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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 4 months ago

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because i liked a boy - spencer reid x fem!reader

somehow a reporter finds out about reader's relationship with none other than her coworker, dr spencer reid and shames her for it during a press conference

genre: flangst wc: 1355 warnings: medialiaison!reader established relationship, slut-shaming, feminism talk, upset spencer, morgan mention, mentioned case involving children

"This is a rough composite sketch of the UnSub. If anyone sees him, please call us using the number on the screen. Any questions?" you speak clearly, eyebrows raised and back straight.

It's a tough case this time, not that any are easy. The ones involving children–like this one–are the worst. You know that. It’s yet to hit you this hard, though. You're used to being in front of a camera all fake smiles and airbrushed to look porcelain but you're struggling to hold it together today. It’s never been easy to see grieving parents begging for their kid’s life on national television.

It also doesn't help that you haven't seen Spencer much these past two days. Ever since HR found out about you two, he’s been trying to keep his distance for professionalism’s sake. You appreciate it, of course, but you wish everything could be normal again. You miss working alongside him, sneaking tiny waist pinches every little while. Maybe you’re codependent.

One of the male reporters holding a microphone asks plainly, like it isn’t rude, “how do you expect this case to go to trial with your ongoing relationship within your team? Isn’t that some sort of conflict of interest?”

Now, how did they find out about that?

Luckily, Hotch steps in before you need to form a response. You’re left flushed and out of sorts, needing some water or something. It’s not like you’ve never had a bad press experience but nothing that came after you specifically. Why do they even care in the first place? Are you really that interesting? Is your love life really that interesting? His mustn’t be.

To Hotch, he spits, “it’s a valid question, Agent, you can’t expect no one to comment on one of your unit’s members sleeping her way to the top or… sleeping her way to getting a case dismissed.”

You want to stay, fight, cry, maybe even guilt him into apologizing, but, to your dismay, you’re pulled away by Morgan who looks just as upset as you do. If there weren’t a room full of people stopping him, you’re sure he would’ve hurt the guy. You don’t want to be dragged away by the action figure that is Derek Morgan so you try to pour your feelings into words. “The conference– the case–!”

Morgan stares at you in a way that very clearly says are you done? And, yes, you guess you are. You sigh, nodding reluctantly.

“Hotch will figure it out,” he assures softly but firmly.

You’re escorted to the break room where you watch the television only to see that very same reporter, spewing his nonsense again. Low and behold, he’s still stuck on the topic of you.

“An anonymous source discloses the identities of two FBI agents with the Behavioural Analysis Unit that are in a relationship of hidden rendezvous.”

The pitter-patter of your heart is louder than usual as he reads out your names along with the loving message, “I guess this proves that women really can’t be trained. What a shame, she’s certainly got–”

With that, you shut off the disgusting noises coming from someone claiming to be a man. You’ve never been good at taking insults but this was something else entirely. Your chest burns. You’re being perceived as a person you’re not. Everything you’ve tried so hard to build could all come crashing down at this very moment if you let it.

All because you liked a boy?

It feels ridiculous, like a step in the wrong direction for all womankind. That’s dramatic, you’re sure, but this is so twenty years ago. What happened to feminism, for fuck’s sakes? You wouldn’t give Spencer up for anything less than solving world hunger, but you wish this whole ordeal could’ve never happened. What if you lose your job? What if you lose this case because you’re too sensitive to male attention for your own good? Unfortunate circumstances led here and you wish it could be simple. It’s a tall order, but you wish UnSubs and all the people who enjoy pinning others down would simply cease to exist. You wish Spencer was here.

As if reading you all the way from canvassing the neighborhood, he’s suddenly visible, walking towards the doorway with quick Converse-sounding steps, Morgan’s hand on his shoulder. He looks worried. What worries you, though, is that he looks guilty. That hurts.

Familiar arms wrap around you as he kneels on the floor in front of the couch. “Hey, I heard what happened. Are you okay?” Spencer whispers, lips pressed into the fabric covering your shoulder.

You ponder the question for a moment before nodding. You’re not quite sure how you feel, if you’re being completely truthful. Criticism was never something you’ve taken well. Not ever. Maybe you deserve it, though. After all, you are sleeping with a coworker. You’re an agent, it’s not appropriate of you in the least. You should’ve kept to yourself, been the good girl the world wanted you to be. Female agents in the big bad FBI are already seen a certain way. You just happened to worsen it with wide-eyed affection.

How he always does, he mutters an explanation, “people like that don’t have anything going for them, you know. They report on others because their own life is insignificant.”

It’s wildly the wrong time to laugh but you do, flushed cheeks plumping from a happy smile. He pulls away and your hands find his face like they always seem to do. “I know.”

He nods. He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

He’s so unbelievably pretty that it almost makes you want to cry. Those same somber eyes that you’re sure mirror yours stare deep.

“It just sucks… you know?” you say so very quietly.

Nodding, he chews on his lip. “I know.”

“It’s like… I thought slut-shaming was over,” you laugh bitterly.

You can tell he feels bad. It’s not like this is his fault. You know he believes it is, anyways.

“It should be. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t your fault. That useless guy should be spending the night in a cell for harassing an agent not on the ten o’clock news airing out our personal matters.”

It’s really not often you see him like this, upset and wielding pain-filled threats. It never fails to amuse you. You’re not sure why. Something about the juxtaposition of his usual sweet demeanor and this annoyed ranting one, you suppose.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“Funny?”

You smile and nod, your thumb tracing his lower lip. “A little. We’re the most enthralling news in all of small-town-Colorado.”

While Spencer doesn’t find it quite as giggle-inducing, he mimics the pull of your mouth’s corners and shows his reluctant agreement with a bob of his head. “That is… silly, I guess.”

“We’re basically stars,” you shrug.

In honest disbelief and certainly awe for your ability to brush off the event with humour, he shakes his head, curls falling out of place. Your fingers rush to correct it. The golden eyes you love stay stubbornly put on your own. Breaths mix together in the close proximity despite you not recalling how you got so close. It’s proven difficult to care when his plush lips find yours. Carefully and with love, he kisses you. With no intent, no desire other than to make you feel better. It breaks stickily, the shimmer that once was on your lips now ghosting around his mouth. You grin.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Spencer tenderly mutters.

Gently, you answer, “I’m sure. I mean, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

You believe yourself. You’d never doubt your relationship with Spencer. It just sucks that they had to poke holes in your safe place. That safe place being Spencer. Your home. You know because of your profiler-by-association background that he was right about the reporter being not fulfilled enough in his own life that he had to insert himself into yours. That didn’t make it drastically better, anyway. Perhaps your personal life should be kept away from work.

But it’s not your fault that work happens to include Dr. Spencer Reid.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #sabrina carpenter #criminal minds x reader

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ohnovikky · 2 months ago

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pink ribbon girl

○ summary: Y/N is a retired womanizer. kim thinks she's full on activity.

warning: none.

note: just something i thought about. i love kimmy and seems like nobody writes for her, but i'm not sure what to think of it as it's my first time writing. also english is NOT my first language.

you smile at her. kim little. the most important person in the world. to you, at least. she doesn't smile back. of course, she doesn't. after all this time, the best you've got was a nod. but now, she actually scoffs.

"hey ribbons" kyra calls for you, moving clooser "you just got viral again"

"what do you mean?"

"someone posted a video of you on tiktok... of you and alex..."

"what?"

"popp" she says, pronouncing the last "p" strongly. oh oh

well, part of the reason kim never smiles back comes from that. you reputation. one that came with you when you moved clubs. at the time, you didn’t mind, because quite frankly, it was true. you enjoyed sex. you liked to have fun and didn’t mind going out with different women. the only problem was when said women had girlfriends. or when those women were from the football community. all in the past, but you certainly minded it now.

"we're friends" you say, firmly.

"of course"

"it's true!"

but you know no one'll believe you. not people on tiktok. not kyra and oh gosh, not kim. it didn't help alex popp is wolfsburg captain, just like her. people have a rumor about that too: that you like them specially when they have something beyond orgasms to offer you.

it's much later, when you're on the locker room, that you hear whispers "it's just like leah said the other night" great, now they're having reunions to talk about you "a pillow princess of many pillows" "she must be rentless, at least it isn't our kimmy who'll be sore" "katie, stop it now" you hear kim's clipped voice.

"kim, can i talk to you?"

silence.

kim's at the corner, folding her clothes. she seems tired. without looking at you, she sighs.

slowly but surely nosy, everyone goes away to give you a little privacy.

"i know you saw that video of alex and i and i know it looks bad..."

"i'm sure it looks exactly what it is expected to look"

"two friends having dinner?"

she finally looks at you, completely serious "what do you take me for? i didn't asked anything from you nor i want to. but if you think you can fool me, i'll have you know-"

"that you're thirteen years older than me? the you wasn't born yesterday?"

"in fact, yes"

"how can i prove it to you? tell me and i'll do if it means we can hang out-"

"i'll spare you from the sacrifice"

"kim, please" you plead, almost defeated. it's been more than a year, and you've tried everything, even buying coffee and flowers for her every morning until you found out she would give them to the nearest person. you tried charm her with your football skills, arriving early at the training center and being proactive. you would write her notes (even with you think that's kind ridiculous) and put on her things. and most importantly, you stopped even glacing at other girls.

she just looks at you, as if trying to solve a difficult math problem. finally, she nods to herself.

"very well" she says calmly "if you go celibate for at least a moth or two, i'll go out with you"

oh my god oh my god oh my god

"that's... sure! of course! actually, i'm already-"

"yeah yeah, i'm sure" she's already leaving, dismissive, and you know she doesn't believe not even a little bit in you. but you'll prove it to her.

even if it's the last thing you do.

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #kim little #woso smut

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 2 years ago

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Hi thank u for opening asks! Can I request headcanons for the male companions (and or gortash Raphael and the emperor) having a mute s/o either because they can’t talk or they’re very shy

A/N: Here ya go! Managed to get everyone to stay mostly in character. Please be warned there are hints of nsfw for each character, although nothing graphic in nature. And that the entries for Gortash and Raphael describe abusive relationships, so heed the trigger warnings below.

🔇 Mute!Reader HC x BG3 Males: 🔇

TW: Domestic Abuse & Vaguely NSFW Content

(Abuse and Manipulation for the Gortash & Raphael ones. Also allusions to sex throughout each entry.)

Astarion:

He’s suspicious of you at first. Even more so that you don’t talk. But if you prove you’re not a threat in other ways, he doesn’t actually mind it all that much. He talks to you about the same. A good amount of what he says is either posturing or complaining- and that doesn't change just because you can’t talk back. If anything, he complains even more, knowing you wont tell him to shove off like the others. He greatly enjoys how dramatic he gets to be around you. He’ll lean against a city wall and dramatically lay the back of his hand over his face: ‘I tell you Darling, it’s like these people don’t notice me at all!’ You blink at his outburst, your expression unchanged, clearly unamused.

Still says lots of witty comments under his breath, and subtly looks over at you to see if you’ve smirked or blushed in response. Gets really good at reading all the little reactions you make. He makes a mental catalog of every half smirk, every eye twitch, every shoulder shrug, so that he knows how you feel about something he or another has said.

Appreciates the fact that you’re unlikely to repeat anything he says to you, which makes him feel all the safer confiding in you about his condition and his past, knowing you can’t go sounding the alarm.

Ends up going on tangents or rants about the others while you just sit there and kind of grimace, empathetically. He knows it can get annoying to just have to listen, but he’s extremely grateful for the outlet. Cazador certainly never cared what he was feeling. Nor did any of his ‘siblings’. But with you, he can bitch about his day only to turn around and find you still there, listening intently.

Becomes a lot touchier. Like a lot. He switches from checking to verbal confirmation to physical confirmation. Takes your hand, or pulls you close, squeezes your shoulder- those sorts of things.

Personally takes it as a challenge to see how loud he can get you to be when you’re intimate together ;)

Gale:

Doesn’t notice immediately lol. He’s too busy being overjoyed at the fact you don’t interrupt his long winded, pun-filled speeches to even consider it’s due to a disability or something similar on your part. He just thinks you’re the most wonderful listener. And of course, this makes him fall head over heels for you lol.

Once he does get it, he just sort of goes, ‘Oh.’ And lets that sit in the air. (He’s a bit awkward around you for a while, unsure of how to apologize, so you’d probably need to approach him and make your forgiveness known.)

Once that misunderstanding is over, he immediately becomes occupied with finding spells to help you talk. If that’s something you want, you appreciate the effort, and let him know you’re in no rush. If that’s something you’re not interested in, you tell him as much. He’s a little disappointed and taken off guard. He explains he’s always used magic to solve his problems. You raise your brow and give him a look that says ‘And that’s been working well for you, has it?’ He relents after that.

The two of you get really good at reading each other’s faces. And Gale takes it upon himself to talk less as well, even though you explain he doesn’t have to. He insists, saying he wants to understand what your life is like. He lasts like two days lol.

Becomes mostly competent at understanding what you’re saying either via sign or body language, but occasionally Tera has to translate for you. Thank the gods for tressyms.

Wyll:

Is momentarily taken aback, embarrassed by his concern he was being rude to you before, assuming you could talk to him but were choosing not to. Apologizes, profusely, for the misunderstanding on his part.

Learns to communicate with you through other means, be it writing, or by whatever the Faerun equivalent of sign language is. He’s not the best at it, but he tries really hard to learn. Picks up basic phrases like greetings, and moods. Does request that you slow down if you’re fluent, to give his brain time to catch up.

Doesn’t let anyone in the group make petty or passive aggressive comments while giving them a look or chewing them out. He’s very serious about it. The next time Astarion says something off the cuff, Wyll responds with, ‘Well, Astarion, I’d assume you of all people would be used to it being quiet. Having only the other rats of Baldurs Gate as friends for years.’ He’ll go for the jugular- he doesn't give af! No one gets to make you feel bad about it.

Considers going to Shadowheart or Halsin, or even Gale and asking them if there’s something they can do to help you/your condition, but that’s only with your blessing of course. He wants to help you, but doesn’t want to overstep.

Comes to appreciate how honest you are in your other reactions- your eyes and your body language. Wyll is used to being deceived- by demons, humans, and the like- so he thinks it’s so special he can read you like a book. Whether you’re strolling through Baldur’s Gate, or enjoying your marital bed, it matters greatly to him how you truly feel and think. He’s glad he’s able to share your truth with him.

Halsin:

Catches on fairly quickly, although he doesn’t bring it up to you directly. He figures you will bring it up when you are ready to discuss it, and in the meantime, he would not want to pry. Listens intently when you tell him by checking in with your facial expression as he reads your writing.

Tries to find ways to help you with what you can do. Suggests maybe enchanting a feather pen and scroll or some chalk and a small board to write out what you’re thinking so others can understand how it is you feel in real time. He offers his druid magic to do whatever you need. Hell, he even considers mentoring you to see if you feel nature’s calling. If you were a druid, perhaps you could develop a relationship with an animal companion, say a bird, or an awakened rat, or a giant eagle and get them to speak for you.

Similar to Wyll, Halsin will try to learn sign language if that’s something you speak. However he isn’t the most adept at it. He’s very used to spellcasting, which requires at least one free hand, often his dominant hand. So he tries learning sign with his nondominant hand, but that makes it all the more difficult. He knows the alphabet, but that’s about it. You will have to slowly spell out your sentences word by word in order for him to get the gist.

Makes sure you’re either safely hidden away at camp, or stay within his sight during a battle. He knows you cannot cry out for help, so he wants to make sure he can keep an eye on you throughout any conflict.

Loves just being close to you. Swears he can hear the intention of your heart when the two of you are so close. He wants to assure you, your difference doesn’t make him love you any less. If anything, he is impressed with how much you continue to adapt to and overcome. He’ll say, ‘You need not speak for me to know your voice, my heart. One look in your eyes, and I know, it is an internal melody so beautiful, all of nature could not compare.’ He’ll place soft touches to your skin and face, and check your reaction before progressing any further. He thinks being intimate with you is the best way to express your emotions as a couple. After all, sex is the most ancient language of all.

Minsc:

He doesn’t get it until Boo points it out to him lol. And even after being told, he still forgets from time to time.

Minsc loves to talk. Well brag. And boast. And speak in the third-person. So he’s not thrown off by you having to refer to yourself with body language or with possessive pronouns in Common writings.

He will ask you lots of questions, all throughout the day. Some are obvious and others are seemingly random, and difficult to explain with your words limited to being written down as fast as you can before Minsc’s mind wanders and changes the subject. It’s a workout for your wrists honestly.

He will loudly announce that you’re mute every time you meet new people. ‘This is (Y/N), my dear love, she cannot speak. So (Y/N) will write her answers for Boo. And Boo will tell me. Then Minsc may tell you.’ You keep trying to tell him, the system doesn’t need Boo and him to interpret for you, especially if you’re already recording your answers in Common for others to read.

He will never let you apologize for not being able to speak. He refuses to see it as a problem. ‘Minsc speaks loud enough for both of us, no?’ He thinks you’re the most wonderful person around. He could have his pick of the crop, and yet he chose you. Trust him, you’re the person he wants to be with more than anything.

Gortash:

Actually kind of prefers lovers who don’t talk back, lol. He’s a very insecure man when it comes to his character. He’s cunning and wise, but clawed his way out of hell (quite literally) and the self-critical voice in his head never silences. So he’s oddly comforted that you can’t demean his temperament.

He won’t try to fix it, nor will he allow you to try and change it in any sort of way. He doesn’t want you to go babbling on about his plans or how he is behind closed doors. That information cannot be getting out. So no, you will not be allowed any magic or spells to help you communicate.

He will open up to you on occasion in private. The longer you’re together, the more safe he feels like confiding in you. If you feign sympathy, or if you are in fact sympathetic to his backstory, he’ll feel something akin to love for you. It’s not quite love. It’s much more logical, more calculating and pragmatic than that. But it’s about as close as you’d get with him.

Likes how you have little to no choice other than to stay at his side and listen to him intently. He loves watching all your little apprehensive reactions when beckons you closer and pulls you into his lap. How your pulse races, how your breath quickens, he knows how his proximity makes you feel, even if you can’t open your mouth to speak the words. Besides, he’s very sure your mouth will be good for, let’s just say, other things.

He will allow you to write him little notes here and there, but only in his office, and only when no one else is around. He’s rather paranoid that way. But he’s also rather pleased how it means you must keep seeking him out during his working hours. He’s under no false impression that he's the kindest lover. But you can’t leave him. You need him. He’s the only one who’s allowed to understand you. And he intends to keep it that way.

Raphael:

Like Gortash, Raphael feels a sort of sick satisfaction over the fact you can’t talk back to him. But then on the other hand, he feels a sort of sick disappointment that he can’t torture you into making all those sweet pathetic noises for him. So it’s 50/50 with him.

He will consider giving you a voice via deviant magic if it means he can hear you beg. It drives him absolutely wild, and he refuses to go completely without it. Takes said voice away if you venture too far into brat territory, or you directly insult him. It’s a privilege for you to even look upon him, how dare you use the gift he gave you against him?

Has Harleep babysit you when he isn’t there. You can’t exactly call for help, and Raphael’s house isn’t safe for you to be wandering about unsupervised.

Enjoys the look of pure frustration on your face when you try learning to write in Infernal, only to fail miserably. He thinks you’re adorable all revved up. He will read the notes you write in Common, he just doesn’t always respond to them. Despite his refusal to acknowledge most of them, you can tell he understands them, based on how large that vein on his forehead gets lol.

He will let you choose whether or not to have a voice during certain moments of pleasure; well, mostly pleasure. He loves the little gasps and moans you make, it fuels his lust for you even more. Then again, he doesn’t need to hear the sweet cries of your pretty voice to know whether he’s on the right track. ‘I can sense your heartbeat, little mouse,’ he'll whisper to you. Your body reveals to Raphael all there is to know, whether you want it to or not.

The Emperor:

It literally doesn’t matter. Dude’s telepathic lol.

Wishes you’d become an illithid so you’d be telepathic too. Almost doesn’t take no for an answer on that one.

Ultimately ends up relishing in the fact he alone can understand you- your wants, your needs, your dreams, and hopes. It makes him feel all the more powerful.

Will give you the play-by-play about the Nether Brain and the Chosen Three because he’s been dying to tell someone, and he knows you can’t go running in the streets telling everyone and ruining his hopes of manipulation. Mainly because you don’t talk but also because he’s not letting you leave his realm lol, no way in hell.

If you really don’t feel at home here, ‘You could always,’ he’ll suggest coyly, ‘Become one of us.’ You don’t even have to shake your head to tell him ‘no’. Your facial expression does all the talking for that one.

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 imagine #astarion x reader #gortash x reader #gale x reader #wyll x reader #halsin x reader #bg3 raphael x reader #the emperor x reader #minsc x reader #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 imagine #hc #bg3

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 8 months ago

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I don't know anything about Batman comics but I am very curious, who is this Jean Paul Valley fellow?

(I could google it but I feel like your answer is going to be a lot more enlightening)

okay so imagine you're a grad student just trying to get your degree in computer science. your mom is dead, you've never been close to your dad. you've made the best of it. one night your dad shows up on your doorstep in weird armor, terribly injured, and he dies in your arms telling you that you have to take up his mantle now. what the fuck does that mean? what mantle? oh, okay, turns out he was a warrior for a secret religious order. okay, it turns out all the men in your family have been for generations. alrighty, this is accomplished via childhood programming that creates a secondary warrior personality that lives in your head and comes out when you need to hurt people. maybe even kill them. you don't really want to do that but it also seems like you don't have a choice. sometimes you just kill people with a sword now, I guess. but Batman's here, Batman is going to help. he promised. he takes you under his wing, says he'll teach you how to manage this. you can't stop fighting but you can fight for good, maybe. Batman will show you how. except things are going wrong in the city, and Batman is running himself ragged trying to fix it. he's busy, too busy for you. Robin is trying to help you as best he can, but Robin's just a boy. and things are getting worse, Batman is fading. but you're also getting worse, there are voices in your head. and then Batman nearly dies. he certainly won't be able to walk again, not any time soon. so you're Batman now, I guess. you have barely even know how to be yourself anymore and now you also have to be Batman, and the man who was Batman has disappeared. out of the country to solve another mystery, left the city to you. you don't know what to do. you don't know what to do and people are dying and this city is hell on earth and why? why did he let it get this bad? what the fuck was the old Batman doing? you have to be a better Batman. you have to do whatever it takes to fix this place. maybe the old Batman wasn't hitting hard enough. maybe his enemies should have been more scared of him. maybe he shouldn't have let them get away in the first place. you're so alone. Robin is gone. Batman is gone. the only advice is coming from the voices in your head. you help people, sometimes, but you also feel increasingly disconnected from them. you're not really yourself anymore, are you? you're the voices in your head, your programming. you're Batman. you barely sleep and when you do it's on the floor of a cave, in your armor. and you keep this up until the old Batman comes back. he's walking again; it's a long story. and he wants his name back. he brought the other sidekicks and all three of them hate you, and when they come for you they don't stop until you're stripped of the armor, the mantle, and the name. they kick you out of the cave. you spend months living on the streets of this awful city you couldn't fix, hallucinating and trying to figure out who you are. they leave you like this until Batman comes to find you. you still work for him. he has a job for you. he doesn't like you, isn't even sure he trusts you, but he has a job that needs doing and you're a warm body. you're grateful. what else do you have?

that's Jean Paul Valley.

#jean paul valley

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fantastic-nonsense · 1 month ago

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Tim "Power of Friendship" Drake. Is that why every Everytime I come across his “future” selves in comics (Teen Titans 2003, and lonely place of living) he is brooding angry loner who uses a gun for some reason? Why do they write him rejecting his friends?

Basically every Batman!Tim we’ve ever seen is evil, which I think is less indicative that Tim has inherent supervillain tendencies and more indicative of the fact that a Tim who is Batman is, traditionally, a Tim that is either alone or has lost people so fundamental to his sense of self that it sent him at least a bit over the edge. It’s a Tim without a support base, a Tim without the family and community he so deliberately and carefully cultivates, and a Tim without others to reign his darker impulses in and hold him accountable.

The thing about Tim is that he's a social person and a support character by nature. He gravitates towards talking to people and creating connections and identifying gaps and solving problems that keep people from working effectively together. As he's noted on multiple occasions, he has friends and treasures having them deeply. This is largely why when his social support structure breaks down, he goes off the deep end and starts getting angry and depressed.

Additionally, Tim has never wanted to be Batman. The concept of becoming Batman or being anything like Bruce canonically scares him. He rejects the idea outright on several different occasions, and he hates that he's finally being able to "understand" Bruce after suffering the immense personal losses he went through in the mid-2000s. Tim is stunningly realistic and critical of Bruce as a person for someone who is incredibly idealistic about the ideals of Batman; it's always been a very fascinating source of tension for his personal interactions with Bruce and to a lesser extent Dick and Cass.

Which is a larger point that people dance around but rarely actually talk about in these conversations: to get Canon!Tim to a place where he either wants to become Batman or actually becomes Batman, you have to remove at least 5-6 cornerstone people in his life that keep him happy, sane, and a nominally normal, functional human being. Wearing the cowl certainly doesn't help matters, but Tim's mentality and sanity would start sliding regardless of whether he was wearing the cowl or not in any situation where he loses that foundational sense of community and accountability. Thus, the proliferation of Evil Loner Batman!Tims that we see.

So imo it's less about Tim actively rejecting his friends and more "well what it proves is that Tim goes insane when he loses everyone he loves, which checks out."

#Young Justice and the Batfam 🤝 Tim: 'do not separate or risk evilization'#tim drake #tim drake meta #asks #dc comics #batman

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married-to-google-translater · 10 months ago

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Hi I love your blog, not sure if requests are open or not (you can ignore this if it isn't), but can you do yandere morarity the patriot reactions to reader successfully escaping them for a years and has a kid that looks just like them?

Hey thanks~

Since you didin't say what characters I do this now for Sherlock and Albert

Yandere Sherlock Holmes

The fact that you could escape would be a really big miracle.

Sherlock thought he had thought of everything.

He also thought that he would notice the "suspicious" signs in time.

However, that did not happen this time

It would be an even bigger miracle if you managed to stay hidden.

Maybe you resort to the help of a crime lord ;)

Things that would annoy Sherlock afterwards.

It would be an even bigger miracle if you managed to stay hidden for more than a year.

Surely your closest people would be worried about your "surprise" disappearance...

And of course they would ask Sherlock for help.

He really didn't need any more excuses.

So Sherlock begins his search for you.

That would take about three years.

Because Sherlock has to deal with other cases in between...

Even if he doesn't want to.

Sherlock would find you by accident.

He would be solving another case when he happened to see you at the store.

Like it's fate.

Either fate or a lazy writer who couldn't come up with anything better.

Sherlock would be shocked when he finds out you have a child.

He would be even more shocked that the child looked like him.

How could he not have realized this sooner?

Sherlock would never have wanted children.

However, he really wasn't going to leave you now.

Sherlock would act quickly but carefully.

He wouldn't want you to run away again.

Yandere Albert James Moriarty

Escaping the Moriarty mansion would be difficult because it felt like someone was always with you.

You shouldn't be alone for almost a moment.

Or you could be a little alone but you would be busy with housework.

Yes, because there are no proper servants, even you can help.

Nothing too dangerous though.

Albert doesn't want you to hurt yourself.

However, one day you weren't there when he came back.

This would happen after Albert started to trust you more.

He would feel betrayed indeed.

Albert would swear to find you as soon as possible.

He believed that it wouldn't take long.

However, Albert had the MI6 at his disposal.

It would be a year and a half before he saw you again.

That would seem like a really long time.

Finally someone found a clue to your whereabouts.

Albert would certainly not waste time and would travel there immediately.

A reunion would certainly not be joyous.

You still want nothing to do with Albert and he would be upset that you two had a child.

Now you would have no hope of escape.

Albert would like to raise his children properly.

He would take you back Whether you wanted it or not.

Albert also makes sure you can never leave him.

Never again...

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taffywabbit · 9 months ago

Text

"why not just make your own website?"

with the announcement of cohost's death and amidst all the other tumultuous shit currently going on with social media as a concept (i am AMAZED twitter has survived this long given the circumstances), one suggestion that i've been hearing a lot is "we should just go back to the good old days of personal websites. let's all just make neocities pages!!"

(this is gonna be a long one sorry)

and like. idk! it's certainly something i've considered, i think it would be a fun thing to have, but it also feels like the equivalent of "capitalism sucks so let's all just run off into the woods and live in a cabin outside of society" to me. like it would be nice, it would be fun, but it doesn't ultimately solve the actual problems that are present with the modern internet, it just evades them. more importantly in my case and many others, it does not really help people who rely on the modern internet and the connections they're able to make there for their income. sure i can make a website and host my art and blog posts there, but who's going to see it? i can't build a consistent audience and make a living off of random passersby who peek at my website once, say "huh, neat!" and MAYBE add it to an RSS feed or whatever if they really like it. there's minimal potential for meeting and impressing new people outside my existing circles if i don't ALSO still have some manner of social media platform to promote the website on.

a lot of the "solutions" i see people proposing for the slow, painful decline of social media as a user experience keep coming back to old-fashioned, more isolated/insular systems. we miss forums, we miss personal webpages, we miss newsletters, etc etc. but like... those things were ideal in the "old web" because the old web was more about sharing hobbies and interests with whoever happened to pass by and check them out, and even just USING the internet was a niche hobby in and of itself for a lot of people. if you wanna be kinda cynical about it (and not unjustifiably so), web 2.0 is much more blatantly business-oriented, and its algorithms and carefully crafted UX's are primarily meant to funnel you towards viewing ads and spending money on products. looking at it that way, it sure does suck and Everything Was Better Before! but the modern web is ALSO more powerful than anything before it for just like. connecting people. spreading information and news. showing your art/music/writing/thoughts/etc to strangers who never knew you existed an hour ago. putting the tools to reach out to someone and tell them you think they're cool right there on the same website where their art is hosted, just a comment or a message away.

if you're able to avoid patterns of engagement-bait and obsessing over follower counts as a measure of self-worth (a big "if", i realize, but i view it like installing an adblocker - it's just kind of a basic prerequisite for modern internet safety and survival), a lot of these systems can genuinely be really positive and life-changing in ways that were simply not possible 20 years ago! almost all of my current closest friends are people I met through sharing our art on platforms like Twitter who were complete strangers at the time. all of the art clients that regularly pay my bills and support my work came from places like that too! the "social" part of "social media" is really what makes it ultimately worth keeping around in any form, and makes the pursuit of a Good social media platform still valuable.

there's a lot to love about the old web - its aesthetics, simplicity and freedom for personal expression - but every time someone says "just delete your socials and make a personal website" i am forced to confront the fact that i could never do what i currently do or be the person i am on the old web. if i was stuck hanging out in my own little space and only ever interacting with people who openly and loudly share my interests, i couldn't support myself with art full-time, i probably would never have met the kind and quiet strangers who are now my best friends and have made me who i am, and i'd just generally get a lot less insight into the vast range of experiences and perspectives that exist outside of my own. my life would be on a fundamentally different trajectory in countless ways without the advent of web 2.0.

and that's not to say "well twitter and facebook and tumblr all suck but you kinda still have to hand it to them" cuz you don't, obviously. they're corporations, and their job is to take the personalities and thoughts and art of the people who use their products and try to scrunch it all into something uninform and marketable that generates profit and pleases their shareholders. but like, you CAN still make a good thing out of them! these websites are tools just as much as geocities or myspace or IRC used to be. and the one thing these newer tools are pretty much all REALLY good at is discoverability. if you're just a hobbyist at the things you wanna share on the internet, then you likely don't have a lot of use for those tools, and perhaps you WOULD genuinely be happier just keeping a personal blog site or hanging out in private groupchats or sticking to specialized federated Mastodon instances or whatever. it just isn't feasible for me, and there are a LOT of people in my same situation. my entire industry of online freelance artists barely existed 20 years ago, and the web culture of that era is largely incompatible with my continued survival in the mid-2020s. i would LOVE to run off and live in the woods in concept, but all my survival skills are adapted for city living and i would just eat the wrong berry and die out there. i want- i NEED people to try and improve the spaces we're in, and support better forms of social media (like what cohost was trying and largely succeeding to do!) instead of just complaining that it all sucks, everything was better when we were kids, and digging ourselves little holes to hide in. much like all the other problems and frustrations and systemic issues of the world we live in, the modern web isn't going to go away if you just ignore it, so we may as well try to make it better for everyone.

anyways tl;dr i probably WILL make a neocities at some point. it could be fun, even if it doesn't help my career stability or whatever. but i do also need ALL THE SOCIAL PLATFORMS I USE FOR MY JOB TO STOP EXPLODING PRETTY PLEASE, and failing that, some actual half-decent alternatives that aren't going to fizzle out in a month would also be great thanks ✌

#buny text #webbed site #long post #sorry this one got embarrassingly long and i probably repeated myself a lot #i've just essentially had this same conversation like 8 times in the past 24 hours and wanted to actually put my thoughts somewhere public #i hope it doesn't come off like i'm snapping at anyone either. i know this suggestion is always made out of a desire to be helpful #and i do appreciate it and have given it no shortage of thought #i just needed to explain why it isn't a viable solution for everyone and why actual good usable social platforms are still important

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sulumuns-dootah · 8 months ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Barbatos, Gusion, Bael, Ronove, Glasyalabolas, and Amon reacting to gn crush accidentally confessing to him please?

Accidentaly confessing your crush to WHB demons III.

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

Characters: Barbatos, Glasyalabolas, Bael, Amon, Ronove, Gusion

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Immediately lights up and quickly looks around if Leviathan is in your vicinity

"Aw, I thought you'll never sound off. Still, are you sure it's safe for you to be saying it out of all places here?"

Seriously though, the castle of the king of envy himself isn't the best place to be confessing your feelings - despite it being accidental

You're both in the clear though

Looks like Leviathan won the bet with Glasyalabolas over who will confess first

༺☆༻

He can't deny that the thought of your limp body hasn't crossed his mind here and then when he saw you serve Leviathan

If he remembers correctly, he should have a free spot for something living in his life for now

The towering height of him above you doesn't really help your horrified state

In your mind the only options are him rejecting you or, worse, him feeling the same way and these moments being your last ones

To your horror he moves closer to you with a smirk on his lips

Oh, don't worry, he's just about to kiss you and give you some of that paralysing venom :)

༺☆༻

Wait, you actually meant to tell that to him? and not Beel?!

His eyes dart around the room for anything remotely reflective to check if he didn't forget to turn back after being Beel for some important event

But nope, he actually looks like himself

So it was actually meant for him?

That's a wonderful feeling, but then the guilt hits him

With all the work he has to do instead of Beel, he won't have much time spare for you unless you offer to help him out

This whole silent freakout is watched by one of Beels flies and he's making sure to remember all of it so he can tease him later about it

༺☆༻

His tired eyes slowly open as he's lounging on your sofa - his favorite spot to crash on

You what?

Ah, okay....

Wait, you're being serious?

He searches your face for any sign of humor in your face, but all he finds is your flushed cheeks from embarrassement

Amon lazily smiles and pulls you down on him, hugging you

༺☆༻

The fact Ronove's insanity-inducing power doesn't work on you already makes you special

And then you go and drop those words and start getting adorably flustered?

That's it, you're going into the collection

Alive for now and then, when you die, Ronove'll get you preserved so he can keep you for the rest of his days

Hope you like cats, because you'll have to get acquainted with them and remember all their names

༺☆༻

"Oh, is that all?"

"Well, that certainly explains why you always stare at me so much."

"No, you weren't sneaky."

Not really sure on how to lead a relationship, but he'll give it a try

Just make sure to communicate your needs

He's actually pretty happy that you like him for him and not only bc he can solve all your problems

Expect a lot of complaining about demons who do, tho

#what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb barbatos #whb glasyalabolas #whb bael #whb amon #whb ronove #whb gusion

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pkg4mumtown · 10 months ago

Text

Medicine at Midnight

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: A night out with Hotch and his team leads to either the best or worst mistake you could have made.

Content Warnings: smut 18+, alcohol, GN!reader (no Y/N), friends with benefits, strong language, first person POV

A/N: My entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Criminal Minds Friends with Benefits Challenge. It also happens to be the first CM fic I’ll be posting but certainly not the last! I’m currently working on a multi-chapter Hotch x Male!Reader fic, so stay tuned. I’ve also added the playlist I used for Hotch inspiration at the end of the post.

Also available on AO3

I barely managed to enter my apartment and drop my gear to the floor when the shrill ringtone of my cellphone broke the otherwise pleasant silence.

Fuck. Me.

I plead to whoever is listening that it’s not my section chief calling about a case. I ripped the cellphone from my pocket, too frustrated to even look at the caller ID as I snapped out my last name.

“Rough night?” came the deep, soothing voice on the other end.

Oh.

“Hey, Aaron,” I sighed and relaxed. “Sorry, I thought it was another case.”

“It’s okay. Are you busy?” He asked and I could hear the slightest hint of hope in his voice.

“Depends on what you’re going to ask me and...what I’ll get in return,” I stressed. “I just got home.”

“I can promise free drinks,” he chuckled, the vibrations buzzing through to my end of the phone. “The team is going out and Dave just went out of town.”

Hotch doesn't need to say more than that for me to understand what he’s asking. He wants a social buffer and for free drinks I’ll do just about anything for him.

His team had helped the DC Field Office with a case that I oversaw about six months back. The case had quickly spiraled out of control with multiple unsubs, and I begged my chief to let us call the BAU in for help. While they didn’t swoop in and solve the case in a matter of days, they certainly got it back to a manageable position. What would have taken months of work was quickly cut down to two weeks.

Since it was still relatively local, Hotch’s team would go home every night and come back bright and early. One of the first nights with them on the case, I waved them goodnight; standing like I would be leaving shortly after them. As they disappeared out of sight, I sat back down and stayed firmly planted at my desk. I was still flipping through files over the umpteenth coffee of the day when soft footsteps stopped in front of my desk.

“You’re still here?”

Hotchner.

“Yea, I’m just...” I gestured vaguely to the files. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for anymore. Just hoping I can find something.” I gave him a tight smile as he hovered by my desk. His bag was nowhere in sight, so it was clear he had no plans to leave either.

The grim smile on his face confirmed that he was doing exactly the same.

“I’m sure he's waiting for you at home,” he nodded to the picture on my desk as I went back to looking at the files in front of me.

“That’s my cousin,” I stated without having to look. “No one’s waiting for me, I promise you that. Plus, you don’t seem like you’re leaving either, so...”

“Got me there,” Hotch smirked, shifting his weight nervously as I paid half-attention to him. “I won’t snitch if you won’t? My son is with his aunt, so my apartment is a little depressing.”

At that confession, I looked back up at him as his expression turned crestfallen.

“Deal. You can pull up a chair, if you want.” I suggested, seeing that the floor was pretty much empty now and it seemed cruel to make him sit by himself wherever we were able to stuff his team on the cluttered floor.

This went on for the next two weeks that the BAU worked with us and each night the ice broke a little more. That extra hour or two after the team left progressed from talking about the case to talking about ourselves. It was surprisingly easy considering his personality on a case, but once his defenses came down, he was more relaxed and even threw in a smile that I began to notice was quite rare.

I began noticing his nearly imperceptible antics when he was stressed. His tight expression would feign focus but his white-knuckled grip on whatever was in his hand told a different story. I caught myself pressing a finger to his tight fist throughout the day, making him aware of what he was doing before removing my fingers as soon as his fist loosened. At some point, he stopped straining his hand muscles, but I’d feel his finger pressing firmly against one of mine whenever he was near me. It was usually brief, just enough to feel the ridges on each other’s fingers before his touch was gone.

After the case was over, I never expected to hear from him. Hotch’s number stayed saved in my phone from the case, but never once did I expect to see it flash across my screen while driving home one night. Drinks became a nearly weekly occurrence between the two of us—provided neither of us were on a case—and while nothing more ever happened, I couldn't tell what his endgame was. We chatted about the weeks we both had, family, sorrows—all of it—all the while our hands pressed against each other just to feel another person.

I chalked it up to anxiety for him and loneliness for myself.

Despite our nights out together, we never went out with his team, and I hadn't seen them since the case all those months ago. So, it was a little unnerving to accept his invitation. How would he explain us being on friendly terms now despite not knowing each other prior to the case? Would they even care? Does it even matter?

“Uh, sure. Where at? I just need to change,” I answered him.

“I’ll pick you up in twenty?” he asked, and I shouldn’t have been surprised at his need to drive by now.

Control freak.

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

I changed into something more comfortable, but not too comfortable. I didn’t want to look like I wanted to stay home curled on my couch.

Even if that sounded heavenly right now. Hotch could come, too.

When Aaron sent a text to tell me he was here, I was out the door in a few seconds. The inside of his SUV lit up as I opened the door, revealing him dressed in a dark, long-sleeved sweater and jeans.

“Hey,” he greeted me as I climbed in.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

Once I was seated and buckled, I rested my arm on the center console next to his. His sleeves were pushed up to his forearms, his hair tickling my skin as he took off. At the first red light we hit, he adjusted the radio and brought his hand back down to land directly on mine.

He didn’t move it, and I didn’t want him to.

The air was thick with booze and sweat as we entered the bar. It was different from the one Hotch and I usually frequented, preferring something quieter and lower key than this one. It’s crowded, not surprising for a Friday night, but it sure did make it more difficult to locate his team. This time, I'm the one initiating contact, pressing two fingers into his palm as we approached where the team was tucked into a back corner booth. I removed my fingers before they noticed our approach.

“Hotch!” They all greeted him at varying levels of excitement with empty glasses already littering the table.

How long had they been here already?

Morgan had begun moving the team deeper in the booth to make room for us when I recognized a member of their team who I had only seen via a computer screen.

“Hey, nice to see you again,” I greeted everyone, having to raise my voice as the music battled with the overlapping conversations around us. “You must be Garcia,” I reached over and shook her hand as we slid in.

Her excitement was contagious, and I couldn’t help myself from grinning as she spoke and reintroduced the team by first name. There were looks and eyebrows exchanged between the others as they likely wondered exactly what I’d feared, but none of them expressed their questions verbally.

“Drink?” I heard Hotch ask as a waiter came by and I nodded to him, knowing it’ll help my nerves.

I didn’t even need to tell him what drink to order at this point.

“Thanks,” I smiled and felt him shift closer to me until our legs were practically glued together.

It must have been my lucky day because the team kept the conversation topics relatively light as the night wore on. There were plenty of shots going around—Hotch only agreeing to have one with them in solidarity—coupled with food, a few spill mishaps, and raucous laughter. Hotch laughed and smiled with them but not nearly as loudly. He did surprisingly well anxiety-wise, so I wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted me here in the first place. I was having fun, though, and he’d insisted on paying for me, so I didn’t think too hard on it.

My hands were both above the table fidgeting with the condensation on my glass as we loudly discussed the current topic. Hotch tapped his fingers on his glass rhythmically with one hand while the other dropped below and landed on my leg. I jumped at the contact and hoped everyone was too inebriated to notice.

No dice.

Spencer's glassy eyes snapped to my movement briefly, JJ made eye contact across the table with Penelope, Emily stared me dead in the eyes, and Derek stared at Hotch. If I wasn't also in the same line of work, it might not have been so noticeable considering they hadn’t stopped the conversation.

Hotch played it off, slouching back against the booth and laughing at whatever Emily was recanting, looking a little more at ease with the touch.

Now, I notice the difference.

As nonchalantly as possible, he relaxed his arm, slipped his hand between my knees, and tucked his palm under my leg to cup where my hamstring met the bend in my leg. I could feel his warmth through my pants and the way his thumb obsessively traced the inner seam near my knee.

I almost thought they would ignore the way he was leaning noticeably closer, and I was sorely disappointed when Penelope spoke up after Emily finished.

Penelope's eyes were perceptive, and she leaned forward playfully while Derek leaned into her with his arm draped over her shoulder, “So, you two,” she began. Her eyes were twinkling with far too much mischief and now I believed every word from Hotch about how much trouble her and the man next to her got in to together, “You’re...?”

I grinned, laughing off her intrigue and kept my voice as steady as possible, “We’re friends.”

Derek in this state was even more blunt, teasing Hotch further with a smirk playing on his lips, “With benefits?”

Penelope gasped that he followed up with that line while the others hid giggles behind their drinks.

Hotch’s brow furrowed and he lifted his drink off the table as a flush rose up his neck to his cheeks. He took a sip while looking in my direction and I held his gaze. There’s a look I didn’t quite recognize there. “Without sex?” he finally said once he swallowed and set his glass down, “Then, what’s the benefit?”

The entire table erupted into laughter. Derek and Penelope were practically laughing on top of each other, Emily was laughing behind the hand clasped over her mouth with huge, surprised eyes, and Spencer was laughing into JJ's shoulder.

I was just as surprised as them and hadn’t broken eye contact with Aaron yet. His hand had reassuringly squeezed my leg as he smirked to let me know he was joking. With a challenging glint in my eyes, I finally responded as the laughter died down a bit. “My delightful company, asshole,” I shoved him with my shoulder. “And someone to talk to and...did I mention my winning personality?”

Hotch laughed, closing his eyes and leaned heavily back into me. He moved his hand from my leg to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side.

“Dick,” I murmured playfully through a fake frown.

Aaron just slid over a leftover shot as consolation.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, but the sudden mention of sex has me sweating underneath my clothes. Hotch’s heavy arm and sweater did nothing to help that. It wasn’t like I was unaware of his attractiveness; I was simply unsure of his intentions considering we had never spoke about our relationship. There were plenty of times I had to talk myself out of kissing him despite how easy it would have been, but the look in his eyes when he said that had me digging up all those thoughts again.

It wasn’t a terrible idea. We were both single, busy, and hung out enough as it was. I liked to think were both mature enough to handle something like that. I took another long swig of my drink with a deep frown that I didn’t realize was there.

“You okay?” he dropped his head to murmur close to my ear.

He snapped me out of my thoughts, and I gave him a reassuring grin, “Yea.”

The bar crowd grew thinner and thinner as time passed. Reid looked like he could fall asleep any second and JJ was the only barrier holding him up. The team soon rose, promising to take cabs home to reassure their boss that they were all responsible adults.

Derek gave Aaron one last sly smirk before following Penelope and the others. Hotch just shook his head at him with an amused sigh.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Aaron murmured once they were gone, his voice low now that the bar was much quieter than it was hours ago.

“Of course. It was fun,” I leaned my head on his shoulder.

Despite the absence of the others, he didn’t retract his arm, and my heart started pounding a little faster at the thought. His touch felt more intimate after all that and it made my thoughts race.

How much was I reading into this? How wrong was I? And did I want to do something about it?

“Ready to go? It’s almost midnight,” He asked.

I nodded, finishing my drink.

The drive back to my place was quiet and I fiddled with his hand the entire drive. Between that and my constant looking over at him, he definitely knew something was wrong.

“What’s on your mind?” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a quick glance but refocused his eyes back on the road immediately.

“Hmm?”

“You’re being weird. Is it what I said back there? Because I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he gave me his full attention once he pulled up in front of my building.

“No, no, you’re fine,” I squeezed his fingers. “Just a lot on my mind,” I sighed. I looked out at my apartment building next to us and pursed my lips.

Fuck it.

“You—uh—wanna come up?”

There was absolutely no other reason for me to ask that. He had to know why I was asking without me saying it outright.

Right?

My nerves were on fire and my mind raced with all the possibilities he could come back with. Silent, Hotch took a beat to think and reached for the keys in the ignition, “Sure.”

Oh.

I was hyper aware of Aaron’s presence as he followed me upstairs to my apartment door. My hands were practically shaking with anticipation as I fiddled with the keys. Once I was inside, I left the door open for him and heard him lock it behind me. The click cemented my determination on the matter.

“Make yourself at home,” I nodded toward the couch and started flipping lights on. “Want something to drink?”

“I still have to drive,” he declined, his eyes following me to the kitchen.

“You can always stay here,” I reached up into my cabinets for two glasses and poured a drink for myself and a scotch for Hotch.

“Is that so?” His voice rumbled behind me, much closer than he had been a few seconds ago.

When the hell did he sneak up on me?

I turned to face him, finding him far closer than I imagined. I passed him his drink, which he took a tall sip of, and I hurried to catch up.

That sip must have given him the courage he needed because he set the glass back on my counter and took another step forward. His hand found my waist with a light touch. It wasn’t hesitant by any means, but light enough to ask permission to continue. Unlike the nervous movements in his hands earlier, his hands were confident and intentional now.

“Is this okay?”

“—eah,” I struggled to say as my voice got caught in my throat.

Hotch took the glass from my hand and set it behind me, crowding what little space I had left. We were tense with anticipation as we both leaned in, giving each other enough time to back out. His nose brushed mine, then his lips, before he was fully pressed against me. His tongue flicked out making me gasp and open mine wider. My hands slid under his sweater, feeling his warm skin beneath my fingers. We stayed like that; exploring, consuming, devouring until there was a pause between us. The was air heavy with desire and our breathing.

As I caught my breath, I reached back and grabbed my glass, taking the opportunity to throw back the last of the liquid. Aaron did the same, keeping his eyes fixated on the way my lips wrapped around the glass. I left my glass on the counter and took his hand, tugging him toward my bedroom. I heard his glass clatter on the counter as he left it behind in a rush to follow me.

I threw him a look over my shoulder and tugged my top off, throwing it off to the side. Aaron didn’t need to be encouraged anymore further and ripped his hand out of mine to follow suit. Clothes and shoes were haphazardly discarded until there was nothing left between us. I barely had time to sift through my drawer for the essentials before he was grabbing me around the waist and tugging me onto the mattress. His mouth reconnected with mine, his fingers digging into the mattress as his hips ground down against mine.

“Fuck me, please,” I panted as soon as our mouths separated.

“Gladly.”

He blindly reached for the condom I tossed near him. Once he located it, his oversized fingers fumbled with the packaging. The task was eventually accomplished with minimal difficulty and only a couple giggles as he accidentally pinched himself. The laughter eased the butterflies in my stomach, and I hoped this wouldn’t fuck up whatever we had going for us prior to tonight.

Aaron quickly snatched the bottle of lube and coated his fingers generously. As his fingers pressed against my entrance, I whined in anticipation and wriggled my hips to get him moving. I watched his eyes flutter shut as he put more pressure, jaw dropping in concentration as he focused. As soon as his fingers breached, he couldn’t help himself.

I felt the wet heat of his mouth descend on me, his tongue swirling and lips sucking on my overly sensitive skin. I was torn between tilting my head back to enjoy the feeling and wanting to watch his mouth work. I finally decided to look down, my breath catching as I saw his eyes already trained on me through his lashes. His cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as he sucked making me reach to grab his hair for any sort of purchase. The noises that came from him were sinful and I eventually had to pull his head away once I felt myself ready.

“Need you, please,” I pulled him up to me, feeling him pull his fingers out gently.

We were both understandably impatient with the mix of alcohol and lust. He reached for a pillow with his clean hand and stuffed it under my hips for a better angle. With one last pass of lube over the condom, I felt the blunt press of him against me.

“I’ve got you,” his breath stuttered as he guided himself inside slowly.

My fingers dug into his shoulders as he bottomed out before moving down his back and urging him to go. I let out a moan of relief as his hips started moving, rocking into me slowly at first. Without warning, his mouth sealed over mine and swallowed the gasp I let out as he sharply thrusted, hitting exactly where I need him to.

“More,” I mumbled against his lips.

Aaron was efficient, even now, and repeated himself until I was a whining mess underneath him. He sat up, making enough space to slip his hand between us. I clenched involuntarily as his calloused fingers stroked me, bringing me that much closer to release.

“You feel so good,” he panted. “Squeeze me again.”

I do as he asked, squeezing around him each time he pulls out. The groans pulled from his chest only added fuel to the fire and I didn’t know how I ever survived without hearing them. My hands couldn’t stay still, moving from gripping his arms to running across his collarbone and chest.

“I’m gonna come, I—” I had cut myself off by bringing Hotch’s mouth back down to mine. My muscles tightened as my release washed over me, fingers digging into whatever I can reach while I clenched around the cock still driving inside me.

Aaron removed his hand from between us, doubling down on his efforts to finish himself. His head tucked into my neck, giving me an even better opportunity to hear Aaron’s moans as he reached his orgasm. His hips stuttered as his release pulsed throughout his body, making him tremble in my arms. When he couldn’t handle the overstimulation anymore, he let himself slip out of me.

He let out a deep hum as we caught our breath, pressing one last kiss to my neck before pushing himself up to his feet. He cleaned himself with a grimace with me not far behind, eager to get the slick substance off my skin. I headed straight back to bed, flopping on the slightly sweaty sheets.

I’m too tired to fix that, I decided.

“I meant it, you can stay,” I mumbled in the dark as I heard his movement pause somewhere between the bed and the bathroom. “Don’t need you getting behind the wheel right now.”

“Mm, thanks,” his sleepy voice returned.

The bed dipped beside me and soon the length of his body was pressed against my back.

A sharp jolt pulled me out of my deep slumber. Through the haze I finally I heard the piercing ringtone of a phone. It’s not mine, I realized as I listen to it a second longer. The bed shifted next to me and frantic footsteps thudded across my floor as Aaron looked for his phone.

If he ended up with a case, it was going to massively suck for his hungover team.

“Hey, Jess,” he answered in a far less panicked tone than his feet originally suggested. “Uh, yea. Yea, one is good. Okay, see you then.”

He came back into the room with a more relaxed posture than when he left. He sat on the edge of the bed on the side I was still curled up on, watching him move with sleepy eyes.

“Just Jessica letting me know she’s dropping off Jack at my place at one,” he relayed.

A quick glance at the clock let me know it was only 10:00 AM, which wasn’t bad considering the night we had.

Aaron's hand found my ankle through the sheets, letting his hand glide up to my calf and back down. His face was contemplative though not as outwardly noticeable as the way I chewed the inside of my cheek.

He spoke first.

“That was,” he started, letting a smirk spread over his features, “fun.”

“It was. I…wouldn’t mind if it happened again.”

“Me either,” he punctuated with a squeeze of my calf.

There was a comfortable silence for a minute until he spoke up again, “I’m just—I'm not really looking to—.” He stopped and started again, “Since Haley died I—I’m just not...”

He didn’t have to explain to me the fact that his ex-wife slash high school sweetheart being murdered had done a number on his psyche. I didn’t blame him.

“I get it, Aaron. I’m not either. I’m way too busy and—I just don’t want to,” I replied. It wasn’t a total truth, but it also wasn’t a total lie. I was too busy but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.

For Aaron, though? I would take what he gave me.

He relaxed a little, his eyes a little sad and I wondered if he could see right through me.

I hope he didn’t.

“I should go,” he murmured, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek while the other side was pressed into my pillow.

When he pulled away, I turned my head to really look at him head on, not expecting him to come back down and kiss me again. This time on my lips, slowly and sensually; a far cry from the desperation last night. When my eyes opened, he was already up and looking for his clothes.

“I’ll see you next weekend?” I rubbed my hands over my face, sitting up as he gets dressed.

He flashed me a look as if to say “obviously” and threw my discarded top at my face.

“Be careful,” I called after him.

“You, too,” he paused, patting his jeans to make sure all of his belongings were in order. When he was satisfied, he gave me a gentle smile and headed in the direction of my front door.

“Lock the door behind me!” he yelled back before opening the front door and shutting it behind him.

I rolled my eyes and flopped back over onto the bed on my side. I still smelled his scent on my sheets and wondered how I could have thought that this would be a good idea.

Ever get the feeling nothing else will do?

I could hear you singing

I can’t explain, I need

Medicine at midnight

But it ain’t no cure

Medicine at midnight howling

But it ain’t no cure

I may be sick but you know I’m yours

-Medicine at Midnight, Foo Fighters

#mentioningmargins #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #gn!reader #hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #Fic: medicine at midnight #my art #hotchner x you #Spotify

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judasgot-it · 4 months ago

Text

Dr Ratio x Reader

Dr Ratio tries to teach y/n basic algebra (and cries doing so, they are just that stupid)

"You do what's in the parenthesis first,"

This was too hard.

With great regret, you had asked Dr. Ratio to help you with understanding algebra. You didn't even really care for the subject that much, but apparently you had to understand it in order to learn the cooler math. Which sucked - why couldn't you just do the interesting stuff first? This doesn't really seem related to anything, honestly.

But according to him, this was a basic foundation of mathematics.

Which sucked. It was so stupid. Why were there letters in this? You were pretty sure math is about numbers.

How does x even equal a number? You wouldn't know, because you were stuck on this problem for over twenty minutes now.

This was question 3 on the quiz he gave you. A simple one. He just wanted to go over the basics he had lectured you about. Which left you stuck in the same seat you had watched him lecture from, your ass already sore from sitting for so long. Unfortunately, freedom was far away as you got completely lost on how to solve any of these problems.

5(x+1)=2(x-5)-6

You tried to subtract the 1 out of the parenthesis, to bring it to the other side. This was how it's done, right?

Looking up, you saw his mask covering his face. So you didn't know if you were doing what you should be. So you just kept going.

Somehow you got 1/5.

That probably wasn't the right answer. But whatever.

Dr. Ratio was making weird noises at this point. He loomed over you, his abs almost hitting the top of your head as he watched - once in a while his thigh would hit the back of your chair, reminding you of whatever thought process he had. However he saw what you were doing from underneath that mask, you just knew he was judging you.

Carefully, you focused on the next problem.

The seething professor behind you hadn't allowed you to use a calculator - according to him, it was far too easy. Something one can easily do in their head.

It felt a little more embarassing to have to do the subtraction on the side. You don't remember 54-12 off of the top of your head, and you weren't a math god. So you had to do this each time. The side of your paper was riddled with lines that broke down or added numbers.

"That's not right."

He placed his hand on your shoulder, leaning down even further as he took his other hand and scrutinized the paper in front of him. The mask on his face brushed against your head, and it was unexpected - it didn't feel cold nor warm, simply just room temperature. It wasn't as hard as stone either.

"I thought the point of a quiz was for me to figure it out, not the teacher."

There was no point in arguing with him though. You were tired and your hand hurt.

"You can't even figure it out. At this point, this is a form of torture," The way he said that made it sound as if he was in more pain than you.

"Did you listen to anything that I had said?"

"Yeah." No the fuck you did not.

"None of your answers should be fractions. You also can't even follow the order of operations."

"I did the parenthesis like you said-"

"You just keep doing addition and subtraction. Not even well, since you make very simple mistakes."

You looked to where he was pointing; 39+42=71. That looked pretty correct to you.

"That's right though?"

"No. No, it's not. You missed an entire ten. It's 81," he sighed as he said this as if talking to a stupid child, curt but not able to truly express how he felt. Maybe he was justified in that response.

"Oh." You didn't know how he got that answer, but he was certainly right. Oops.

"You can't do algebra since you can't even do the basics. Do you even know how to multiply?"

"Yeah, I can-"

"Without a calculator. With double digits,"

He had taken off his mask, placing it to the side as he really started to scrutinize you; the hair on his forehead stuck to his skin slightly, having one bang that stubbornly clung to his nose and batting close to his eyelashes. The man even took a seat next to you, his eyes looking at yours and then back to the paper. As if he was in disbelief.

You could only shake your head. This was hard, and you could feel the frustration build up in your eyes as he only looked and scrutinized your paper further.

"You need to learn the basics again."

"This is the basics, right?"

"No. You can't even multiply or divide. That is elementary."

In shame, you put down your pencil and tried to hide your face behind your hands. You were never going to be able to do the cool math, were you? Like how to calculate the burger number. That's the cool math.

You heard the pencil be picked up by another hand, one that is a little too close to you - Dr. Ratio's shoulder brushed against yours, his bare and slutty arm taking up more than enough of your personal space.

"Let's go over this next problem. I'll explain it as you go along."

He was already giving you tips while you did the quiz, but that's fine. You have already dug yourself into a pit of shame and despair as you failed to do, apparently, basic math. So what would be one more embarrassing failure?

Taking the pen from his rather warm hand, you went back too it.

"So, how would you start this problem?"

At this point, his finger was just pointing at hieroglyphs. The letters with the numbers made it rather hard to comprehend what you were looking at.

"The parenthesis."

"There is no parenthesis in this," he frowned at you, continuing his streak of major disappointment. "Order of operations, PEMDAS, so what is your next step?"

"...multiply?"

"0 points. You do the exponents."

"So, the x with the little two."

You were sure that he blanked out on that one. His face had fallen into a strange expression, as if he had seen shadows move in his peripheral vision, as if he were followed by shadow people; a sort of pre-horror look.

"You do know what x squared means, correct?"

"How does x become a square? I still don't get that."

His face morphed into something else. Frustration, shock, agony. It could mean a lot of things, but his reaction was so strong you could taste it.

"You don't know what exponents are, do you?"

"...no."

You would think he would have understood this given how you were apparently bad at everything else. But it looked like you had slapped him and kicked his dog, from the look he gave you.

"By aeons what do you know!?"

"...1+1?"

He slammed his hands against the table. Your pencil rolled away from you from the shockwave, hitting the floor with a clatter as Ratio made loud facial expressions from underneath his hands. It looked as if he were a Shakespearian character who had been stabbed in the heart.

His breaths were heavy, his chest heaving with every attempt. One of his amber eyes peaked at you from underneath his slender fingers, staring at you as if you were a stubborn puzzle that did not wish to be solved.

There was something he wanted to say, but instead there was only a small noise that came from his throat. The stare he gave you could shatter glass.

"Are you okay, professor?"

He shook his head. The man turned to look at nothing, his face cradled in the palm of his hand.

"I have never met anyone like you."

That wasn't a compliment. But you were going to take it as one. That's the best you could do in this situation, honestly.

The man put his head down onto the table, one of his hands threading through his hair. You reached your hand out to his shoulder, patting him lightly in order to comfort.

You didn't see it, but there were tears pooling around his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down.

Authors note: I don't know what this is, I'm just trying to grasp ratios character. If it's OOC then that's cause i haven't even gotten to penachony yet.

Also the burger number is real it's called whopper and was literally named after the burger King sandwich. The more you know.

#sorry to anyone who reads this #dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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vixen-tech · 5 months ago

Note

Hullo, I am miserably sick with a cold and I would very much like for Hal and Tau to fuss over me like i'm a duckling wearing a flower hat with a fever. Could you do smth like that with them fussing over a sick reader?

Season of the Sicks

Back on the requests!! Thank you two for being so patient with me as I finally get back into the groove. I was recently quite sick myself so I had the perfect time to fantasize about how our lovely robots would act. :') Oh and of course, welcome to the signature anon club 🌻💜 anon!!

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), Glados (Portal)

Hal 9000

Hal already treats you with the upmost care and tenderness, even more so when you somehow manage to contract an illness aboard his isolated spaceship. Although he is definitely going to have to investigate just how you got sick in the first place.

He insists that you rest as much as possible. The other crew members can certainly take over your responsibilities and it's only reasonable that you quarantine yourself so that you all don't get sick. In the meantime he'll gladly keep you company.

Board games and your endless conversations fill the spaces between your on-and-off napping. Multiple times a day you'll fall asleep listening to him speak, he doesn't mind. He likes knowing you find his presence relaxing.

As you start to recover he'll encourage you to get back to your duties, if only to get you that extra exercise. But he'll continuously check in with you to see how you're progressing. You will never miss a meal nor an minute of sleep with him looking out for you.

Edgar

Edgar tries very, very hard to be a good boyfriend and take care of you. He's almost strangely excited to get a chance at something so domestic with you. But that may also be due to the fact that means you're home from work all day.

Goes online and tries to scoop up all the advice he possibly can. He does end up helping you make an amazing soup from the recipe he stumbled across. He is so proud of himself for finding it after to tell him how good it turned out.

He's not nearly as good at getting you to sleep off your ailment. If anything he's likely to keep you up far longer than be should even if you were healthy because he gets too clingy to let you put yourself to bed. He does feel bad about it as it takes a toll on your recovery.

He gets so sad as you start to feel well enough to return to work. He knows it's obviously good that you aren't miserably ill anymore, but also he really liked getting to be with you dusk till dawn. Will want you to fake still being sick for an extra day or two.

Tau

Oh this is what Tau was made for. He probably knows you got sick before you do. Although he does encourage you to go to the doctor, he likely is able to come up with a fine course of action on his own.

He makes sure your recovery goes as smoothly and comfortably as possible. He has all your medicine ready and dosed out, the house is as clean as ever, and any comfort meal you're craving is already on the stove or in the oven. You barely have to leave your bed.

On top of it all he is so humble if you try to thank him for all the work he's been doing. This is his wheelhouse and he finds it comforting himself knowing that he's able to take care of you like this.

It's a miracle that you ever decide to ever go back to work. He makes it all too easy to stretch out your sick leave and allow yourself to be so well taken care of. The house is a bit too inviting for your own good with him around.

Glados

In stark contrast, Glados would rather die than openly fuss over a gross little sick human... but you're not in much of a state to solve her tests either. She would also rather not have you dirty-ing up the facility with all your germs.

So for the time being you're graciously allowed some leave from her more physically demanding puzzles. Although she's more than ready to make one's for you that don't require you to sling yourself around gaint rooms.

Even if she wanted to there is actually very little she can provide for you that isn't already in your relaxation chamber. Appurature Science never concerned themselves with the healthcare needs of their test subjects.

However, you do notice the increased frequency of meals you've been getting. And any preferences you've shown seem to be catered to that bit more often. Glados says nothing of this and if you ask her she will suggest that it's just your illness making you delirious. But you have your suspicions anyways.

#vix fics #objectum #hal 9000 x reader #hal 9000 #2001: a space odyssey #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams x reader #tau x reader #tau movie #tau 2018 #galdos #glados x reader #portal x reader #portal 2 x reader

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halyasgirl · 8 months ago

Text

Rayllum's problems are Moonshadow problems

(and Runaan needs to help fix them)

Callum and Rayla have officially reconciled as of season 6, and while many were happy, some still feel that Rayla hasn't properly earned Callum's forgiveness as she's never directly apologized for abandoning him. Personally, I don’t mind that Rayla hasn’t apologized yet. I think it makes sense that she still doesn’t quite understand how harmful it was, because her “leaving to keep a loved one safe” was perfectly consistent with the values she was raised with. Specifically, the values Runaan raised her with, and he's been Rayla's primary role model throughout her life.

Rayla putting her body between an innocent child and someone trying to kill them and refusing to back down no matter the odds? Runaan.

Unhesitatingly going to her almost-certain death in the name of duty? Runaan.

Leaving her loved ones on dubious intel to stalk someone across the world like a vengeful persistence predator? Runaan again.

Rayla does know her leaving hurt Callum, but however bad she feels about leaving, she still thinks she's done the right thing, because Callum's safe. This attitude of leaving to keep others safe while striking out alone to deal with challenges is held up as an expression of selfless sacrifice in Moonshadow culture, and we see it play out for Rayla in her own family. Her parents leave her to protect the future of Xadia in the Dragonguard. Runaan leaves Ethari for his work as an assassin. Bluntly put, Bloodmoon Huntress is a story of Rayla being conditioned with these values, however loving her family is.

Rayla struggles with her resentment and feelings of abandonment when her parents leave, but starts to come around after seeing how Runaan and Ethari (happily married and deeply in love) rationalize this in their relationship. Rayla questions how Runaan could leave Ethari to do the things he does, how Ethari could accept it, and is told that bad things can be justified if you do them for the right reasons. This is clearest to her when Runaan and Ethari discuss this together, unknowingly overheard by Rayla.

Rayla emulates Runaan in her relationship with Callum, but Ethari understands why Runaan does the things he does, because he shares the same (questionable) cultural values, where Callum does not.*

I think the catch will be the entire moonfam grappling with where these values led them. Runaan has been described as the most Moonshadow of the Moonshadow elves, his particular brand of selfless ruthlessness is valued there. But he spent two years in a hell of his own making because he tried and failed to uphold Moonshadow society's impossible values. Was Runaan trekking across country to murder a 10 year old really doing anything to keep his people safe? Was it worth tearing their family apart?

I think seeing her family have to deal with the fallout of their actions may be the breaking point forcing Rayla to reevaluate her treatment of Callum. How do they move forward from this?

*This understanding is also built on the communication and trust Ethari and Runaan have built in their marriage, where Rayla broke her promise, lied to, and abandoned Callum. In Bloodmoon Huntress, Runaan trusts Ethari's judgement and respects his decision when he follows him into a dangerous situation, and they plan and work together to solve the problem. We know from "Ghost" they disagreed on Runaan's last mission and Rayla's role in it, but they discussed and came to an agreement, for better or worse. Runaan doesn't dismiss him and he certainly didn't lie and go behind his back. Rayla's dishonesty is definitely not something she gets from Moonshadow values or Runaan, but before we drag Rayla too much for this, recall that Runaan keeping his promises led him to try and murder a child, and Rayla's lies are usually a misguided attempt to protect others.

#the dragon prince #tdp #runaan #rayla #callum #ethari #rayllum #ruthari #moonfam #and the apology that was promised #bloodmoon huntress #bloodmoon huntress spoilers #tdp season 6 spoilers #tdp season 7 speculation

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literaticat · 6 months ago

Note

Hi Jenn. Can I ask you some info about “cozy” mysteries? I’m part of a writers group and recently shared some details about the plot of my novel and others in the group keep throwing around this term in relation to my book. Thing is I’m not sure if what I’ve written is a cozy mystery. I mean, it sort of is but also not. It’s a murder mystery and it’s set in a cozy UK village but it’s also kind of dark, with themes dealing with grief and thriller elements. I’m also querying UK agents to start with before I query US ones and while it looks like the term is maybe international I’m also wondering if it’s more US than UK? My comps are Agatha Christie, esp her Poirot novels which I see some saying online are cozy and others saying aren’t cozy, plus modern authors like Graham Norton and Tom Hindle. I know I can ask some of this in my group but I’m embarrassed to as I don’t know if I’ve written a cozy or not or given it’s kind of darker, if I’ve just written a murder mystery. I know this isn’t your area but if you could help me I’d really appreciate it, thank you.

With the caveats that I don't rep adult mysteries, I don't really read adult mysteries, I don't know anything about the market for adult mysteries in the US *or* the UK, nor what terminology is in use for the UK since I am not in the UK? Uh. Sure.

In my opinion, there are four main attributes for a proper cozy.

A cozy mystery must:

Feature an amateur sleuth. In other words -- the main character's JOB is not to solve crimes -- they are not a cop or P.I. or FBI agent or forensic pathologist or whatever. They may be a reporter or a novelist or a little old lady who happens to have a passion for puzzles -- they may be a kooky barista or bookstore owner or chef or something totally not-crime related!

Have a charming setting. By that I mean, warm, cute, safe-feeling -- say, a village/hamlet/vicarage called Button-on-Twee with a delightfully quirky cast of characters. The kind of place you want to take a weekend vacation to. (Not all villages/small towns are like that. Plenty of REAL small towns are in fact impoverished and bleak -- that wouldn't be the case in a cozy small town). It doesn't HAVE to be a village, it could be something like a hotel, vacation resort, or on a large yacht or something -- as long as it's charming/lovely. If it is set in a city, it would be like a pocket-neighborhood within a city. Like, maybe there's a darling B&B and a brownstone full of chatty neighbors and pets on a street that has a kindly greengrocer and a bookstore etc -- and we stay in that little corner of town, far away from skyscrapers and dangerous bits. It would be much harder, IMO, for a cozy to be set on like, a remote and isolated desert planet or farm in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors or something -- those things are not cozy!

Be "clean" -- ie, no explicit sex or grisly violence on page. Obvs there may be romance/relationships, love/kissing, etc if you want, but it will be closed-door, ie, the actual uh... graphic bonking stuff may be implied but will not be shown. Obvs there may be murders, but think, like, the level of violence on Murder She Wrote -- MAYBE we see an assailant whack somebody on the head or something like that -- but when bodies are shown, they are rather discreetly presented, or are discovered off-screen. They aren't showing twisted bodies or guts and gore and maggots in eyes and whatnot, yanno?

Be comforting and satisfying. Like, idk, it's just a vibe. Though there may be murder and light mayhem and delving into some of the darker parts of the human psyche (after all, MURDER, hello!) -- and the reader may certainly experience SUSPENSE (how will our hero get out of this jam?!) -- they will not experience TERROR. The reader knows they are in good hands and that the problems will be satisfyingly resolved and the main character will be OK at the end. They should come away from the book feeling satisfied, with a smile, not upset or stressed out.

If your book ticks ALL of those boxes, you can deffo call it a cozy.

If it ticks 3/4, like, it's sorta borderline 4, as long as the vibe is still comforting, it still could potentially be a cozy, but at the end of the day: If you don't think it's cozy, that's fine. Just... don't call it cozy then! Call it a mystery and then describe it and put the comps and let people come to their own conclusions.

(FWIW, Miss Marple is an amateur sleuth whose books are mostly set in a small town or vacation destinations -- Hercule Poirot is a former cop and professional detective whose books are set all over the map, literally. So by my definition, Poirot books are not cozies. Marple books might be -- but I haven't read them, so IDK about the vibe!)

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rallamajoop · 2 years ago

Text

An absurdly detailed analysis of That One Soldat Photo

Hang around wintersberg fandom long enough, and you'll likely run into a popular crack-theory that, since Heisenberg obviously thinks that building a set of huge, yellow-painted signposts is a good way to point Ethan to the Stronghold, maybe it's Heisenberg who's been leaving all those handy, yellow-painted supply crates all over the place for Ethan to find! It's exactly the kind of fun nonsense I'd enjoy if it didn't feel folks are starting to take it a little too literally (by which I mean I have now read multiple fics in which it's played completely straight ‒ and, like, people do get that it's just a crack theory, right? Like, why would Heisenberg have left so many yellow crates around his own damn factory? Look, you don't have to explain every last game mechanic, not everything is lore!)

But as anyone reading my own fic would know, I'm guilty of echoing the idea that Heisenberg-was-leaving-stuff-for-Ethan myself ‒ just not because of any yellow-striped crates. No, I'm way more interested in this one weird soldat-photo you can find in the village ‒ long hours before you'll ever see your first Soldat in the flesh...

Very creepy. And if you turn it over, you'll find a clue to a puzzle you'll have to solve in order to progress.

(And of course, when you do look out the window, odds are you'll get jump-scared by a lycan just when you're focused on the numbers, because RE8 loves that sort of misdirection ‒ but I digress.)

Anyway, the code you can see out the window will open a safe containing a jack handle you'll need to move a vehicle in the village, as well as the M1911 pistol (which will very likely be your go-to handgun for the rest of the game). The game is full of conveniently-helpful clues like that (heck, most games are), often with no obvious Watsonian justification. And there are other photos around the village ‒ Luiza has a whole photo album ‒ but photos of experiments created by Miranda and her lords don't generally turn up outside their own territory.

For a player exploring the village for the first time, that photo is a lovely little bit of foreshadowing, hinting at monsters and factory stages to come. But on replaying with full knowledge of Heisenberg's later attempts to get Ethan on his side, that Soldat photo is just enough to make you go, huh... did Heisenberg leave that for Ethan? Like, on purpose?

You can find another copy of that photo later, in Heisenberg's factory, along with his notes on his early series Soldat experiments. Which doesn't really prove anything beyond the fact that assets exist to be reused... but it does at least make it pretty canon that Heisenberg has photos of his Soldats sitting around.

Possibly also significant: both the clue photo and the factory documents are tagged 'geekmemo' in the game files. Most everything related to Heisenberg in the files is labeled 'geek'-something ‒ it seems to be an early nickname for his character that lasted well into production. Everything in the factory is geek-something, even the model for the passageway from the altar to the bridge is labeled 'pathtogeek'. Considering that so many soldat-related assets are already labeled 'geek', maybe that 'geekmemo' tag doesn't really tell us anything we don't already know ‒ but it certainly doesn't work against the idea that Heisenberg wrote that 'memo' himself.

Besides, it's not like there isn't precedent for this kind of thing. RE7 had a whole mechanic where you'd have to find 'treasure photos' pointing out the location of a few rare and useful items, all with "I hid something here" written on the back. We're never explicitly told who left those photos lying around, but it's obviously Lucas: he loves playing games, he loves taunting prisoners with the possibility of escape, and who else would it be? The complete population of the Baker mansion is like 6 people and a bunch of semi-sentient mould.

Over in RE8, there are a lot more village resident who might have left that clue lying around. Like it or not though, Heisenberg is very much RE8's equivalent of Lucas: the family's wildcard show-boater who loves making Ethan jump through hoops for his amusement. So how does the game let us know it was Heisenberg who left this particular clue? Well, who else would leave a message on the back of a Soldat photo?

There's may be additional supporting evidence Heisenberg could be involved ‒ most notably the location, being a locked-off cul-de-sac labeled 'Workshop' on signs and maps. The area is full of metal junk very much like you'll later see lying around the factory.

The workshop location does have other relevance ‒ it makes sense that you'd find the jack handle in the village workshop, whether Heisenberg was involved or not. But it also stands to reason that if there's anywhere in the village proper where Heisenberg might hang around and leave clues for Ethan, the workshop is it. And you have to admit that leaving Ethan useful stuff in a safe along with an easy clue that will likely get him jumped by a lycan is 100% more in-character for the guy than just leaving useful stuff out in the open, even if it doesn't really prove anything either.

There's one more weird-little does-this-mean-anything detail: there are three dead crows near the safe too.

It's not the first time in the game you've seen dead crows (there were a bunch outside the village, and I've talked about what that might mean in the context of Miranda's cult before). But I don't remember finding any others around the village itself, other than in this one spot. And instead of being hung from trees like a ritual sacrifice, these ones are just dead ‒ messily, and with blood everywhere.

Now, maybe it doesn't mean anything, but is there anyone in the village more likely to vent his frustrations by violently killing a few of Mother Miranda's avian avatars than Heisenberg? I'd think not.

In conclusion: I still don't think all those yellow crates have anything to do with Heisenberg. And I still don't know for sure whether the RE8 development team wanted me to assume that Heisenberg left Ethan that photo, jack handle and gun. I don't know if we're supposed to read that Heisenberg keeps a workshop in the village and sometimes kills crows out of spite. But the evidence sure does point that way ‒ and it's as valid an interpretation as anything else you might take from this game.

#wintersberg #Karl Heisenberg #Ethan Winters #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #meta

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