#I'm not sure what all the different terms for these are

[rey-jake-therapist]

Ok, here am I again posting another TROP/Haladriel meta... Feel free to mute me if you can't take it anymore, these are gonna be two long weeks as there are still two episodes left...

We're having a lot of discussions about what we'll get to see in Episode 8 (maybe even a bit in episode 7??), and it's really great and exciting to speculate about what will happen when our two love birds mortal enemies finally meet again.

It seems to be the general consensus that Sauron will try again to convince her to be his queen. Now I may be the dissonant voice, but I personnally don't think it will be that straightforward.

Charlie said several times that Sauron was pissed that Galadriel rejected him, but that it wasn't the end of the world, for him. Meaning: he totally believes he can make it without her.

To the Nerdist, he said :

"Speaking of your old screenmate, Sauron asked Galadriel to be his queenOpens in a new tab at the end of season one of The Rings of Power. How much, if at all, does he still want that by this point? And does he think it’s a possibility? Vickers: I think he probably does think it’s still a possibility because he has this hubris and this self-love. He thinks he’s really cool, and he thinks, “Well, she rejected me once, but next time I come back for her, she won’t reject me again because I’ll be so powerful she won’t be able to.” But I don’t think he necessarily wants that. I think his initial proposal to her was to join him, and they could be king and queen of Middle-earth, but really, he would’ve been king, and she would’ve been his righthand woman. Any kind of dreams he has involve her being number two and him being number one."

(I would love to see him try to submit Galadriel to his will, btw. I mean, c'mon man)

To Collider, he said,

"His getting rejected definitely leaves him with this sour taste in his mouth, and he goes away thinking, “I can make this right.” Whatever that means to him. That's one of his throughlines in terms of his motivation or goals for this second season is how much he's driven and how much this relationship gives him a sense of purpose."

And to Schön:

That connection will endure as long as the show endures because although they might not be together in proximity when we pick it up, he’s pissed off that she has turned his pitch down [laughter]. That drives him to think, I can make her join me, or I’ll make her pay for this.

Here, there's also an interview he gave for Total Films, where he reveals that there's a "huge amount of urgency in each of them trying to obtain what they want in that situation": https://x.com/totalfilm/status/1830244276539654595

I'm sure I've read an interview where Charlie said that Sauron would probably want to taunt Galadriel with what they could have done together had she said yes. Edit : found it! Interview for TV Insider.

Second to his lust for more rings is Sauron’s desire to get the Elven rings back. “While he didn’t directly touch them, which is a big thing this season, [Galadriel] has this ring that he put all this effort into, and he wants that back,” Vickers admits. Sauron “covets” these jewels, “and particularly hers,” he explains, “because he knows what they represented when he was making them.” Sauron feels “taunted” and “pissed off” that Galadriel rejected him. That makes getting her ring back personal, but Vickers insists that “he’s past ruling with her.” That won’t stop him from showing her “what could have been, what you could have had,” Vickers teases.

Of course Charlie can't give much away. But so far, it matches with what we saw in season 2 : he's in Eregion, forging his rings of power with Celebrimbor, he's visibly happy (just kidding, the man looks exhausted and depressed), but sometimes he can't help but think of Galadriel.

I love how the experience is completely different for him, from it is for Galadriel: while she had a bittersweet flashback of her and Halbrand in the Southlands, he gets lost in the contemplation of Mirdania's hair because she reminds her of Galadriel, and manifests images in his mind palace that also remind him of her (there are several posts about all this on Tumblr, including one of mine... I won't enter into the details again).

It would be very OOC of Sauron to display an outright nostalgia for the time he spent with Galadriel as Halbrand, imho, even if it was only for the audience to see. He's not supposed to be sad and nostalgic, but pissed at her for rejecting him, and determined to move on and to obtain what he wants without her in the picture. He's probably annoyed af to see his thoughts shifting towards Galadriel while he's in the middle of something very important. He's in his "the fuck with her" phase of the breakup, which pretty much matches what Charlie said. In his hubris, he believes that once he has his rings, he will be so powerful that Galadriel will have no other choice than joining him. She hurt his pride, so now he wants to relish the sight of her submission to him.

Regarding the mind palace scene, precisely the one where the guy tells the Galadriel look alike he wrote a poem : it probably remained unnoticed by most viewers, but I think it's very significant that this scene arrived at THIS moment. Let me explain:

To convince Celebrimbor, Sauron first assures him that when the story of this age is written, the Silmarils will be "no more than a whisper". Of course it's meant to motivate Celebrimbor who always wanted to create something that would be remembered, like the Silmarils. But it can be interpreted as a personal goal for Sauron as well :

1) Morgoth found the Silmarils so beautiful that for weeks, "he could do nothing but stare into their depth".

2) Fëanor admired Galadriel's hair so much it gave him the idea of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees, and three times requested a tress of hers (she always said 'no').

The two people he loved/admired but hurt him the most are connected to the Silmarils in a way, so he could see the creation of something "more precious" as a personal challenge. After he promises Celebrimbor that his rings of power will be "deemed the most precious creations in all Middle-Earth", and Celebrimbor returns to his workshop, his attention is caught by the sight of a couple. The man (whose face remains unseen, because he's a just a self-insert) tells the Galadriel look alike :

"I've written a poem, but I fear your beauty still overshadows anything I could possibly write."

Of course we joked about Sauron's pathetic attempt at poetry (it's terrible lol), but imho there was a deeper meaning to this scene. I think it was his subconscious manifesting what he already knows deep inside of him : that without Galadriel's light, there will ALWAYS be something missing. That what he told Celebrimbor was a lie, no matter how much Sauron wants it to be the truth. The Rings of power are his poem, but Galadriel's beauty/light will always overshadow it.

Hence why it's pretty much granted that he will try to "get Galadriel back". He'll show her how powerful he is now that he has the Nine rings, and his proposal will probably not be as charming as it was the first time. I think we should prepare ourselves to a lot of gaslighting and threatening from his part (he's still pissed off, guys). He'll surely tell her that Eregion is burning because she refused him, that kind of thing. He will definitely use her memories of Halbrand (it's pretty much confirmed by the presence of Halbrand's theme within The Temptation music, and maybe Galadriel's vision of Halbrand enters that scheme too), but will it be to show her what they could have had if she had said yes the first time, or what they could still be? It remains to be seen.

We probably shouldn't forget that in his mind, it happens like this: "she joins me, or I'm making pay for it".... It should be pretty intense.

Then we've got what Charlotte Brändström revealed about Sauron (bless her heart) :

"I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you will see that at the very end”

There are already several threads discussing how Sauron will show his love for Galadriel... Will he spare her? Save her in one way or another? Heal her because she's hurt? Prove her in some way that what he said he felt as Halbrand was real? Something entirely different? Anyway, it will be something that can't be confused with manipulation.

There, I said my piece. Why isn't it next Thursday yet?

[ssa-dado]

5 - Antithesis

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader

Genre: angst, slowest burn in history

Summary: The BAU tackles a complex case involving international victims and cryptic messages. Hotch’s growing insecurity intensifies as an agent returns from an undercover operation, revealing his close past with you. At the hotel, you and Hotch have a heated argument, exposing hidden vulnerabilities and unspoken boundaries between you two. Hotch struggles with his feelings of being just a replacement and questions his connection with you. Rossi confronts Hotch, encouraging him to be the partner you truly need.

Warnings: Usual CM case stuff, grooming (it feels to me, at least. To someone wouldn’t but idc), angst

Word Count: 6.1k

Dado's Corner: the dreaded chapter, I've been working on it for a week and still I'm not completely satisfied yet. I had to use another OC character, I'm sorry if you're bothered with that, but even if I hate him with all my heart he will be helpful in the future to narrate Y/N's backstory. If this broke your heart, synthesis might even more

previous part ; masterlist

Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

●

It was yet another early morning at the BAU, and as usual, you walked into the office to find Hotch already at his desk, a cup of black coffee in hand, looking as composed and sharp as ever. No matter how early you tried to get in, Hotch always seemed to be one step ahead and especially today, you couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You know, Hotch, that’s 76 coffees you owe me now,” you said, dropping your bag on your chair and crossing your arms, pretending to be stern. “Maybe it’s time to rethink your strategy. You could try showing up late, just once. Shake things up.”

Hotch glanced up, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides, I have to keep beating you just to remind you of your constant failure.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the side of his desk. “Wow, Hotch, who knew you were this petty? I bet you’d stay up all night just to make sure you’d beat me here.”

He chuckled softly, not denying it. “Well, someone has to keep you grounded. Can’t have you thinking you’re invincible, partner.”

In the past couple of months, the term “Partner” had become a running joke between you two. Whether by design or coincidence, Gideon and Rossi kept pairing you together on cases, and even when they didn’t, you’d find yourselves seeking each other’s opinions anyway – you were desk mates after all, it was impossible not to rely on each other’s expertise. Yet the nickname stuck, a testimony that had made working together more natural than either of you could have ever predicted.

Your familiarity with Hotch’s desk arrangement had grown, too. You knew his precise system of organizing case files, the way he stacked them according to urgency, but today, something was different. As you glanced at his desk, your brows furrowed in confusion: the stack of case files was unusually tall, casting an odd shadow that didn’t quite match its usual shape. It looked as if something bulky was hiding underneath.

“Hotch, what’s with the fortress of case files?” you asked, pointing at the strange shadow. “Are you hiding something under there?”

Hotch hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t expect to be caught in the act. With a slight, amused shrug, he grabbed the files and lifted them off the hidden unknown object – or the unob - revealing a thick book on architecture history.

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “A World History of Architecture?! Didn’t take you for the type, I’m surprised.”

Hotch looked down at the book, his expression a mix of embarrassment and pride. “I picked it up after the Frank Lloyd Wright case,” he admitted, almost shyly. “That night we spent going over his designs at the library, I don’t know why but something about it stuck. I guess I wanted to know more. So I’ve been reading this during my ‘waiting for you to show up’ time.”

You smirked, leaning in to examine the book. “SSA Aaron Hotchner, secretly an architecture buff. Who would’ve thought? Next thing I know, you’ll leave the Bureau and go to architecture school, you would still owe me 76 coffees though.”

He scoffed playfully, closing the book and setting it aside. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to go that far. But it’s been... nice. You know - learning something just because I want to, not because I have to.”

You gave him a teasing nudge. “Hey, don’t underestimate yourself, partner - maybe one day you’ll be the next Frank Lloyd Wright of the FBI. Designing prisons, interrogation rooms, you name it.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to profiling, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Just as you were about to tell him your kitchen needed some renovation – so he could start with something easy – an unexpected way-too-familiar voice interrupted from behind.

“Y/N!”

You turned around, and there was SSA Peter Rogers - one of your closest friends you ever had since you were fifteen - standing in the bullpen with his easy smile and that overly confident stance of his, just as you remembered him.

“Pete!” you exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you rushed to hug him, the familiar warmth on your body you missed so much made you hold on to him a little longer. “What are you doing back so soon? I thought you were still overseas.”

Peter shrugged with a modest grin. “Operation wrapped up early. Figured I’d come back and see what kind of trouble you’ve been causing around here.”. That smile of his had the ability not to change one bit since the first time you saw each other, causing you to travel six years back in time.

▪︎

It was the first day of your mother’s Italian Literature class at the university. You were just fifteen, juggling between high school and university courses, your hunger for knowledge insatiable as a shield from what was daily happening between the walls of your own house. You always sat in the front row, scribbling notes furiously, letting your brain disconnect from reality in order to lose yourself in the lyrical beauty of Leopardi’s poetry.

Peter had been sitting a few rows back, finishing his degree in linguistics. He’d noticed you immediately, you were quite easy to spot as you were visibly way too young to sit in that room – and if it wasn’t enough, you made sure to ask at least a question to the professor, at least once in the lesson, always being deeply engaged with the material. Hence why after that particular class, he approached you with curiosity.

“Hey, you’re not the typical student, are you?” Peter asked, leaning against the desk beside you. “You’re taking university classes while still in high school? That’s quite impressive.”

You looked up, a little taken aback by his easy confidence but not put off. “Yeah, I’m kind of…double-booked,” you replied with a shy smile. “I just really love literature. My mom’s a professor here, so she lets me sit in when I can.”

Peter nodded, intrigued. “I’m Peter, by the way. Linguistics major. So you must be some kind of prodigy, huh?”

You laughed. “No, not a prodigy. Just…curious. I love philosophy, languages, psychology, all of it.”

The two of you clicked instantly, and since that encounter both of you would always exchange notes, in order to make sure none of you ever lost a word said in the class. Peter became a sort of unofficial mentor, “Have you ever thought about profiling? It’s all about understanding people, their languages, their motives. With your skills, you’d be amazing at it.” He asked one day after class.

That was the very day you learnt what a profiler was.

▪︎

Peter greeted Hotch with the same familiarity. “Hotch! Good to see you again, man. I missed having my desk buddy around.”

Hotch stood up, shaking Peter’s hand with a polite but reserved smile. “Welcome back, Peter. I heard about the undercover operation. You handled it exceptionally well, no one expected for you to come back so soon.”

Peter shrugged, his usual modesty in place. “Thanks, Hotch. It was a tough one, but we got the job done.” He immediately turned his gaze towards you “Y/N, who knew you would have stolen my desk too”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, glancing at the two of you briefly. That “too” echoed in his mind, the sudden realization just hit that there was more history between you and Peter than he’d previously understood, founding himself feeling like an outsider.

Peter, ever observant, caught the flicker of something in Hotch’s expression. “So you know Y/N? She’s one hell of a smart cookie,” he said, looking between you and Hotch with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing off the compliment. “Oh, please Pete let’s not start with this just yet”

Peter laughed, leaning closer to Hotch as if about to reveal a secret. “Did she ever tell you she can sing? Like, really sing. She’s incredible. I’ve heard her at a few college events back in the day.”

Hotch looked at you, surprised, taking in this new piece of your past. “No, she never mentioned that.

You felt your cheeks heat up, flustered by Peter’s unexpected praise – especially because you were both standing in your workplace. “That’s because it’s not important,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory. “Besides, Peter’s just exaggerating. I’ve only been in the field twice with Hotch anyway, so there’s not that much to tell, most of my work has been here at the office.”

▪︎

A year ago, you attended a conference at the FBI Academy, and Peter was there as a speaker, discussing linguistic analysis in criminal profiling. It was the first time you’d seen each other in years, and the connection was immediate, even stronger than your days together at the university.

‘’Y/N is that really you?! You’ve grown so much you’re making me feel kind of old” Little did you knew that you would spend the entire evening catching up, sharing stories of your separate journeys still having in common your mutual love for the complexities of language and behavior.

“You’re exactly where you’re meant to be,” Peter told you as the two of you sat at a table, away from the noise of the main event. “I knew it from the moment I met you. You’ve got the mind for this work.”

You’d been touched by his confidence in you, feeling like the teenage girl he’d mentored all over again. “Thanks, Pete. But you’ve always been the one pushing me forward, I don’t know if I’d have chosen this path without your nudging.”

Peter’s smile was genuine, warm. “You would’ve found your way, Y/N. You always do.”

▪︎

The more Hotch listened to the two of you catching up, the more he felt that gap, as if Peter was pulling you back into a shared history that he hadn’t been part of.

Peter grinned, nudging you playfully. “Always aiming for perfection, huh?

You tried to brush it off, cheeks warming under their combined scrutiny. “Oh, please. That was a long time ago.”

Peter shrugged, turning back to Hotch. “But she hasn’t changed. I can see it in your eyes, you know?! Same drive, same brilliance. So, how’s she been doing? What cases has she solved?”

Hotch took a moment, his expression unreadable as he considered Peter’s question. “She’s been doing great,” Hotch said finally, his voice measured. “We’ve worked on a few tough cases together, a few high-profile cases. She’s brilliant, as you know, we’ve had our hands full. But it’s good to have you back - we can always use the extra help”

Peter nodded, his enthusiasm palpable. “Looking forward to jumping back in”

Before anyone could say more, Rossi approached, cutting through the atmosphere with his usual flair. “Well, looks like we’ve got our team for the day. Gideon’s out, so Peter, you’re coming with us. We’ve got a complicated case ahead, and I’d rather have all hands-on deck, we might be in desperate be of two linguists on this one”

Peter’s eyes flicked to you, then to Hotch, his smile never wavering. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The team’s arrival at the police station was met with a wave of unease that hung heavy in the air. The case they were stepping into was far from simple. Multiple international tourists had been brutally murdered, each crime scene marked by cryptic messages in different languages. This was a killer who thrived on complexity, and with every new clue, the puzzle seemed to grow more intricate.

Rossi led the team inside with his usual calm authority, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced ease of someone who had seen too many crime scenes in his career. Peter and Hotch moved in tandem, flanking him on either side as they entered the station. The moment they stepped inside, the chaos enveloped them like a wave crashing on the shore.

The police station was a flurry of frantic movement and tension. Officers darted between desks, paperwork scattered in their wake, and phones rang incessantly, demanding attention that no one seemed able to fully give. The space, clearly not designed to handle the intensity of a high-profile investigation, felt claustrophobic and stifling, the walls closing in under the pressure of a case spiraling beyond control.

The air was thick, not just with the stress that permeated the station but with the unmistakable grit of dust being churned by the old, neglected air conditioning unit overhead, blowing more dirt than relief, only adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Everyone was on edge, their nerves stretched thin by the weight of a situation they were ill-equipped to handle. Rossi could almost taste the desperation in the room, a palpable sense of urgency that clung to every officer as they hustled to keep up with demands they were never trained to meet.

Rossi exchanged a knowing look with Hotch, both of them wordlessly acknowledging the uphill battle they were about to face - not just against the unsub but against the limitations of a team clearly overwhelmed.

The lead detective, a grizzled man with a permanent scowl, approached Rossi, barely acknowledging the rest of the team. “Agent Rossi, we appreciate the Bureau’s help, but I hope you realize this is a time-sensitive situation. We’ve got international press breathing down our necks, and the mayor’s about ready to pull his hair out.”

Rossi nodded calmly, his authoritative presence immediately establishing control. “We’re here to provide a profile and assist in any way we can. What can you tell us about the latest victim?”

The detective began briefing but his eyes kept darting towards you, flickering with something between doubt and annoyance. Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m sorry, but are you sure you brought the right team? She looks like she should be at a college lecture, not a crime scene.”

The comment hit like a slap, and you felt the familiar burn of frustration flare up. You’d been here before, countless times, actually. You were used to your youthful appearance and academic background drawing skepticism, but that still didn’t make it any easier to swallow, especially in that particular case. Before you could respond, Peter jumped in, his voice carrying a mix of defense and pride.

“Detective, she’s not just some college student. Y/N’s one of the best linguists you’ll ever meet, and she’s cracked more complex cases than most agents twice her age. I’d trust her instincts over anyone else’s, any day.”

There was a quiet confidence in Peter’s words that seemed to force the detective to take a second look, though his skepticism remained stubbornly in place. Hotch, noticing the tension, stepped forward, his expression firm. “Agent Y/L/N’s skills are exactly what we need for this case. If anyone can figure out what the unsub is communicating, it’s her.”

The detective hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, but we don’t have time for trial and error. Every minute we waste is another chance for him to strike again.”

“We’re all already aware of this, Detective. I’m sure you know that making my work any more difficult than it already is isn’t going to benefit any of us.” You finally had the courage to bite back.

As you settled into the briefing room, you felt Peter’s hand gently squeeze your shoulder, a silent but reassuring gesture as he said, “Don’t let it get to you.” You glanced at him, grateful for his unwavering support, and gave a small, determined smile in return. You were here to do a job, and you weren’t going to let some old-school cop’s doubts throw you off your game.

Once inside, the team gathered around the evidence board, covered in photos, maps, and printed copies of the unsub’s cryptic messages. Hotch and Rossi started dissecting the behavioral aspects, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the linguistic patterns.

Peter set up next to you, and the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, just like old times. “This one’s in German,” Peter pointed out, highlighting one of the messages. “It’s a proverb that loosely translates to ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ but it’s the context that’s strange. He’s placing blame close to home.”

You nodded, your mind already racing through the implications. “And this one in French, ‘Nul n’est prophète en son pays’ - ‘No one is a prophet in their own land.’ He’s building a narrative where he’s the misunderstood hero, vilifying his victims in the process.”

Hotch watched from the corner of his eye, noting the seamless back-and-forth between you and Peter. It was clear that you two shared a deep understanding of each other’s thought processes, effortlessly piecing together the unsub’s motives and the cultural implications behind each message.

Rossi leaned over to Hotch, his voice low. “They’ve got something, don’t they?”

Hotch nodded, keeping his expression neutral even as a flicker of something uncomfortably familiar passed through him. “Yeah. They do.”

As you and Peter continued to dissect the messages, the detective returned with another dose of skepticism. “So, what’s the point of all this? We know he’s targeting tourists, but what’s the endgame?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his judgment holding yourself to punch him in the face, but Peter jumped in, his confidence never wavering. “The messages aren’t just random: they’re statements about identity, belonging, and betrayal. He’s targeting people who represent something he feels threatened by, probably linked to his own experiences.”

The detective was confused by the complexity of the message Peter was trying to communicate but at least he seemed less doubtful. Hotch and Rossi exchanged another look, Peter’s ability to not only support but elevate you was undeniable, and it left a lingering question in Hotch’s mind that he couldn’t quite shake, an unresolved history between you and Peter that was palpable to everyone in the room, even if no one dared to say it aloud. As the team continued to piece together the unsub’s twisted narrative, it became increasingly clear that the linguistic clues were the key to unlocking his motive.

“Here’s the first message,” Peter said, pointing at a wall covered in scrawled Italian text. “‘Chi semina vento, raccoglie tempesta.’ He’s quoting an old Italian proverb. It translates to ‘He who sows the wind shall reap the storm.’ Classic justification tactic. He’s blaming his victims for their own deaths.”

You nodded, running your fingers along the paper. “He’s using cultural proverbs to deflect responsibility. It’s not just about justifying his actions; he’s making a statement that he’s in the right, that the victims somehow deserved this.”

Peter smirked, recalling your sharpness from years ago. “You know, you’ve always had this annoying habit of being right. Remember that time back in your mom’s class? You corrected Professor Ricci about Dante’s theological influences.”

You laughed, half-embarrassed. “Oh, God, don’t remind me. I just couldn’t let it go.”

Peter turned to the others, Rossi didn't throw away his shot. "Remind us, Peter. I'm not going to let an opportunity like this slip from my fingers"

Peter jokingly cleared his throat. “Y/N stopped the guest professor right in the middle of the lecture and said,”

He made sure to pitch his tone up in order to mimic yours “While Dante’s work is often linked to the influence of Saint Augustine, we also need to remember that his beliefs were also shaped by the dominant philosophy of his time: Platonism, especially the Neoplatonists and Plotinus.’ The whole room was stunned, and Professor Ricci just stood there.”

Hotch couldn’t help but smile, picturing a younger version of you challenging a university professor with such confidence. Yet there was something more bubbling up in his blood, this was another glimpse into a part of your life he hadn’t seen, hadn’t known. It made him feel strangely out of the loop, like an outsider looking in.

Peter continued, still caught up in the memory. “You finished him when you also provided proof to support your thesis”

“Of course, how else was I supposed to-“

He immediately cut you off. “Early Christian thinkers adapted Greek philosophical ideas, particularly Plato’s concept of eternal forms from which the material world originated. This was quite convenient for the Christian theologians of that time, indeed this philosophical influence is evident in the biblical phrase - and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.' You had everyone in the room, including the professor, rethinking what they knew about Dante.”

You shrugged modestly, glancing at Hotch, who seemed both amused and thoughtful. “I wasn’t trying to show off. It just… bothered me that no one pointed it out – and because of that my mom forbid me to attend her class for two weeks straight. Pete, I’m still thankful for your notes.”

Hotch chuckled softly, meeting your eyes. “Some things never change.”

The team continued working for hours straight, but the frustration began to mount. Despite your and Peter’s best efforts, the linguistic puzzles refused to crack completely. The police officers were growing visibly impatient, and you could feel their skeptical glances as they hovered around the room.

One officer, who had been particularly dismissive, sneered as he walked by. “So, this is the genius team the FBI sent us? Still no answers?”

The comment hit harder than it should have, and for a moment, you felt the sting of self-doubt. Peter, noticing your silence, shot the officer a glare. “We’re not here to waste time, Detective. We’re here to solve this.”

Peter leaned closer to you, his hands grabbing your shoulders, speaking softly so only you could hear. “Don’t listen to them. We’ll get it, like we always do.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the creeping sense of inadequacy. Hotch watched the exchange, noting the way Peter seemed to know exactly how to lift you up when you needed it most. He wanted to say something reassuring himself, but the moment passed, leaving him feeling strangely sidelined.

The hours dragged on, and eventually, the team left the station to get some rest. At the hotel, Rossi and Hotch were assigned to share a room, while you and Peter were given the one next door. As you walked down the hallway, Rossi turned to Hotch with a pointed look.

“You know, Aaron,” Rossi said with a grin, “if I catch you working tonight, we’re gonna have words. You need sleep just as much as the rest of us. I’m serious when I say I’m a light sleeper, so I swear, if you keep me up with that damned desk light, you’re a dead man.”

Hotch gave a tight-lipped smile, appreciating Rossi’s concern – even if he expressed it in his own unique way - although he knew he’d never be able to turn his mind off. “Don’t worry, Dave. I’ll try my best.”

On the other hand, in your room, you and Peter settled in, and immediately surrounded yourselves by case files and coffee cups. You tried to solely focus on the work, but as the night wore on, the conversation drifted, after all it had been over six months since you’d seen each other, and there was a lot to catch up on. Peter leaned back, studying you with an easy smile.

“You’ve changed, Y/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “You’re still that perfectionist who can’t let a puzzle go unsolved, but… there’s something different.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “I don’t know about that. I’m just… trying to keep up, I guess.”

Peter reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture that was both familiar and affectionate. “You’ve always been better than just keeping up. Don’t forget that.”

You found yourself caught between the comfort of Peter’s presence and the tug of unresolved emotions that you hadn’t quite figured out.

“Let’s go to sleep, shall we? I think we’ve done enough work for today” He winked at you as he placed his hand on the small of your back guiding you towards the bed.

“Oh don’t worry, you should sleep though. I think I might go down the lobby to clear my head for a bit.” You lied to him, but you couldn’t ignore your gut feeling telling you that there was something else you hadn’t considered yet.

Similarly, just across the corridor, the case weighed heavily on Hotch’s mind, and despite Rossi’s threat, he knew he wouldn’t rest until he’d figured out what was missing. Hours passed with Hotch lying in the dark, the puzzle pieces of the case refusing to align, finally, at nearly two in the morning, he couldn’t take it any longer. Careful not to wake Rossi, he grabbed his files and slipped quietly out of the room, making his way to the lobby to continue working.

To his surprise, he found you there too, hunched over a table with notes sprawled out, lost in concentration. You looked up when you heard him approach, unable to hide your surprise.

“Partner,” you said with a grin, noting his rare appearance in his white t-shirt, checkered blue pants pajamas, with the slippers provided by the hotel at his feet. “I’ve got to admit, this is new. Did Rossi finally threaten you into losing the suit?”

Hotch smirked, taking the seat across from you. “He did, actually. But desperate times, right? I didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

You chuckled, enjoying the casualness of the moment despite the late hour. Hotch spread out his files, his brow furrowing as he glanced over them. “I think there’s something we’ve been missing, there’s a pattern in the language choices. It’s not random. He’s escalating with each message.”

You leaned closer, your fingers tracing the messages. “You’re right. It’s chronological. He’s building something: a timeline, like each phrase is a step toward his endgame. It’s not just blame; it’s justification.”

Hotch nodded, grateful for the way your mind seemed to work so fluidly alongside his, especially in the late hours of the night. But as you continued to dissect the sequence, Hotch’s thoughts drifted back to earlier, watching you and Peter work so seamlessly together. The old familiarity, the easy way you bounced ideas off each other, it had been hard to ignore. And now, in the quiet of the night every sensation was amplified, especially the ones he’s been trying to brush off for the entire day, they stung a little more than he wanted to admit.

The ease of the moment was shattered when Hotch suddenly broke the flow of your thoughts with a wry comment. “You know, I’m surprised you’re even here working. I figured you’d be busy... catching up with Peter. He’s been flirting with you nonstop since he came back.”

You froze, your jaw tightening as his words sank in. The casual, almost careless tone hit a nerve, and you could feel a flicker of anger flare up inside you. “What’s that supposed to mean, Hotch?”

Hotch leaned back, crossing his arms, trying to mask the hint of frustration that was seeping through. “Nothing. Just an observation. It’s not like you haven’t been a little distracted since he got back.”

You stared at him, incredulous. The casual arrogance in his words struck a nerve, and before you could stop yourself, the frustration that had been building all day came spilling out. “You really think you know everything about me, don’t you? Just because we work together, you think you’ve got me all figured out.”

Hotch’s expression tightened, caught off guard by the sudden burst of anger. “That’s not—”

“No, let me finish,” you said sharply, your voice steady but laced with a quiet intensity. “You don’t know me, Hotch. You have no idea what I’ve been through or what I’m dealing with. You’ve worked beside me for months, calling me partner, acting like you’ve got me all figured out, but you don’t. You don’t know the first thing about who I am or what’s going on beneath the surface.”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the sting of your words left him speechless. You were relentless, every word cutting through his composure. “You think just because we’ve been working together constantly, you’re entitled to know me? To judge me? But you know what, Hotch? You’re wrong. You don’t know a damn thing.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched, the carefully maintained façade he wore slipping for just a moment. “I’m not judging you,” he said, his voice low but strained. “I’m just trying to figure this out, okay?”

“Figure what out?” you shot back, your frustration boiling over. “The fact that you’ve been constantly analyzing everyone around you while keeping yourself locked away? You think that you’re the only one capable of reading people like an open book? You act like you’re open and honest, but you’re not. You insist on wanting to be called ‘Hotch’ on the job by everyone, and you think I wouldn’t catch onto that? You do that because ‘Aaron’ is too personal and ‘Hotchner’ is too formal. You straddle the line because you’re scared to be either. You’re terrified of being too close to anyone, yet you don’t want to seem too distant. It’s like you don’t even know who you are.”

Hotch stared at you, your words hitting deeper than you knew. You had seen right through him, through the carefully constructed barriers he put up to keep everyone at a manageable distance. He didn’t know how to respond because, for once, someone had called him out on the one thing he feared the most: his own inability to truly connect.

“I keep things professional because it’s easier,” Hotch admitted, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of vulnerability. “Because it’s safe.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Safe? You call this safe? You’re so busy keeping people out that you don’t even realize how much you’re missing. We’ve been partners at work, sure, but that’s all it’s ever been, right? Professional, compartmentalized, no mess, no feelings. That’s how you want it.”

Hotch’s gaze dropped, the weight of your accusations settling on him. “I thought that’s what was best,” he murmured, the admission almost painful. “I thought… I thought it was enough.”

You sighed, your anger waning but the hurt still fresh. “You don’t have to figure out anything, you said that yourself – I thought - It’s not enough for you Hotch, and not even for me.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, both of you staring at the scattered papers on the table, as if the answers you sought could be found in the scrawled handwriting and cryptic messages. But this wasn’t something that could be solved with profiling or deduction. It was messier, more personal, and neither of you were sure how to navigate it.

“I’m sorry,” Hotch said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For making you feel like you’re just another piece of the job.”

You nodded, the tension easing but not entirely gone. “I appreciate your apologies but if you really want to change things up all you have to do is to agree to be vulnerable with me, that’s all.”

You turned your attention back to the case, pushing through the lingering discomfort to focus on what you could control. You worked in silence, each of you lost in thought, both aware that this argument had pulled something to the surface that couldn’t be ignored.

By the time you finally cracked the pattern in the unsub’s messages, the sun was beginning to rise.

As Hotch made his way back to the room at nearly 4 a.m., he was trying to be as quiet as possible, mindful not to wake Rossi. But as he slipped inside, he was met with the sight of Rossi already awake, leaning against the edge of his bed, arms crossed, his expression a mixture of amusement and disapproval.

“Couldn’t resist, could you?” Rossi’s voice was low but carried a playful edge, tinged with the knowing tone of someone who had seen this behavior from Hotch too many times before.

Hotch tried to hide his fatigue, rubbing a hand over his face as he set the files down on the desk. “It was important. I found something we missed. Had to double-check.”

Rossi’s smirk didn’t waver. “You found something, huh? Or did you just need an excuse to get out of this room and clear your head?”

Hotch stiffened, but he knew there was no point in denying it. “We figured out the sequence, the messages weren’t just random. They were chronological, like a timeline leading to his next target. We were close, but we couldn’t afford to miss it.”

Rossi nodded, his expression softening just a little. He knew Hotch was right; they were on a tight timeline with no room for errors. Still, he couldn’t resist teasing his friend. “You could have figured that out in the morning, Aaron. You can’t solve every problem by burning the candle at both ends.”

Hotch sat down on his bed, glancing at the clock, Rossi’s words lingered, cutting through the tension Hotch had been carrying all day. “I know. But you said it yourself—we can’t miss anything.

Rossi studied Hotch for a moment, his voice dropping to a softer, more serious tone. “You’ve been different since Peter came back,” Rossi said, watching Hotch’s reaction closely. “It’s like you’re working twice as hard, pushing yourself even more than usual. What’s going on?”

Hotch’s expression tightened, his usual stoic demeanor wavering under Rossi’s probing gaze. He knew exactly Rossi could read from his face what had just happened between the two of you. “I just… wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything,” he repeated, his tone defensive.

Rossi wasn’t buying it. He moved closer, sitting on the edge of his own bed, facing Hotch directly. “You’re not fooling me, Aaron. I’ve seen this before. You’re not just worried about the case. This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hotch looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with the files on his lap. But Rossi’s words hit too close to home, and he couldn’t ignore the knot of emotions that had been building inside him since Peter’s return. “It’s not what you think,” Hotch said quietly, though even to him, it sounded unconvincing.

Rossi leaned back, giving Hotch a knowing look. “Look, it’s natural. You and Y/N have been working closely, you’ve got this rhythm. Peter comes back, and suddenly you’re reminded that you’re not the only one who clicks with her. But it’s not a competition, Aaron. You’re more to this team, and I’m sure you are to her as well, than a stand-in.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened. He had spent the last few months building a partnership with you, appreciating your insights and the way you challenged him. But Peter’s return had stirred up insecurities he hadn’t even realized he had.

“It’s not that,” Hotch said finally, though the weight in his voice suggested otherwise. “I just want to make sure we get this right. Peter’s good at what he does. It’s just… different.”

Rossi gave him a pointed look. “Different isn’t bad, Hotch. And you’re still you. You don’t have to prove anything: to her, to Peter, or to anyone else.”

Hotch nodded, though Rossi’s words did little to ease the knot in his chest. “Thanks, Dave. I know.”

Rossi watched him for another moment before standing up, his tone lightening as he made his way back to his bed. “Just remember, she was never looking for a replacement for him while he was gone. She’s looking for a partner. And you’ve already proven you can be that.”

Hotch lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind, he knew he needed to get some sleep, but his thoughts were restless. It wasn’t just about the case anymore, it was about finding his place, about understanding what you truly meant to him beyond the walls of the BAU. As he finally drifted off, he promised himself that whatever happened next, he wouldn’t let his insecurities cloud his judgment. He’d be the partner you needed, and maybe, just maybe, he’d find a way to fit into your life outside of work, too. If you ever let him after today.

[mixelation]

*devil on your shoulder voice* what if you went into a really detailed rant about why you hate the earth is space australia posts

>:(

common themes i don't like:

"oooh humans scawwy because PREDATORS" - shut the fuck up. you're being childish. are you aware that YOU are also prey in the right circumstances? predator-prey dynamics are diverse and often shifting (look up "intraguild predation"). you are literally making interspecific interactions less interesting by doing this

"pack bonding" - this isn't a thing. this isn't a term i can find used outside of this specific genre of post and a couple of dog training books. it has no biological or sociological basis. i asked a psychologist about it and they said y'all are wrong

why are we making posts hyping up humans, only to write those posts as terrified of interacting with the incredible diversity of human behaviors and attitudes and cultures. like in these posts humans are all universally "bonding" with strange creatures and acting like physical tanks in pressing situations. if the point was a love letter to humanity you'd think you'd get actual characters representing different facets of humanity instead of a single caricature

speaking of which, why are we romanticizing human traits which are not universal. yes, some humans can [physical feat] but many cannot. why do so many posts seem to be gloating over a "feat" i'm like 93% sure the OP cannot do

i hatehatehate the format of them as an alien having a conversation with a human, where the human calmly explains something about earth (almost always poorly/inaccurately) while the alien freaks out. i hate how 50% of the sentences either begin or end with the phrase "but yeah" because the writer doesn't know how to conclude a thought when they're waxing poetic about a topic they have a very shallow knowledge on

posts often don't seem to realize they're implying absurd things about how aliens work. like i just read one about how earth is ultra diverse, implying aliens have very low biodiversity, and earth is shocking for the aliens. however, if true, without the ongoing coevolutionary arms race provided by a diverse environment, how did the aliens evolve to the point where they have space travel? i want to know about how THAT planet works, not read someone on tumblr recite a bunch of lukewarm biology facts they only kind of half know

also why are there so many scenarios where the aliens meet their downfall because they just.... didn't do any observations/research before doing something? and it's never a clever thing like "they observed for years but missed X for Y reason." it's always just like "....and then they were dumb and we were so clever and smartbrained!!!"

idk why tumblr is obsessed with taxonomy but they get especially bad at it when aliens come up. guys. the aliens would use different systems because they have a separate evolutionary history. or if they used the same system--- why?! how did THAT happen???? see my point about implying absurd things about aliens

"isn't science terrifying" - NO IT'S NOT, THAT'S JUST HOW THINGS ARE???? i hate this attitude and i find it boring. also no offense but i don't get the appeal of writing aliens shaking in their boots at the idea of [earth thing] instead of being excited to find a cool knew thing. like why go into space if you're not enthused by finding out new things and getting to learn about how the universe works. why is the interest in otherworldly biology never mutual. why is it so important to you that aliens be afraid of us and humans be the most specialest darlings in the universe

back to the "conversation" format. i know most people are not scientists so there's no reason to know this, but. most biologists know a lot about one thing and not a lot about everything else. your intro bio professor seems like they know a lot because they know intro bio and you do not. if you started asking in depth questions about, idk, the wrong type of fungus or something, they'd tap out. so it drives me batty when "scientist" characters are written like they're genuinely trying to explain something where most biologists would be like "uh, well, that's not my area of expertise--" like yes I understand part of the appeal of those posts is that some people just like listing things that they know. however one thing that i know is how biologists tend to talk and you're hurting me

[yanderes-galore]

Hey! requesting some HCs for Ranni (Elden Ring). Thank you!

I watched her cutscenes, I watched her lore, and I'm still not entirely sure what's going on but that's normal for this kind of game. Pardon me if there's something wrong in this concept... I am trying. ALSO, the term "Elden Lord" is used, but it's gender neutral just like in the game.

Sorry if it isn't intense... I will appreciate feedback from the Elden Ring fans.

Yandere! Ranni the Witch Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Violence, Isolation, Stalking, Dubious relationship.

I imagine Ranni's darling is the one who helps her achieve her Age of Stars.

You are her Tarnished who came to her at her call.

She needs someone to help her achieve her fate and destiny.

For most of her obsession, you may actually be a willing participant.

Right up until the end when you begin to realize something may be off.

Like most of Elden Ring's yanderes I feel, Ranni isn't all that intense.

She'd mostly watch her obsession through their journey to aid her.

She watches you closely, even if you may not know it.

She sees how you interact with her cohorts and how you fight in battle.

You are a promising Tarnished in her eyes... She can tell through the way you speak and fight.

Sooner or later, she'll deem you the perfect Elden Lord for her new age.

To Ranni, meeting her obsession was yet another destiny she was meant to meet.

To her, you two were always meant to be.

Her chosen Elden Lord.

Her obsession would span throughout her side quest to get the Age of Stars ending.

Since in that ending... Ranni and The Tarnished (you) marry as God and Elden Lord.

That would be the general story idea... Ranni obsessing over her most devoted helper.

At the beginning, she tries not to show much of her favoritism.

Although, by the time you defeat Radahn and unfreeze the stars, she shows her fondness more.

In terms of her overall behavior, I imagine she's mostly the observing type, watching you from a distance and praising your efforts when you meet her.

Ranni prefers to meet you as her larger life-sized doll form.

However, when you pick up her smaller form, she doesn't mind the idea of being held by you while you share a conversation.

Her obsession is unintentional.

She originally doesn't think you'll survive her requests.

Yet when you prove yourself by meeting her again... she thinks you'll prove to be useful to her for her plans.

Then from there... the moon witch begins to grow fond of you.

She's a subtle manipulation yandere, instructing her beloved to follow her every word like a divine command.

She watches over them through her dolls, often wondering when their next meeting will be.

Her obsession starts as curiosity.

As if she's wondering if you'll really be someone she can trust.

However, once you retrieve the lost treasure of Nokron...

She knows you're hers.

Before you even find the Dark Moon ring, Ranni has claimed you as her Tarnished.

You are not loyal to any other covenant, just hers.

Which must mean she has your heart, body, and soul as hers.

In a way, like other yandere covenant/religion leaders or deities, your loyalty makes her feel she has a claim over you.

To differ from canon a bit, maybe Ranni instructs you to find the Dark Moon ring.

She doesn't tell you for what, a subtle trick.

She just gives you small lies, deceiving you by saying it was a gift from her mother that she wants back.

Then she instructs you through her smaller doll to find her location.

Unlike in the game, where she's surprised you are choosing to be her Elden Lord...

She would deceive you into being hers once you slip the ring on one of her fingers.

This is a yandere story, after all, a dark romance.

Her deceiving her Tarnished, her obsession, into being hers in her new age would be something she'd do.

You aren't quite sure what you've done until Ranni appears, claiming you to be her Elden Lord.

There's a ghost of a smile on her face while she watches your shocked expression.

As if challenging you to rebel against her now that such a ritual has been done.

She doesn't think you'll refuse if you've gone this far to listen to her.

As her new consort, you are given the task of removing her old cohorts and defeating her Shadow, Blaidd.

Then after that, she oversees you defeating Queen Marika... Radagon... her traitorous parent of a dreaded Golden Order.

By the end of it, Ranni appears to greet you and the shattered corpse of Marika.

You can't help but feel a chill run down your spine.

Ranni merely greets you with a smile yet again, thanking you for helping her achieve her Age of Stars.

Unfortunately... You cannot part from her now.

Every God requires their Elden Lord.

Their consort.

It doesn't matter if you try to back out now or agree.

Your fate and destiny are sealed.

She may have tricked you, yes...

But she assures you she does it out of love, she only feels love for her beloved consort.

She takes your hand... and you just feel cold.

She grins teasingly, leaning closer as she congratulates you...

A cold kiss cooling your warm lips.

You two are meant to be together now... forever in her new age...

You'll be hers forever...

Just the two of you, overseeing the people in the Age of Stars... Together forever... Just as destiny told her.

You can't fight your destiny... no matter how hard you try... she'll always just tug you back with a kiss... She's as cold as the Dark Moon itself.

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/761515549638475776/i-think-the-grrm-situation-is-quite-telling-in-how

First of all: Fire and Blood is an in-universe historical text of extremely questionable veracity, given the (again, in-universe) biased sources recording the events. Beyond that, House of the Dragon was never meant to be like, 'what really happened'--it's an adaptation somewhat based on the material from the in-universe historical text, taking quite a few liberties in the process, because that's how adaptations work especially when the medium is so far removed from the source.

Secondly, GRRM didn't lash out at the executives who made decisions like, oh, cutting two entire episodes from the season's episode order--no, he was laying the blame almost entirely at the feet of other writers, despite having been so heavily involved in the adaptation at just about every level. (This is far more than most authors get in terms of having a say in the adaptation of their work.)

Third, no one put a gun to his head and forced him to sign over the rights to his work to HBO. The fact that he is in talks about so many adaptations of his material with the same damn company says that this is largely a situation of his own creation. No one made him do any of that! I'm sure the money is very nice, but it's a little disingenuous to pocket all that money and then cry about the adaptation not going perfectly according to his vision. And in fact I'd argue that the show is weaker for trying to adhere to specific beats from the source text rather than letting it grow organically from the seeds that had been planted even if those take it in wildly different directions. There's no need for Bitterbridge if you give Helaena something more to do than just be one more mom sad about another kid dying--and sure it is kind of disappointing that the show is not doing much with the opportunity it has to improve on the source material. But the problem there is not in the adaptational changes to the narrative, it's in the way they are failing to tell a cohesive story in the first place.

But I just have a very hard time feeling any sympathy for someone who watched the way the first adaptation of his work ended up widely panned with a notoriously terrible final season, and promptly signed up for like six more shots with the very same company. If he didn't learn his lesson the first time around, am I supposed to care that he feels his work is being disrespected? You invited the devil back into your house, my guy!

--

[en-busca-de-mi-ikigai-blog]

Listen, we know Byleth was a seasoned mercenary before arriving to Garreg Mach and got nepotized as a teacher, right?

We know they were good, great even, their father, THE Jeralt, having taught them from a young age. However, something changes when they are saved by Sothis and get Divine Pulse.

And no, I don't mean it as just "well, they now have superpowers", yes, they have, but, forgive me for being all Spiderman, "with great power comes great responsibility", and suddenly they start to test the limits of their powers and being more aware.

What I mean is, if someone got hurt or died before, ofc it would hurt, but I mean, that's the life of a merc, am I right? And they'll have to move on. With muttered emotions, they will move on. But now, they feel their emotions more; and what's more, now, they can prevent it. And it's not just their father's merc company (since they stay with Byleth during the war, I suppose they are good friends), no, they now have A BUNCH OF noobs, I mean, students, to take care of.

Imagine the newly acquired responsibility, no, you can't shrug them getting hurt as perks of the job, even if you did your best to save them, no, now you have to actually go back in time and figure a way to save them AND win the battle, improvising and calculating more options than you ever had before, on the fly. Someone used to just make strategic decisions in the heat of battle to minimize damage they now have to physically repeat the situation and go over the different options they couldn't before to not only minimize damages but to possibly nullify them. Because they can and because they care, more than they ever thought they would.

And no, I don't mean it just in the sense they have emotions now and feel more than they ever felt before, oh, no, I'm thinking of the AFTERMATH.

I can picture them being absolutely exhausted, tired beyond comprehension, physically and mentally, after some of the wars worst battles, their mercenary friends had never seen their leader this worn out, and sure, the war is costly, and ruthless, and unforgiving, and Byleth is not only a leader of a mercenaries band, they are now also a general in an army, and have taken upon themselves to protect every-last-one-of-them, have sworn it to themselves, upon the grave of their father, to never be in a situation where "what was to happen was fate" as Sothis put it.

And oh, they're sweaty, and bloody, and their clothes ragged, and muddy, and their breath is coming all jaded but they have a fierce look of sheer determination after every dire situation where they manage to save an ally that nobody else had seen before, even in the ashen demon's face. This is a new kind of demon, Byleth, the mercenary, the teacher, the vessel of the Goddess, more than a force to be reckoned with, a pure force of nature that will stop at nothing to fulfill their destiny.

But it has a cost, and their body will hurt, and they wouldn't be able to sleep a lot, planning strategies or dwelling on the mistakes that have cost them plain soldiers lives, because not even they could protect literally everyone on the battlefield. They had to prioritize their students, because they're too important, too crucial, not only as generals, but as what feels like lifelong friends. And they owe them, because hadn't they fell at the assault of Garreg Mach they could have helped them. Because if their students survived this long without them, they sure as hell won't let them die an awful death while they're in charge. And their muscles are sore, and they have an exhausted look, and their body shows scars, but their eyes keep showing that determined gaze before and after each battle, as if their heart was engulfed in flames. And it is, the crest of flames beating in their chest, helping them live, fight and reaching the future.

Because if they can't prevent fate, they will ensure it happens according to their own terms. Even if it costs all their energy, how many tries it takes.

[ryanyflags]

Bambi flags :D !

bambi lesbian | bambi vincian / gay man bambi cenelian | bambi straight bambi/squirrel bi | bambi ply bambi omni | bambi/fox pan bambi m-spec | bambi abro

I originally just wanted to edit the bambi lesbian flag to include orange, like in the sunset lesbian flag, and ended up making others too. As such, all of these flags are based off of / inspired by the original bambi lesbian flag.

The colors meanings are pretty simple. The brown stripes and white stripe are for deer (or other animals like squirrels and foxes). The white stripe also represents trans and nonbinary people. And the last 3 stripes are taken from the respective orientation flags, and represent those. (Though I've simplified the amount of stripes/colors for some, that's not to take away from any meanings.)

I think these turned out pretty nice. I might make some more versions.

bambisexual flag here.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Hot Take

museums should label 19th-century women’s clothing primarily by formality (except in the case of garments with specific purposes, eg. “cycling costume” or “nightgown”), not by the 10,000 different terms they might be called at the time

my reasoning is that the current hodgepodge of terms, while technically accurate to the period:

1. reinforces the myth that middle- or upper-class women used to always change their dresses many times a day No Matter What, rather than what seems to me the primary-source-supported reality- that they changed situationally, as necessary

2. promotes unnecessary disconnect between the past and the present. we have varying degrees of clothing formality today, just without specific terms for each one. they had garments that could serve for multiple purposes and be dressed up or down with accessories back then. but because we don’t talk about an “afternoon dress” vs. a “ball gown” and they didn’t talk about the dress code for a party being “nice casual” vs. “dressy.” there’s this false idea that our systems of clothing changes/formality are Totally Different. which is really not the case, I think

3. even they couldn’t agree on what to call each individual outfit! I’ve seen fashion plates in magazines where the textual description and the label on the image give the same dress different names

this post brought to you by: Marzi Has Seen Too Many Gowns Labeled “Evening Gown” On Museum Websites Apparently For Their Formality When In Truth They Do Not Have The Single Factor That Usually Made A Dress Strictly For Evening At The Time (namely, revealing more skin about the chest and arms) And Therefore Would Have Stood Just As Well For Formal Daytime Events

[zeroducks-2]

Begging people on my knees to stop using "golden child" and "codependency" without having the bare minimum idea what they mean.

[sysig]

I hope you blink before I do (Patreon)

[damnation-if]

what are the norms for sex and relationships in the regular (not-hell) world that mc comes from? obviously there's lewis and clement's whole arrangement and the beechcroft's daughter had much the same with other servants, but how common is that more casual attitude about sex? we have the opportunity to decide our own mc's attitudes about sex and sexual relationships, but i wonder what society's attitudes at large are around that topic (mainly so i can know how my mc's own attitudes fit into social acceptability)

oh, this is an interesting question... one i'm not sure that i'm entirely qualified to give a full answer to haha. one of the tricky things is that for a society (fictional or not) to function, there can never just be One culture. so there will almost always be a variety of attitudes out there.

a good example of this is, like. Victorian England. people like to rag on the victorians for being repressed all the time, but part of the reason victorian england managed to keep itself limping along under such tight restraints for so long is because nearby there was the much less restrictive later romance period in continental europe, and the ever-different mediterranean cultures just to the south, and all of those cultures intermingled, so that people who didn't fit particularly well into one or the other could try to find a better space.

you could, potentially, if you wanted to i guess, write a story where literally everyone behaves like a victorian-era londoner, but that 1) wouldn't be reflective of how societies work in general and 2) isn't even reflective of the actual victorian era itself. so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i guess in general i could say that i don't like to write societies that are too strict or sex-negative (and i absolutely cannot Stand abstinence doctrine lmfao). there's definitely - especially when it comes to noble families like the Beechcrofts - a kind of expectation of keeping certain activities behind-closed-doors, rather than fully visible to the public, but that's more about a sense of honour and decorum associated with the family name than prevailing attitudes towards (or against) sex.

however, certain of the gods take a more unfavourable view on things (and many gods are quite unreasonable) so there's definitely a possibility for a wide variety of attitudes to be present... obviously the Beechcrofts are not a particularly religious family, so I guess you could say maybe that the manor house represents a microcosm of the more secular sides of society (of which there are many).

[gaydryad]

so for Writing Reasons I've been going back through all my old personal writing (including some very old social media posting) and the sheer force with which I wanted to dress up or roleplay "as a guy" from ages 12 to 15 is truly stunning. WHILE BEING AWARE OF TRANS AND NONBINARY PEOPLE. AS A OPTION. FULLY ZERO-BRAIN-CELL AWARENESS-ZERO ASS EGG

[yo9urt]

falls down

[coockie8]

i find it very interesting youve never shared the username of the og callout poster 🤔🤔🤔

There's actually a few reasons for that.

1: I literally do not even remember their username at this point, and I don't wanna go digging through my blocks to find it.

and 2: I am not a wilfully ignorant piece of shit, and I know that dropping someone's username in any capacity when airing a grievance is a sure-fire way to get them harassed, whether that's my intention or not.

Also they pretty rapidly proved they're not above cyberstalking, as they hunted down my twitter account (and possibly others), so on the off chance they are still stalking my accounts 3 years later (Gods I fucking hope not, like get a fucking life if you are, holy shit), I don't wanna give them any further fodder to try and paint me like some kind of monster.

They made some truly heinous, and vile false accusations about me, but that doesn't mean I think they deserve to be a victim of the mob they tried to sick on me.

[indi-glo-archive]

guys.

[vulpinesaint]

animated fox characters will trans a young child's gender in a Second