#anyways can we talk about how poorly designed this place is Why is there a big follow button next to the urls on posts

[superbellsubways]

i accidentally followed someone yesterday and forgot to unfollow so i was about to do that and 😭 i think they blocked me HELP

[gaykamenriderdreams]

Ok so like. Everyone and their grandmother who watches Gotchard knows that Kurogane Spanner thinks Chemies are "just tools". Like, he just straight up says it, here it is, badda bing

But like. And hear me out on this one. I think this is more complicated than just "oh the rival character is a bastard who thinks puppies don't have feelings and therefore it's okay to go around kicking them all day"

Because I think Spanner thinks of himself as "just a tool" too.

(I am physically incapable of writing a post that doesn't get long so the rest of this is going under the cut. Spoilers up to episode 14)

I mean, just from a design standpoint, the guy has a wrench for a face half the time. There's definitely something to be said for Valvarad's mask being representative of how Spanner presents himself, or even thinks about himself (especially since Spanner created the Valvarad suit single-handedly, apparently????)

Also just like. The guy's first name. Is freaking Spanner.

Like, one of these??? And that's just his name???

Like I mean a bit on the nose but alright. Also, if he picked that name himself (and with a name like that, it seems likely). What motivated that. I simply must know.

(Diversity win! Local Trans Man absolutely hated by Every Area Teen because he's just such a bastard at all times!)

Also, for all his talk about Chemies being tools, he really doesn't treat them poorly. Like he DOES say that he really doesn't care about collecting them, he's just doing his job (performing his function, you could say)--

But like, this is also the same guy that has three Vehicle Chemies that are just his that he does not like being apart from even for less than two minutes

Like we all done been knew that Sabimaru has a special interest in Occult-type Chemies, you can just SAY you're only interested in Vehicle Chemies.

Or he could just, y'know. Have three Chemies that he really cares about and be content with that. Like those pokemon NPCs with six Magikarp and no interest in getting anything else.

And it's extra odd because we've been told that higher number Chemies are just plain stronger than the others (at least when used by regular alchemists for combat), but none of Spanner's Chemies are level 9. And he doesn't need to use number combos like Ichinose does- so why doesn't he just have three 9s and call it a day? Even IF Valvarad only works with Vehicle Chemies, why doesn't he have Golddash and Steamliner (7 and 9) instead of Gekiocopter and Madwheel (4 and 6)? We just don't know. But it could be because he cares about His Three Chemies Specifically, as much as he verbally denies it.

And another thing. Even when things go wrong, he doesn't take it out on his Chemies!

When Gekiocopter hits their altitude limit and can't take Valvarad any higher, he doesn't express any frustration towards his Chemy. I feel like if he really hated Chemies in general, he'd get mad at Gekiocopter and replace them with a higher-flying Chemy as soon as possible. But he doesn't.

Sure, Gekiocopter is "a tool"... but you don't get angry at a tool for asking it to perform past its specs. It's your fault in the first place for not respecting its limitations when you chose to use it. All the pressure and vitriol in the world won't suddenly make the impossible possible. (I wonder, is this empathy? An understanding of what it's like to be pressed to the breaking point? From one alchemist's tool to another? Surely not.)

And with episode 14 hinting that some things previously assumed to be part of his personality may be "just following orders..." And with how useless he's got to be feeling, losing over and over again despite having spent so much time and effort forging himself into a weapon for the alchemists to use as they see fit... aghhhhh I'm soooo curious where they're going with all this. THERE'S POTENTIAL.

Anyway. All this is not to get anyone to like the guy (though as you can tell, I'm a big fan). I just really wanted to express my thoughts about how there could be more than just "generic jerk" going on under the hood for this car crash of a human being.

TLDR: Kurogane Spanner is a massive tool (derogatory) (complimentary)

[syntia13treeman]

Case 16.01

CAT1RB1565-30102023-25032024

what I think happened in:

Case 16.01, the case of "The Inked 4eart" or "RIP your heart out, Madam E".

Today we have a little bit of social media drama. More specifically, a tragedy in 5 acts.  

Act 1, October 2023 (Halloween Eve)

FADE IN Enter stage left: Our protagonist – Madam Elecrum. She's a self-proclaimed ubergoth, and a lifestyle/beauty influencer, who'd apparently build her online persona by throwing fistfuls of trendy words and phrases at a bubbly / happy base to see what sticks.

Enter stage right: Our antagonist – Ink5oul (we've met before). They do magic tattoos and occasional grave robbing (it's for research). Their online persona is: 'I'm too cool for you. Loser.'

Madam E, long time Ink5oul fan, gets a tattoo (her 'heart's desire') done by her celebrity crush. For "free". (It's never free). Like we've seen before with Daria, she has no control over the design, and process is so painful she passes out.

Act 2, November 2023

The effects of Ink5oul's tattoo kick in fast, and they seem to be translating Madam E's popularity to a perpetual 'happy high'. Enamoured with her tattoo and tattooist, Madam E tries to start a relationship. It seems very one-sided, no matter how you look at it.

Act 3, December 2023

Ink5oul decides to find some fresh inspiration underground (again) and tries to manipulate Madam E (by questioning her self-image as 'goth') into doing the dirty work for them. Namely, digging up some graves. When manipulation fails to work, they resort to threats, which go right over Madam E's head (to be fair, if you don't know about their magic, 'I'll break your heart' is just a turn of phrase). Regardless, she does the smart thing and bails.

Ink5oul goes ahead with their grave-robbing plans anyway.

Then Madam E does the dumbest thing so far, and instead of going to the police or forever holding her peace, she blabs about the incident online.

Act 4, December 2023 cont.

Ink5oul retaliates with their own call-out video, among other things accusing Madam E of their own crime. And even though M.E. said the truth and I5 is lying, they have the power of larger fanbase and magic ink behind them. Things go poorly for Madam E. Being cyberbullied by enraged mob is bad enough, but the tattoo makes it so much worse, translating the 'hate' into physical pain (and injury?). M.E. still clings to her persona, but cracks are plainly visible (and full of fear). Ink5soul stans continue doing their worst, up to and including setting her place on fire.

Act 5, January 2024

Madam E is admitted to a hospital with some unspecified 'heart problems'. In her very last video her persona has gone out the window; she is scared and hurting and painfully honest as she begs for the pain to stop. As she begs for her life. I can only assume that the hate campaign is still going strong, since her condition keeps rapidly getting worse, until the cumulative effect rips her heart out in the most literal sense. I can only guess what was put down as cause of death on her death certificate.

FADE OUT

Here lies Madam Electrum. She was survived by her cats and her parents (now living together). So let's talk about the person who killed her.

Ink5oul, tattoo artist/influencer/streamer/grave robber. The Magic Ink Pal. Talking points:

They dig up old graves to study old tattoo's (are they a die-hard fan of Oscar Jarrett, or Sutherland Macdonald, or any old ink master in general?). I wonder if 'studying' takes form of 'looking at them for inspiration', or 'looking at them to learn new symbols and techniques used in them', or 'cut them out and frame them and hide them in my studio to get their power flowing through my space'. Or 'siphon their power through some other arcane means'.

They summon (potential) accomplices by sending them location in 3words code (which was a cool thing to learn about, ngl). I get it, why use rot13 when number 3 is so much more universally significant?

Their art is at least partially based in alchemy (that's how Daria found them – researching alchemy symbols; and there were some symbols incorporated into her paintbrush tattoo. They might have been in M.E.'s heart tattoo as well, we never got a description). I wonder if the symbols are the 'meat' of the tattoo, the things that carry the power, and the rest of design is just window dressing to keep the recipient happy, or are they equally important. They are significant for the people who get them for sure: Daria's paintbrush vs M.E.'s heart vs Ink5oul's floral snake (???).

Power of their art (as we've seen so far) was focused on appearances/image. Ink5oul is referred to as they/them even by a chronically off-line stranger in ep. 11, so there must be something going on with how they appear to others that conveys their non-binary-ness. (mind?) Daria hated her physical appearance, and was given power to change it. (body?) Madam E was living for her online image, and was bound to it so that it would affect her in ways beyond usual. (Feeling great when popular, getting ill and dying when hated and bullied). (soul?)

They occasionally offer tattoos for free or at a discount (both Daria & M.E.); ostensibly in exchange for views it gets them on live-streaming. I wonder if there's more behind that. Are they creating a magical debt, some kind of obligation they can later exploit?

The moment when they threatened Madam E. to 'break her heart', I at first thought they meant that being the creator of the tattoo, they had some kind of direct power over the person who received it. But with the way things went, I think it actually was that they knew how the tattoo worked, and they knew they had more than enough pull online to tank her reputation and send a tonne of hate her way, which in turn, through the heart tattoo, would hurt her and, very literally, break her heart.

I wonder if they actually know what they're doing (have full knowledge of how their craft works) or if they are experimenting. Maybe they once copied some symbols from an old book, just becaue it looked cool, noticed that things started happening, and are trying things out ever since. What will happen if I put this symbol next to this symbol? What if I arrange them this way? Wait, let me take a peek at how Oscar Jarrett did it. Oh, interesting. But what did it to? Must copy to a living person and see how it goes for them.

[wizardfrog69]

Hii is it alright to request Mori Ogai x fem reader when reader works for ADA and they had meeting with Port Mafia. Reader is dating Mori more than a year now and Mori wanted to tell everybody that he is dating reader bur reader was scared bc of reactions of Ada members so on the meeting Elise called reader Mom/Mommy and than she needed to explain everything, can you add that Ada had bad reaction and reader went with Port mafia so after some time they came to port mafia building (Fukizawa too) to apologize but reader stayed in port mafia but would go to spend some time with them in ada

Thanks for your request!

'•.¸♡ A secret told ♡¸.•'

Mori x fem!reader fluff Masterlist Enjoy!

You were just about to leave when your boyfriend stopped you by placing a hand around your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. 'See you at the meeting dear, oh that reminds me, I think we should tell the detecitve agency about our relationship already, don't you?' Mori asked. 'I know we should but... I don't think they will react well, how about giving it some more time, hm?' you replied. You had been dating mori for over a year now but you were always scared of telling the armed detective agency knowing they would react poorly to you dating the boss of their enimy oranisation.

Mori replied with a short sigh and bid you goodbye before you left.

The doors to the port mafia meeting hall had opened widly, welcoming each of the member to enter the room. A long table stood in front of you all and everyone sat down in an apropiate spot. The half at which Fukuzawa sat was the side at which the angency sat while the other half was reserved for the port mafia. All the seats had guests sitting at them exept two at the top, Mori and Elise were late, this irrated Kunikida (who sat at the closed seat to Fukuzawa on his right hand side) but he tried not to show it and be respectful to the late hosts.

The large doors opened once more to reveal Mori and Elise, they walk to their designated seats while appologising to their guests for being late making up an excuse in the midst of their apology. Mori pulled elise's seat for her to sit down but her little eyes scaned the room till they focused on you. 'Mommy!' she screamed while running up to you and giving you a big hug round your shoulders. The whole room turned to face you, everyone looking as puzzled as the next, with some exeptions. Fukuzawa asked in a calm but sturn voice 'y/n, why did eise call you her mother?' You could feel your face become warmer by the second as you started to explain that you were in a relationship with Mori and Elise liked calling you her "mommy".

It's safe to say the agency members were not happy, they all look with disapointment and anger in their eyes. The subject of the meeting was digused rather quickly. Before leaving you had a talk with Fukuzawa, you asked to resighn. 'I think that would be best.' He replied and left, leaving you behind without even a goodbye, they all had left without a word, it hurt but now you could be with your lover.

You spoke with Mori and he proposed a position in the port mafia which you accepted without a second thought, you would now work with the port mafia on one condition, that you would not have to kill/hurt/betray them in anyway, shape, or form.

A couple of weeks had gone by, you obtained the respect of the port mafia members, mainly due to the fact that you were courting their boss but they also respected you without the aid of mori's influence. During your time away the agency would frequently think about your absence and if you have or haven't betrayed them in anyway. Most of the members have come to the realisation that you truly did not betray them and thought about apologising for their behaviour. Other members hated the thought of apologising but with one of Kenji's waky stories from the village they decided it would be best to apologise.

Another meeting was set by the agency, this time with only you and Mori. You sat in the same meeting room that was presented previously. This time you sat at he top of the table, next to Mori and across from Elise. The members sat in a similar position as before. 'We came here to apologise. We are sorry.' Fukuzawa declaired while he and your formers coligues bowed. You accepted the apology greatfully, apologising to them for not telling them earlier about your relationship. You were offered a place back at the agency but you had to decline saying that you would rather work along side Mori. Fukuzawa was understanding and told you you always had a place at the armed detective agancy if you evver wanted to visit them.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

I've managed to fix the masterlists so far.

Also I'm very sorry if there are any mistakes.

Have a wonderful day/night

-love, Az

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: The Snowman

There's just no sugarcoating it, this month has been rough for your dear old friend Peebs. It's mostly my ongoing struggles with mental health and mental healthcare bureaucracy, as well as my specific neurodivergence apparently being atypical. This is all to say that I'm grumpy af, and as such I will see Sucktember 2024 off with writing about two movies that I think are bad. First up is the 2017 cinematic disaster The Snowman.

Now, the Snowman is infamous for being a poorly made film, in part because that by the look of it they didn't get around to filming all of it. Dan Olson has a very good breakdown of that side of it, and as such I won't try to come up with much new to say about that. Yes, entire plot points are obviously created from B-roll and sloppy voiceover, the dubbing of Val Kilmer is strange and unpleasant to the mind, hell, that entire subplot could be cut down to not feature Kilmer at all if they had actually full-assed it, the ending is a fucking enigma, etc etc. What I will be focusing on, however, are just how weird of an adaptation it is. Like even if they got around to filming all of it and assemble it more completely, there would be parts of this movie that is just puzzling, and I want to get into that soft sweet meat a little today.

Ok, I lied. There's one exception. There is one nonsensical editing decision with this movie that I need to talk about and nobody's talking about it. The movie opens with a flashback to the backstory of the murderer, which isn't outrageous as these things go, it's a thing, especially in Scandinavian Crime Fiction. What really gets to me is that after this flashback, we cut to our hero, Harry Hole (pronounced with a long o, get your minds out of the gutter) waking up hungover in a park. Our hero Has Problems, that's not unusual either. However, I would argue, what the movie has told us with this sequence of events is that the Murder Flashback was about Harry, and might even have been a dream/nightmare.

Like this is Film Studies 101 stuff, the Kuleshov effect. The juxtaposition of two cuts convey narrative. If this was how the book started it'd be fine, The Snowman is smack dab in the middle of the Harry Hole series, perhaps the readers, or the narration, is mindful that they're depicting two different characters here. The camera, the all-seeing idiot of the screen, can't imply this kind of thing, and so characters need to show their thoughts and feelings through action. That is not what is happening here. In fairness, though, if the movie had the coverage to actually convey that Mr. Hole has been On The Drink Again, and how this contrasts with his character, that would be fine.

Anyway, let's get back to the weirdness. The first one is probably the biggest one. Why is this movie set in Norway? Like genuinely, why take a British and US cast all the way across the pond to speak English in the streets of Oslo? Yeah, you need snow for the snowmen, so it's not like you can film this on a LA backlot (at least cheaply,) but there are places that have snow over in the US as well, and while the Norwegian State Subsidies of overseas film productions have been pretty juicy lately, surely Canada hasn't been bled dry yet?

Ok, I'm being a cynic about this, but frankly, it's not like the movie makes great use of the setting. There's basically no Norwegian cultural details that moors this thing a bit and makes it feel like there's a story. There's Swedish songs, chiefly Härligt, härligt men farligt, farligt by Björn Skiffs, as well as the Swedish version of the birthday song. Now, in fairness, there is overlap between Swedish and Norwegian culture especially in the eastern part of country. Shame then, I suppose, that this song is sung in Bergen, the very westernmost edge of the country. The concert Hole and his son that isn't his son (but it is his son) goes to is incomprehensible nonsense, I assume by design, but it would've been a great excuse to drag in some local act for some cred. Mais non, I suppose, it's all set dressing for Fassbender to mope around in.

One thing I've noticed that is weird in this is that the movie ends up, mostly by accident, implying that basically all the locations in the movie are like... close to each other. The biggest sinner is the train ride between Oslo and Bergen, which takes between six and a half and seven and a half hours. It's not quite a full day's undertaking, but if you somehow went there and back again in a day, you're probably pretty tired and not, like our friend Harry, slunking around crime scenes like it's the only thing you know how to do.

Another thing that gets to me is how unwilling the city seems to be to show any convincingly scuffy sides of Oslo. Oslo is a reasonably clean city, and the local police's dilligence in herding the transient and narcotic-employing population city from the view of the tourists should be noted if not commended. That said, when Harry falls into a drunken slumber in a location that looks like one of the semi-fancy places downtown, it doesn't exactly sell the believability of it. Round those parts, you would not be left to potentially die from exposure. You'd be roused, and if you weren't willing to get the fuck out of dodge and freeze to death on someone else's property you bet your ASS some very firm-looking security guards would be happy to escort you off the premises. There are places in Oslo that look sufficiently scuffy to really sell the "guy's collapsed, uncertain if he's sleeping, drunk or high as a kite" kind of idea, but it seems nobody gave enough of a shit to find any of them.

Then there is how incongrous the setting seems in time. Beats By Dre product placement places us in the contemporary, but there is one thing that bothers me with it. Through the movie our heroes struggle with this clunky Web 1.0-looking piece of telecom tech that you keep expecting to be important in some way, at least as a weapon of blunt force trauma, but no dice. The villain of the piece thwarts it at one point to allow the requisite fridging of the movie's supporting actress raise the stakes without advancing the plot any. No, this strange piece of over-specialized impractical tech just kind of exists, as some commentary on the Norwegian Technocracy with all the relevance stripped away.

Part of this, I suspect, is Garbage In, Garbage Out. Yeah, making this feel like a story actually set IN Oslo and portraying distances and the general feel of travel in Norway would help a lot, but there is many things it would not fix. It would not fix said fridging where our Cop Lady gets Taken Off The Case For Being Too Close, and then goes on to try to seduce some juicy leads out of a suspect in the case. It's a total dud, as he is just a creep, and the real killer finds her and kills her with the creepy guy none the wiser and no actual progress made. What, this 90s crime thriller written by a man has some janky perspective on the lady characters? You don't say.

While it is not the graves of its sins, the ending of this movie is weird as fuck too. After standing up to his dark mirror The Snowman Killer and coming up one finger short for his troubles, the last shot in the movie is Harry... taking on another case? Sure, I mean yeah, but why stop there? Harry isn't planning on quitting, if anything he's a workaholic. It's not like he has gone through a journey of maybe wanting to work less and concentrate on the family that isn't a family (but it is a family) he has. Sure, he has expressed a desire to, but his failure to even try has been as lukewarm of a "distant parent" narrative could possibly be. So what is the ending supposed to make us feel? Good because The One Good Cop That Can Get Shit Done is still out there The Dark Knight-ing for us? Sad because this Disco Elysium protagonist in the making is still on the self-destructive cop beat? Excited because the Guy Who Investigates Grizzly Crimes Is Still Investigating Grizzly Crimes? Beats me, and by the look of it, it also escaped the film makers.

It should come as no surprise that re-watching The Snowman didn't exactly endear me to it. It's a sloppy, incomplete film that probably wouldn't be any good even if they had the chance to film it, although it would perhaps not scream out the choreography of the final twist so loud if there wasn't one character literally pointless apart from secretly being the killer all along. This, together with the awkward pacing, lacking introductions and altogether flat affect of the whole thing, makes it seem like an adaptation that took too much from the original work. While yes, a lot of adaptations could do with harking a bit closer to the source material, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.

[mdhwrites]

I'm not really gonna ask anything, just complain.

I'm tired of seeing puppet Amity and emperor Luz everywhere, what's even so special about it? What's the appeal???

People see 2 seconds scenes without context and make it that episode's entire content 🤦

I don't know if ep 3 came out already but I'm not looking forward anyways.

…Angst. Angst and new designs which are probably the two most powerful motivators for The Owl House fandom. Why do you think S2A felt like it damn near cut the fandom down to its size?

This actually has to do with kind of fandom culture in general. The most visible part of a fandom is its artists. Their work is quick to consume, easily posted and reposted (with credit you'd hope but… sigh) and the easiest to take inspiration directly from the show for. Every week there'd be at least one screencap redraw that the fandom would do whenever a new episode came out. Honestly, the finale's big Lumity screencap redraw is really awkward looking to me out of context. It's not hard to see why these are so popular though. The reference is directly in front of you, it's a moment people are already talking about and you yourself probably liked the posing too so why not redraw it? It's a hell of a lot easier to do than come up with a bespoke story concept based off of each episode in a series.

That isn't to call art easy or the like, just that fanart is the backbone to a fandom for a reason, at least in my opinion. Twitter has a character count limit. Reading Fanfiction on Instagram blows. Tumblr is the closest to a place where longer form videos and stories can be posted and they still take MUCH longer to consume and share and without as much guaranteed return on effort spent. There's a reason the internet as a whole LOVES art from a commercial and consumer standpoint, even if they also keep trying to screw over artists because yaaaaay capitalism.

But screencap redraws aren't going to be everything. The more potential in the story, the more people will be able to come up with evocative concepts and stories and even make comics about the show. This was a BIG part of the fandom's peak between S1 and 2. Everyone had their own take on how Lumity would get together. Everyone had their own idea for how Amity might confront her parents. Amity in general was just a font of inspiration and the concepts with Luz weren't played out or felt contradictory to the more cynical character we got in S2 so angst with her about her mom, her world, etc. like that was still something everyone was tapping into, especially since it felt like the portal being destroyed was such a big deal.

I made a large Twitter thread the other day btw about how just shit the Portal Door is from a narrative perspective, first as a nitpick in S1 and then just a genuine problem in S2, because of it being gone, but that's a different blog.

But post S2A… What did you have? Camila's promise was never going to end satisfactorily, to the point where it goes from a moment of Luz being a good daughter to an almost inhuman monster towards her friends because it is handled so poorly. Amity is pretty much resolved outside of being happy to be Luz's girlfriend because she's already stood up to her parents, integrated into the rest of the cast and even already addressed the only piece of angst the show ever allows for her with her relationship and that's being an obsessive enough girlfriend. Sorry, I mean a good enough girlfriend. sigh Gus has had an episode but was overshadowed, Willow has had like a half dozen lines this half a season, King has been pretty much absent since his episode, Raeda was still mostly an Eda episode with literally every element of that episode just to shove Momma Eda down your throat…

It's not surprising that post S2A, the fandom has felt in general much quieter. Minus A: Huntlow and B: whenever they get a new design they can turn into Luz/Lumity angst. Everyone remember the teaser for the Collector's design that was done during a livestream and how that consumed the fandom for a little while because of possessed Luz ideas?

The puppet Amity and Belos Luz hype was effectively that. It brought even the casual artists back because they had a new, easily evocative design available to them that also had very obvious potential for angst. How many "I'M NOT LIKE HIM" pictures came out regardless of how weak any parallel between Luz and Belos is? Luz crying over a temporarily dead Amity is saddening, even if she's been little more than a puppet for the writers for a while now.

It's just how fandoms work. It's not even necessarily a bad thing. Dana has been VERY good at keeping the fandom alive during things like hiatuses. S1's hiatus is when the Betas were most popular because they dropped at a time when people were starting to wane from the show and now they had an entirely different angle to work from for anything Lumity they wanted to do alongside just good designs to draw. Most Lumity and Huntlow artists redo any piece that Dana does for the two ships. It's very effective for keeping a social media presence for your show honestly.

I won't even act like I'm above it. While I commissioned reference sheets for Rich Witch to make it easier to commission more artists for these characters, that wasn't the only reason. Rich Witch had a Reddit page (that I should clean up honestly) and its pinned thread includes the reference sheets and physical descriptions for the characters who don't have reference sheets. This is because I recognize that that makes fanart easier and that fanart is a lot easier to share than text blurbs. It is one of the ways to try and cultivate a following online nowadays or to help your fandom grow, at least in my opinion.

Can it be frustrating? Absolutely. I mean, Huntlow fanart has probably done way more damage to my interest in Hunter than anything else because it always emphasizes Hunter as nothing but a failure. Hell, it also emphasizes Willow's strength commonly and very little else about her character. Lumity has bored me for a long time in art because 90% of it is just cute fluff which isn't bad but it's not compelling. And I mocked both Belos Luz and Puppet Amity, despite the designs for them being good and the art being good, as shallow because narratively it means very little.

And the larger that disconnect becomes, the more frustrating a trend in the fandom is going to be. Plenty of people hate the Betas because they hate the edginess or the fact that a lot of people used them to start creating spicier material. There's not much anyone can do about that though. While a creator can try to promote a kinder fandom, fandoms are inherently too emotional and too large to really control outside of helping the show grow or find a new audience. It's just a part of that culture.

And frankly, I'm going to be bothered by the toxicity and inhumanity (guess what fandom will dox you for liking a ship between a bi girl and a straight guy?) of fandoms long before their art trends.

[chemicalbrew]

@elendsessor listen, I love your blog and the way you curate stuff!!! that comment was honestly self-defeatist on my part, and I'm sorry if it made you doubt yourself, you're one of my absolute favorite mutuals at the moment (even though we don't talk, your blog is so awesome!), and I was genuinely worried you'd not follow me back when you remade, wahhh (mostly because I barely post fandom lately, and all I do is lazily scroll my dash and scout the katana zero tag, and I am so self-conscious about how much i love kz these days... i gotta stop with that)

ANYWAY!! back to your original inquiry, at full force

9. worst part of canon

stealth levels in games that are not otherwise about stealth tend to be quite ruinous. off the top of my head, two examples I am forever a little salty about are Ghost Trick and Katana ZERO (though it's partially optional in the latter - I always opt to kill my way through the prison on replays)

For Ghost Trick, that's legitimately the only issue I have with it. For Katana ZERO, however... the ending stretch of the plot is somewhat poorly paced\unsatisfying compared to everything else + hard mode is genuinely unbalanced to the point where I actually gave up on it last month (but god, the itch to play more has not left)

SMT4: rapid-fire complaints from someone who hasn't played other SMTs yet: most of the plot after the Tokyo reveal felt weak, the game needed to be a little more obvious early on about how your choices matter, I wish Flynn had a bit more personality, just to match his companions, the Isabeau twist in particular sucks ass, Burroughs turning out to be a goddess sucks even more, App Point costs were unbalanced, they could have afforded to use multiple asset sets for Domains, I didn't like the prospect of endgame grinding.

I said Chrono Trigger is perfect, but that's only if you ignore what follows after (especially the tie-ins attempted in CTDS). I still do not have it in myself to wholeheartedly love Chrono Cross

Pyre is a wonderful game, but the second half of it was a huge drag and could stand to be less repetitive

Hades has an ending that basically ruins the rest of the plot and it's BAD. also, endgame grind is way too tedious and the progression system can break in places

Brandish 1: the remake doesn't have speed options like the original game did, Tower is a bland-looking stage with awkward music, boss music in this game is uninspired outside of HEADLESS Brandish 2: literally nothing important to the larger narrative happens in this game when you think about it, endgame is not fun and absolutely ridiculous (I get why, but this is truly old school game design at its worst), boss music still sucks (most of the OST outside of the opening hour is honestly weak), there's a different Tower and it sucks for different reasons (backtracking yay) Brandish 3: the fact that the translation isn't out yet (serious answer: this game, iirc, has more backtracking than the others. Sanctuary was a really gimmicky stage in particular) Brandish 4: for fuck's sake, who decided the Temple stage was acceptable? it's literally an assault on the senses

Trails series: awful with ships. awful. the main ship of the first arc of the series is a case of adopted incest lol there's some other really gross tropes like this all throughout and I really don't feel like reciting them right now, so... I'll list other stuff: the games weren't intended to have multiple difficulties, so playing on anything that's not Normal will suck in some way you have to be extraordinarily meticulous to 100% or use a guide as the series went on, it became easier to break the difficulty into pieces with how ridiculous skills get despite that, superbosses and scripted losses that you have to win to 100% are a tradition of the series and can be really annoying to deal with as the series went on, it also started using more modern anime tropes to appeal to more people and it UNFORTUNATELY has been working

Ys series: modern games suffer from trying to be more like Trails, which they shouldn't <3 end of story

Xenoblade 1: battle system as a whole was unrefined and unsatisfying, worst sidequests in the series, female party members are all suffering in some way (Sharla's arc was cliche and unsatisfying, she sucks to use, her design is awkward; Fiora's situation was not explored deeply enough and she got fridged; Melia suffers in the story so much it almost turns into comedy and suspends disbelief) the only antagonist that resonated with me was Zanza.

Xenoblade 2: (DLC fixes most of this) The obvious: there needed to be less titties; The obvious again: Tora's introduction sucks ass (and he doesn't get truly better ever :() AND Tiger! Tiger! can go fuck itself; The introduction in general is slow and is why I won't replay this even though it's a GOAT; I actually like the gacha being around (I got lucky and the only real trouble I had was getting KOS-MOS imo), but it should at least become infinitely more generous in NG+. AT LEAST THAT. The infamous roadblocks to 100% like Ursula's affinity chart; The UI issues that everyone harped enough on; The maps got so much worse in this game compared to 1 like? I had so much trouble navigating here compared to other XB games.

Xenoblade 3: (DLC fixes most of this) literally the worst antagonists in the series; not a great party either (RIP Sena); Noahmio was kinda boring for half the runtime; in general the messages made by the game are not interesting to me and did not resonate like 2 did; the class system ruins every good change made to battle system; chain attacks suck, and not just their music - they're worse than 1's; weakest soundtrack (same issue as Brandish 2, where it starts strong but as a whole is eh); probably the only XB game that I do not ever intend to actually finish, because it's such a slog somehow.

The only sin Kid Icarus Uprising committed was its control scheme. Might have been justified, but it sucks.

Ace Attorney has too many issues to count <3 I'll just mention that: The series as a whole sucks at guiding you when you get stuck Big Top sucks, we all know this AA6 ruined Athena and Apollo and has questionable setting\design choices AAI2's last case dragged on for too long even if it was hype

13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim's battle system as a whole really sucks if we're being honest, and nowhere is this shown off better than the final battle.

VA-11 Hall-A often goes overboard with humor, but its worst offense is the optional bullet hell minigame they put in

[nukenai]

Well it’s 1am but I absolutely have to finally write one of these posts, don’t read if you don’t wanna be teleported to a sad 1am post of mine from 5 years ago or be consumed by gigacringe (this post is not sad but cw for some as-expected negative mental health stuff/actions I’ll be mentioning, from my past.)

I really don’t think I can even begin to articulate how important Super Mario RPG is to me. When I was a kid - like I’m talking 2006-ish - my Thing(tm) was Earthbound. We didn’t say “fandom” back then. Besides Pokemon and Zelda, it became my THING and I fell so in love with it. A weird part of internet Earthbound culture back then was that you were mad at Super Mario RPG for making Earthbound sell poorly. I know, it’s insane, I was 15 cut me a fucking break.

So yeah that was all intrinsically linked with Smash, obviously. I was online during the pre-release of Brawl days, browsing places like /v/, and there was all this talk of this guy Geno. I didn’t know who Geno was! One time I did a Deviantart Journal “quiz” thing, and one question was, “Who is a video game character you hate?” My response was “I dunno, that Geno guy”. A friend of mine at the time was like “??? Like SMRPG Geno? How could you hate him?” and me being a teenager, I was like well, I’m annoyed that everyone talks about him.

Stuff got weird pretty quickly. An artist I had a goofy little crush on drew Geno. And I went, huh. Okay.

Then Brawl came out. I won’t even get into all of that because this is about SMRPG, but people ripped data off the disks and found unused stuff. Like unused music. I was mad about the unused Earthbound music, and the Ballad of the Wind Fish. Boo!

But then someone made a fun little album, called “Brawl - The Lost Tracks”. They got together “as official as possible” versions of the songs that had gone unused and only existed as text files on the disk. This included Beware the Forest’s Mushrooms (I’ve made angry posts before about how wrong the Cutting Room Floor page is about this track NOT being BTFM - ask me about it sometime and I’ll start screaming)

So one day I downloaded this little album. And I remember exactly where I was sitting, I listened to a couple of the EB songs like yeah, alright. Then there was a nice remix of the ballad of the wind fish. Then I saw beware the forest’s mushrooms and I thought, well. Why not. It’s a song. I like music.

It was the official arrange from the arrangement album. Until Memoria it was 100% the most beautiful rendition of the song to ever exist. And I lost my goddamn mind. I had never heard a song so gorgeous and I was instantly so upset with myself for being such a stubborn dork about SMRPG for so long (imagine that, me, stubborn!!)

So it all kinda hit me like a truck. I remember the day I first saved a piece of Geno fanart, like a day after I heard the song, and I was GOT. I thought oh, maybe he’s kinda cute, and it all just spiraled into hell. When I was a kid I was all into people drawing him as a Cool Anime Bishounen, but now I’m extremely cool and am like “Doll only, please!” unless it’s the goofy cute human design I have for him. But really I prefer doll. ANYWAYS.

During my high school years my life was... uh, rough. I was dealing with domestic violence in my home and we were more than once kicked out of our house and had to scramble to find a place to stay temporarily. While I was still just going to classes. I wound up failing my 11th grade English class because I often didn’t have access to a computer with internet or a printer and couldn’t do my assignments. My teacher didn’t ask why I was suddenly not finishing assignments, she just failed me. I went to summer school and it wound up being one of the best experiences of my life though. So, you know.

Throughout all this bullshit I like, had Geno. I had a reason to look up at the starry sky and make wishes and track meteor showers. It was something to like, keep my going again. Unsurprisingly I was DEEPLY struggling with my mental health. I was self-harming, and was just in general doing Very Fucking Not Great and felt like I had nowhere to turn. To this day my family like, doesn’t let me talk about this situation, and I received no help or support from any of them during this. Things are better now, but holy fuck, man. It was just my mom and I dealing with domestic violence and homelessness and no one was helping us.

But I had him. I had the “will he be in Smash someday?” shit. I had the Smash speculation community. I had SMRPG fans who were all like-minded cool people who loved how much I loved Geno, because they loved him too! He was like a fucking life raft for me in one of the worst periods of my whole existence and always felt like an anchor when things were spiraling out of control.

And it feels so corny to talk about it, because oh Nuke, you’re always dramatic about characters. But damn, did it fucking hurt when “friends” were just straight up fucking mean to me about Smash stuff for years on end. Damn did it hurt when I tried to express how important this shit was to me, and it was written off as me being ridiculous about a Video Game, you know? Would therapy have been good? Maybe. I tried it as an adult after being pressured into it by my ex and it was an actual nightmare because the only therapist in my area with hours compatible with my job who took my insurance was like 24 years old and told me straight to my face she didn’t want to talk about things I liked because she didn’t understand them. So maybe not! But I had this something, something so important to me, and it felt like everyone around me was so fucking Tired of me caring so much about something. It felt like everyone was tired of ME. And I was tiring of myself too, and it fucking sucked! It really did.

A couple years ago I finally let go of all the rage and sorrow in my heart and I’ve been doing so, so well. I found myself so suddenly surrounded by people who fucking care about me, and who are like “Oh, I don’t know that character, tell me about them! You love them so much!”, and people who invite me over to their house to just sit and watch Transformers or build model kits. People tell me to my face “I don’t think you’re annoying” when I compare myself to Rodimus, and I get actively invited to things. Wow! It’s been so fucking NICE. It sucks to have such nightmares in my past to compare this all to, but man, the difference is insane.

So it’s like. I wanted this to happen years ago. I wanted them to announce a SMRPG remake, or something, a few years ago when I was at my worst, when people were treating me like shit, when friends of my SO were being huge assholes to me only for my SO to say “hmm I think you’re making that up because you’re dramatic”.

But it didn’t. And I got through everything with my own strength. And now I’m at my absolute best, and I get this now. I get it once I’ve moved past all those miserable negative people who treated me like garbage. I don’t have to rub it in their faces and be like “Look, I got this far, I’ve made it and I won over all the SHIT”. Because none of them are here anymore and they don’t matter to me.

I got so many messages across all my social medias, even from people who I haven’t actually spoken to in some time (but still exist in internet circles with, you know how online friendships are), so many people saying oh my god, Nuke, I’m so happy for you, holy shit congratulations, this is amazing I can’t believe it.

I love you all so fucking much, I love Super Mario RPG so fucking much, all of you and this game are so important to me I don’t even know if 4k more words of rambling nonsense can express it. I am at such a good place in my life now, I want to spread that positivity and do my best to be good to people and to the world that has been so good to me these past few years. Despite how this year started, it hasn’t felt like a negative shroud over me. Just another challenge to overcome, and I’ve overcome literally everything put in front of me so far. Nothing is phasing me anymore and I’m doing so GREAT.

I’m so happy the remake is happening at a time when I’m at my best. I didn’t need anyone to save me before, and now this will just lift me higher. And I can truly enjoy it, as a joyful gift, as opposed to hoping it will be a life raft getting me out of a flood. I can truly enjoy it for what it is and what it’s meant to be.

A beautiful, delightful, very funny little video game, about Mario and all his weird little friends.

I don’t think I’ll even mind having to say goodbye to Geno at the end, again. Because I know now, there’s nothing stopping him from coming back.

And hey, SMRPG’s not a very long game. I can always replay it. And Geno will always be there.

Always.

[risu5waffles]

You Gotta be Shit-TEN me

i swear to Entropy, if i tacked an extra year or so onto my laptop's lifespan through the judicious application of compressed air... well, i'll be happy, natch, but i will also be paradoxically pissed off.

Meh. We talked about this one last week. It's just as much now as it was then.

This is the original(? Still kind of mysterious there) version of The Land of Nod that we took a look at on LittleBite-sizedPlanet 263. i wasn't going to put this one up, but... like, i had the whole thing recorded for comparison purposed anyways, so, like, why let it go to waste? If you run this next to LBsA episode 184, you can see clearly the movement issues i mentioned in the LBsP review. It is just such a pain in the butt to get anywhere wivout the lower gravity in the LBP2 version. It makes me wonder even more, why did weirdybeardy bother publishing this?

This level is shockingly good for managing to maintain that LBP1 feel, while still actually being a good time. You can see the bits where LBP3 tech is used, and used to good effect, but it's really like having a run through a quite well-done bit of oldschool. i really hope God_Est_1983 (who i think is SiriusOculusCentrifuge7488 on YouTube, and i was pretty sure i was following here, but now i can't seem to find) sticks wiv this theme, 'cause they have a very solid grasp on how to do it right.

Ahh, roller coasters, who doesn't love roller coasters? Plenty of people for entirely legitimate reasons. i love roller coasters, tho', and it's been ages since i've been on one, so i am absolutely here for running into them in LBP from time to time. i do wonder what happened to the vehicles fad. i know there're still folx making them, but i hardly seem to run into a good vehicle centered level anymore. This one was nice in that it did give us some game play along wiv the ride, even if it's fiddly, kludgy, and promises a secret area i sure as heck couldn't find (despite breaking the level in two different places looking for it.

i really, really had a good time wiv this one. Just a straight race, no frills, but pretty well put-together for all that. The lighting is just bright enough to track the action, but plenty dark enough to give a bit of thrill (which is a bit surprising given how poorly LBP3 tends to handle lighting in LBP1 & 2 levels). Yeah, simple, sweet, fun. i bet this would have been a whole time wiv friends.

Wow... this one is. Kind of a lot? i mean it is impressive for the amount of stuff robbieeffect managed to cram in there, and i did appreciate all the secrets (and a counter at the end, always nice to see those in an LBP1 level). It is kludgy as all fuck, tho', and i'd argue some of the elements are a bit questionable. Still, i am never forgiving this one for doing 8 times the views of an average video, and all because of that silly ass Brian holding a martini that wound up in the thumbnail. i mean, i knew what i was doing, but i still hate that i turned out to be correct.

This was a nice one. Nothing too special to write home about, but decent platforming, and a pretty good look. The real neat point, tho', was how they actually tried to make some fairly dramatic changes if you replayed wiv the sticker you get for winning. Sure, it's just lighting and a little bit of camera, but it makes for a markedly different experience (one that, i don't think it was originally designed for, and some of the bits are near impossible, because there's no background to give a contrast to your silhouette) that i really appreciated. It's very seldom i run into levels that really try to pull that off at all.

We talked about this on Friday, and it's the same as it was then. i still can't believe Marmalade chops up the baked bean tree for fire wood. That's all kinds of fucked up (that's not in the level, that's in the short story, but still).

i had a real good time wiv this one. It's got a really good look to it, and manages to be pretty smooth and fun for an Oddsock level (i mean, the character is intended for smooth gameplay, i'm just not sure a lot of creators get how to pull that off well).

For a first level, this is really quite good. It ends a little abruptly, and i would have done a little bit more to differentiate the big swaths of cardboard for the walls (dephysed thin layer shapes and stripes, probably, if i were averse to using stickers), but the gameplay is fun, varied, and relatively zippy. That first set of jumps sets some expectations the level doesn't really live up to, so i think i might've had that bit later, if i weren't going to build on the precision aspect. Still, this is seriously solid work right off the chump.

--------------------------------------------

So that's our ten. i got a little done today, if not as much as i would have hoped. After i got that bombtest finished, i was just knackered for no reason? Got a nap in, then had to run around to get some air so i could fix the laptop and type all this up for y'all, you wonderful wonderful people. i mean that last part seriously. Thank you for putting up wiv my shite. Anyhoot. Gotta get this curry cooked, 'cause it ain't gonna do it itself. Maybe i'll get some more create mode in before Dead Cells tonight, but who knows. At any rate, have a great day, and keep yourselves safe, ok?

[bellmo15-blog]

If Social Media Existed When Zelda Wand of Gamelon Came Out

What is up people, this is Nerds and Players here with some horrible news that I am sad to announce. The Philips CDi has killed gaming! And Zelda The Wand of Gamelon has killed the Zelda series gentlemen! Like I don’t know how the series, or even gaming as a whole will ever recover after this!

ZELDA IS DEAD!!!

What has caused me to come to this conclusion? What about this harmless Zelda game has caused the industry to become instantly dead? Get this! They made Princess Zelda… the main character!!!

ZELDA HAS GONE WOKE!!!

Can you believe this people!? Can you believe they actually made a Zelda game where you play as the princess!? Obsured! No one wanted this! No one would of ever asked for this! Why would Nintendo allow this!?

Ahh but see, this isn’t Nintendo’s fault! This is the fault of Philips for thinking they could make a Zelda game for there brand spanking new console. Now see if Nintendo were the ones handling this game then the series would never of gone woke like this.

NINTENDO SHOULD NEVER LET OTHER PEOPLE MAKE GAMES FOR THEM!

Oh but you want to know what the worst part of this whole thing is? Link is the one you have to rescue in this game! THAT’S RIGHT! The normally masculine and brave Link, the man we have been playing as for this whole series and has always rightfully been the main character… is now reduced to nothing more than the dude in distress that needs to be saved? Meanwhile Princess Zelda is now this strong, independent warior who’s able to defend herself agents all manner of monster. Is this an attack on men?

MEN ARE UNDER ATTACK!

It has to be! That has to be the reason this whole game was even made in the first place! As an attack on men! And all in a vain attempt to make the Zelda series go woke!

BOYCOTT PHILIPS! MEN ARE UNDER ATTACK!

They should of just released Link Faces of Evil on it’s own and thrown this woke garbage down the drain! No one wants to play as Princess Zelda in a Zelda game! This series will never recover and it’s all Philips fault. Nice job shoving your agenda down our throats you woke assholes! No wonder this game is getting negative reviews! People don’t want this woke BS in gaming! We just want good games! Just give us good games! That’s all we are asking for! Is it that hard?!?!

“Umm dude, I have a friend who has a Philips CDi and Wand of Gamelon. He says that the bad reviews for this game are ACTUALLY coming from the fact that it’s a poorly made game with bad controls, terrible cut scenes, bad voice acting, bad level design and none of the negative reviews are coming from the fact that you play as Zelda. Especially since Link Faces of Evil has all these same issues and is getting the same negative reviews.”

HEY! No one gave you permission to talk! Your job is to man the camera man! You just lost yourself a job!

“*Sigh.* Fine. I hated working here anyway. Oh, and one more thing, if you’re going to whine about the series going ‘woke’ because they dared to make the character who this series is named after actually playable you might as well whine about Metroid since Samus is a female.”

… OH MY GOD YOUR RIGHT! FORGET WHAT I SAID! BOYCOTT NINTENDO AS WELL! NINTENDO HAS GONE WOKE TWO!!!1!!

“*sigh.* Me and my big mouth.”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hey! I love your meta’s, a little while ago you talked about The Order of the Phoenix as an organization could you talk about the Death Eaters?

The post anon is referencing.

TL;DR the Order is incompetently hilarious and Dumbledore is a man who trusts no one.

Oh, the Death Eaters, what to say about the Death Eaters...

In a World Without Voldemort, They'd Probably Be Arsonists

One of the things JKR implies in the series, and something fandom seems to take for granted, is that Tom Riddle is the ultimate corrupting influence.

Were it not for him, the Wizarding World would be a much better place, and people like Bellatrix LeStrange would be productive members of society.

As soon as he is killed, even, by Harry, the good guys win, their problems all presumably solved, and Harry tells his son Albus Severus that it's totally fine if he's put into Slytherin.

I don't believe that though.

To me, it's not so much that Tom Riddle corrupted these people, but that he gave them an organized cause. The people themselves, oh, they were itching for a fight.

In a world without Tom I think they'd be a loosely, poorly organized, group (probably with Bellatrix as the ring leader) where they commit acts of domestic terrorism probably involving burning offensive shops to the ground or attacking muggleborns, halfbloods, and blood traitors.

Voldemort, to me, is designed to pander to them (and not the other way around).

The Death Eaters' Beginnings

So, first off, I think Tom's goals are not what he says they are. What he represents to his followers is exactly what they want to hear, wrapped in a grandiose theatric bow that they just love.

But how did this all start?

First, I don't believe in the Knights of Walpurgis. Instead I think Tom came relatively out of nowhere in the 70's uses parseltongue to prove his heritage as the Heir of Slytherin and thus of purer blood than any of them.

He throws these exciting rallies/parties that the rebellious, angsty, teenage heirs all go to. There he says everything they wanted to hear in the most eloquent manner they've ever heard, promises them the action that their fathers have never delivered, promises them a role in the glorious revolution and a place in history, and probably offers them mounds of cocaine.

All the Death Eaters we see, or the core of them, appear to be in this age range where they'd be in Hogwarts or just out of it when Voldemort came knocking. I can imagine they're all whipped up with excitement, YEAH LET'S BLOW UP THE MUDBLOODS and for some that's great, for others... things don't go the way they expected.

October 31, 1981: It All Falls Apart

Regulus famously steals Tom's horcrux. I imagine it wasn't so much that he learned the error of his ways but that he saw what Tom Riddle was really after: the destruction of his very society.

Lucius is riding high until October 31, 1981 and he sees the complete destruction of the entire Black family. Lucius' priorities greatly shift and as he grows older he prays Voldemort never returns. Unfortunately, Tom does, and he charges interest.

Bellatrix absolutely loses her mind, refuses to accept reality, and tries to torture the Longbottoms for information they do not possess. She is imprisoned in Azkaban and never truly recovers from this.

Snape ends up the cause of death for Lily Evans and must forever live with the guilt and be tied to her prophesied son. He also becomes Dumbledore's lackey forever, which ultimately gets him killed.

Point being, no one's having a good time. Some because they figure out being a Death Eater wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and others because they had the Voldemort rug pulled out from under their feet when Tom Riddle disappears.

Pettigrew flees and lives as the Weasley rat for nearly fifteen years.

They're left making a mad scramble as they try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Canon Catches Up

More than ten years go by and then suddenly, in a muggle graveyard, the surviving Death Eaters discover that they are bound to Voldemort for the rest of their lives.

Death cannot stop this man and he has branded them: there's no escape.

Some are still enthusiastic supporters of the cause: Bellatrix is vindicated that her lord has returned, he rescues her from hell on earth, and everything's finally coming up Bella. Barty is similar in actively working for Voldemort's resurrection.

Lucius, meanwhile, lives in constant terror. Karkaroff desperately flees the country and hopes Tom will not find him. Snape, is in fact, Dumbledore's agent. Pettigrew only returned in utter desperation and has now cut off his own hand.

They're not the young men they were, some of them have families, to some of the past ten years have been utterly miserable. They have to watch as their children make the same damn mistakes they did, be sucked into this same hell hole, and there's nothing they can do about it.

There is a notable reluctance for the cause, and yet, they have to try with the same vigor or this madman will kill them all.

And it's all worthless anyway: come 1998, Voldemort dies again (perhaps for real this time, who knows, Harry Potter seems to think so for whatever reason) and then they are imprisoned for their acts as Death Eaters.

And they just laugh, because how badly Lucius wishes he could go back in time and tell his eighteen-year-old self, "YOU DUMB FUCK, LEAVE NOW!"

But Do They Learn Anything?

No.

Just because we see some of them regret being Death Eaters doesn't mean they regret their beliefs. Their beliefs were fine, even blowing up people here and there, a bit gauche but fine.

But maybe following Voldemort blindly was a bad idea.

Are They More Competent Than the Order?

No.

Tom Riddle is terrifyingly competent in that he infiltrates the government with ease, has spies everywhere, and all but proclaims himself minister one day and nobody blinks.

He gains the full support of most of the wizarding world's wealthiest and prestigious families.

But he doesn't actually give these people anything to do. Because there's nothing for them to do, with them, Tom's won. He owns the Wizengamot, the Ministry, everything.

There's no need to fight. It's over, there never was a war. Society is primed to accept Tom Riddle as their ruler.

However, the likes of Bellatrix LeStrange thinks there's a glorious war on, so "uh, go out and blow up a few muggles, have fun." And the young Death Eaters (and the older ones), think they've committed this great, daring, brave, and very important act.

Tom only seems to hand out real assignments when in desperate straits or else when being particularly vindictive.

Lucius, after messing up with the diary, is told to retrieve a prophecy he is not allowed to touch in a department of the ministry he should have no access to. If he fails: Tom kills his entire family. When Lucius does fail, Tom assigns his son to assassinate an already dying Dumbledore. These aren't real tasks, though they do have the appearance of one, and consequences for failure.

Barty, Tom is forced to rely on, as he is trapped in this dying infant's body. And better Barty, someone who is truly loyal and seems fairly clever, than Peter Pettigrew who is a miserable scum bag who'd sell his grandmother for a bar of soap.

Barty, of course, fucks this up. Rather than just kidnap Harry Potter at any of the many easy points this could be done (Hogsmeade trip, lure Harry out to Hogsmeade with super secret serial information about Voldemort/Snape being a Death Eater, etc.), Barty is determined to make use of the Triwizard Tournament to destroy his father's legacy.

This means rather than a few weeks, it takes months to kidnap Harry, and even then they bring along an extra boy who then gets killed and provides some evidence that Tom Riddle has in fact returned. (Somebody murdered Cedric). It takes months and Barty actively ensuring Harry makes it through the tournament and does well, leaving open the possibility that he might get caught helping Harry cheat at any moment. And of course, Barty has to pretend to be Madeye Moody for months, keeping his man locked and drugged in his trunk.

Thankfully, Moody's such a paranoid wreck, no one even notices.

Quirrell, Tom is forced to rely on. Quirrell fucks up, though admittedly not as badly as Barty. Quirrell fails to steal the stone when it's in transit/in Gringotts. He fails to murder Harry Potter, an eleven year old boy in the world's most dangerous school. He rouses Snape's suspicion almost immediately. Then of course he doesn't get the stone. He at least gets to the room with the stone and nearly overpowers Harry and gets it had he not been mysteriously lit on fire by the power of love/Lily Evans.

The only one Tom ever really relies on by choice is Snape. Snape is charged with spying on Dumbledore and later running Hogwarts (which he fucks up).

There is only one competent man in Britain: Severus Snape. Which is, of course, why he's a double agent that Dumbledore and Tom both extensively rely on despite his being a double agent.

There's no one else.

Tom Riddle doesn't make use of the Death Eaters but given they prove themselves enthusiastically incompetent at every turn I don't blame him. Just pretend to give them something to do and hope it makes them feel important.

That's all I've got in general, you want anything else you'll have to ask for something more specific.

[whythinktoomuch]

stranded in memory

It’s not clear how Lex has managed to pull it off, but he did; he got into Supergirl’s head, and he did it quite literally so as to achieve it quite figuratively, and now Kara Danvers might be lost forever. 

It’s after the second attack—the second time Supergirl storms into the DEO to demand, where are you keeping them?—when they first notice the ugly scar at the base of her neck. 

Red and angry, poorly healed despite living on Kryptonian skin. 

No one manages to get close enough to examine it though, what with Supergirl tearing through metal walls and burning down entire facilities to conduct her frenzied search. 

But whatever it is, the mechanism embedded in her skull has somehow made it so that Supergirl can look Alex Danvers right in the eye and strike her down with heat vision for masquerading as her sister. 

The resulting burns forcibly put Alex on bed rest despite extensive, swear-riddled protest. 

“It appears that Kara’s retained all her memories, but none of ties to reality that would allow her to recognize you,” Brainy concludes to the comfort of absolutely no one. 

“Well, is she even Kara anymore then? Shouldn’t we approach this like we would any other threat?” asks one lone agent, subjecting himself to Alex’s absolute unmitigated fury in the process. 

Lena keeps her distance at first. She’s seen the damage:  

her penthouse somehow upended, 

countless conference rooms and offices at L-Corp torn apart, 

the entirety of National City scrambling for cover as Supergirl makes reckless use of all her superpowers. 

And she knows that Supergirl must be looking for her too. Lex wouldn’t have done any of it, without the guarantee that Lena would end up coerced into direct involvement. It wouldn’t be worth it otherwise. 

And so, she locks herself away in an underground, lead-lined panic room, built for such an occasion. 

Because... well, if it’s true that Supergirl almost killed her own sister, how could Lena ever hope to survive the encounter? She wasn’t even on good terms with the Supergirl that would remember her in the first place.  

But then, things grow darker and even more dire. No one’s died yet, by some unbelievable stroke of luck, but there have been many close calls. So many that the city has started losing faith in their own Girl of Steel. 

And Supergirl has been winding down, slowly but surely, her physical condition unable to keep pace with her inner drive. It won’t be long before some branch of the government or another successfully shoots her down, but there’s only one that will never go for the kill shot. 

So, Lena finally resurfaces and joins forces with what’s left of the DEO, and gets to work on a kryptonite-powered snare. It almost works. 

Supergirl flies right into the trap, immediately twined by thick cords of sickly bright green wrapping around her body. She starts thrashing against her bonds, growling out warnings in a dead language whenever anyone tries to get close. 

"Okay, this isn’t working, guys,” Dreamer says, after her third attempt and subsequent failure to grab hold of the wrists tied behind Supergirl’s back. “She’s still too strong.” 

But at the sound of Dreamer’s voice, the red disappears from Supergirl’s eyes. She sits up, startled, and calls out, “Nia?” 

They’re all overwhelmed with relief then—Supergirl, and maybe even Kara, included—because at last, Lex’s device seems to have worn off.

But when Supergirl turns around to greet Dreamer, finally face to smiling face, a darkness sweeps back over her features. “You,” she says, her tone strangled with bitterness. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Nia?” 

Dreamer frowns, utterly baffled. “Kara, what are you talking about? It’s me... Nia.” But she takes a step too close, and Supergirl headbutts her into the ground. 

A brawl ensues, and Supergirl manages to throw everyone off her and escape by way of ungainly, lumbering flight, still bundled in kryptonite laced restraints against all impossibility. 

They find the mangled contraption some miles away in pieces. 

Nia’s head is very bruised and somewhat concussed, but she thankfully emerges from the medical bay relatively unscathed. 

Ultimately, Lena’s the one who figures it out, by repeatedly asking for the play-by-play of the failed capture and then reviewing the body cam footage for further research. There’s no way to know for sure, of course, but time is definitely running out, with Supergirl now facing an entire fleet of military aircraft armed with kryptonite. So, Lena takes her findings and rushes onto the scene. 

Supergirl is making her last stand, forced into a final corner with her back against the wall, eyes still blazing with heat vision. Until she hears a familiar voice crackling in her ear, the DEO comms whirring back to life. 

“Kara?” calls the voice, and Supergirl becomes a statue, breath stuttering, almost unwilling to believe her own ears. “Kara, can you hear me...?” 

“Lena...” Supergirl says her name like a prayer, a slight tremor starting up in her legs and traveling all over. “You’re okay? Oh god, you’re okay...” 

Everyone starts yelling then—Alex and Brainy and Nia, nameless stiff-lipped military men trying to secure a clear shot at the fallen hero—but Lena heeds none of it as she walks onto the battlefield. Supergirl whips her head around, regarding her approach with suspicion. 

“It’s still me,” Lena says through the earpiece. “Right now, I’m just in the lexo-suit for my own safety.” 

“I... I can’t see your face...” 

“I know, Kara. I know.” 

Lena, now firmly in the way of anyone who plans on taking aim at Supergirl, stops just a few short steps away from her. “Okay, I need you to trust me now, Kara.” 

And Kara, the Girl of Steel now fallen to dust, starts to cry. “Something’s wrong, Lena,” she says. “Something is so terribly wrong with me, and I don’t know what to do...” 

“I know, and it’s going to be okay,” Lena says, her own emotions sealed away behind purpose. “But right now, I just need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Kara?” 

Kara nods right away, one hand roughly swiping at her eyes. 

“Close your eyes.”

Kara draws back, shoulders stiffening, a bright red gathering in her gaze. 

“Kara, it’s still me,” Lena tells her gently. “I can come to you, but you just need to close your eyes first.” 

“Why?” Kara demands. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Kara’s eyes run all over the sleek design of the lexo-suit, swallowing hard when her x-ray vision can’t breach the surface. “It’s you?” 

“It’s me, I promise.” 

Kara shuts her eyes, disappearing the threat of heat vision along with the darkened blue of her sunken gaze. Warnings come flooding through Lena’s earpiece from well-meaning almost friends, but she gets out of the suit anyway. The tell-tale hydraulic hiss of the lexo-suit opening brings a low rumble to Kara’s chest, but her eyes still remain shut tight.   

“All right, Kara. I’m right here, okay?” Lena says, and Kara struggles to keep her eyes closed at the sound of her voice, now unfettered by technology or static. “No, you’re okay, Kara. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here.” 

Lena repeats the sentiment a few times as she approaches Kara in a careful stride. The closer she gets, the harder Kara breathes, teeth gritted and grinding in frustration. 

“Hey, I’m here,” Lena says once within reach, and Kara’s hand shoots out, catching Lena around the wrist. It’s a painful grasp, but Lena grimaces her way through it. “It’s me. You can tell... right?” 

“... Yes,” comes the trembling, grateful answer. 

“Your mind’s playing tricks on you,” Lena explains to her, still soft, still gentle. “Lex did something to your brain, and... you’re just having some trouble trusting what you see right now. But we’re going to fix it, okay?” 

“Okay.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut even harder, and finally lets her hand slip off Lena’s tender, bruised wrist. 

As Lena starts unwinding the scarf from her neck, she lets her eyes roam all over Kara’s face; she’s never been quite this close before. It looks a little different at the moment, somewhat worse for the wear. Deep creases in her strong brow, lips worried and worn, ash and blood of innocent bystanders smudged across one cheek, and her eyes... fluttering, but firmly shut. 

All it would take is one blink, Lena realizes. One look, and she could very well lose her life in Kara’s arms. 

Kara’s breath hiccoughs when she feels soft cotton wrapping around her head, smelling of Lena’s sweat and perfume, and covering her eyes. And all at once, she’s surrounded by the people she loves. 

Alex embracing her and tugging her to safety, whispering words of regret and forgiveness into her hair. 

Brainy and Nia patting at her shoulders, squeezing her hands, as they offer all sorts of affirmations. 

But Kara reaches out, blindly and yet somehow all too aware, and manages to snag the hem of Lena’s shirt. She gently, desperately tugs Lena closer. “You’ll stay with me?” 

A warm hand carefully undoes Kara’s grip on the shirt, inviting it instead in a tangled grasp, both firm and comforting. 

“Always,” Lena says. 

(next part here)

[nat-20s]

 Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references  we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour. 

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways. 

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

[realcleverissues]

Housing Cents (2 min)

An original video =]

Hey everyone, this is my first time using Animaker. I wanted to use it to help illustrate something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: Housing.

Basically, housing is super important. It is essential for a remotely decent life. At the same time, it’s typically the largest expense everyone will have in their lives. So any amount of price reductions is likely to have a huge impact.

There are a few major issues with housing. Here I focus on two: 1. Insufficient supply - due largely to NIMBYism and exclusionary zoning. 2. The profit motive - many people look at houses not just as a place to live, but as a vehicle for making money at others’ expense.

The reason why these are such big issues is that even if we manage to raise wages (which is long overdue), those increases can easily get gobbled up by the real estate market just raising prices. It’s basically a bidding war - and since everyone has to bid (bc everyone needs a place to live), any wage gains just go to higher bidding. In the end, everyone just pays more for housing, even if the costs haven’t gone up. Most people lose from this situation bc they end up having to pay more. The people who gain are landlords, developers, and current home owners. They get to make even more money as people bid whatever they can afford for a place to live. Basically, it’s profiting off of enforcing scarcity, which seems pretty exploitative to me.

So, to me, it is imperative that as we fight to raise wages, we simultaneously fight to make living more affordable. In terms of housing, I’d love to see the gov’t invest in building 1% more housing and offering it at cost. A 1% increase in housing would lower overall housing prices by 10%, thereby saving renters and homebuyers significant amounts. Additionally, the housing they build can be rented at cost, removing the profit margin, thus providing even more affordable housing for some people. (Also, I’m talking about middle-class housing. Not like “the projects” from 60 years ago which were poorly designed.)

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the video. Let me know if you have any suggestions for how I can tweak it or improve my videos generally in the future, or if you have any questions/ideas about housing.

[to-fu]

an overanalysis of circe beaker’s blue sweater

your local circe enthusiast is at it again, let’s go

the sims 2 psp, a classic. the game features a lot of changes when it comes to the premades, from inconsistency to their pc counterparts, to several questionable choices, plot holes etc.

why are these changes present? the lore ones are obviously edited to fit missing spaces to create a more 'immediate’ understanding of events. young hazel clearly is a more straightaway fit as a serial widow that’s just about to get married again, in a quest-driven game, simply because it needs less explaining than olive does (several marriages, grim reaper fling & nervous subject: too much lore to explain in the little window the paradise place neighbors are given). other changes such as lincoln floating around with isaac’s belt instead of using his wheelchair are due to model limitations / saving time by reusing the ghost animation etc, but anyways.

the aesthetic choices are a little more senseless, and i think we can all easily agree on our speculation that it was simply lack of attention to detail from the devs. nothing worth mentioning, it’s mostly eye colors being off (johnny, tank, ripp, loki, pascal, vidcund and several others. basically everyone), easy to miss.

except for one sim.

circe beaker appears completely different from her pc counterpart. light skin, blue eyes, black brows, dark lipstick (that, i just checked, isn’t present in cas. they made it exclusively for her for her and a couple more characters), no glasses, blue sweater, blue jeans. the only thing that’s reminiscent of pc circe is her short red hair, that’s it.

let’s talk about that sweater, which is what this post is about: it’s also present among the outfits in the beaker lot when you first load up the household

i think it’s safe to assume the developers for pc ts2 (specifically the few people who came up with the premades) and psp ts2 weren’t exactly the same due to the different game platforms, but even if there was a partial/total overlap it doesn’t change the point i’m about to make.

circe’s blue sweater is such a specific detail from the pc version, one that’s kind of hard to think of unless you randomly stumble upon it (unlikely), read the sims wikia (barely functional in 2005, let alone carrying that piece of information, that was in fact added in 2016), are very invested in the character, so when you put it next to how poorly the devs followed circe’s original design, it creates a pretty stark contrast that’s hard to miss when you finally notice.

i want to make this clear, for anyone who has never played the psp game / doesn’t remember anything about it

circe’s pc outfit is entirely present in this game, aside from her glasses, so the sweater isn’t just a random substitute in absence of the original, it’s a conscious choice made by one of the developers.

and one that they want you to notice, too! now, for this last line of dialogue, this could also be a simple gag about how both the beakers are wearing blue sweaters, but again, the devs want you to notice, which is all that matters. but why, though? why go out of your way to reference such an obscure detail when you then choose to disregard everything but her hair, in her original appearance?

of course, the blue sweater could also be arbitrary, just a random top they put on her, and it just happened to be the ONLY additional one pc circe has in her closet. but come on... out of the 30+ tops the psp game offers, 

why is it there in pc circe’s dresser? not much to speculate here, probably a past iteration of how she was supposed to be dressed, a line of code they forgot to take out, a deliberate choice, it doesn’t matter, several other premades have additional clothes in their dressers.

but why was it brought up again as psp circe’s top, instead of sticking with her usual black one, when everything else about her specifically (and i want to stress this, this pertains to circe specifically) is so off compared to her pc counterpart? as i mentioned, there are a few eye color changes among other characters but she’s particularly unrecognizable.

it’s almost as if........... it was intentional.

as if to imply this circe isn’t the same circe we see in the pc version. this obviously makes room for various theories. she’s undercover after having fucked something up? an impostor? an android? a failed clone? the latter certainly wouldn’t be so far off from what loki ends up accomplishing in later installments. also, to bring up one of her psp secrets,

this could easily back up my prior statement of her being either a clone or android created by loki, too. circe’s bio or dialogue doesn’t hint once at her occupation, which as we know, should be at the hospital, but instead vaguely hints at her “running the business end of the beaker operation”, which i’m assuming is a nudge at her fortune aspiration, or perhaps, her having lost her medical license along the way.

whatever you make of this whole thing i just wrote it’s up to you, but one thing is for sure: there are too many changes for me to think it's just a coincidence. it only took me 15 years to figure it out, but at this point it’s clear they made circe like this intentionally.

i completely understand i’m overanalyzing from pretty much nothing, but you can’t disagree with me that the sweater just feels like such a niche information to know about circe for some developer to decide to include, without following through with this level of attention to detail on literally anything else about her, it’s just a little too weird. thanks for coming to my ted talk see ya next time

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 16 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader is trying to go back to her old life, which includes the life she led before she met Spencer. Category: Angst. Couple: Spencer/Fem!Reader Content Warning: Drug mention, addiction, jealousy, arguing, death mention Word Count: 9.3k

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

“Don’t wear that tie, wear the other one.”  

Spencer turned to look at me curiously, his little grin the first signal that he saw right through me. “Why?” He asked, taking off the tie he’d only just finished putting on to swap it for the other one hanging in my closet.

It’d been a week since Spencer all but moved into my room, refusing to leave my side for even a second longer than necessary. Aside from the freshly healing bullet wounds, it had been one of the best weeks of my life.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, trying and failing to hide my smile. “I just wanted to watch you take it off.”

My boyfriend pointed an accusing finger at me as he approached the bed, using it to poke my nose before retreating. “You, my dear, are a troublemaker. I’m going to be late.”

It was hard to believe that life could resume so quickly for everyone else when it felt like I was still on my knees on the cold tile floor of the bank. I tried not to think about it, acutely aware of the terrible things that could happen when PTSD was left unchecked.

I wanted to think about nice things, instead. Like how cute my boyfriend was, acting like it was my fault he’d be late while he took his time tying his tie over and over again. He’d say it was because it wasn’t perfect, but we both knew he didn’t care about that. He just didn’t want to leave yet.

“If you’re going to be late Dr. Reid, it’s because you refused to get out of bed until I gave you a kiss for every hour you’ll be gone today.” I reminded him, joy filling my chest at the small combination of a smile and a pout I received in response.

“You still owe me two.”

“Do I?” I responded, reaching out to grab his hand and pull him back to my place on the bed. “Then please, let me remedy that.”

Not wanting me to move any more than I already had, he quickly came down to place a chaste kiss on my lips. But I didn’t let it end there, holding onto the newly secured tie and tugging him closer.

Now it might be my fault, I thought, but I didn’t care. With one hand on the bed to steady himself and the other carefully caressing my cheek, he put all of his love into one little kiss. I felt like I was going to explode with the pent up desire that had accompanied being with him for so long without being able to show him how much I loved him in a physical way.

He insisted that he didn’t need sex, that it didn’t matter to him, but it mattered to me! I didn’t have a way with words like he did, and while he was content with curling up by my side, it left me wanting more.

The doctor kept telling me it would be soon, that the time will have passed quickly in hindsight. I didn’t understand half of what he said— he was just trying to get me to accept the narcotics in hopes that I wouldn’t end up back in his hospital.

I was doing it again. I was thinking about things I didn’t need to think about instead of the way Spencer bit down on my bottom lip when he paused to let me breathe. The smell of his cologne filled my lungs and I remembered how much I used to miss it. I’d stopped appreciating it when it was around me all the time.

It wasn’t until his phone rang that he left completely, tearing himself away from me like he wouldn’t be able to stop himself any other way.

“Hello?”

There were only a few reasons they would be calling him right now, and I didn’t like any of them.

“Oh… Alright.”

It was that exact tone, that terrified, pitiful grumble that told me what I needed to know. He had to go somewhere, and he wouldn’t be back today. He’d retreated from me, turning his back to me like I wouldn’t be able to tell what was happening just because I couldn’t see his face.

His voice was hushed. “Hotch, are you sure that I…”

The hopelessness hurt. I wanted him to go back to work; I knew he needed to. But it was so hard to let him go.

“Understood. I’ll be there soon.”

“How many more kisses do I owe you now?” I asked with a nervous laugh, fiddling with the sheets between my fingers.

“I don’t know.”

“Uh oh. I don’t like that voice.” I tried to keep my tone playful, but it wasn’t enough.

“I have to travel.”

The fact that he wasn’t looking at me made me more anxious than the fact he was now grabbing all the clothes he had in the closet and dropping them in the suitcase.

“Where to?”

Spencer paused, staring at the floor so that he could see me from his peripherals. He was torturing himself by forcing himself to see my reaction, but he wasn’t strong enough to look directly at me.

“Alaska.”

“Oh... wow.” I didn’t know how to respond, my body freezing as I tried to conceptualize just how far away that was. Far enough away that in maps of the United States, they had a separate area designated for it since it couldn’t fit.

It was too far, that’s all I knew.

“Hey, that’s fine! I can still call you.” My voice sounded foreign and the hopefulness was poorly performed. I wasn’t sure calling would be enough, but it apparently didn’t even matter.

“Not really. They don’t have service out there. Garcia is coming with us.” His packing got angrier, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from me.

“It’ll be fine, Spencer.”

His hands, unable to find any more clothing to grab, found purchase in his hair instead, running through them roughly. “What if something happens?” He asked as he finally turned to face me with a seriousness that was unbecoming.

“Nothing is going to happen. I have tons of friends who can help me. I’m just going to be sitting here on my ass all day watching bad TV.”

I gestured to the television that my friends had been nice enough to set up in my room, sighing as Spencer sulked in the other corner. It took a few waves of the hand, but eventually he dragged himself back to my side. Opening my arms to him, I took him in when his head dropped against my shoulder once more.

“I-I’m not ready to leave you yet.” The vulnerability shook in his voice, and I could feel the insistence in his grip denting my pillow.

“Well, too bad, superman.” I teased, pulling him away enough that I could show him my smile, hoping that it would be enough to calm his mounting fears. “You’ve got lives to save.”

He looked at me, his eyes still welling with tears despite the smile he now wore. He took my hand and heldit against his cheek. He closed his eyes; taking a deep breath, he mumbled, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me fall more in love with you every single day.”

I had to laugh, and I cursed him for it. It hurt so badly to laugh still, but the look on his face was worth it. No matter what, Spencer Reid had to be a romantic, and I loved him for it. It was so very much unlike me.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, old man.” I chastised him lightly, “You’re going to be late.”

He wasn’t done yet, though, that protective glimmer in his eyes returning with a vengeance. He held tighter to my hand and bit his lip.

“Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything you aren’t supposed to. Please.”

It sounded like a beg, a desperation that I wasn’t used to. Up until now, it always felt like I was the one who was seeking more information and assurance. But now he sat before me, practically broken at the thought of not seeing me for a few days, pleading for me to take my own life seriously.

I hated the attention, but couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand; it would only make him worry more.

“I promise.”

He didn’t believe me, but he accepted my answer, anyway. Lunging forward, his lips crashed into mine without any reservations. I laughed into the kiss, tangling my hands in his hair so that he’d have to fix it again before he could leave me.

It was only funny until I remembered how long it might be until I see him again. I held onto him, deepening the kiss just to drag it out. He was also looking for an excuse, still refusing to part all the way when our lungs had nothing left.

“I love you… so much.” He whispered, resting his forehead against mine for a moment longer.

“I love you, too.”

I’d said it so many times in the past few weeks, but the words still felt new on my tongue. I wanted to say them more, to shower him in my affection, but I didn’t know how. Love was just another language he was fluent in, and I decidedly wasn’t. All I could do was wait for him to translate the thoughts to me whenever I got lost.

“I’m going to try to set up something so I can talk to you, okay? I can’t promise it’ll work but I’m going to try. You remember what I said about the last time I couldn’t reach you.”

Memories of papers scattered on the floor ran through my mind. I could practically feel his hand wrapped around my neck for the first time, holding my life in his hand because I’d trusted him to keep me safe. The vision of waking up in his bed, only to have him lower himself below the sheets, pressing kisses down my stomach.

Things had been so different then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Those thoughts were suffocating and overwhelming and painful, and I shoved them back into the deepest recesses of my mind. It was too early to be emotional.

I took a deep breath, patting Spencer’s cheek with a soft palm before I summoned all the sarcasm I could in my voice. “I’ll always be with you in your heart,” I joked, smiling as he cringed at the sound.

“I mean it, little girl. If you don’t take care of yourself, you’re in for it when I get back.”

Feigning shock and a gasp, I brought my hand to my chest just in time for him to step away from me. The absence of him was colder than it should have been. At least he appeared to be in better spirits, and I wanted to keep it going.

“Dr. Reid, has that ever worked to make me not do something?”

Spencer shook his head with a chuckle, grabbing the rest of his things with more pep in his step. The closer he got to the door, the harder my heart beat. It was deafening and mind numbing in its volume.

Was this how love was supposed to feel? Or had I just grown so spoiled and accustomed to him being here, that I was being entirely selfish? I would no doubt have days to think about it.

He returned to me one more time, running his hand gently through my hair and granting me one more soft, serene kiss in the pale morning light.

“Take care of yourself.” He whispered, the begging bleeding back into his voice. “For me.”

“I will.” I promised before closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see him leave. I still heard him hesitate at the door, and I felt his eyes linger on me for a few seconds longer. But then the door clicked shut, and I was alone again.

—————————————————

Nine days. I’d been gone for nine days. It might as well have been a lifetime, because that’s exactly what it felt like. Even worse, I was only able to call (y/n) a whopping three times, each one shorter than the last. We’d only talked for a total of 14 minutes and 29 seconds. And considering that nine days is 12960 minutes, that’s a pretty abysmal fraction.

But it didn’t matter, because as soon as that stupid jet landed in Virginia, I was on my way back to her. Thankfully it was still a normal hour and the sun was still out, albeit quickly setting.

She wasn’t answering my calls, and I tried not to think too much of it. During our last call, she’d told me that she started a new medication that made her sleepy. In fact, our conversation had been so short in part because she fell asleep halfway through the call.

I didn’t mind though, listening to the soft sound of her breathing until the signal went dead again. I’d played the audio over and over again in my head to help me sleep that night, knowing that she was hours away but still dreaming with me.

I was so ready to see her again, that I’d barely knocked on her door before the keys were already in the knob. I didn’t want to wait, I didn’t want to spend another second longer than necessary before I could see her.

But before I could turn the handle, the door swung open and away from my hand.

There were a few people I’d expected to see; (y/n), her roommate, or possibly one of the other female friends the girls had mentioned that I’d yet to see. Unfortunately, it was the one face that hadn’t ever crossed my mind that appeared.

On the other side of the threshold was the man I’d only seen in pictures. To be more specific, one picture, months ago, sent to me from (y/n)’s phone in an attempt to keep her from answering my call.

I recognized him immediately, but realized I’d never actually heard his name.

We stood there for a long time, staring at the other with the utmost hostility in our eyes and postures. I hated the fact that I felt the need to compete with him, but found myself acting out of instinct. I just hoped that he wasn’t as smart or perceptive as her, and wouldn’t notice the insecurity and jealousy that immediately emerged.  

“So you must be the cop.” He drawled, leaning against the doorframe to prevent my entry. The action alone pissed me off, but I bit my tongue in the hopes I could deescalate the situation, despite how much I didn’t want to. There were many things I wanted to say to him, but only a few words came out.

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, she said you’d say that.” He chuckled, rubbing his chin as he recalled a memory of her. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.

“That makes sense. It shouldn’t be a surprise, considering it’s not my job.” I stated matter-of-factly, trying to remind myself that the two of them were friends. She’d known him for a long time, and he probably felt just as possessive of her as I did.

The only difference was that I had a reason to believe she was mine.

“Let me guess, your sense of humor is her favorite trait.” The sarcasm dripped from his tongue. Normally I’d say that was my role, but right now all that I had to spit back was venom.

Retrieving my key from the door, I contemplated barreling past him to get to her quicker, but realized he was probably hoping to provoke that exact kind of reaction.

“You’re funny.” My face steeled and my fists clenched in my pockets, I peered around his head to the empty hallway behind him. “Where is she?”

“Sleeping.” That stupid smirk was back, his eyes trailing after my every movement, waiting for me to snap. When I didn’t, he escalated his antics further.

“I was about to go join her.” He said, licking his lips and standing up in an attempt to match my height.

But it wasn’t size or age that distinguished the two of us. It was our priorities. Because while he was here, trying to prove himself to me, all I could see was a young boy standing in the way of me seeing her again.

“No need. I’m here now.” I took a step forward, unsurprised to find that he didn’t immediately move out of my way.

He narrowed his eyes, grasping at straws to try and prolong this interaction. I couldn’t understand why, really. He couldn’t honestly believe I’d try to start a fight with him or leave, could he?

“Does she know you were planning on coming by?”

“Why does it matter to you?” I responded with a bored tone, staring him down until I saw his stance falter. It wouldn’t take much longer of this standoff for him to finally recede far enough into the apartment that I could just ignore him.

“Just wondering.” He mumbled, finally taking a step backwards and to the side so that I could enter. He shut the door behind me, but clearly wasn’t done with the conversation.

“Figured she wouldn’t have asked me to come spend the night with her if she knew you were coming. So she must not have expected for you to show up.”

I turned around to face him, knowing that I was playing into his games but unable to resist the temptation.

“She told me you got jealous last time. I would hate for you two to fight again if you found us in bed together. That would be so upsetting for her.”

“Well, you’re off the hook. No miscommunication. No worries at all.” It was times like these that I was grateful for my training, because it was the only thing keeping me from lunging at the boy and slamming him against the wall. I knew he could see it in my eyes.

He clearly had an idea of me in his head, one that was honestly probably pretty accurate. He wanted me to lose control and show that side of me, to prove that he was the better man. But he wasn’t. He’d had several years with her now to prove himself, and she’d still chosen me.

She chose me— that’s all I needed to remember.

“What if I want to stay?” He teased.

“We’ll let her decide.”

That was the first thing I’d said that struck a nerve in him. He resumed his previous stance with his back straight and arms crossed over his chest. “You’re a bit full of yourself for a dude who’s never here.” He spat, puffing his chest. The longer the bravado continued, the less intimidating it became. “You barely even know her.”

I was transported back to when (y/n) and I first started dating, when Morgan had accused me of the very same thing over lunch. My heart wrenched in my chest, because so much of me knew that it was still true.

She’d only just started to share information with me about her past, and still she spoke in vague generalities and half-thoughts. There was so much she hid from me, and I just… let her. I let her hide from me because I was scared that if I pressed her, she would leave.

At least, that’s what I’d thought. But each time someone pointed out how little I knew her, I was forced to consider the possibility that she was keeping me away for a deeper reason.

“I know all the parts of her that she doesn’t want to show you.” He taunted, sensing my anxieties that were clearly written across my face.

“Are you done? I’d like to go see her now.”

He didn’t respond, shaking his head. But I only got a few steps before I heard his voice again, this time louder and angrier.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Knowing that I’m here, in bed with your girlfriend while you’re on the opposite side of the country, not even answering her calls?” He remained rooted in his position at the end of the hall.

I lost the battle of keeping my eyes on her door, ripping them away so that I could turn to face him. My breathing got heavy and my hands finally left my pockets. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” I said, my voice falling quieter instead of growing, “You want to know why?”

The grimace on his face was the only answer I needed. I brought a finger to my own chest, not trusting myself to touch him. I barely knew this guy, and I wasn’t about to start a fight with one of (y/n)’s oldest friends to prove my manhood, especially if that was exactly what he wanted.

“I’m not worried because I trust her.” I practically whispered to him, “And even if I had some reason not to, I’m not intimidated by you.”

A fire appeared in his eyes, the desire to bite back stifled by the knowledge that there was nothing he could say to make me doubt her. He’d already tried and failed every time so far.

“I don’t care what parts of her you think I haven’t seen. Because I get to have the parts of her you wish you could. And she gave them to me willingly and without regret. Over and over again.”

There was so much more I wanted to say, but I was thankfully cut off by the hoarse, familiar voice in the backroom.

“Spencer?” She called, groggy yet excited. There was no way she could hear me from the room, which told me that she’d probably just woken up to my texts and hoped I was here. It told us both that when she woke up, the first person she thought to call was me.

“Yeah.” I said, a soft, genuine smile crossing my cheeks at the thought of her. “Like I said… I’m not worried.”

He didn’t follow me then, staying in the hallway to stew in his anger over the fact that this hadn’t gone at all how he’d planned. But I couldn’t think about him any longer, because as soon as I turned into her room, my heart melted.

She was sprawled out on her bed, hugging a body pillow like her life depended on it. Her hair was a beautiful disaster across her pillow, and the blanket had fallen far enough to see that she was swamped in the same Caltech sweatshirt she wore every time I was gone.

“Hey little girl.”

She slowly shimmied her way up the pillows, clearly surprised at my appearance despite having called me in. With half shut eyes, she spoke through a yawn, “What’re you doing here? You look like you haven’t slept in a week!”

“I missed you.” I admitted quietly, finally bridging the gap between us and climbing onto her bed on top of the covers. I couldn’t even bother taking off my blazer or my shoes; I needed to be close to her now, without any other unnecessary delay.

Despite curling up against me immediately, she still found a way to whine. “You better not have skipped out on anything for me. We know I’m not doing anything worthwhile in here.”

I leaned down to kiss her forehead, my hands holding her against me so that I could breathe in the familiar scent of her hair and perfume. “I strongly disagree.” I sighed, happy to hear her hum and giggle at the way my breath tickled her face.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but she tilted her head away from me to see her friend. I stayed where I was, not wanting to take my eyes off of her again for as long as I didn’t have to.

“I’m gonna head out. Let me know if you need me again.” He said, his voice full of repressed anger and sadness that I understood but didn’t particularly care about right now.

“Thanks for coming! I’ll probably see you next week; I’ll text you!” She chirped, waving to the man who’d already left.

His absence eased away the last remaining bit of tension in my shoulders, allowing me to bury myself in her neck while she continued to laugh. I heard the soft sounds of the tv for the first time and mumbled into her skin.

“What are you watching?”

“Just a sitcom. You wouldn’t be interested.”

She sounded... defensive, if not a little ashamed for her choice in shows. I had to laugh, realizing that she was still unaware of the shows my mom and I used to watch when I was a kid. The asinine, cheesy soap operas that taught me the dorky, awkward way to love that she constantly mocked me for.

I would save that piece of information for later, though, and instead, I chose to show her my own interest in the things she loved, or in the very least found comforting. “What’s it about?”

Apparently, it was the right question to ask. Over the course of the next thirty minutes she tried to condense the entire nine season series of The Office into one barely coherent rant. Eventually, she realized that I wasn’t following along as closely as she’d hoped, and just decided to start the show over.

I didn’t mind. She chastised me a few times for not paying close enough attention after catching me monitoring her reactions more than the show itself. But eventually she fell asleep on my chest, still murmuring about Jim and Pam until the words were just gibberish.

Without her commentary, I was forced to pay attention so that when she undoubtedly woke up and quizzed me, I wouldn’t just be repeating words I’d heard in the background. Somewhat unsurprisingly, I found myself swept up in the romantic storyline of her two favorite characters. So caught up, in fact, that when she woke up, it took me a moment to notice.

“What did I miss?” She grumbled, trying to force her eyes open while she turned to see the tv that displayed the immediate results of a very poorly timed love confession. “Oh, Casino Night.” Her voice was nostalgic and a bit solemn while she spoke. “This is one of my favorite episodes.”

“Why? It’s so sad.”

Without looking up at me, she pondered the question. It was obvious she’d never really thought to question why she was drawn to it. Her answer didn’t provide any comfort or explanation.

“I guess I relate to it. Loving someone like that.” She shrugged before turning back to rest her head against me. She’d said it so easily, like it wasn’t something jarring for me to hear. I realized then that she’d never told me about her past relationships. In fact, I didn’t even know if any existed.

She sensed the anxieties that were building and brought a hand to my cheek to reroute my gaze to her. “What’s wrong?”

“You… You never really talk to me about your life.” My voice was so pathetic, the pout on my lips so childish in its sadness. Because although I told myself I was only upset she hadn’t told me about it, another part of me was also jealous at the idea that anyone else ever got to hold her.

And what a stupid thought that was, to be jealous of men who didn’t get to keep her. I should have been hoping that she had people who loved her and held her and made her happy, not wishing none had existed.

“What are you talking about? We talk about it all the time.” She chuckled, clearly unaware of my inner debate and turmoil.

“I mean your life before me.” I clarified, taking her hand into mine and watching as she carefully wound our fingers together.

“Oh, well… Who cares? It’s in the past.”

She was using that voice that warned me that she was about to try and change the subject. She hadn’t meant to get this conversation started, and now it was quickly getting away from her. But I wasn’t ready to drop it—especially now that I was aware of a huge, life altering event that she’d managed to keep hidden until now.

“I care. If it’s important to you, it matters to me.” It didn’t seem to reassure her, a lopsided smile covering her cheeks before she tried to maneuver away from the topic again.

“What time is it? Shouldn’t you be going to sleep?”

I held up the small notepad that rested on her nightstand, displaying the several timestamps that I could tell were meant to signal the last time she’d taken painkillers. “I was waiting so I could offer you medicine.”

“Ugh, yes please.” She groaned, moving herself off me so that I could grab the bottles beside her bed.

But there was something I’d noticed before, which only became more obvious once I picked them up. I looked past the orange plastic, my mind straining to count the number of pills inside. The date didn’t match the amount.

“Did you fill the narcotics?”

She didn’t answer.

“Is that why he was here?”

“No.” She responded swiftly, shaking her head and rubbing her temples.

The mention of him brought out feelings that I’d almost forgotten, and with those feelings came stupid worries and questions. “...Why was he here?” I mumbled, turning the pill bottles in my hand like I didn’t already have them memorized.

“Are you jealous?” She teased, poking her tongue out at me. It worked to turn my pout into an awkward half-smile, but I was still sulking.

“Would he have really stayed in the bed with you?”

“What? No!” She shouted, sitting up fast enough that she winced, her hand grabbing her stomach but still talking through clenched teeth. “Did he say that?!”

Her reaction alone made me laugh, easing the tension and reminding me it was stupid to worry about it in the first place. “He might have implied it.” My hands started to sort through her tangled hair, gently arranging it back to its rightful place.

“Ugh, he’s such a fucking dick.” She grumbled, wiping her face to try and get rid of the sudden anger.

Meanwhile, I was once again distracted. It was obvious in the way she struggled to keep her eyes open and preventing her hands from turning to fists. She was in way too much pain for my comfort, and it was partially my fault for getting her riled up over something so silly.

But she hadn’t told me she filled the narcotics, and she didn’t tell me where they were. I needed to respect that, if only because I was scared that it might make her doubt me. When she turned to look me in the eyes, I held her cheek that fit so perfectly in the palm of my hand.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me where they are. I understand.”  

“No, it’s fine. I trust you, Spencer. It’s…” The troubled look shifted to a shaky smile. “They’re in my bedside table. I don’t think I can get them myself.”

I tried not to look excited by the reveal in case she misinterpreted my happiness. It wasn’t the drugs I cared about – it was the fact she trusted me with the fact that they existed. That was enough to carry me through any cravings that popped up. They were few, but like always, they were there.

I funneled those feelings into my caretaking, grabbing her a water bottle and helping her ease back down onto the pillow after she’d down the pills. With a sigh, she closed her eyes, listening to soft sound of the theme song in the background.

Just as I shifted my focus back to the TV, she brought me back to her with a tiny whisper.

“You have nothing to be jealous of.”

I looked down to see she still had closed eyes, now accompanied with a genuine smile. I laughed at the sight, and her eyelids fluttered open at the sound. She narrowed her eyes into a suspicious glare.

“Yeah, I... may or may not have said that.” I admitted, wiggling my fingers between hers.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Very cocky, Dr. Reid.” She chastised, squeezing my hand tighter and bringing it up to her chest. I could feel her heart beating softly against us, her chest slowly rising and falling as she started to try to drift off again.

“What else did you guys talk about?”

“Nothing that matters. Let’s go to sleep.”

It was a suggestion that didn’t need to be made, because she was basically already asleep by the time she replied, “Okay. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little girl.”

—————————————————

The best part of the week was waiting for the chance to spend two uninterrupted days with (y/n). But this time it was different; when I left her house this morning, she told me she wanted some time to herself.

I tried to ignore the fifty alarm bells that rang in my head, convincing myself that she just needed a break from entertaining me. We all needed alone time sometimes, right?

No, that was a lie. I didn’t ever need a break from her, and it worried me that she needed one from me. Was I stressing her out? Were there more secrets she was keeping from me? It had to be something heavy if she didn’t want me to know, but that’s exactly the time she would need me most, right?

It was times like this when I wished that I had more experience with relationships; I was panicking and I didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want to. I was scared that they might tell me the wrong thing, or the right thing. I was worried they might talk some sense into me and tell me that waiting outside my girlfriend’s apartment was creepy, stalkerish behavior.

I knew it was. I tried to justify it with a present that I was going to leave on her doorstep and leave. But when I got to her place, a dread filled me. I shouldn’t have come. She deserved her privacy and my trust. She’d earned it, and it wasn’t right for me to doubt her.

So, I turned my car back on and prepared to leave. But before I could, I saw her. Alone.

We’d talked about it before, and she’d promised me she wouldn’t go anywhere alone. The risks were too high – not just that she might fall or get stranded, but that something could go seriously wrong. Her stitches could tear, or she could overexert herself. She could get into a car crash and no one would know about her already existing internal damage.

She wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. She’d promised me. But there she was, climbing into her car after suspiciously glancing around. Her car left so quickly, I barely had time to think about the ethics of following her. After a few seconds of wrestling with myself, I decided to just do it and worry about the consequences later.

I’d admit it to her later, when she was safe and sound. Maybe it would be good, too, to see that she was fine without me. I just wished she’d told me so I could come to her aid if she needed me to.

After nearly twenty minutes of driving, I still had no idea where she was going. I was a little surprised she hadn’t noticed me yet, which just goes to show she probably shouldn’t have been driving.

Actually, was she on narcotics?

My mind was spinning, my hands shaking when she finally pulled into a small, unfamiliar cemetery parking lot off the side of the road.

For all her paranoia leading up to this point, she didn’t check the other cars in the lot when she got out. Instead, she put her hand on her stomach and slowly made her way through the gate, hobbling off into the field.

And then I felt terrible for so many reasons. I selfishly felt awful that she didn’t want to bring me here. It hurt that I was violating her trust like this, but it hurt worse to know she was going through it alone.

Leaning back in my seat, I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm down the emotional disaster of my mind. I didn’t need to follow her, I thought. She would come back in a little while, and I could watch her get back in her car. She would make it home, and I could call her and ask her how her day was. Maybe she’d even tell me herself.

God, I was such an idiot. I shouldn’t have come, but now I was here, and I couldn’t leave, either. This was the time she was most likely to be in danger, since the cemetery was relatively empty.

Just as that thought occurred to me, another car pulled in. it wouldn’t have mattered much to me, but the thing that followed caught my attention.

The woman inside the car climbed out and made a beeline to (y/n)’s car, peering into the windows and taking photos of the license plate. At first, I did nothing, trying to keep track of everything that was happening, noting the unfamiliar woman’s license plate number in turn.

But then she took off in the same direction my girlfriend had left in, and I realized that I couldn’t just wait here. This woman clearly knew her, and from the looks of it, it was not going to be a friendly encounter.  

This is why, I thought. This is why I made her promise.

I couldn’t just run out after her yet, so I followed as closely as I could without being clearly visible, relying on sounds, instead. But what I heard was somehow even more distressing than when I could see.

“What are you doing here?! You aren’t allowed to be here!” A scratchy, unfamiliar voice rang through the air. Even if I didn’t already know, her tone alone told me that a fight was about to follow.

I bit down on my tongue, trusting that (y/n) could handle herself. She’d done it before me, and she could do it now. The only thing worse than revealing my presence would be doing it while also discrediting her.

“Mrs. Loughton! I can explain!”

At least I finally had a name for the face, but that was about as far as my thoughts went before they turned to red. Because the only thing I could hear after that was the sound of skin against skin, and the gentle thud of someone hitting the ground.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch!” The woman screeched, and by the time I came into view, I saw my girlfriend on her hands and knees, holding the very visible red mark on her face. Neither of them saw me, too caught up in each other to notice.

It was the panic on her face, the way she lifted both hands to cover her head when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair that broke my silence.  

“Hey! Get away from her!” I shouted, running over to the two women. Mrs. Loughton released (y/n)’s hair, causing her to drop back onto her hands and knees while she looked up at me with an angry, frazzled stare.

“Spencer?!”

“Who the hell are you?” The woman spat, redirecting her anger towards me. I much preferred it this way.

“I’m a law enforcement agent, and you just assaulted someone.”

“Assault? Ha!” She laughed, talking over me as if she’d heard the speech a million times before. I got the impression this wasn’t the first time the two have had a showdown. “That’s funny, considering.”

“Spencer, please leave.” The fear overtook any other emotion, and the tears welled so quickly in her eyes it hurt my chest. I couldn’t leave. There was no way I could leave her on her knees in front of this woman.  

“Let me guess, are you one of her dad’s friends?” She sneered, but all I could hear was (y/n) continuing to plead.

“Spencer. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t breathe, my chest heaving with unbridled rage, confusion, and something else I couldn’t even place.

“Oh I bet you are one of his friends. Always protecting her. You’re all a bunch of pathetic, power-hungry lowlifes.”

(Y/n) stood up now, neither of us paying any attention to the raving woman while I tried to help her up. “Please, I want to leave.” She pleaded, grabbing my hand so tightly that it trembled.

“Are you a murderer, too?”

“What are you talking about?!” I snapped, my arms wrapping possessively around (y/n) like I could shield her from everything that was happening. But I couldn’t, and I heard her soft sobs while she pulled on my shirt, now wet with her tears.

“That stupid, selfish little bitch knows exactly what she did, and she knows that she’s not allowed anywhere near here!” Her face was red, her arms waving and tears sprouting in her eyes while she ran out of breath. Then, deathly quiet, she pursed her lips and tried to bite her tongue. But she couldn’t, the words bursting through when she saw the way I held (y/n).

“If you really are a law enforcement agent, then get her the fuck out of here! She’s not allowed on this property!”

“She hasn’t done anything!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she let me know swiftly and with full force.

“She’s the reason my son is dead!” She shrieked, stepping towards me with an accusing finger in my face. “It was her friends, her drugs, her horrible decisions and now my baby is gone!”

I hated this part. Because as much as I loved (y/n), it was impossible not to hear the absolute devastation in this woman’s voice. And the longer she talked, the more I understood what was happening. Not enough to argue back, but enough to feel sympathy for them both.

More than anything, I wanted to protect (y/n), but I didn’t know how. I held her tighter, trying to show her that she was safe. I’m afraid it had the opposite effect, and she started to fight my embrace.

“It should have been her! She should follow in her father’s footsteps and do the world a favor and...” She cut herself off, knowing the weight of her words and contemplating them a moment longer before making her decision. “And just fucking disappear!”

The shock of it all caused my arms to loosen – just barely. It was enough, though, and before I knew it (y/n) had burst from my arms, taking off at full speed through the headstones.

“(Y/n)!” I choked, going to run after her, but I was stopped one final time.

“Yeah, get the hell out of here.” The woman behind me softly sobbed, trembling as the fight left her. “Go protect her like you always do. They always do.”

I couldn’t stay on the thought; I’d have to come back to it later, because there were more pressing concerns for me than a stranger who’d just hurt the woman I loved. So I turned around and booked it after her just as she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the cover of the woods around the cemetery.

Naturally, she couldn’t stay on the level, manicured grass. My heart was pounding not just at the energy exerted to follow her, but from all the different things that could go wrong. She could fall, she could run into something, she could get lost.

But luckily, even the adrenaline couldn’t stop the pain in her stomach, and she’d barely gotten anywhere before I caught up to her. I loosely caught her wrist, pulling her gently back to me before she nearly collapsed in my arms.

“(Y/n), where do you think you’re going? You can’t be running like this! Especially not here; it’s way too dangerous!” I said through my labored breaths. Then we stopped, and she protested at my touch.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked calmer now, lifting her back onto her feet. “Did she hurt you?” When I went to lift her shirt to inspect her wound, she brought her hand down in a hard slap.

“Stop, Spencer! Just fucking stop! Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”

The venom dripped from her tongue and burned my skin, my hands jumping back away from her as I took a step back. All the negative emotions that I’d just watched her go through were growing and morphing into a painful anger, and it was all aimed at me.

I deserved it.

“Why the fuck are you even here?! I told you I wanted to be alone today, a-and now you’re what, y-you’re following me?!”

I wished I could just shut up, but the words flowed out of me like I had any right to be angry with her over a promise that didn’t even seem to matter anymore. “And it’s a good thing I did. That woman could have seriously hurt you!”

“Who cares!”

“I do!” My voice strained at the volume I used to match hers. Our angry shouting disrupted the wildlife and broke through the sounds of cars traveling on the highway on the other side of the trees. “You might not care about what happens to you, (y/n), but it matters to me!”

“Why the fuck are you yelling at me?!” And then the sniffles turned to outright sobs, her whole body shaking, her hands cradling her face while she struggled under the weight of everything that had happened so quickly.

I shouldn’t have come here, but I was glad I had. I wished none of this had happened. I just wanted to hold her, but she stepped away when I got closer, defensively covering her head. My heart shattered at the thought of her being scared of me.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I said genuinely, my voice still breaking, but now at an acceptable volume. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, I-I just… I got scared. I thought you were going to get hurt again and I—“

“Sometimes I’m going to get hurt, Spencer. I can’t put my life on hold for your comfort. I’m only twenty years old. I’m not ready to be a housewife waiting at home for you!” She was quick, stumbling over her words and waving her arms between us in the hopes it would force me to keep my distance.

I didn’t want to hurt her, I never wanted that. And right now, it was very obvious that’s exactly what I was doing.  “Of course. I want you to have a life, but you…”

Her hand was back on her stomach, and the action caused a sudden panic that overwhelmed the logic and sense. “You were shot!” I cried, “You almost died in my arms! I thought I was going to lose you, forever.”

She couldn’t reply yet, her lungs too busy trying to take in hungry breaths without irritating the hardly healed skin.

I clenched my eyes shut, unable to look at it any longer. “It’s been barely a month, (y/n). A-And you’re already sneaking around behind my back and putting yourself in danger and I don’t know how I’m supposed to just turn a blind eye to that.”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She panted; the words hardly audible. Her skin was damp with sweat from the pain that was obviously written all over her.

This time, when I stepped closer, she couldn’t move away. I didn’t hold her yet, opting instead to place one hand on her hip and the other on the side of her face. She sighed, resting her head against my hand. She said she didn’t want to talk to me, but the way she closed her eyes and her heartrate immediately calmed down with the simplest touch told me that she wanted nothing more than for me to pick her up and take her home.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from whatever the hell just happened out there, but you don’t have to do that.” I whispered, gently wiping away her tears with my thumb. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re just going to let it go?” I couldn’t decide what was more simultaneously heartbreaking and adorable, her pauses to sniffle, or the way she pouted as she spoke. “You aren’t going to ask me every night until you get an answer?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to trust me again, then yes. I’ll let it go.” I reassured her. She took the answer with an immense amount of relief, leaning forward to rest all of her body weight against me. I tried to stop her from falling too far or too hard, hoping to ease the pain that was already wrecking her.

But she didn’t even seem to notice, rubbing her face against my shirt and further soaking it with tears. I just wanted her to be okay, and I wished I could do it faster. For now, all I could do was pet the back of her head, rocking just a bit to the side in a soothing manner.

We stayed like that for a long time, and I occasionally pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering soft apologies to her and telling her that I loved her, no matter what. Eventually, she responded, her voice filled with guilt and shame again.

“I was going to tell you eventually.”

“I believe you.” I immediately responded, pulling her back to look at me to know that I was telling her the truth. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She gave the tiniest, saddest nod back.

“I would never try to hurt you.” I promised, earning a slanted smile. I mirrored it back to her, which made her laugh.

The sounds of the highway paired with the rustling of the leaves, and the two of us shared a quiet moment of understanding. Because I knew I shouldn’t have come, but I was glad I was there, and she felt very much the same.

“I’d like to go home, please.”

“Okay.” I agreed, taking her hand and maneuvering the woods that didn’t seem nearly as dangerous when her hand was in mine. “Let’s go home.”

—————————————————

“Hotch, I need to ask you for a favor.”

The man didn’t even look up from his desk, and I could tell from his posture that he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation he expected to follow. I couldn’t blame him; I hadn’t been the easiest employee to have for the past couple of weeks.

“Reid, we’ve talked about this. You either have to come back completely or—“

“No, sorry, this… isn’t about that.” I corrected, trying to ease the tension before it got any worse. Unfortunately, he still seemed combative, although there was now a guilt mixed in the frustration.

“I need to talk to you about (y/n)’s father.” I clarified, my voice breaking mid-sentence. I cleared my throat, trying to make eye contact despite the nerves gnawing at the little self-esteem I had.

But after a brief moment of thought, Hotch waved me forward, gesturing to the seat in front of him. He shoved the papers to the side and I wondered what it was he was working so hard on. I had a feeling it had to do with her, but I wasn’t going to ask.

“Does she know you’re asking me about this?”

It was the first question, and although I fully expected him to ask it, I still choked on an answer. He sighed deeply, his hands folding on his desk. He wasn’t able to look at me, either.

“Reid…”

“I-I’m really worried about her.” I needed him to hear the desperation in my voice, to feel just how scared I really was. I didn’t want to come running to him for every little thing involving her — he’d already done so much for her just fending off the prosecutors.

I knew we were both tired, but I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his tone when he talked about her that she meant something to him, too. Even if it wasn’t nearly as much, he’d known her when she was a kid.

Well, I guess to Hotch, she still was. I hated to exploit that knowledge, but I needed answers now. Before something else went horribly wrong. So I broke into a rant, my hands running through my hair and down my legs as I tried to prevent them from turning to fists at the memory.

“The other day she did something and she got into a physical altercation with another woman a-and she told (y/n) that she should follow her father’s footsteps and…” The word caught in my throat. He narrowed his eyes, and I suspected he already knew what I was about to say.

“Disappear.”

Across from the desk, he tensed, bowing his head to look at the files lining the surface in front of him. Every single one of them contained a plethora of information about someone’s family. Someone’s everything.

“What did she mean, Hotch?”

“Reid, the information in that file is not only classified, it’s extremely personal. I’m sure she doesn’t know all the details herself. I think it’s best for you to hear it from her.” He explained it so robotically, I could tell he didn’t want to be saying it. The way his jaw clenched told me that there was a lot he wished he could discuss about whatever the hell happened.

It must be a lonely way to live, I thought. And then I thought of her, carrying the weight of uncertainty on top of whatever Hotch held. She was strong, but she was young. She had been even younger then, and she wouldn’t have had the one man who’d taught her to survive to teach her how to handle what came next.

I wrung my hands together. I didn’t mean to be manipulative, but tears stung at my eyes. They were real, and they were persuasive.

“I just need to know that she’s safe.” I begged. “But your reaction isn’t telling me that at all. In fact, it’s telling me the exact opposite.”

Now that I’d started, the words wouldn’t stop.

“If my girlfriend is in danger, I need to know. It’s not like I care about the mission or whatever her father was wrapped up in — I-I just want to know what happened to him. This woman knew, so apparently it’s not that classified!”

My voice grew in volume, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I could feel his face morph into a scowl even as I clenched my eyes tightly shut. There was so much I hated about this, but nothing more than knowing that despite everything I’ve done, I still couldn’t reach out to her and help her when she needed me.

I was still failing her, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

“Reid, stop.”

Hotch must have been able to read my mind, because something inside of him also snapped, the tension releasing from his shoulders and his jaw. I wondered if it was because he trusted me not to give it away, or if it was because he trusted her.

Either way, he spoke, his voice low and hushed.

“I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you has never been confirmed, and should not be shared outside of this room. Even with her.”

Sitting up with a straight back and a heavy swallow, I nodded.

“I understand.”

—————————————————

| Part 17 |