I guess.” The archer shrugged. You regarded him with a skeptical brow arched. 

“You’d really let me do that?”

“Hell nah, but s’the thought that counts or some shit like that, right?” He didn’t even try to dodge the smack you aimed at his shoulder. 

“You’re hilarious.” You deadpanned, even as you leaned into him while you strolled in circles around the perimeter. The moonlight caught the watch in his right hand, his finger tapping against the casing. Bless him, he was taking his role of supportive partner very seriously. You gasped when the next contraction came, stopping to bend slightly and breathe through it while Daryl secured an arm around you and flipped open the watch. 

When it was clear you weren’t falling, he slid his hand to the middle of your back and massaged the length of your spine using gentle pressure from the heel of his palm. He never said much—if anything—during the episodes themselves, but kept you informed of the timing of each one. 

“Oh, goddamnit, this one sucks.” You managed through clenched teeth. You swayed slightly when it was over, grasping blindly for the man next to you. 

“Thirteen minutes since the last’un. A minute, twelve.” He was slow and careful when turning you back toward camp. “Let’s getcha back to Hershel.” 

You shook your head. “One last loop, then we can go back.” Daryl didn’t say anything but you felt him tense. “I’m sure. They’re just getting a little more painful in the stomach, less in the back.” 

He still hesitated. “Alright. One more.”

Hershel stepped into your path before you started the second loop, allowing Daryl to fill him in on the last contraction. 

“Do one more. Rest. And then again.” The old man ordered curtly. 

Once he had vanished back toward the small fire, you mocked his words. “Rest and then again.” Daryl shook his head beside you. “I mean seriously, how much help can walking actually be?”

“Fuuuuuck!” You were digging your fingers into the blankets below you, swatting away Carol’s hand when she tried to dab your face with a piece of cloth. Daryl was sitting beside you, wide-eyed and lost, the watch forgotten by his leg. Hershel was between your knees, sporting his medical gloves that had been brought back by Rick and T-Dog. 

The archer cleared his throat. “She alright?” 

“Do I look alright, Daryl?!” You hissed, making an admirable attempt at breathing the way Carol was instructing. The contraction finally ended and you fell back onto the folded blankets. “I’m sorry.” You found his worried blue eyes easily and fumbled for his hand. 

“S’okay.” He whispered, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“She’s at 6cm. We can still time the contractions but I think she may need your attention more than that watch does now.” Hershel reached for the item and placed it in his pocket once Daryl handed it over. “Keep moving but stay closer, no more perimeter walks.”

Daryl nodded, you whimpered. 

“I’ll be back soon to check again. If we’re lucky, things will move a little faster now that you’re in active labor.” Hershel left the tent while Carol fixed your dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you two will have little Thumper in your arms in just a matter of hours.” She smoothed your hair and tucked it behind your ears. “You’re doing great.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing great.” You murmured, ducking your head almost bashfully. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Daryl. It just—well, it hurts and it’s hard to think.”

“Ain’t mad.” He tried for a half smile but it was weak. “Better than gettin’ kicked in the balls, I reckon.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. “Guess we oughtta getcha up again.”

“I’ll help.” Carol offered. You could see that a refusal was on the tip of Daryl’s tongue but he never voiced it. With Carol under one arm and Daryl under the other, you were pulled upright. 

Your body already felt wrung out and sore, and the epic finale hadn’t even begun. Still, you allowed Carol to pass you off to Daryl. 

“We movin’ on? Be better to find a house or somethin’.” He looped an arm around your back, following as you shuffled your way around. 

Carol shrugged, not touching you but keeping up with your small strides. “Both vehicles have fuel but Hershel isn’t sure we should move her. He thinks the baby will come soon and she needs to be kept in one place.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back in frustration. “She is right here. And if my opinion matters, I’d rather not—” The contraction came on strong, halting you suddenly with your hand fisting into the lower part of Daryl’s vest. The archer stepped around in front of you, rough but gentle hands grasping your wrists to guide your arms to his shoulders. 

“Try to breathe. Sometimes humming or even moaning helps, like an outlet.” Carol advised while rubbing your back. 

Your head fell forward against Daryl’s chest, a deep but quiet moan muffled against the firm muscle beyond his shirt. His hands had fallen to your hips, his body followed you as you swayed back and forth. The episodes were growing more intense, coming closer together and lasting longer. It wasn’t difficult to surmise that things would be growing more difficult to handle. 

“Ain’t nothin’ we can do for ‘er?” Daryl asked quietly above you, each word blowing his warm breath over the top of your head. Carol must have answered in the negative because his fingers flexed against your hips. 

The skin of your belly was pulled so tightly that you swore it would tear open, the muscles feeling as if they would pulse right out of the gaping hole your torn flesh would leave. 

“Shit.” You whimpered, your voice finding its way back during the last dregs of pain. You almost didn’t register warm hands gliding up and down your sides, a smaller hand on your back. “I don’t want to have the baby here.” You argued weakly. “It’s too open. Things will be too chaotic, too loud.”

“I know, Sunshine, but the doc says—”

“I don’t want to risk Thumper here in the open, Daryl. With—with walkers or people.” With enough strength having returned after the pain, you lifted your head, eyes pleading. “Please.”

The archer was visibly upset. He was just as vulnerable as you were at that moment, torn between what he felt was right and what Hershel said was for the best. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he pulled it in between his teeth, looking to Carol for guidance. 

“Could lay down the seats in the van. Use the back.” He suggested. “Plenty’a room an’ if we need to move fast—”

“I don’t think that’s unreasonable.” Carol agreed, rubbing your back in a few soft strokes before beginning to move away. “I’ll go talk to Hershel. You two keep walking.”

You watched her go, turning your gaze up to Daryl when he shifted back to your side to urge you along. “Gotta keep movin’.” You groaned, dragging your feet with your head falling back in frustration. 

You were in the middle of a contraction, when you heard it. A snarl, a raspy growl much too close. You were already clinging to Daryl and breathing through the pain that was readying your body for Thumper’s arrival, but you’d have to let him go. He had to protect the baby. And to do that, he had to protect you. 

But he didn’t move. He was nearly vibrating, rigid beneath your hands on his shoulders. He was just as scared as you were, even more so. He knew he could take the walker but that would mean letting you go. He needed to protect you but he wanted to support you. He had told you he'd never let you fall and you knew he had meant it.

“Go.” Your hands slid from his shoulders, down his chest before they released him completely to clutch your belly.

His boots disappeared from your view of the ground but you couldn’t focus after that. The pain was growing in intensity, immobilizing you with your lips tightly pressed to withhold the cries that vibrated behind your teeth for release. You couldn’t, you just couldn’t make a sound. You’d attract more, endanger everyone. You’d endanger Thumper. Daryl. 

There were scuffles. More snarls. Tears were threatening your waterline. Pain was coursing through you like a serpent, slithering around each muscle and tendon and pulling them tight. You felt disappointment and guilt over all the agony when your mouth fell open with a guttural moan, your will to cut off the scream that begged to follow barely holding true. 

“D—Daryl.” You cried out. And he was there, hands on your face, your biceps, your belly. 

“M’here. M’here. Gotta move, though.” He swept you up with the slightest strained noise. “Gonna getcha to the van. Gonna find somewhere safe for ya.” The pain was fading. You could focus on the dark blood on his face, the dirt and grime. 

“Herd?” You whispered. 

“Ain’t your fault.” His expression emanated fear and stress. “The hatch.” Someone was with him. The small hands that opened the back of the van and spread out the blankets, those were Carol’s. She sat a pile of smaller blankets and squares of fabric toward the indents on the floor where the seats had been stowed. 

“Get as many in the truck as you can! In the cab and the bed!” Rick was calling out at the same time that Hershel climbed into the van. Daryl was careful when he placed you inside, climbing over you before pulling you further in to make room for Hershel and Carol. 

Through your haze of exhaustion, you saw Rick climb in the driver's seat and Maggie beside him. That meant that five others had to somehow fit into the truck. 

“Is everyone okay?” You asked, eyes pleading with Daryl for an honest answer. 

“Yeah, they’re all good.” He nodded, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

The van was moving, though you didn’t realize when it had started. Hershel was between your knees when another contraction came. It felt like only moments had passed since the last one. In the safety of the van, though you couldn’t be bothered to consider that, you bowed forward with a scream. Daryl gingerly worked your fingers loose from the blanket to take your hand. 

“She’s at 9cm. This baby is coming soon.” Hershel didn’t move this time, he and Carol began sorting things that you couldn’t see. Panting, you leaned to the side, knowing Daryl would be there. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed. 

“What—” He swallowed audibly. “Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Just be with her.” Carol poured some water from a bottle onto a piece of fabric and passed it across you for Daryl to take. “Wipe her face, put it behind her neck.”

The archer’s hand was trembling fiercely when you felt the blessed cool cloth touch your forehead. The moan that left you was not one of pain but utter relief. “Oh, that’s nice.” You breathed. Your skin was on fire, every cell of your being felt twisted and wrong. But that trembling cloth wiping at your face grounded you, centered you around what your body was preparing to do. 

You were so close to being a mother. 

But that didn’t stop the scream that ripped from your throat when the next contraction tore through you. You sat up, propped on your elbows with your eyes screwed shut. Tears leaked from the corners, the wailing cutting off into wretched sobs when you felt Daryl’s forehead fall against the crown of your head, his mantra of m’sorry m’sorry m’sorry shattering you into a million shards. 

You couldn’t tell him it was okay. You couldn’t remind him why you hurt. You couldn’t reassure him that he was the one you wanted and you were more than happy to do this with him. For him. You didn’t have the breath. 

“Don’t push, Y/N. Not yet.” Hershel’s tone was even but not cruel, his gloved hands on your knees. 

“It fucking burns!” You shrieked, squeezing Daryl’s hand until you were certain you felt the bones shift. The contraction let up, the fiery sensation dulling but ever present. 

“What’s happenin’?” Daryl sounded breathless. Terrified. You were still catching your breath when you looked up at him. His tan skin was white as a sheet, no color in his lips. His blue eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen them. From tears or fear, you couldn’t be sure. 

“The baby’s in the right position. Y/N, it’ll be time to push soon. It’ll be very important for you to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?” Hershel wasn’t looking at you, between moving around things Carol was handing to him and keeping a constant eye on your progress. Distantly, you wondered why it was Carol at his side and not Maggie. Maybe because you were close with Carol? For your comfort? 

“Yeah. Yeah, I can.” You turned your attention back to Daryl when his grip on your hand loosened slightly. He swayed, the pallor of his skin growing more concerning. “Daryl?”

The archer shook his head almost violently. “M’good.”

“Okay, I just—oh, fuck, already!?” You grit your teeth as your stomach tightened, a visible shift beneath the fabric of your dress. 

“Maggie, can you climb back here?” Hershel requested calmly. His eldest said nothing but maneuvered her way into the back and on your opposite side. “I fear we may lose Daryl at any moment and Y/N will need support.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Daryl snapped but it was a weak effort. He inhaled deeply and began squeezing your hand to keep you from dislocating his fingers. 

“Here.” Carol passed him an opened bottle of water. “Drink a few sips. You’re white as a ghost.”

You were barely aware of everything happening around you, shaking almost violently to refrain from bearing down until Hershel told you to do so. It was bordering on excruciating. 

“Jesus Christ, it feels like you’re holding a flamethrower to my fucking pussy!” 

Hershel sighed while Maggie and Carol chuckled and Daryl snorted out a quiet nice, Y/N. 

“It’s just the birth canal stretching to make room for the baby.” The veterinarian explained coolly. 

“Just?” You mocked. “Just, he says while it’s my—oh Jesus fuck!” With all the presence of mind you could summon, you managed not to start screaming at Daryl for putting you in that position. You knew that beyond the pain and fear, you wanted Thumper in your arms more than anything in that fucked up world. 

“Okay, Y/N,” Hershel patted your bare knees just at the tail end of the contraction to ensure he had your attention. You had fallen back against Maggie while Daryl held the cool cloth against the back of your neck. His hand was vibrating your skull to the point that you nearly asked him to move away. “You’re ready. On the next contraction, you need to push.”

“God, your calm voice makes me want to kick you in the teeth.” You didn’t mean it—mostly. Hershel must have known that because he chuckled. You could feel the next contraction already building when the van lurched to a stop, throwing everyone in it. 

“We got a herd in front of us!” Rick called from the front. 

“Go ‘round it! Turn ‘round! Just keep ‘em off us!” Daryl yelled as the pain peaked. “Fuck!” He bellowed when your hand began to shake with how hard you squeezed his own. 

“Push!” Hershel shouted over the bumps and jerks of the van doing whatever Rick had deemed best. “Good, good!” He began to countdown from ten while you screamed.

You were being torn open. Thumper was going to rip you in half on their way out. Your throat was raw, surely bleeding from your wails. When the old man reached one, you fell back against Maggie but Daryl’s hand was there too. 

“Maggie, Daryl, hold behind her knees. Help support her legs. It’ll keep her hips open.” Both moved forward, taking you with them to sit you up a little straighter. Daryl had to release your hand to hold you and your leg. The archer hissed with the pressure against his abused palm. “Perfect. Alright, Y/N. A nice, strong push this time.”

You almost snarled. “Last one wasn’t good enough?”

“Easy, Sunshine.” You felt Daryl's lips against your temple and yearned to keep them there. 

“I’m sorry, Hershel.” Once again, the man simply smiled. Lori had told you that childbirth in the movies was often dramatized but so far, you weren’t seeing the truth in that statement. When the contraction reached a crescendo, you leaned forward while Maggie and Daryl held your legs steady. The pain was extraordinary. You almost wished you could see what was happening, but any train of thought was derailed with Hershel’s next words.

“The baby is crowning!” 

Gasping, you swallowed hard, glancing at Daryl—who had a front row seat to what was happening—and then back to Hershel. “Crowning?”

“The head will be out soon.” 

“All this and we don’t even have the head out?!” You screeched, just as your stomach rippled into a rigid mound and you were pushing again. This pain was different. Thumper was definitely ripping you apart. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! It burns!”

“S’that—” Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed, swaying on the spot. “S’that normal?”

“Perfectly normal.” Hershel glanced up at the archer, back down, and then up again. “Carol.” He needn’t say anything else. The other woman was moving to grab the back of your leg and let Daryl fall against her so he didn’t smack his head on the side of the van.

You were completely unaware, your entire focus centered on the inferno between your legs. There was no way any woman would willingly do this unmedicated. Never in your life had you wanted drugs more than you did in that moment. Thumper. Thumper, Thumper. You chanted internally, even as your vocal chords vibrated harshly with your screams. And just as you thought you would lose consciousness from the pain, it lessened. It hadn’t disappeared but comparatively, you would take that over the prior. 

“The head is out!” 

Panting, you smiled but then fell into confusion when you saw Carol beside your leg and Daryl slumped against her. “Daryl? Daryl?!” You shifted but Maggie held you still. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Hershel chuckled. 

“Who knew a man that could gut a walker without batting an eye couldn’t watch his baby’s head come out?” Carol smiled but began to act, jerking her shoulder to jar the archer. “Daryl. Daryl, wake up. You don’t want to miss this.” He stirred and started to lean back. “Think you can take a look without losing it again?”

“Shuddup.” He shook his head hard, grunting. His hand was the first thing to move, sliding beneath Carol’s to take hold of your leg. Then he was looking at you. “M’sorry. That was—fuck, m’a pussy.” Maggie was moving your hand and pulling you forward as you watched your partner. 

Then your fingers were touching a soft, albeit slimy, head. 

You gasped. “Daryl.”

The man gulped, but then sat up on his knees a little. You watched the fear and apprehension melt away into awe, his jaw loosening, eyebrows rising, and eyes beginning to shine. “S’that—”

“That’s Thumper.” You were able to say before Hershel announced your miniscule break was over. He didn’t need to say a word, your body was already letting you know. Daryl’s hold felt stronger now and he was watching with an awestruck intensity that just made your heart want to explode even as you rode out the waves of agony. You were going to be a little family.

Then, out of the blue, you could feel something was different, wrong.

“Her—Hershel—Ow, fuck—” You fingers clawed at Daryl’s chest, his wet eyes going wide with concern. The contraction ended and you were gasping and swallowing convulsively, feeling nauseous regardless of your lack of food. Daryl’s eyes were darting back and forth between you and the old man. “Daryl, something—something’s wrong.” You could tell the baby had not moved an inch during the pushing, but not only that, it felt like they had actually pulled back toward your opening. 

“I know.” Hershel’s voice had lost the calm and was taking on an emergent edge. “The baby is stuck.”

Panic flashed over Daryl’s face in the form of anger. “The fuck ya mean stuck?!”

Still trying to catch your breath, sweat dripping into your eyes, you thought for certain Daryl was going to jump across your leg and attack the old man. Thankfully, he remained at your side. Trembling and breath stuttering, but he wasn’t moving. 

“Shoulder dystocia. The baby is turned in such a way that the shoulders can’t fit through the pelvis. Carol, I will need your help, please.” You were already on the edge of the next contraction when Hershel nearly barked “Y/N, don’t push.”

“What the fuck’re ya doin’?” Daryl snapped, leaning over your leg to investigate. So many emotions were battling for dominance in his expression that you couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was feeling.

“Daryl, please.” You pleaded, trying your hardest not to sob. For once, you cared nothing about being self-reliant or what the group thought of you and how much you needed Daryl. As you fought through the pain and against your body’s natural insistence to push, you just cried. Daryl kept a hand below your knee, too afraid to move unless Hershel gave the okay, but he leaned as far as he could to hold you without influencing your position.

“S’okay, Sunshine. S’gonna be okay.”

“Y/N, listen to me. I can feel the shoulder.” Now, the veterinarian’s tone was just downright frightening. “Maggie and Daryl are going to pull your legs back on the next contraction. I’m going to apply some pressure above your pubic bone. It’s not going to be pleasant, but if I’m correct, the head should come and then the baby. I need you to push with all you have, do you understand?”

You pressed your cheek further into Daryl’s chest and nodded, hiccuping through ragged, exhausted breaths. When the contraction began to tear through you, Maggie and Daryl reacted immediately, pulling your legs toward your belly while you curled inward with a guttural scream. Hershel pressed into the area just above your pubic bone, the pressure only compounding the whirlwind of pain you were already caught in. And then it was over and you let the two supporters take your weight.

The van rocked again, but was ignored. Hershel looked at Carol gravely and shook his head. 

“S’that ‘bout?” Daryl hissed, trying hard for your sake not to lose his cool.

“It didn’t work.” Before Daryl could speak, the old man continued. “We’re going to try one more time. If it doesn’t work, there are a couple of other things we can try but time is of the essence. The baby isn’t getting the oxygen they need like this.”

“Whatever ya gotta do. Just take care’a both’a ‘em.” 

Hershel nodded. “Alright, same thing, Y/N. A big, big push for me.”

You shook your head, exhausted. “I can’t.” You whispered, your eyelids heavy as hope attempted to flee and you accepted that once again, the world would take from you. It would take from Daryl. “I’m so tired.” You felt movement beneath your left leg and then Daryl’s hand was grasping your chin, firm but gentle. 

“Hey. Cut that shit out.” He wasn’t angry. He was using the same tone you’d heard him use when he had told Thumper to cut you some slack. When he had started communicating with the baby. “Ya’ve gone through hell an’ back for this an’ I ain’t lettin’ ya quit at the goddamn finish line, ya hear me?”

“I’m tired, Daryl.” Your face screwed up in pain as the next contraction began to build.

“Nu uh. Ya ain’t gonna bust into my life an’ fuck up my world six ways from Sunday, make me love ya an’ this kid, an’ then just give up. S’you an’ me an’ Thumper. S’what ya said!”

You blinked at him, slowly starting to sit up.

“I’ve seen ya be a badass before, Sunshine.” Your breaths were coming faster, the contraction nearly on top of you, but you only had eyes for Daryl. “Be a fuckin’ badass now.” His hand left your face and went back to your leg, pulling it toward you at the same time Maggie moved the right one. 

You screamed so loud that you were certain the rocks and bumps of the van were due to your wails alone. Something shifted, you felt it and it hurt. You were on fire and aching at the same time. When the contraction ended, you still felt painfully stretched and bruised and uncomfortable. “Did—did it work?” You panted, grasping desperately for Daryl’s shirt.

“The head is out, the shoulders are turned. One more big push, Y/N. Just one more.”

You breathed harshly through your nose, trying to amp yourself up. Maggie and Carol were throwing encouragement your way, but you didn’t hear them. You only felt Dary’s breath against your ear, his stubbled cheek rubbing against your skin.

He whispered, only for you to hear. “I love ya.” Kissing your temple, he moved back to his spot and when you looked at him, exhausted and crying, the corner of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

You could do this.

When the next contraction ripped through you, the world went silent. It was only you and the pain, white hot and all consuming. You were indeed being torn in half but if it meant Thumper would take that first breath, would open those little eyes to see the world—fucked up or not—then you would gladly be wrenched into pieces. 

The moment the baby slipped free of you, you felt the emptiness. You still hurt, but the worst of the pain was suddenly absent. Sound and sight came back to you in an onslaught that had you sucking in a breath like your lungs had been starved. 

“Is—Hershel, the baby?” You asked, trying to move as Daryl and Maggie lowered your legs. The archer was leaning across your knee. You couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, but his eyes were wide and darting. 

“Doc—”

The ferocious first cries of the distraught newborn echoed throughout the van. Maggie had moved behind you to keep you sitting up while Daryl had staggered backward and fallen on his ass against the interior wall, eyes on the little thing that Hershel was looking over intently. Maggie reached over your shoulder and began unbuttoning your dress, whispering in your ear as she moved.

“The baby needs to nurse, bond with you on your skin and it’ll help when you have to push out the placenta, okay?” You blinked at her, concerned. “It’s okay. It’s nothing like what you just went through. One or two small pushes and it’s out.”’ You nodded robotically, watching Hershel maneuver some sort of tape around a slimy cord.

Thumper was not happy. They were probably cold and that thought made your heart ache. Your baby should never be uncomfortable. Daryl was slowly, clumsily making his way toward you, but wasn’t taking his eyes off the baby. When he was sitting beside you, Hershel finally leaned over you and placed the squirming, slippery baby on your chest.

“Congratulations. You have a daughter.”

[lassify]

Behind Test Subject 007: The Science of Anya’s Telepathy

Okay guys… I’m gonna come clean. I’ve had some scientific hypotheses brewing for a while now (not least to use in my fanfic, lol), but since we might be getting close to getting an Anya arc in the SxF manga, I figured that now was as good a time as any to actually try to arrange those theories in something resembling coherent and share them with you all. 

Disclaimer: I am not trying to position myself as an expert. I have studied Psychology and Cognitive Neuroscience at university level, so just for fun I ended up doing a ton of research on this, and I’ve got a lot to cover, so… wish me luck 😅 References will be embedded in the text!

Heads up that this is on the long side and complex as hell and my head physically hurts, so I’ll tackle it in sections:

Part 1: Psychology

My actual subject, but I’ll only skim over a couple of theories…

Part 2: Cognitive Neuroscience (Structural basis)

In which I will look at the individual brain areas which could be relevant to telepathy

Part 3: Cognitive Neuroscience (Functional basis)

In which I talk about how those brain areas communicate to each other

Part 4: Physics

I’ll admit, not my strongest subject, but I’ll mention a couple of theories which could be relevant

If you're ready for your brain to melt, feel free to keep reading...

Part 1: Psychology

There are 2 main theories in Psychology which could offer some explanation for Anya’s psychic abilities. 

Theory 1: Theory of Mind

In short, this describes a person’s capacity to understand other people. It is similar to sympathy or empathy, but actually it is the ability to understand that another person is different to ourselves, that they have their own desires, motivations, and thoughts, and that this is reflected in their behaviour. Even more importantly, it’s about being able to decode other’s mental states, whilst still being able to differentiate it from our own.

Any parent will know that it is a real effort to teach children about trying to understand other people’s perspectives: this is because children typically have an undeveloped Theory of Mind, and it is something that continues to develop even into adulthood. In adults, having a developed Theory of Mind helps us to understand other people’s perspectives, predict other people’s behaviour, and use both empathy and deception. 

Anya has a really strong Theory of Mind, which is actually so impressive for her young age. She understands the complex web of all the secrets: that Twilight is a spy, Yor is an assassin, Yuri is in the Secret Service, and Bond is precognisant. She also understands who knows what about each other, and how she can use all of this information to her advantage - those are some crazy cognitive skills!!

In terms of how this is related to telepathy, you could argue that someone with a strong Theory of Mind (like Anya) may be more likely to:

Understand that people have hidden feelings that they don’t show 

Demonstrate empathy for emotions 

Collate information about their likes and dislikes and past behaviour to predict future behaviour. 

If she is highly sensitive to these things, then it could look like telepathy (even if it isn’t). 

Theory 2: Hyperesthesia.

Many people will have heard of synesthesia, which is a synthesis of the senses to the extent that the sensory information overlaps, but hyperesthesia is about being highly sensitive to external stimuli of the senses such as sight, sound, taste, smell, and touch. 

I can imagine an overlap with Anya’s hyperesthesia and her Theory of Mind to pick up on the nuances of other people’s behaviour, to the extent that reading behaviour could inform the sensation of “reading minds”. 

In a science-fictional world like SxF we could imagine that hyperesthesia could stretch into the sense of extra-sensory perception, by being sensitive to the electromagnetic signals in other people’s brains (or even geomagnetic - more on that in Part 4). From this, it is possible that Anya could “read” people’s minds through deciphering the electromagnetic waveforms that people’s brains might project (more on deciphering brainwaves in Part 3…). 

Part 2: Cognitive Neuroscience - Structural Basis

I think we can all agree that Anya’s telepathic powers would largely be supported by the specific structures of her brain, especially given that Endo has already dropped hints of neuroscience in the manga, and we know that he’s very much interested in accurately depicting psychology and neuropsychology in his story. 

The best way to encourage certain brain areas to develop is by doing exercises and tasks which would use that part of the brain repeatedly: for example, consistent gymnastics practice would enhance the cerebellum, the centre of balance and motor coordination. But, I can picture the experimenters in SxF trying something a lot less… humane.

Like, experimental neurosurgery. 

For example, theoretically, they could artificially enhance certain brain areas by using a neural growth factor serum (this doesn’t exist in real life, but let’s indulge the science fiction elements for a second), and, theoretically, if the experimenters used glycoproteins as the serum’s main content (like laminins and netrins), they could control the pace and direction of neurons growing in a brain, choosing to focus on cellular growth in certain areas. Then, they would be able to view the activity of the targeted areas using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), and measure it with electroencephalography (EEG, see Part 3 for more on this).

If Anya ever had experimental neurosurgeries during her childhood, they would have likely focused on the following areas: 

Corpus Callosum: The corpus callosum is the thick structure of white matter that connects the two hemispheres of the brain, allowing each hemisphere to send signals to the other. With an enlarged corpus callosum, Anya would be able to process neural signals at a much faster rate, and at an increased volume, helping her to process the additional load required for telepathy.

Wernicke’s Area: Named after German neurologist Carl Wernicke, this part of the superior temporal gyrus (usually of the left hemisphere) is a major part of being able to understand language. With an enhanced Wernicke’s area, Anya would be more sensitive to decoding the neural signals associated with linguistic thoughts, effectively enabling telepathic communication through language. (As an aside, this would also give Anya an advantage in understanding other languages… which could explain her natural talent with Classical Language!)

Superior Temporal Sulcus: This is another area that is important for processing human speech, and is critical for processing social cues, such as understanding others’ intentions (including Theory of Mind!). With experimentation in the STS, Anya would be better able to decode the subtle cues in others’ brains relating to thoughts and emotions.

Inferior parietal lobule: As well as assisting in the interpretation of language and sensory information, the IPL is also involved in tasks like perspective-taking and understanding others' mental states. By increasing connectivity in this area, Anya can "tune into" the thought processes of others. It’s also well-known for its’ role in visuospatial processing, which can help Anya see visual thoughts as well.

Anterior Cingulate Cortex: This system is composed of a number of different parts of the brain, all working together to be able to process things like attention, decision making, inhibition and emotions. Most interestingly, it is associated with detecting conflicts and errors. Increased sensitivity to the ACC would likely help Anya to detect cognitive dissonance and conflicting thoughts in others (the perfect formula to eventually understand tsundere tendencies…).

Amygdala: The amygdala is often known as the centre of fear, but actually it is hugely important in threat detection, emotional processing and emotional memory. If Anya’s amygdala was enhanced, this would aid her ability to detect threats quickly, as well as her empathy skills and help her to intuit others’ emotions and thoughts. (A negative side effect of an enlarged amygdala would be that Anya may be more vulnerable to the effects of toxic stress, possibly making her less resistant to the effects of psychological trauma.)

Mirror neurons: Mirror neurons specialise in helping us to carry out and understand other people’s actions and behaviours, playing a key role in empathy and Theory of Mind. These hold internal representations of thoughts or actions, and could potentially be the key for Anya to be able to translate another person’s thoughts or intentions, assuming that she has a particularly active mirror neuron system.

Precuneus: The precuneus is really difficult to research and is super complex, so I’ll do my best to keep this simple: Located in the medial parietal cortex, this part of the brain is essential for visuospatial imagining and processing, as well as episodic memory, self-reflection, and some aspects of consciousness. I suppose the main thing is that it has a big role in mental imagery, including being able to model other people’s views, therefore helping Anya to process the mental images in other people’s thoughts.

Broca’s area: This is very much non-canon, but I imagine that if Anya ever developed the ability to project her thoughts, the Broca’s area would be key for this. While Wernicke’s area helps with speech understanding, Broca’s area is key for speech production. In my fanfic (SSS), Anya’s Broca’s area probably functioned normally for most of her life, but in the recent experiments imposed on her, the ability to project her thoughts was ‘unlocked’ through the increased activation of the Broca’s area.

Part 3: Cognitive Neuroscience - Functional basis

The thing is, it’s not enough to just know which parts of the brain work for what - there is also the question of how they connect and work together to be able to fulfil their functions. 

Think of it as the wiring which connects the parts of a computer: a motherboard, mouse, keyboard, and graphics card (as examples) are built to fulfil their specific functions, but the real magic is in how they connect and send signals between each other so that everything works smoothly.

That’s where neural oscillations come in - otherwise known as brainwaves. These are generated by the action potentials of nerve cells, and their different speeds can be measured using electroencephalography, or EEG machines, which can measure the patterns of activity across a brain.

Let’s bear in mind that I’m really skimming the surface of this subject, so I won’t go into all the types of brainwaves in too much detail, but I will focus on the ones that I think could be more relevant to Anya’s telepathy:

Gamma waves

This is the pattern of neural oscillations which are correlated with large-scale brain network activity, and are largely predominant in learning, working memory, and processing new information. In other words: gamma waves help Anya to connect all the different parts of her brain which are relevant to her telepathy, so that all the areas can communicate to each other.

(Just as an aside: I found this hilarious study that looked at the effects of different types of nuts on brainwaves, which saw gamma wave responses being improved through pistachios, while peanuts aided in generating more delta waves. I wonder if the lab scientists of SxF caught on…) 

Theta waves

Theta waves are especially prominent in childhood (during sleep). I imagine that the lab may have recruited children partially for this reason (the other reason would be that brains have more plasticity at a younger age, and so can be altered easier than an adult’s brain). In adults, theta waves are also prominent in hypnotic or meditative states, mind wandering, and the early stages of sleep.

I think it is really interesting that theta waves occur during deep relaxation, as well as the early stages of sleep, making it the only brainwave that can activate both during sleep and during wakefulness. (From what I can tell, anyway.) This could make theta waves an important component of Anya’s telepathy - for example, if her telepathy was important to her survival, then it is critical for her to be able to detect thoughts during sleep, and her amygdala could alert her if the thoughts were at all threatening.

During wakefulness, I can imagine that Anya’s theta waves serve as the precursor for the activation of psi waves…

Psi waves

Just to confirm, Psi waves are definitely fictional, but my rationale is that historically, ‘Psi’ (ψ) has been used to denote the unknown factor which is linked with parapsychology and psychic phenomena. 

My theory is that psi waves would be the frequency required for telepathy, which would allow Anya to detect and interpret other people’s thoughts through their pattern of neural activation. In other words: she can probably read brainwaves. 

Modern science is already trying out methods to interpret people’s brainwaves (which is honestly both supremely cool and extremely terrifying), so it’s not too far out of the realm of possibility that Anya would be able to do the same thing just by unconsciously using her psi waves. The psi-waves would essentially mimic a brain-computer interface in being able to process and interpret neural activity (aka thoughts).

If you require a bit more concrete evidence to believe me, I’ve made a list below.

Right now, we can analyse brainwaves using EEG to:

Decode whether someone answers “yes” or “no” to conversational questions 

Control the movement of simple robots, including wheelchairs, which can be locked/unlocked using EEG (and EMG) as a biometric security system

Detect and interpret what emotion someone is feeling, as well as learn how strong that emotion is (at an accuracy rate of 80-94%)

Deconstruct the cognitive processes underlying social interaction in people who struggle to verbally express themselves

And this study analysed brain activation using fMRI to interpret and reconstruct visual images

Neuroscience is really crazy, guys.

Part 4: Physics

So… this is the part I am the least confident about. Please be patient with me and forgive me for any mistakes 🙏.  Also, this is the perfect time to remind you guys that I am really engaging with science fiction here. Emphasis on the fiction 😂. 

Basically, there are 2 main theories from Physics that I think could explain Anya’s telepathy, as well as her weakness(es):

Theory 1: Geomagnetic Field Sensitivity:

All brain waves are generated by electrical activity in the brain, and they also generate electrical activity of their own, which creates an electromagnetic field around the brain.

Anya’s abilities could be tied to the geomagnetic field of the earth, especially during the New Moon: when the moon is positioned between the earth and the sun, this could affect the field’s strength. The subtle alteration in the geomagnetic field could disrupt the electromagnetic field generated by Anya’s brain, thus disrupting the neural processing. 

In other words: the New Moon could interfere with Anya’s own electromagnetic field around her brain, via sensitivity to changes in the geomagnetic field, which could be why she can’t read minds during the New Moon. 

Theory 2: Resonance:

Resonance can be observed in physics, acoustics, musical, electrical, and mechanical systems - but now scientists are even looking at resonance in consciousness, and resonance in brain waves on a quantum level. 

Without going into too much detail (I am not qualified), I think Anya would generate a resonance frequency of her own that helps her to facilitate telepathic communication: through resonance, Anya could synchronise her Psi waves with the brain waves of another person, and it is this synchronicity that helps her to interpret the other person’s brainwaves. 

If Anya ever encountered another telepath (as she does in SSS), I imagine that they wouldn’t be able to read each other’s minds because their resonance frequencies would cancel each other out. 

In SSS, I also introduced the idea of a sub-auditory sound wave which would stop Anya from being able to use her telepathy. The idea behind this was to introduce another weakness for Anya: when this sound wave is emitted or detected, it interferes with the brain's natural telepathic frequency. This is because the sound wave oscillates at a frequency that masks the neural signals required for telepathy, and means that Anya can’t interpret those signals as easily. 

Thanks for reading!

I told you this was long. Sorry 😅

The above is really just a collective mishmash of stuff I’ve been slowly putting together for about the last 6 months, and I fully accept there will be parts that are more plausible than others. 😂 But it was fun, and more than anything I am really excited to see what we get to find out in Anya’s backstory arc (when it gets here…), and if I see any mentions of brains or neuroscience in SxF I will literally die of joy

[comfortless]

I have some thoughts about König I wanna run by you. 

I really like the concept of him following rules to the letter, but not the intention. 

like he would never steal from friends, but that only applies to items, job opportunities, romantic interests, and ideas don’t count. 

he would never cheat on his lover, EVER! but…that doesn’t mean he can’t entertain thoughts of the nice recruit who for sure has a crush on him, he could lead her on just a lil bit, live off the attention when he’s deployed and claim ignorance if anything gets serious. 

oh and he would never hit you, of course not! but if he got you riled up enough or angry enough to throw a punch his way he could hold you down and restrain you so you don’t hurt yourself, he’s not a monster for kind of liking how you struggle to break free from his grip, and he’s barely even exerting any energy, it’s a safe kind of powerplay to him. 

ok i am listening and nodding my head yes!

König didn’t get the positive attention he so craved when he was younger, so any little bit of it he can grapple at is his for the taking. He’s a bit impulsive.

Mental health and repercussions are not at all relevant to him when he sees something that he wants and is within the realm of possibility for him to attain. He would have a sort of conniving way when it comes to going about these things, too. It isn’t intentional, but to him, his reasoning is absolute. Probably gets that from his father, but he prefers not to think of that.

He’s no master manipulator here, just a man that is very aware of his few talents. He’s not even good at telling a lie, far too blunt and always speaking the first thing that pops into his head.

There’s a promotion at work another operator is vying for? Well, he’s far more suited for it anyway— look at him. He’s big and good with his weapons, handles them nicely and can plow through an enemy with as much ease as he can a wooden door. His confirmed kills far exceed the number of things that his parents could find and scrape together and deem themselves proud of him for. König’s not entirely withdrawn, either, his people respect him. Some might even admire him a bit, wishing they had the things that he never even asked for: his height, the creepy look upon his face, his lack of hesitation when pulling a trigger or burying his hunting knife in another man’s guts.

They’re on good terms, still on good terms even after he presents his argument as to why he’s just that little bit more deserving. He doesn’t need to bring up his childhood or much of his past to anyone here, but he knows down to his very marrow that people tend to think there’s something off or wrong about him and in turn he’s met with pity or fear. He utilizes it, gets what he feels he deserves by coming off gruff and demanding, even whiny if the situation calls for it. Time and time again, he comes to realize it’s much easier and more rewarding for him to play people like toy soldiers in these situations.

He might not be able to get a girlfriend in any authentic way, but as Ghost said in her reblog here, I do think he would have at least tried a tryst with a friend’s girlfriend at some point. König could reason away any guilt. She came onto him, batting her lashes and wearing that low cut blouse while telling him about just how selfish her man/his friend was in bed. And when it ends terribly as these things do, he’ll learn his lesson well enough, gives some hashed apology over a pint of ale. It doesn’t mend a void, only forces another distance between himself and another person. König is more than used to that.

It is always the wrong thing said or done, always a ship with no harbor to dock. He would have friends, yes, but it’s up in the air as to whether or not any of them last very long. He’s self aware enough to realize that he creates these problems, that he could have just done x instead of y, but there’s this tentative, newfound pride wrought up within him that he doesn’t ever let go of. He doesn’t want to be seen as that weak little boy he once was. Apologies are like pulling teeth, even getting one from him is a big deal.

It isn’t his fault he didn’t get as much pussy as any other man and surely… any true friend of his would know enough about him to accept that he was not entirely the one at fault here. Richtig..?

He’ll be happy to take credit for a job well done. It wasn’t his idea to burst through that door and clear out a room of enemies, but he did the work. He deserves the praise, the increase in pay, whatever benefit he can gain from it. It didn’t matter that Fender barked out the order over the comms, warned his team of potential danger, what matters to König is that he got it taken care of with no casualties on his side.

New recruits come and go often, and more often than not, they’re horrified of this giant that outranks them. König still hasn’t mastered any way with women, but he’s been fortunate enough to land himself a sweet, cute girlfriend that waits for him at home. He’s not an idiot, either, knows a little romp at work isn’t worth a thing in comparison to her and would only add another fire to the desolate world he lives in in his head. His girlfriend’s the only garden he has, and he would rather damn himself entirely than ever see something he loves burn.

So, when one bold woman does approach him, placing her hand on his arm and complimenting his stature, he doesn’t feel a thing except some strange twist of pride.

He’s come a long way from the boy who was ridiculed and bullied relentlessly, worked himself tirelessly into becoming this broad mimicry of a god made flesh. But fuck. The attention is nice. He would compliment this recruit’s aim from time to time, pat her on the head like a good little dog when she takes out an enemy or stacks on extra work for herself. It never goes further than that, but she practically eats out of the palm of his hand, begging with her eyes rather than her voice to ask for a night with her colonel.

And when he’s on leave, and his girlfriend is asking why this woman is texting him so often, he shrugs and casually tosses her his phone. He’s got nothing to hide, hasn’t even entertained the thought of sleeping with this girl. If anything, she reminds him of himself before he ever got laid. That desperation is certainly there, and it does kind of unsettle him. Is this how he came off to women before…? A pitiful little thing that just wants to be loved and cared for?

He doesn’t even respond to the recruit’s messages, even when there are so many of them. He kisses his girlfriend everywhere, fucks her like it’s the first few times all over again, and falls asleep nestled up against her. There’s no room in his heart for anyone except the object of his affection, but a part of him does hope this lost little lady finds her own sliver of heaven too. He knows how she feels and hates the thought of making a woman cry outside of fucking her well. So he lets the recruit down easy next time they meet, tells her he doesn’t care for relationships at work, that he loves his girlfriend and he doesn’t want to hurt her. It’s spoken candidly, and doesn’t leave any room for discussion.

Shame about the lack of affection while deployed, but he’s managed on his own longer than most. He’s got an entire album of pretty photos of his girl in and out of the lingerie he bought for her to keep him company, anyway.

And admittedly, arguments with his beloved turn him on.

They both know that she can’t actually hurt him. When her hand is raised to give him a good slap for being a complete asshole over something as trivial as a cashier for accidentally ringing something up twice, he’s already hard. The grin on his face is nothing short of ugly, because he knows how this ends, the same way that it always does. He would take her wrist only after she’s hit him, let her stew in what she’s done, murmur her apologies through stilted breaths and lashes heavy with tears. She tells him she just doesn’t understand why he is the way that he is sometimes while trying to wrench her hand away from his grip.

He’s not rough enough to hurt her when the argument sparks up again, even guides her down onto the floor with a steady hand on her back while she pleads with him for answers that he just doesn’t have. He would go back to seeing a regular therapist for her, maybe. He would do anything for her and that’s just another thing that they both know.

“Heh… you like me crazy,” König would breathe into her hair when her thighs are locked around his middle. Poor thing can barely speak when she’s exerted her energy trying to best him in a battle she could never hope to win. She’s all whimper and no bite, nails raking over his shoulders with each slow, teasing thrust.

“Look at you.” He practically purrs when her face is taken into one callused palm, brought forward to lock eyes with him when the sounds spilling from her lips grow more needy. And then he gives her the fucking she deserves, rougher when she’s sighing his name and trembling from the residual waves of her own orgasm. It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore; argument long-forgotten, buried under a blanket of white heat. He chases his own end, lets her watch him unravel all for her as his seed fills her, spills out where they connect to make a mess of the carpet below.

He’s selfish in those ways.

[stardust-falling]

Having more thoughts about Shen Jiu because of course I am.

I don’t think he has the capacity for empathy or genuine selflessness.

He spent the entirety of his formative years deep in survival mode, and because of that, he evaluates people solely based off of how they might threaten or ensure his safety and/or comfort. As far as individual people themselves with their own perspectives… honestly I don’t think he even thinks of that.

Maybe a controversial opinion, but I don’t think even YQY is exempt.

Shen Jiu doesn’t have a moral code. When every day is spent on surviving, a moral code is a luxury.

And really, he just never got out of that mode. See, the thing is, once you’ve had enough adverse experiences it only takes a little bit to trigger you back into that mindset. Shen Jiu was used to being scolded and then beaten or abused, so for him, even a simple chiding is a precursor to abuse— even if he DOES recognize that nothing more will happen, his body and mental patterns will still go into that preparation time.

So of course he never left survival mode, because even if nothing is actively happening, your mind will keep reinforcing those patterns.

For someone with a normal upbringing, as far as I can tell, empathy is something you learn and develop from those around you. Many seem to think it’s something innate and natural and if you don’t have it then there’s something wrong with you from birth. I think Shen Jiu falls into exactly this category of thought— and so he doesn’t even consider that he could try to learn and develop it as a skill he can perform, even if it doesn’t come naturally.

Of course, would he even try? He hasn’t been given any incentive. Any time he has tried to do something good, he ends up getting hurt (saving Yue Qi leading to being taken by QJL) or misinterpreted and admonished (the well ghost incident, keep in mind my earlier point about scoldings perpetuating the same patterns).

So he stays in that same vicious cycle, perpetually in survival mode and unable to escape, even in a relatively secure position (see: his paranoia).

Now, this is all relevant to the discussions of SJ’s feminism, misogyny, and/or lack thereof. I feel like a lot of discussions aren’t really getting the full picture.

SJ sees people, no matter who they are, as solely how they can affect him. Just because this isn’t exclusive to women, or because if comes from a reasonable place, does that really mean it doesn’t play into misogyny?

Let’s take another angle.

I think his abuse of LBH and other talented disciples also is rooted, deep down, in this same issue. He’s not just hurting LBH only to hurt him, his aim is specifically to stunt his cultivation. There’s jealousy at play there of course, but there’s a bit more layers to it too— SJ doesn’t think he’s capable of goodness. So reasonably, he’ll be a bad teacher. He already knows what happens when someone becomes more powerful than their oppressor. LBH may be a child now, but a part of SJ whether he acknowledges it or not sees him as a future threat that needs to be treated as such.

It’s rooted in fear— because everything is with SJ.

So does that mean it’s not actually abuse?

No. The behaviors he shows are still abusive, the reasoning just gives a lens for understanding.

Now, with his views on women— I mentioned in the tags of my original post that I don’t think he views women as people. This is based in that earlier idea of how he interprets others based off their risk and benefit to him. For women specifically, though, there’s another layer.

Shen Jiu grew up in a society where women are inherently lesser— and he grew up in an extreme version of this. He saw women being treated as property firsthand(both as slaves, as well as QJL’s views on his sister). Your worldview is shaped by the world that you view during those early years. Whether he agreed or not, SJ would still take on the patterns of his environment. This, though, is just the same as general societal misogyny and ingrained bias. I don’t think he’s any different than anyone else in this way.

But where SJ’s particular flavor comes in is that to him, women are a source of comfort. For various reasons— positive past experiences, less threatening (or at least don’t carry the dangers men do). He craves comfort— needs it really, because he doesn’t get it and his cortisol levels are always so high they’re poisoning his body. Women are the best source of that comfort for him.

It’s not that he likes them— at least, not any more than someone would like drinking water, or a coat in the winter. They’re fulfilling a survival need for him.

That is what the objectification is where SJ is concerned.

So… is it misogyny?

I’d say yes, in a way it still is. It’s not violent, and it doesn’t come from some inherent sense of “superiority as a man” but at the core of it all, he’s still not viewing women as people, and he has no interest in changing the status quo, because it benefits him to be able to go purchase comfort at a pleasure house, even if it’s not what people usually do there. The picture is bigger than just misogyny, but the traits taken as themselves are misogynistic nonetheless.

I could go into his specific relationships with women and how that informs his character, but this post is already long enough. We know that he mentally divides people by sex, and that distinction has a lot of weight in his judgment of them. Even if it comes from a place of trauma, even if it comes from a general worldview that applies to everyone, he still views women as a commodity— so on some level, and from an outside perspective, he is misogynistic.

In the end, though, it still all comes from him being stuck in survival mode. His lack of empathy, his viewing others as risks and benefits— these things themselves aren’t moral failings— it’s just a consequence of his environment. He’s a bad person because he won’t confront this, develop a moral code, and act on it, not because he doesn’t experience empathy.

But in his circumstance, there’s not really a chance for him to choose to be good. Because he’s still trying to survive, and goodness is a luxury he doesn’t realize he can afford now.

He’s scum, but pitiful, you know?

[csuitebitches]

I apologize for the long ask and if this question is a bit juvenile but objectively, how can one “gain” pretty privilege/gauge how they are viewed? I’ve done well in career pursuits for how early on I am ( I graduated in 2020) but started noticing that the invites to events/opportunities where one can really establish themselves not only professionally but socially, I was getting passed over by some higher up colleagues. In speaking to a female mentor who is related to my field and the same background as me (Black), she alluded that while my race may play a small factor in it, it’s more so my appearance that may be holding me back as the personality and poise is there. Some coworkers of mine who are brilliant and POC have similar credentials and positions as I and while we are all wonderful and hard working, they (who I feel are more beautiful and put together looks-wise) have discussed privately to me they have noticed a difference in treatment between us. While it’s not right, I am adult enough to know not to let things that can be fixed hinder the life I want. Your page is a wealth of information and I appreciate how encouraging you are!!

well. I’m going to be very blunt.

it’s all fun and games to say “oh fuck the beauty standards they’re terrible and they shouldn’t exist” yes, true, unfortunately they do exist and they play a bigger role than we imagine it to be.

the first thing you have to get right is your mindset.

you need to be strong enough to admit that you need changes in X, Y, Z area but not in A, B, C area. You also need to be a little loyal towards your racial identity (for the better or worse) because that’s what is going to make you stand out.

if you have a sensitive, overly emotional mindset and you get hurt very easily / become obsessive by nature, I highly recommend you to STOP reading now.

Understand what is considered pretty in your country and area. Even in one country, beauty standards can different from the north and south. Don’t exactly try to become attractive for the opposite sex but understand what they find attractive because these guys are your primary responders to your pretty privilege. Women will be kind on the surface and so it can be difficult to get constructive criticism from them.

Understand what YOU consider pretty. Who are the women who you think are crazy beautiful? What do they look like, dress like, how’s their hair and their make up, can you replicate any of it? Rule of thumb when it comes to hair and beauty - look at influencers / celebs who are of your racial background for the best fit.

there are always a few things that are universally considered “respectfully attractive” not “you wanna fuck me attractive”- semi modesty/ modesty outfits (my father always told me that when in doubt, go for a more conservative look), hygiene, well kept hair, clean nails and toe nails, soft skin, natural make up, natural hair colour, perfume, clothes that fit, skin care, a workout routine.

pretty privilege is not just the art of looking pretty. It’s also bringing in something of value on the table. Value = money / connections / knowledge/ humour / being the fun social person / whatever value the target group considers to be the most important for you to be relevant to them. Work on your soft skills. It’s better to look half baked but have solid soft skills than to look amazing and not know how to converse.

things that one normally notices when meeting someone new:

Skin - is it clear, is the make up overdone?

hair - is it messy or does it suit your face structure?

how you smell

teeth, when you talk - and dental hygiene

shoes - are they filthy?

shirt/ top - does it fit you well (always check that the seams on your shoulder and your actual shoulder line up), the colour of your clothes

body type, posture, how you carry yourself

start with incremental changes. Make a list of things you think you could improve on (this is not a list of “ugly” things, it’s an “improvement/ potential” list). Sort them according to ease of improvement (is this going to be expensive and difficult or affordable and easy?) and time (can this be done overnight or will it take some time).

Use point 1 and 2 only as launching pads. You do not have to look like Beyoncé, you’re simply understanding what her MUA and hair stylist does for her that could work for you. After a point, you have to ensure that YOUR identify sticks out and is still there, you’re not born to imitate someone else and also, it’s very obvious when someone is trying to be someone they’re not.

again. I repeat. If you’re going to get obsessive and make yourself sick over this it’s NOT WORTH IT. If you’re not mentally capable of making these changes, do not go through it.

[astrobiscuits]

Asteroids you should check out in Solar Return chart part 1

Hii, i'm backk all :3

Before i start today's post, i'd like to thank each and everyone one of you who engaged with my last post! Your support means the world to me <33

I was really shy to start posting and i postponed it for a long time lol

Anyway, back to astro business🪐

(The first asteroid observation is inspired by one of @a-d-nox post's)

🌹 Asteroids Orpheus (3361) and Eurydike (75) indicate the year you’re gonna get engaged or married.

If the aspect is positive (trine, sextile) then it indicates marrying one of your greatest loves, but it will eventually end in divorce. If the aspect is negative (opposite, square) then the marriage is doomed from the beginning and it will still end up in divorce. The girls (for some reason i noticed it's only relevant in your chart if you're a female? idk why tho) who don’t have an exact aspect (0-3 degree orb) between these 2 asteroids in any year in their solar return chart may still get married, but it won’t be a passionate love marriage and it’s much more likely for it to last a long time.

(For the next asteroids, check if they aspect SR Sun, Moon, ASC, DSC, IC, MC, Venus, Mars or Mercury)

⚰️ Having asteroid Grieve (4451) prominent in solar return chart indicates a year when someone important to you will die.

It gives you information about the way you process this person’s death. It may also indicate just a great loss, even if the person hasn’t died in the physical realm (for ex. a difficult break-up).

Story time! (nobody asked me lol)

Back in 2021 i used to talk with this guy online, we were in a "long-distance relationship" even if soon after i realised i just got attached to him strongly and i didn't actually have romantic feelings for him. It lasted around 5 months which is a lot for me (i've got Sagittarius Venus y'all, i'm noncommittal af). Even if i've been wanting for the relationship to end for a long time, when it actually ended, i had a very hard time moving on from him. Turns out i had Grieve conjunct my Sun in 3rd house that year, which was also opposing my 9th house Uranus. I'm honestly glad i'm over it now.

⭐ I noticed nobody has been mentioning this asteroid yet, but having Zdislava (5275) proeminent in solar return chart is a big indicator of becoming famous that year.

Zdislava is a Czech girl name which literally translates to "created with glory". It is the feminine form of Zdislav, which was duke of Croatia in the late 9th century.

⭐ Of course, you can also check asteroid Fama (408) which is, well, self-explanatory.

Having Zdislava/Fama asteroid conjuncting your SR Mars would make you gain fame suddenly, basically wake up the next day famous lulz. You might also be known for your drive, never giving up attitude or you might become popular in the sport industry that year (it does depend on the sign it is in tho).

Having Zdislava/Fama asteroid conjuncting your SR Venus would make you famous for your looks. You will attract the attention of the opposite sex quite easily that year. You might also become famous in the fashion industry or in the arts.

That's all for today folks!! Soon i will start to give paid readings, so follow me if you don't wanna miss it <3

[mono-moonchilds]

What if hobi was your professor who wants to sleep with ya?

⤑ series: what if...??

⤑ pairing: professor!hoseok x fem!reader

⤑ genre: smut!!

⤑ rating: explicit (18+)

⤑ word count: 1.9k i got carried away

⤑ warnings: oral sex fem receiving, dry humping, touching, he keeps touching her thigh, idk how to word it but he's in a position of power, big!dick hoseok of course, facial, cum eating, a lil overstimulation, he calls her slut like once, I'm not sure whether or not to tag this dub!con, he is her professor / in a position of power so it blurs the lines but also they are both attracted to one another, in the spirit of not potentially leaving out a tag that could be relevant ill also just tag it dubcon

⤑ A/N: my first request in a long time 😅 I hope you like it. this has not been proof read fr. excuse any mistakes

⤑ summary: what if... your professor wanted to sleep with you

a soft sigh fell from your lips as professor jung slid the paper over to you. “still not getting it, huh?” he questioned. shaking your head, you grabbed the sheet stuffing it back into your binder. it was 4:15 and you’d already wasted so much of his time. 

“no, but I’ll just work on it some more once I get back to my dorm.” you said pushing on a smile. “thank you so much for your time, professor jung.” 

“y/n,” he reached out stopping you in your tracks. “how are you gonna work on something you don't even understand yet?” your eyes fell back onto the glossy wooden desk as you shrugged. “exactly. so what’s the rush?”

you attempted to shrug again but professor jung stopped you with a low tsk. “words. use your words.” the older man softly demanded. 

“I don’t wanna waste your time. It’s already been an hour. I’d hate to take up more.”

“you're such a sweet girl,” professor jung cooed a pretty smile filling his face as he looked at you. “you could never waste my time.  you’re one of my favorite students.” 

“oh..uhm,” proper words eluded you. your face feeling hot as you took in both of the sudden compliments. you were one of his favorites? until today you had never even said two words except for the occasional good afternoon when you got to class. “really? didn’t think you ever noticed me. I hardly ever talk.”

“you don’t need words to stand out. trust me.” 

it was embarrassing how big the smile was that’d formed on your face. letting out a low chuckle, professor jung motioned you over. “come over to the whiteboard with me.” getting up from your seat you followed him. as he reached over handing you a marker you got another waft of his signature cologne. the girls always talked about it. how good he smelled. how well he dressed. They were right. Of course, you’d noticed before but right now you couldn’t help but really notice. 

“y/n,” 

“huh?” Your eyes quickly flickered back up. 

a hint of a smirk covered his face. “I said write the equation out for me.” 

“of course, sir. I’m sorry.”

“such a polite girl too. It’s almost like your perfect.” laughing at your obviously flustered face, professor jung easily moved on and began to read the problem out for you. “so what’s the first step?” he asked once you were finished. 

you stared at the board in complete silence. it was just one problem, a problem he’d worked out three different times since you came to his office but you were still so lost. “you’re problem is you thinking too hard about it.” walking up behind you professor jung walked up behind you guiding your hand to the board. his body so close you barely wanted to breathe. “It’s simple,” his warm breath fanned across your neck. “tell me what you instinctively think to do when you first see this.” 

“bring this down,” you pointed with your other hand.

“exactly. now what?”

 pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you thought long and hard. hesitantly you pointed to the middle of the equation. “I think we can start solving for this.” much to your surprise professor jung hummed in agreement. 

“I told you it was simple. you just gotta take these things slowly.” Much to your dismay professor jung stepped back taking the warmth of his body with him. you wanted to whine but of course, you didn’t. “now finish the rest of it for me.”

it took you far more time than it’d taken him. when you looked back at the clock thirty minutes had passed. “I’m done,” You squeaked nervously. 

professor jung was quiet at first. his hawk-like eyes studying the board carefully as he went back through each in every step in his head. when he finally looked back over to you his face was blank at first. with a huff, your shoulders fell in disappointment. 

“good job.”

what?

“I got it right?” your head popped up in surprise. 

he nodded. “like I told you. you just gotta take your time. It may seem intimidating but you gotta go slow.” lifting his hand professor jung gave you a high five. “I think you're going to ace this next test y/n.”

you shook your head with a laugh. “it was only one question.” 

“one question that somebody else is still probably struggling with. be proud of yourself.” 

you were. honestly. professor jung was right even though it was only one problem it was still something. 

“do you want to continue working on the rest of them?”

“oh—no. you don’t have to. if I get stuck I’ll just rewatch the lecture videos. I would hate to take up more of your time.” 

“y/n,” professor jung stopped you once again, his fingers lingering on your skin. “I already told you it’s no bother. I want you to do well.”

his voice was like a trap immediately drawing you in so within seconds you were nodding. “words.” He reminded. 

“okay—I mean yes. thank you so much, professor jung.”

“hoseok,” 

“what?”

“my name. my name is hoseok.” 

hoseok. you liked it.  It was pretty just like him. 

“move your seat over here.” professor jung, no—hoseok directed. “so it’s easier for me to help you.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. 

grabbing your chair you pulled it over to hoseok’s desk before settling back down carefully into the seat making sure your skirt was still neat. “so do you know where you want to start? what problems do you find the most trouble with?” 

looking at the paper the answer was easy. all of them. ever since the class had moved on to this unit you’d been lost. 

“uhh–” You stalled making hoseok raise his eyebrow in anticipation. it was embarrassing to say out loud. math had never been your strong suit in general and now statistics was slowly but surely whooping your ass. the only reason you’d been able to keep the high C you had currently was because of all of the extra credit opportunities he constantly gave out. 

“there's no shame in not understanding something,” 

“all of it. I’ve kind of been struggling since we moved onto this unit.” 

lifitng your chin up hoseok gave you a comforting smile. “and that's completely okay.” your heart fluttered. letting his hand fall down to your leg, hoseok gave your bare thigh a gentle squeeze. “lets get started, okay?” 

even though you nodded you were far from paying attention. you couldn’t. not with how close hoseok was and how when he talked his fingers softly caressed your skin. he made your head spin. in a good way, in a perfect way. you never wanted today to end. 

“how about you try this one y/n?”

fuck. 

“were you paying attention?”

“I’m sorry.” you quickly apologized.

“what's got you so distracted?” instead of saying anything you just looked down. preparing to move his hand Hoseok apologized but you stopped him keeping it right there. 

“It’s okay. I–I liked it.” 

“really ?” hoseok lifted a brow. 

you began to nod but quickly corrected yourself. “yes.” You vocalized. 

a pleased grin filled Hoseok’s face.  “how about we try something different, hmm?”

“okay.” 

interlocking your fingers hoseok got up guiding you over to the couch that was pushed against a near wall. siting down on the leather he pulled you onto his lap, spreading both of your thighs on each side of his body. “you still okay?” 

“yes,” You were more than okay. 

running his hands up your thighs all the way up to your ass, hoseok squeezed pulling you down deeper into him. “shit–” he groaned. “you're so fucking wet. I can feel you leaking through my pants. why didn’t you say something baby?” 

“I’m sorry, Sir.” you moaned out. his hard-on was pressing right into your clit. hoseok was huge. you didn’t even have to see it to know.

reaching down hoseok pushed your panties to the side so that now your clit was in bare contact with the roughness of his slacks. It felt so good. new sensations rushing your body as you swiveled your hips back and forth. 

lifitng your sweater and bra up hoseok let your breasts fall free. wasting no time he leaned forward latching onto the hardening pebble. alternating between licking and suckling on one breast hoseok twisted and pulled at the other one. 

“oh–oh my..” a whine escaped you as your head lulled to the side. you wanted more–needed more. “muh-more..” you breathed out. 

letting go of your nipple with a low pop hoseok stared up at you. “you ever had sex before?”

you nodded. something of a disappointed look flashed across his face. “on–only once though.” you quickly added. 

settling you on the cushion next to him, hoseok slid to his knees spreading your thighs back open. you were so exposed, the cool air of the room hitting your cunt as he stared looking as if he’d just won a million-dollar prize. as if it was even possible your face felt hotter. 

“don't be embarrassed,” hoseok tsked. “you have such a pretty pussy.” 

gripping the globes of your ass hoseok pulled you closer to the edge of the couch. swiping his tongue across your clit, a deep chuckle left his mouth as he pulled away. “so fucking reactive,” he whispered. 

leaning back forward he latched himself to your sensitive button. flicking his tongue back and forth, hoseok toys with it pulling low moans from you. you’d never had anyone do this before. “feels so guh-good, professor jung.”

gripping his hair you pulled him closer. his eyes fluttering closed as his tongue dipped into your whole fucking it in and out. sliding one hand up hoseok's fingers found its way back to your nipple. his eyes were closed–his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as deep groans escaped as if he was being pleasured himself. 

pulling his hair tighter your back arches in pleasure. “professor—hoseok!” you cry out squeezing your eyes shut. “oh..oh,” you gasp, feeling the pressure rising in your stomach. 

as your mouth falls open you pray everyone else that worked in the hall was gone. loud moans fill the room as you cum hard on his tongue. hosoek doesn’t stop. his tongue flicked faster as he suckles harder on your clit, milking you for all you had. 

“professor jung,” you mewl begging for him to give you a minute. of course, he doesn't though. hejust continues greedily suckling making your eyes roll back. when he finally does pull away you let out a moan of relief, your body beginning to fall to the side before hoseok stops you with a firm grip on your hair. 

unbuttoning his slacks, hoseok shoves down his pants letting his cock spring free. just like you’d thought it was huge. at least seven inches with a pretty brown tip. telling you to hold out your tongue Hoseok tapped his head on it. his hand massaged the rest of the length as he swiped it along your pink muscle. 

“such a good fucking girl,” he grunted moving his hand faster. “next time I’m going to fuck that little pussy. you’d like the, wouldn’t you? fucking slut.” With a deep groan, hoseok nutted all over your face. his hips stuttering as a never-ending flow of cum spurts out. 

letting go of the iron-clad grip he had on your hair hoseok falls back onto the couch. wiping away the cum that was on your eyelids, hoseok pushed his fingers into your mouth to which you happily obliged. 

a pleased smirk filled his face. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

[abimess]

1825 days

Kate Bishop x Reader

gif is not mine

Summary: Kate fell in love with you as soon as she met you. However, the vast age difference between you always let her know that nothing would ever happen. But what happens when those seven years of difference suddenly become two?

Word count: 3.774 || Pronouns: not used 

Warnings: none

A/N: Well, today was a very boring day for me so here's a short story for you guys. Enjoy!  

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Masterlist | Be notified of my stories (Read on: Wattpad)

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It was yet another one of the many fancy parties Kate’s mother would drag her to, claiming it was important to Bishop Security’s business that the company's legatee attended all relevant events.

That didn’t make the brunette like them any better. 

Eleanor would have to spend weeks insisting, urging her daughter to participate - and moreover, to behave appropriately for her position. Kate didn’t even know what that really meant, if she were being honest. She had no intention of finding out either. And, to be even more sincere, her mother’s speech was very little effective. 

What really made her show up at all of those boring parties had a name, and the most beautiful face - that was scattered all over her bedroom walls from pictures she took over the years. 

Kate Bishop loved martial arts, and archery, and adrenaline. But the thing she loved the most - and the one that was the most surprising of all, at least to herself - was you.  

Your mother worked very closely with Eleanor, they were both partners on some matter that Kate had absolutely no interest in. The only part of this partnership that the brunette really cared about was the fact that you’d always be at the events her mother put together. 

And, over these few years, Kate has learned a few things about you. You like blue, you always have some blue item on your clothes, even if discreetly - she always wondered if you liked her eyes as well. 

Unlike her, you really want to take over your family’s company one day, and you work really hard to do it, even though your parents are still young and don’t plan on retiring any time soon. She really admires you for that.

You love seeing animal pictures on your phone when you’re bored, and the brunette felt her heart warm every time you sent her dog pictures because you know she’s a dog person.

And, the apparently only detail of yours that bothers her: you are older than her. Seven years older, to be exact. 

If she were being honest, Kate didn’t care about that age gap one bit. She truly likes you and the way her heart skips a beat every time you’re around should overcome any age difference that two people may have. 

But she knows that the fact that she’s sixteen and you’re twenty-three was clearly an issue for you. Especially since you didn't seem to have feelings for her at all.

And the worst part is that she knows you know, because everybody knows. People talk about it, making funny comments and jokes that made Kate’s cheeks warm up so hard she’s sure she’d get a third-degree burn. You always noticed her embarrassment, deflecting the subject to take the focus off of her. That only made her like you painfully more.

“I noticed you’re copying my style.” The voice she loves the most sounds right behind her, and an ear-to-ear grin took over her lips even before she spun on her heels. “Hi!” The brunette greets excitedly, throwing her arms around your neck, and you giggle as you hug her around the waist.

“Hey, Bishop.” You say against her ear, and the sound this time so close to her made Kate’s body shiver in a way she probably shouldn’t, so she pulls away. She keeps her eyes on yours as she does, though, admiring mesmerized as you smile at her expectantly. 

The silence grows longer for a moment, and it takes the brunette another two seconds to remember you had made a comment in the first place, blinking a few times to pull herself together. Looking down at her own body, Kate lets out a short laugh. “Er-Yeah! I am, yeah. My mom finally let me wear a suit.”

“It looks good on you.” You comment wholeheartedly, admiring the set of clothing before taking your eyes back to Kate’s face, which is on fire at this point. “It looks better on you, though.” The brunette bites her tongue as soon as the comment fails to be contained by her short-circuited system, her eyes widening slightly. But you just giggle softly in response, making her forget about anything at all. 

“I have to greet the other guests, but I’ll come back to you in an instant, yeah?” You comment a moment later, glancing at a point ahead of the party, where your mother beckons you to join her. “Sure, I’ll be waiting.” The brunette answers in a nervous grumble, and you give her a brief smile before rushing to where you were supposed to be, leaving behind a rather flustered Kate Bishop.

The next few minutes are somehow worse than the previous ones before your arrival, because the brunette decided to sit at one of the empty tables at the back of the salon, waiting for you to come back with a swinging leg.

Kate didn’t know exactly how long had passed - 23 minutes and 45 seconds, but who would ever count such a thing? -, but you eventually joined her again, two glasses in your hand and a soft smile on your face. The brunette reciprocates it with a shy one, murmuring a low ‘thank you’ as you hand her the glass of soda, sitting by her side as you sip on your champagne. 

The silence grows longer as the two of you stay there in silence, watching the party getting more and more crowded. And although Kate didn’t mind just being by your side quietly, her anxious brain fought in search of something to say or do.  

“I got my driver's license this weekend.” She lets out the first thing that came to her mind, and you turn to her with an excited smile. “No way! That’s awesome!” You reply wholeheartedly, making Kate’s cheeks flush as you place your glass over the fancy tablecloth. “I remember when I got mine, I was so nervous.”

“Yeah, I was a bit nervous too.” The brunette agrees with a giggle, finding it hard to keep her eyes on you and not on her lap. You offer her a sweet smile, and Kate ignores the fast beats of her heart to smile back. 

“But don’t worry about it, it will get easier over the years.” You assure then, and the brunette only murmurs in understanding, being once again reminded of your obstructive age difference. “I'd love to get a ride with you sometime, Bishop. Maybe I can give you a few tips.” You add, playfully nudging her arm with your elbow, and the brunette widens her eyes. 

“Sure! I-I’d love that!” Kate agrees perhaps too excitedly, but the sound of your giggle fills the air between you soon after, and she doesn’t find it in herself to care, an ear-to-ear grin on her lips. “Cool! We can do it on Friday afternoon if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not, Friday afternoon would be awesome.” She lets you know, and you smile as you nod your head in confirmation. The next moment, however, a noise caught your attention, and you turn your gaze to a spot ahead at the party. 

Smiling with amusement, you nod for Kate to follow your gaze, and the girl giggles softly at seeing one of the richest men at the party apologizing for knocking wine onto the jacket of a boy Kate had only seen a few times, the former's cheeks almost as red as the drink stain.

And as she looked at the scene, the brunette watched you out of the corner of her eye. With a smile on her lips at the thought of meeting you in a few days, Kate had no way of knowing that, after this night, she would not see you again for another five years.

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

Today is as chaotic as it was five years ago. 

However, instead of painful and sorrowful and herwreaking, this one was exciting and hopeful and overwhelming in the best possible way. 

Kate knew the world would need a long time to adapt to this huge change - she wondered if having half the population coming back out of nowhere would be more challenging than having the same amount of people disappearing overnight. 

But the social, economic, political, and environmental problems were the last thing on the brunette’s mind, because fifteen minutes ago she got a phone call from her mother telling her that you were at your parent’s house. 

You were back. 

After losing her father, Kate thought nothing could hurt that much. But you went and proved her wrong. Seeing people vanish into thin air in the middle of her classroom was frightening, but it was nothing compared to the horror of receiving the news that you were one of those who had been turned to dust by Thano’s snap.

During those five years, the brunette had felt so alone, a kind of loneliness she didn’t even know could exist. Living her life on autopilot, every single minute wishing she could talk to you again, tell you about her day and the things she’d done, craving to hear your giggle again, the sound that was slowly fading out of her memory.

But all those bad thoughts all vanished at once the instant your father invited her into his house, being replaced by pure excitement. When she walked through the marble doorway dividing the kitchen and living room, the brunette’s brain stopped working all at once at the sight of you, sitting on the couch by your mother’s side. 

The gasp that left her mouth must have been loud, because as soon as it does, you raise your eyes to where she is, and Kate can’t help but feel her vision blurring with tears when they meet hers.

“Y/n!” The brunette lets out as she runs towards you, and you barely have time to stand up from the couch before she crashes into you, her arms around your neck. “Hey, Bishop.” You greet her in the same way you always did, and the sound of your voice in the real world, outside of her memory or the videos on her phone, makes her cry even more.

Your arms hug her tighter around the waist as her body begins to shake with sobs, and Kate doesn’t know how she feels about it all. It is so familiar and heartwarming to have you back, the same perfume, the same way you run your fingers gently on her back. But it was also new, the way your bodies fit completely differently against each other’s. 

But regardless of whether it was familiar or new, it was good, so Kate makes no mention of letting go at any time soon. Much to the brunette's satisfaction, you let her be the first to pull away. After a few minutes, she does.

“You’re back.” Kate comments with teary eyes, sniffing softly. “I am.” You confirm with a smile. “And you’re… So different from the last time I saw you.” You add as you let your eyes roam over her figure, head to toe before coming up to her eyes again, your expression too hard to decipher.

“Well, that was five years ago.” The brunette comments with a giggle and rosy cheeks, and you laugh through your nose at the banter. “I’m pretty sure it was yesterday.” You hit back with humor, but the thought makes Kate’s eyes fill with tears again, and she can’t help hugging you once more. “I missed you so much.”

“Y/n,” your mother’s voice calls you softly, and only now do the two of you remember your parents’ presence in the room, pulling away to look at the older woman, “your father and I need to go back to the company now.”

“Things are very chaotic with everyone coming back.” The man adds the explanation as he approaches you and Kate. “Sure, of course.” You answer with an understanding smile, and your family smiles back in appreciation. 

“We’ll see you for dinner though.” Your mother promises with a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, and your father nods in confirmation before turning her gaze to the brunette beside you. “I’m sure Kate here will love to keep you company in the meantime.”

“Absolutely.” She answers promptly, glancing at you for a brief moment before looking back at your parents. 

And so the four of you are exchanging goodbyes, and your parents hug you tighter than usual before walking towards the door. Kate watches them leave until they disappear through the door, and the moment she looks back at you, she sees your eyes already on her.

“What?” The brunette asks amidst a giggle, a hint of amusement in her curious tone. But you just stare at her in silence for a while, and she doesn’t press you to speak. “It’s been five years.” You answer finally, your hands in your pockets. “You look so different, it’s… weird.”

Kate’s brows furrow slightly as she looks down at her own figure, and only then do you realize what you had just said, widening your eyes. “No- Not that you look weird! It just is weird. You look nice.” You explain yourself clumsily, your cheeks burning, and the brunette slightly narrows her eyes at you.

It’s the first time Kate has ever seen you like that. You’re usually so confident and chill, you’ve never been shy or flustered, much less stuttering. At least not in her presence, certainly not with her. She wonders what has changed, and then she remembers. Five years have changed. 

“Thank you.” She chooses her answer, still intrigued by the slightly pink in your cheeks. “So,” you start, looking away as you sit on the couch, “what happened while I was gone?” You decide to change the subject, and Kate smiles, taking the seat across from yours. “Oh, so much. I’m gonna tell you everything.”

She did, indeed, tell you about everything. About her last years in high school, about all the awards she’s gotten from archery and martial arts tournaments. She tells you about her friends, about her new apartment in Manhattan, and about her favorite establishments in the city, many of them having been opened after the snap. 

“[...] There are so many places I wanna show you!” The brunette commented excitedly and, feeling her throat dry, she finally realized how much she has been talking since you asked. 

But for the first time, she doesn’t care about talking too much, because she missed you more than she was able to bear these last five years, and you look at her as if you were more than willing to hear everything she has to say, so she didn’t hold back.

“Well, you still owe me a car ride.” You say with humor, referring to the conversation you had had that night at the party, yesterday for you but so many years ago for her. The memory was still fresh on Kate’s mind, however, and she lets out a happy giggle as she agrees. 

“I’m afraid I don’t need your tips anymore, though.” The brunette hits back playfully, and you narrow your eyes at her as you murmur a “we’ll see about that” that makes her giggle. 

Then the two of you are walking side by side towards the front door and Kate casts you a brief glance, smiling at having you back. 

⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅ ─ ⋅

You and Kate see each other every day now. 

As she promised on the first day, she takes you to all the places she likes that she knows you’ve never been to, telling you about all the things that have changed during the time you’ve been gone. 

But the change that strikes you the most is Kate herself. 

Ever since you met her, the brunette had always been the shy girl that always got flustered whenever you were around, stuttering at her own words as she tried to say to you the simplest of sentences.

This Kate Bishop beside you was completely different from that sheepish girl in the corner. She was funny and confident, and clumsy in a surprisingly charming kind of way. She was also beautiful and - every now and then - flirtatious, often turning you into a flustered mess. 

The conflicting feelings grew inside of you, becoming more and more overwhelming every time you saw her smiling or you heard her laughing. The moment it all became very clear to you, however, was during a night out at a bar. 

Kate was telling you about this pub downtown with colorful lights and live music, and you would accept going out with her even if it was to eat hot dogs on the street, so you said yes immediately. 

The place was indeed cozy, and you didn’t mind when she dragged you towards the bar by the hand. The night was pleasant and the alcohol in your veins was about to make you do something stupid if she kept smiling at you like that. 

But not before long, a random guy approached, ignoring you completely as he flirted with Kate bluntly. He was charming and seemed like a nice guy, but the jealous feeling inside you was so strong and unexpected that you weren’t able to stop yourself from aggressively telling the man to fuck off. 

And then the guy suddenly didn't seem so nice anymore, and the discussion ended up with the two of you being requested to leave the bar. 

“I’m sorry for ruining the night.” You comment shily as you walk down the street, your voice a bit slurred from the strong liquor you had. “Oh, you didn’t. That was actually really fun to watch.” Kate replies with humor, making you smile as you look at the floor.

“Have you been seeing anyone?” You ask before you’re able to hold back, and as you look at her expectantly, the brunette turns her gaze to you with slightly wide eyes. “What? Oh, no. I’ve been busy.” 

That was a lie. In fact, a very bad one. But, fortunately for her, you were busy kicking a pebble to notice. “Although I… I had a huge crush on you.” Kate adds a few minutes later with a shy giggle, making you smile. “I’m aware.”

“I know you are.” The brunette grumbles in response, feeling her cheeks heating up as she looks away. But you let out a soft laugh at her reaction, and soon she’s smiling again. It would always be a mystery to her the effect you had on her.

The two of you fall back onto a comfortable silence, walking together around New York as you think of something else to do. But then you stop suddenly, and Kate mimics your action a second later, a furrow between her brows as she watches you with confusion. 

You don’t say anything however, and the brunette follows your gaze with her, her sight landing on a light-up billboard advertising a play with the date of the next weekend highlighted.

“Can you believe it’s been five years?” You comment slowly, your expression thoughtful, and Kate sighs, looking at you briefly before looking back at the advertiser. “Honestly, it doesn’t feel like a lot when you put it like that.”

“What do you mean?” You sound as curious as your expression and, feeling your gaze on her, Kate looks back at you again. “Like, five is such a small number, isn’t it?” She says, “I prefer counting it in days, it feels more real.”

You only look at her in silence, the furrow between your eyebrows letting you know you didn’t really understand what she meant. “Every day I would mark another day being over in my calendar, and I would think of how much time has passed since the day you were gone.” She explains, swallowing the lump in her throat to add, “1825 days.”

“That’s a lot.” You comment under your breath, and the brunette nods with a sad smile on her lips. “I know.” She agrees quietly, tears building up in the corner of her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like I’ve been missing you for five years. But it sure as hell feels like I’ve been missing you for 1825 fucking days.”

You only stare at her in silence, your eyes shining with so many emotions Kate can’t even start to count. But she wouldn’t be able to even if she tried, cause the next moment you are taking a step closer to her, making the brunette take a step back in reflex. 

“And what about your feelings?” You ask in a low voice, your eyes descending to her lips. “What?” Kate asks affectedly, her brain completely short-circuited at this point. “What happened to your feelings in these 1825 days?” You ask again as you take another step forward, and this time the brunette hits her back against the wall of the building behind her, making her gasp softly.

“They haven’t gone anywhere.” She replies finally, finding it hard to keep her eyes on yours as she can feel your breathing against her lips. “I’ve been loving you for all of these 1825 days. I think that’s what hurt the most.” Her confession makes you smile, and you take your eyes to her blue ones one last time before descending them again. 

“Well, good thing the pain is over, then.” You whisper against her lips, and any coherent thought is sent far away from Kate's mind when your mouth meets hers, eliciting a heavy sigh from her.

Your lips fit perfectly against hers, as do her hands in your hair and yours on her waist. As your tongue begs for passage, the brunette feels a funny sensation beneath her belly, and she's quick to grant it to you.

And as you deepened the kiss against that concrete wall, you had no way of knowing that 1825 days from now you and Kate would be sharing an apartment in the outskirts of New York, the brunette being one of the newest superheroes while you took care of your newborn Y/l/n-Bishop. 

And within those 1825 days, there wouldn't be a single day that Kate wasn't scared of losing you again, the same way you were terrified of losing her on some dangerous Avengers mission. But everything was fine, because you would always come back to her after a long day at work, and Kate would always come back to you after saving the world. 

And from 1825 days to 1825 days, the two of you would build your life together, unhurriedly, one day at a time.

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

[eyeballsoup7310]

I find it very interesting that people despise Vanessa for threatening Mike but I’ve not even seen a single person mention that Mike beat a man to filth in a mall fountain in front of the guys son.

Not to say mikes an inherently bad person for that, he has trauma and he reacted to something that triggered it— it’s just kind of telling that the entire fandom not only immediately forgave, but also never actually considered criticizing him for violently attacking a man in the first place, but a lot of people refuse to even imagine liking a woman because she was kind of mean to their favorite sad little blorbo due to her own trauma flaring up.

Edit cuz I thought about it again: obviously the dynamic is a little different in each situation. While both Vanessa and Mike were employed in positions of physical power at the time of their fuckups, Vanessa was specifically using her job as a threat whereas Mike didn’t even think about using his power as a guard. They both did something extremely shitty and rash, but if Vanessa weren’t an officer I don’t think people would care as much. Mike did something more comparable to, like, “getting into a drunken fistfight at dennys.”

On the flip side, threatening a man who’s Going Through It is super shitty and I don’t wanna dismiss that, but Mike still physically assaulted a man, and it’s weird to me that the fandom seems to have just forgotten. They’re fictional characters so I think trying to hold them to the exact same standards as real people is a bit weird to me (they’re meant to convey a story, not be a paragon of morality, unless of course the story they’re conveying is about morality but I’ll leave that conversation to people who have more than two braincells) but if we’re gonna criticize Vanessa I feel like we should also criticize Mike a little too

(I will still say, I don’t think Vanessa ever had any intent of trying to even legally challenge him ((i.e. arrest him or charge him or something)) and if she actually wanted to scare Mike she could’ve threatened to take Abby away, something that she previously refused to do in the “dumping shit in the river” scene. Also a stupid move, please don’t throw pills in the river, but it was the year 2000 and she was raised by William Goddamn Afton it makes sense she’s a bit of a dumbass sometimes)

Ultimately I don’t hold it against anyone if they dislike Vanessa because of this scene (or if they dislike Vanessa, especially for being a cop, in general), I guess I’m more so hung up about the fact that if she were a man, less people would hate her. Criticism of her as an officer is fine, we should be shitting on cops, some of it just feels like an excuse to be borderline misogynistic. I dunno, i tend to focus on stupid details. fnaf is a really weird series and an even weirder fandom. can everyone stop writing cops as protagonists please

Edit 2: actually thinking about it more and I just feel. Gross. Defending a character who’s a cop. It’s almost worse that it’s not even relevant to the story, for all the importance it has, she could easily be a janitor with a knife or something and absolutely nothing would change. Eugh. Curse of being written by scott cawthon, I guess. Anyways. Sorry. I think the part of my brain saw a pathetic wet cat of a character who’s a woman this time and went stupid mode

(If anyone has any recommendations for characters with a similar vibe to Vanessa that ARENT part of an extremely shitty job please uh. Comment them)

[emmys-grimoire]

The Nightbringer, how lesson 9-A tells us everything, and why it’s (probably) not Barb

I’m working on lesson 3 summary, but now that a good portion of the fanbase seems to have gotten through lesson 10, I feel it’s timely to get my thoughts out there ahead of covering lesson 10 because the story will likely continue before I’m done.

And I think a lot of you are ignoring some of the contextual clues.

Don’t read this if you don’t want lesson 8+ spoiled yet.

Ahead of the game releasing, most of the fanbase thought the prologue was a peek into how Barbatos met Solomon because it matched up with the lore in the OG game and Solomon was narrating. There were also other hints that Barb was behind things via promotional media and art. Pair that with his well-known time travel abilities, and it all seems very straightforward and obvious.

We learn in lesson 8, though, that the boy in the prologue video isn’t Solomon -- it’s Adam, and it’s heavily implied that he’s Lilith’s lover.

This fact alone doesn’t actually change much beyond the implied relationship between the Nightbringer and Solomon. It is relevant that Solomon is narrating, though, because they do have a significant relationship.

In lesson 9-A (and the node in lesson 10 that’s a continuation), which I have not gotten to myself yet, Solomon has a telling conversation with the Nightbringer after being confronted with illusions of Diavolo and Simeon meant to test his resolve. They’re squabbling over him, the obvious metaphor for humanity.

Solomon chooses neither, because he believes humanity doesn’t need either demons or angels guiding them. This is meant to mirror a choice he made in the past, as the self-appointed steward of humanity.

And furthermore, back then... the Nightbringer was likely one of the advocates of one of these sides. Furthermore, whatever this agreement he made with the Nightbringer is meant to ensure his “freedom”, even though...

The Nightbringer clearly wanted him to choose one of the presented sides, not neither. So which side was he on? He reveals his hand here, too, if you read into it far enough.

Why on earth would Solomon make this retort if the Nightbringer was actually a demon? If he was a demon, of course he’d be acting like one. It’d be no surprise, and certainly not considered an insult.

We got an angel who acts like a demon. This conversation doesn’t make any sense otherwise.

The Nightbringer is an angel? But that’s CRAZY!

Is it?

Is it really?

There’s one angel in particular who has a similar connection to Solomon as Barbatos, who has also had a significant role in his past: Michael.

We find out in the dream sequence flashback in S3 that Michael was eyeballing Solomon before the Great Celestial War. We know he’s the one who fished us out of that sequence, and warned us that the effect we had on the brothers past selves will carry on into the present (though admittedly this never manifests later). We find out he approached Solomon when he was lost and confused and we know he gave him his Ring of Wisdom, which grants the power to control demons. We find out in Nightbringer that Solomon waged war against the entire Devildom in an effort to leverage his newfound power to better humanity’s position. We learn that war was ultimately inconclusive. At numerous point in the story, Michael is referred to as a “demon in disguise” and a sadist like Lucifer.

We don’t know why Michael would give his very powerful ring to Solomon, but it likely was part of some agreement.

What doesn’t line up with this theory is a lack of motivation. I have no idea why Michael would want us to fling us back to this point of time, after the war. It sounds like he’d want to prevent the war entirely. Adam also meets the Nightbringer in the Devildom, and I can’t see the Devildom allowing Michael to just waltz in and meddle with things, particularly after the Great Celestial War. I’m not sure why they’d let any of them in, but I digress...

The other small details

There’s other small details strewn throughout the story that point to an angel, or at least someone that isn’t Barb.

Adam says he heard trumpets heralding the Nightbringer’s arrival. The king in the prologue also blows a trumpet.

You know what trumpets are associated with? Angels. According to this wikipedia article:

“In Christian Eschatology, all the first six trumpets are used to serve as a wake up call to the sinners on Earth and a call to repentance. Each trumpet blast brings with it a plague of a more disastrous nature than the one before it. The trumpet is used to build anticipation and tells the reader that an alert, announcement, or warning is about to take place. The seventh trumpet does not bring a plague with it. Rather, it is sounded so that glory is given to God and His kingdom is announced.”

There’s a bunch of other biblical associations, too. Barbatos has no trumpet symbolism in any point in the story. His callsign is portals.

Additionally, Barbatos interacts with time via doors.

The Nightbringer sees time as mud, which just might be the liquid swirling around in the Nightbringer trailer.

Who is the king?

The prologue implies that the Nightbringer is summoned via trumpets, and the trumpet is blown by a king. The Barbatos puppeteering art implies it’s a human king, but I’m not so sure.

Understanding who the king is may be instrumental in figuring out who the Nightbringer is. Is it a human king? Is it King Solomon? Is it the Demon King? Is it God? Is it someone completely different? It implies the Nightbringer acts at the behest of someone else, but so far it doesn’t sound like he is right now. And if he’s acting against Solomon, it would be quite problematic if he was tethered to him via a pact like Barbatos clearly is.

My conclusion

It’s either Michael and his motivations are simply more complex than I give him credit for, or it’s another angelic being that has gone rogue without falling somehow. I’m leaning towards the latter, honestly. I’d be really happy if we got a multi-season big bad.

It could still be an alternative timeline Barbatos if Barbatos was once an angel, and this is an angel Barb which has managed to avoid falling and doesn’t have the door motif thing going on. 

This is kind of why I hate time travel shenanigans. You have to account for so many damn possibilities that it gets tiresome having to sort through it all.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey I dunno if you’ve gotten this before but. Do you have anything on autism and DID/OSDD? Specifically resources or accounts and such (since I’ve seen the positivity post)

I struggle with emotional dysregulation, big memory issues (huge chunks of childhood and adolescence missing, forgetting things constantly, dissociating emotions from memories, etc,) frequent daydreaming/spacing out/dissociation, that type of thing (and a bit more that’s a little too complicated to explain in an ask lol)

I’ve always kind of figured it was just part of me being autistic (I’m professionally diagnosed and definitely very autistic regardless lol), but I’ve recently gone down a bit of a rabbit hole relating to plurality and now I’m wondering if it could be a symptom of DID/OSDD instead/as well (I was originally looking at something else and stumbled into the tags somehow. The original thing that led me here was foxes. I think. And then I had a bit of a panic as I realized how some of the symptoms were VERY close to some of my experiences. Especially the memories.) but i also can’t tell if it’s just some sort of brain fog(???? Is that the correct term?) / alexithymia / Unknown Autism Trait 3 that nobody ever talks about and is difficult to find any sort of explanation or resources for. And my brain protested and had the equivalent of being on the verge of a sobbing meltdown or mental overload of some sort when I tried to think about stuff relevant to the topic so I don’t think it’s going to be of much help to me right now.

obviously not asking for diagnosis or to self diagnose at all (since. I understand you cant really do either of those /lh /nm) but I’m curious if any of you know of any resources relating to this specific type of stuff? I feel like I’d go insane trying to find any info on it. (And also I don’t think my brain would want to cooperate if I asked it to because it basically shuts down, gives me a headache, and turns to a pathetic wet sobbing cat whenever I try to think about the possibility so I doubt I’ll be identifying as anything anytime soon but. I want some stuff to think over at least.)

hey, we also are autistic and have dissociative identity disorder. unfortunately, there isn’t really too much research on the overlap between autism and complex dissociative disorder diagnoses at this time, that we know of, but we do think that autistic people may have a higher likelihood of dissociating and developing a cdd than neurotypical people.

we really love mike lloyd’s work at the ctad clinic, and he has an insightful video on the intersection of autism and dissociation here:

here is an open access paper by katherine e. reuben and ayden parish on dissociation as a symptom in autism - it’s an interesting read and wasn’t too difficult for us to parse:

also, here are a couple life experience pieces by folks with both did and autism:

our own autism has contributed to our trauma history in how we were treated, formed attachment, and understood the world as a child. for our own system, our autism and our did are inextricably linked. we are certain that many other autistic systems feel the same.

if exploring this possibility for yourself is causing you great distress, it may be for the best to put this off to the side for now until you have reached a point with more stability or a greater support system in your life. please don’t overwhelm or cause yourself harm by looking into this possibility on your own, if it is unhealthy for you.

if you are in therapy or have a mental health professional in your life who you trust, this would be an excellent thing to bring up to them. though hopefully these resources can help you get started learning about this topic if you have the spoons/ability to do so.

we are no medical expert or research professional, but we are happy to talk more about our personal experience of being both autistic and a did system if anyone would be interested. best of luck to you, anon, with figuring this out. we know how confusing and challenging it can be!

[stoportotouch]

we’re doing pathologic musicology again. everybody shut up. i’m sick of writing about bel canto musical traditions and my jstor subscription dies tomorrow i think. so i’m pre-emptively saving pdfs about ethnomusicology.

interesting side effect of the town’s culture being mostly built around cattle rather than horses is that the soundtrack of p2 in particular has essentially ended up creating an entire musical history and lexicon that is identifiably SIMILAR to that of The Area Near The Baikal Rift Valley while being obviously different.

classic’s soundtrack interestingly arrives at a similar point to this with completely different means in that the classic soundtrack is basically just. ‘is it bleeping and blooping? ok sick ship it’, while also borrowing at points quite clearly from the actual musical traditions of the region. which produces the effect in the listener of, basically ‘this should sound... other than how it does? but it makes sense?’

p2′s soundtrack is trying more obviously to do Authenticity in a way that. has historical precedent, certainly (hi borodin). but it is also trying to do that by borrowing from musical traditions that don’t completely mesh with the way that the town’s musical traditions would have developed. because the town-on-gorkhon is very fond of bulls, culturally speaking, and not horses.

a lot of the extant classical music from the area where pathologic is (presumably) set is not only literally About Horses, which are culturally important, but musically refer to the various gaits of The Horse. (this example is in tuvan but it is not only about horses but the 2/4 rhythm is Trotting-Like. buryat music uses similar music and the same scale, and many of the same instruments, as tuvan music.)

this is not something that bulls particularly have, and so while bulls occupy an equivalent cultural position in the town-on-gorkhon this obviously necessitates a completely different musical tradition. which is also one that doesn’t really exist in the real world, but for which vasily kashnikov and theodor bastard have pulled from existing traditions. they have, however, also created an entire musical language that feels like a place’s musical language essentially out of whole-cloth.

the way that they have done this is essentially to take something about the culturally important animal (lowing, for the bulls -- similarly to how actual tuvan, mongolian, baikal, and yakut music refers to horses’ gaits). and then to use that as a basis for the musical ‘world’ of the game, in a similar way to how extant music uses horses. it’s most obviously used in ‘song to boddho’ but a lot of the music in p2 makes a lot of use of drone which could quite easily be interpreted as The Sound That The Local Culturally Important Beast Makes.

(also the p2 soundtrack has a passacaglia in it. this isn’t relevant to this conversation in any way but it’s neat.)

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: georgeeehd

today's interviewee is reese/georgeeehd/lmanburg/tommyofcolor! dreamlying member, mcytblr og, and the person who discovered that dream wasn't registered to vote. below is a transcript of questions and answers!

Q: What was your experience in wider MCYTblr?

A: I don’t have much experience with wider mcytblr. Maybe I used to reblog Grian stuff on my main blog, before all this DSMP shit. There wasn’t much of a Dream community when I started posting, much less one for DreamNotFound (surprisingly, Dreamnap was the popular ship of the two early on????? so bizarre to me), so I dug out my microcosm immediately. There was never a wider myctblr for me.

Q: What was your experience in critblr/dreamlying specifically?

A: The notion that dreamlying is the spawn of critblr is interesting to me, because I agree with you now, but I wouldn’t have at the time. Critblr was a tumblr community. Dreamlying was a friend group, predating critblr. I considered myself dteamblr for a really long time— I never felt aligned with the critblr movement because that was always Jason’s territory, really. I don’t mention it to nitpick or to scold, but like, I’m into this archiving thing, too, so I wanted to opine on how we label these groups. Maybe there should be a distinction made between what we considered ourselves vs. what we actually were.

My experience in proto-critblr was pretty cushy because it was all mine. Me and my contemporaries had a following, we were respected, we had smart things to say, we were funny, established, etc. Think, “The School of Athens.” I definitely grew a bit of an ego with how popular I was, which I’m sure will come across in this interview, haha.

At times I felt a little unchallenged, like people were only agreeing with me not because I was right, but because I was saying anything at all. At the same time, I was incredibly defensive and insecure, so the little pushback I might have gotten would bother me terribly. I was probably overreactive and mean. I was fifteen then, and I’m nineteen now, so there’s lots of things I would’ve handled differently, if I could.

In terms of my experience with dreamlying, I like what Ozzie had to say. We were all just very, very good friends. There’s not much else to it. In my first discord server, “dream lying” was a hidden messaging channel where we could critique Dream Team freely. “Dream lying” was supposed to parody the phrase “dream truthing.” So we were basically this tiny little secret society, at the start. There was no way we wouldn’t have hit it off.

Q: Are there any events that stand out to you?

A: A lot. Too many. Some are more personally relevant than historically relevant, and I don’t really know where to draw the line. The voter registration fiasco was a big one, but there were other smaller things… I was always in some fuckin’ controversy or another! The magic 8 ball says, Ask again later.

Q: Was being in MCYTblr an overall positive or negative experience for you?

A: Undoubtedly positive! I don’t even know where to start with this question. I met a lot of wonderful people that I still keep in contact with today, right? But beyond that, I feel like being in this community helped me grow a lot, like, personally. I was thinking and writing a lot. I learned so, so much, about people, about the internet, about fandom, about myself. It was such an expansive experience.

I guess I should mention that my time with mcytblr was incredibly stressful. My involvement in the fandom weighed heavily on my mental health. I felt very watched, and I still do. At my worst, I was hospitalized. (I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t mention my mcyt-induced mental hospital stint in my mcyt interview.) None of that really moves me, though, ‘cause it was all just part of the experience, and I find it all pretty funny, looking back.

Q: A few people have mentioned the account mcyttruth in relation to you, specifically around a callout post. What happened there? [I had misremembered-- I meant to ask this to Jason lmanburg, not Reese lmanburg.]

A: The mcyttruth callout wasn’t about me, but my discord server, dteamblr 2. I was not as involved here— at this point, critblr was in full bloom, and this server was like a rendezvous for people who liked dreamlying and modcord blogs (modcord was another friend group, like dreamlying, but critblr-based).

Regarding that callout specifically, I don’t know. Probably, there were too many r-slurs, too many jokes about hating Ranboo, the usual. There were a lot of callouts (for me or for people I was friends with), and I never really took them seriously. I mean, honestly, the url “mcyttruth” alone is derivative. Do you know how many times I’ve read the words “mcyt” and “truth”? Everything about this is a blur to me.

Q: I suppose I would ask-- given the current events surrounding many of the creators who were popular in 2020/2021, do you feel that dreamlying has been vindicated in their criticisms of creators?

A: Yes, but I would have said yes in 2020, because who these people are was as obvious to me then as it is now. Our criticisms weren’t like, headcanons that we made up to be mean, they were plain old observations. Wilbur was openly mentally ill, creepy, and generally dismissive of other people. Not to say that there aren’t good things about him either, but, of course this is the kind of guy to make his girlfriend clean up after him. There’s a million cautionary tales about guitar stringers with floppy hair under a beanie, whiny song lyrics, and a masturbatory approach to self-loathing.

Dream’s not this person anymore, so that’s not why I bring it up, but think back to when his old Reddit account was exposed for being active on r/The_Donald. That was everything we were ever talking about! That was Dream being exactly who he was— a young white man from Florida. I love Dream, always have, always will. Acknowledging that he is/was a whole person with flaws and unsavory politics, I think, is truer fanhood than the idolization everyone puts him through.

You use the word “vindicated” to acknowledge that we were heavily criticized ourselves. Most of that was on the basis of privacy— you know, whether or not it’s okay to speculate on people’s personal lives. It doesn’t matter that we were “right” so often, that we still are, and always will be, because people will focus more on the original sin of having speculated in the first place.

I used to love vindication because it made me feel smart, like I could see things that no one else could. Now it just makes me sad. I don’t think it has anything to do with smarts, nor would I care if it did. I think people just don’t let themselves think that far. You know, “I don’t want to make assumptions,” “It’s none of my business,” “It’s not that deep,” etc. Maybe there’s no instinct to look deeper at all. It really just makes me sad.

Q: Is there anything else you'd like to add/have archived?

A: I’d like to ask everybody to stay critical. The hivemind response to recent events have shown me that this fandom remains as shallow, unthinking, conformative, elementary… as it was four years ago.

Thank you for conducting these interviews in the first place. It's nice hearing everyone’s voices again.