#you know filed the serial numbers off?

[facetsofthecloset]

i'm sure it's been said but i feel like both Raxtus and Ronodin can be argued as "the only gay kid in the family and consequently shunned/rejected" and it's like. so weird bc Mull is so Mormon he'd probably rather eat his shorts than even acknowledge the possible existence of gays but

i mean. Raxtus literally has a fairy form. he's a fairy dragon.

Ronodin was just emo lol

and they both get so thoroughly rejected and sidelined by their families their whole lives and it turns Raxtus into an awkward but basically decent guy who runs back to the approval of his family once he's performed masculinity/violence enough to be accepted, only to then realize that he's basically just being used and still not fully trusted/accepted and having to betray them to save his real friends

(who sadly are probably actually homophobic but that's ok bc they're not dragon-phobic so that works out for him)

while Ronodin's like "fuck it. chaos and murder then!" and can you really blame him? he spent his entire life trying to conform to the "right" (in this case, Light) way of life, started spending time with the outgroup and learned to question things, then was told he was "too corrupt" to remain in his home

like. the symbolism is right there.

it's so funny, because sure Raxtus isn't a bad guy, but Ronodin definitely is and he pretty much gets sent to a type of hell at the end of Dragonwatch

and while Raxtus gets kind of a happy ending, like, him becoming an effective killer in a war and being accepted by his dad for being Good At Murder in the first Fablehaven series is presented as a happy ending. if Celebrant didn't wind up being the main villain for Dragonwatch, that probably would've been the end of it! gay kid learns how to soldier and is finally accepted by his homophobic family bc he's finally aggressive enough for them to love him

(i mean i have MANY issues with Celebrant being the main villain later and the reasons he's framed as bad but like. that's a separate rant lol)

the queer reading is right there. but also it's very bad and you can tell completely unintentional. or at the very least highly repressed. idk man i don't look into Mull as a personal individual bc i doubt i'll like what i see and i don't care that much but Dragonwatch was SO MUCH MORE MORMON than Fablehaven already was and it's so weird, seeing the fingerprints of it all over.

i feel like he either has a new editor or he's been doing this for long enough and sold enough books that he has the clout to veto changes made by editors or SOMETHING, bc i feel like? he's gotten worse?? and more unfiltered?? that or something happened and he's like. even more religious than before or something idk

like fablehaven was just kinda generic/bland fantasy with some fun ideas for magic items/powers/one sentence character premises, with just a hint of sus Mormon ideology, and then Dragonwatch just went. Full Mormon.

but then there's somehow even more weirdly queer shit. like. he's repressing so hard he's approaching queer from the other side??

idk man i wish this deeply mediocre man's writing wasn't a formative piece of middle school reading, leading to me still giving more of a shit than i really should over questionable children's literature now

[nevesmose]

You know that post you see sometimes that talks about (paraphrasing) tough loyal knights with scars and devotion complexes wanting to get railed by troubled pretty boy-king types? I was thinking about it earlier. Maybe you can already tell where I'm going with this.

Meanwhile in Warhammer Fantasy:

When the legendary metal-handed knight Gorgone Ferromano is exiled from his homeland of Tilea, a mysterious offer of employment delivered in a black coach may be his only hope.

Wary of superstition and dark rumours he journeys across the Empire to the mist-shrouded province of Sylvania to serve as the bodyguard and champion of the reclusive Count Florian von Phönix.

As deeply-held secrets are revealed, the two initially-conflicting warriors come to discover a shared intimacy and compatibility of desires which neither thought possible.

However, their moonlit idyll is soon threatened by the arrival of the uncompromising witch hunter Rupprecht Geilermann, whose investigations force the two companions into a life-or-death pursuit which they will need all of Florian's vampire cunning and Gorgone's hard-won strength to survive...

[awkward-teabag]

One of the things I love about Baulder's Gate 3 is the companions aren't just archetypes who exist to fill out the roster and be familiar to players so they don't have to think too hard about it, they're actual characters and often have something about them that's opposite of the archetype they're closest to.

Astarion? Sure he's the sexy vampire, but he's also about boundaries and getting permission before biting anyone (minus that first time).

Gale? He's a wizarding prodigy with a massive hubris but is also fine, even eager, to be the camp cook.

Halsin? The quiet dude you meet along the way who is very much into nature and reserved at first, then he relaxes and you learn he's the horniest motherfucker around and down for pretty much anything.

Wyll? He's a living legend in his own time and someone even experienced soldiers are at least wary of, but he doesn't have an ego about it and can separate that from who he is as a person.

Jaheira? She plays up her age and experience and pokes fun at herself and the expectation that she must know more because she's seen and done more than most, but she's content to stepping aside and letting someone else take the lead and doesn't take insult to it.

Karlach? Knows she can take on what the hells throw at her and relishes a good fight, but is the biggest advocate for mental health and to rely on others and/or take a break if needed.

Lae'zel? A born and bred warrior who knows nothing else and doesn't shy away from violence, but her long-suppressed empathy and curiosity starts coming out when she no longer has outside forces dictating who she must be.

Shadowheart? Reverses the "bubbly cleric" trope but instead of sticking to Hot Topic Cleric™, she has to fight the urge to care about and connect with others.

It would have been easy to stick with the first half because those are familiar archetypes and tropes, but it would have rendered them flat as characters. The additions give them depth.

And BG3 is so much better for it.

[eponymiad]

one of these days Im going to find the energy to type up every single Lost allusion Yellowjackets has made (up to four MASSIVE ones per episode, looking at you 2x6) because I don't see anyone else doing it on here and like. This show does not exist without Lost. These showrunners are writing a love letter to Lost.

[marypsue]

(For the record, while we're on the subject of meta-slasher-influenced story ideas, the 'what if Jade Daniels and the ghost of Eddie Munson were best friends and travelled the country fighting horror movie slashers together, and also the narrative was alive and trying to eat them' story idea turned out to have legs, and it's fucking running. I am just trying to keep up.)

[cruelsister-moved2]

can we talk about revival religions i want to talk about it... i like cant stress enough how concerning it is that people cant tell the difference between a closed practice that you need to belong to a certain community to understand vs. a revival invented by hobbyists for fun based on the texts of a dead (or...made up) tradition that everyone has equal access to & say things like “percy jackson is problematic because there are people who worship apollo” & get taken in by racists and nationalists bc they say shit like “we need to reclaim our marginalised indigenous heritage”. if u think thatbeing born in a nation state thats landmass roughly corresponds with the collection of ancient city-states that produced some of the most widely-disseminated literature in the world somehow puts you in the same position as an indigenous person begging white neopagans to stop burning white sage you really really need to unpack that... 

[plotholefragments]

Celeste stormed through the hallways of the castle. Her fiery red hair was threatening to break out of its ponytail, her fists were clenched so hard she nearly cut her palms, and she glared hard enough to set something on fire. Given her magical prowess, that wasn't out of the question.

She didn't notice the aides and pages give her a wide berth; that would require her to acknowledge them. She did notice the lords and dukes arch an eyebrow at her behavior, and any other day this would be enough to get her to stop. She had an image to maintain, after all.

But that clearly didn't matter anymore, if it ever did.

She strode into the royal suite and past the secretary, ignoring his calls of "Lady Celeste!"—she knew where she was going; she didn't need his help. Past the ostentatious doors to the conference room, down the nondescript hallway to the left, around the back, to the queen's private study.

A flick of her wrist, a slight glow, and the doors opened. Forcefully. Celeste didn't even break her stride as she stormed into the office.

The empty office.

She heard the secretary quickly approaching behind her, so she turned around and snarled, "Where is she?"

The secretary immediately shrunk back. "Her Majesty is with Pr—" he stammered, not wanting to finish the word.

"Margo?" Celeste said, her voice dangerously low.

"P—Princess Margo," the secretary finished with a whimper.

Celeste glowered. "I'll wait."

"But you—" The secretary tried to stand up straighter. "You can't—"

"Can't tell your supervisor about your activities?" Celeste raised an eyebrow.

The secretary winced and trundled out, shutting the doors behind him.

Celeste wasn't sure how long she waited before the doors opened again—gently this time. The Queen glided in, somehow moving effortlessly even in her full regalia. She looked at Celeste, and her face fell.

"I'd hoped you would take this better," she said quietly.

Celeste glared. "How long have I been in your service?"

"Celeste—"

"How much have I done for you? How much of my life have I given to you?"

"That's never been in question."

"Then what is?!" Celeste screamed. "What does she have that I don't?"

The queen just pursed her lips and looked at Celeste.

Celeste growled. "Don't say it."

"Celeste..."

"I'm smarter than her. I'm more skilled than her. I've done more for this kingdom than her. I've done more for you than her!"

"Yet I chose her," the queen said firmly. "Why do you think that is?"

"Don't pull that 'enigmatic teacher' castoff on me. You owe me a straight answer."

"Do I?" The queen stood straighter, her eyes narrowed. She took a step forward.

Celeste couldn't help but step back, hating herself for it.

"Who is to blame," the queen said quietly, "when the student does not learn the lesson? Is it the student for refusing to listen?" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Or is it the teacher for failing to understand how to teach the student?"

She looked at Celeste with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I watched you grow into an incredible young woman. I saw your potential, and I thought I could help you reach it. I'm sorry I failed you in this way."

"I bet you a—"

A sharp gesture from the queen's right hand, and Celeste's voice cut off, a subtle white glow around her throat.

"You do not suffer fools," the queen said, her voice slicing into the silence, "and that is not a bad trait. But these past years you are only too eager to find them. And it has brought you dangerously close to making enemies I cannot protect you from."

She closed her eyes and took a slow breath, her hand still in place holding the silencing spell.

Celeste froze in place, seething.

"Here is your answer," the queen said, staring intently down at Celeste. "She is your equal in intelligence, and her skills in magic surpass yours for one reason: she knows when to rely on her friends. Most importantly, she understands bonds of love on a level that I can only imagine. Which means that when she looks at others, she wonders what she can learn—"

She leaned in and glared directly into Celeste's eyes and snarled, "Not what she can extort."

The queen cancelled the spell and stepped back. "When you are ready to learn," she said at a more normal volume, "my door will be open. Until then, I am relieving you of your duties."

"You're putting me in time out?" Celeste said, incredulous. "I'm not a child!"

"Yet you insist on acting like one," the queen said without missing a beat. "Use this time wisely, Celeste."

And with that, she turned and left.

Celeste stood in the empty study for a moment, ignoring how many tears she wiped away, before storming out.

She was given a similar wide berth on the walk back to her office, though she would swear some of the fearful looks had turned to pity. She closed the door behind her and reflexively made a set of gestures with her right hand to trigger her security measures. The walls, ceiling, and floor pulsed an icy blue glow that settled across the doorway in an intricate glyph.

Celeste moved slowly. She undid the clasp on her robes—white with red trim, her badge of office as a Court Mage—and carefully set them on the hook by the door. Her hair tie was next, followed by her bracelets. Finally, she held a hand in front of her chest and pulled on an invisible strand of magic. The enchantment on her clothes untied, her blouse and pants loosened themselves and settled comfortably around her.

Her breathing started to pick up. She stared forward at the door as her breaths got heavier and shorter.

Until finally, she screamed. A wordless, careless, hopeless yell of frustration and rage.

And like so many screams of its kind, it ended with her on the ground, tears falling, breathing one step away from outright sobs.

[toomanylizzes]

At this point I’m very excited to see what kinds of Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce “inspired” romance novels will get published.

[ex-mage]

nothing better than that sublime feeling of finding a fic that was deleted off ao3 in your local library with a new name and the serial numbers filed off

[elodieunderglass]

It's not really my business, but honestly it feels like it would be advisable to hire a copyright lawyer. Like I don't feel like you're in it for the money, but it might be gratifying to have the guy milking your idea at least have to formally acknowledge you. I think I'd do it just for the peace of mind to know if I've been "legally" wronged or not. Either way, hope you continue to inspire, and live out a peaceful life.

(In reference to this post about the guy who pretends to have invented “Elder Teletubbies,” specifically how he is now kickstarting DnD minis of them.)

Ha, well, it’s all a little tricky I think. I might, hilariously, post on the r/legaladvice Reddit (even though they’re all cops lol) because the only thing I want here is for him to stop selling my “transformative work,” and ideally to stop pretending he invented it (which might be difficult as he appears to fully believe his work is creatively independent.)

I think if anything, my post counts as protected commentary or a transformative work of BBC’s Teletubbies, and I think it’s stinky to profit on that stuff in general (like I’m 190% okay with buying LotR fanart on stickers ! but I wouldn’t dream of trying to publish a fic with the serial numbers filed off. Why?)

I think ultimately I’m not a grifter, I’m a grownup, and I think it’s several levels of eye roll to sell fanart of a tv show on this level. I would be embarrassed to touch money made on that. I’m too fucking scrupulous and artisanal. I have toyed with a silly original novel for funsies since 2019 but keep saying things like, “oh, people will think this is too similar to something else that already exists” as if a silly original novel I write for fun has to somehow pass a Bar of Originality higher than anything salary-writers aim for.

I’m also pretty anti-intellectual-property myself in that leftist sense where I don’t believe people should be acting as if creative works are, like, oil. Like the resource extraction angle of intellectual property freaks me out, I don’t think getting super high-horse and snotty about Magical Brain Property is entirely compatible with the artisanal temperament I personally got going on here. I am like snufkin about this, simply smoking a pipe and making a flower crown saying “poor fools! Producing works for market, and serving as the guard dogs of the market, lest their work lose value if it becomes more common!” I do not have a high horse. I am not going to post 6900 words about the importance of defending fucking… Mickey Mouse. I buy those lotr stickers on Etsy! I do have a horse, but it’s a pretty low horse.

If it was his own work I would not care about this guy doing this in the least (apart from loftily calling it stinky - but hey, nerds are common and nerds are stinky, it’s not rare) IF he wasn’t STEALING FROM MY ANTI-COMMERCIALISATION DREAM TO DO IT.

That’s the bit that PISSES ME OFF too much to ignore: that and accepting compliments for being original like 😌 yes my twisted mind did this idk lol.

Like if you asked him point blank about the artistic choices he’d be like idk my twisted mind just sees the Teletubbies this way teehee! but if you ask ME why, for example, the adult Teletubbies live in the forest I’ll explain that in 2017 I was at a major life crossroads and this dream was ABOUT that. It was goodbye to my identity as a foreigner from the pine forests, and full steam ahead to settling permanently in the fucking shire (where the baby teletubbies on the bbc show live). It was about going back to work having had my first child, and saying goodbye to my various career dreams for myself (famous scientist! Published author!) as I chose instead, finally, the responsibility of working humbly as a public servant for the actual good of society. It is about witnessing the wild and saying “I am not of it, but it is my job to be its witness and voice.” That’s why the adult Teletubbies are dancing in my native forests while I’m watching them from the English hills. This guy doesn’t know that he just vaguely heard “spooky forest cryptid” and didn’t develop it at all, I do more work than that with FANFICTION in my time off!!!

So it’s really about nebulous stuff and ethics and not something worth paying a lawyer for I think!

But thank you so much for this, I think the thing that gets most perennial about it is the TOTAL GASLIGHTING of the “outside world” of the rest of the internet like, fully believing they invented this, and they DIDNT. They’re so wrong on the internet and they don’t know

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

[sazuka57]

No actually I’m mad enough about it to speak up.

This new trend of judging ppl for making AUs upon AUs for their blorbos instead of making ocs or filing the serial numbers off is annoying af.

I wrote for ocs for 6 years (probably closer to 8, but I digress). Do you know how lonely it is writing for ocs? No one wants to read it. No one cares about it. I had exactly one person who consistently liked or even interacted with my posts and they’d do it as support, without actually reading any of my work. I wrote over a thousand pages of “original fic” and only one 90 page story got any attention and that was only because I promoted the heck out of it. The rest? Nothing. So much nothing that I just stopped posting. Kept writing, but stopped posting—because no one was reading it!

Not to mention—fanfics have a lot of sites to post on. You’ve got wattpad you’ve got ao3 you’ve got ffn you’ve got tumblr etc etc. But for original work? Uhhhh maybe tumblr. Maybe some obscure site that has probably a hundred users trying to make their story pay to read. That’s it. There’s no easily accessible platform for these things.

And also! LET PEOPLE HAVE THEIR FUN. Like this is legit the new kind of cringe culture? “Wow thinking about the blorbos in another au, so cringe. Make your own ocs loser.” Like. Stop it. Some people don’t wanna make ocs. Some people don’t wanna file off the serials. They just wanna create for the love and fun of their blorbos.

So just. Stop it. Just stop. Stop judging people about having harmless fun. If you wanna do ocs, good for you. Have fun with your ocs! Create! Spark that joy!!

And if you wanna keep using your blorbos, then good for you! Make that 36478162 AU. Let it spark joy!!! Real life works hard to suck joy out of all of us, so do what makes YOU happy.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

THERAPY SESSIONS•••

bau!team x psychiatrist!reader ↳ part 2 here

Synopsis: you have been a longtime psychiatrist for the BAU team. Always there to listen to their troubles. But what if you mysteriously disappear? WARNING: use of y/n and l/n. curse(s?). mentions of trauma (kind of) A/N: nothing sweets, enjoy!

Monday, 11:04 AM

"Have you heard from Dr. L/N? I wanted to schedule my next appointment but can't reach her cell." Spencer, being your frequent visitor, asked his teammates as he stared at his flip phone in deep thought. Maybe the problem was his phone?

Emily turned her seat, legs crossed and arms flat on the armrests of her chair. "I actually wanted to schedule one yesterday. I couldn't reach her cell either." She shrugged, leaning backward.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Maybe she's on a date? Let the woman have a life." He was your newest patient, though you have been listening to his troubles for 2 years.

You have been the BAU team's psychiatrist for the past six years, or more, you couldn't remember. All you could remember was how they slowly piled, one by one, into your office and shared their deepest sorrows in the safety of your listening ear.

It started when Spencer needed someone to rant to. He arrived at your clinic, soaking wet from the rain and clutching your business card in his hand. You were about to leave for the day, but you didn't mind the extra hours you had to spend.

Then came JJ, who brought up her concerns for Spencer but was completely anxious over different things. She was the sweetest woman alive that you have ever met. And it sometimes pained you to know that she had to endure adversities.

The others crammed right in like children asking for a little bit of company in the dark, and you were more than happy to provide them with a cozy sofa and a listening ear.

Spencer and Emily let go of the topic. Derek was right. They had to let you have a life outside of work, outside of listening to their cries. They bothered you with the shallowest inconvenience 24/7, and it didn't sit right to deprive you of having time off.

With that said, nonetheless, you have been part of their family. Even if you weren't a profiler, they welcomed you to one of Rossi's dinner parties just the same.

Emily loved to joke that you were their sweet, softhearted mommy, while Aaron Hotchner was their strict dad. You always laughed at that.

Tuesday, 4:32 PM

Penelope was maniacally tapping on her keys as she searched for information that the group asked her to look for. They flew out this morning, almost teleporting to Los Angeles for a fast-escalating serial killer.

A ringing echoed in her background, waiting for the recipient to pick up the call. The number was yours.

"[You've reached Dr. L/N's line. Please don't leave a message at all. Text me directly instead at 571...]"

She sat up, rolling her chair across her room to reach her telephone, and dropped the call. "No! Y/N! I need you to answer me so you can listen to my dilemma!" Penelope whined and speed-dialed your number once again.

You may be the BAU's psychiatrist for six years, but you have been Penelope's psychiatrist for eight years. You were there when she broke down about the horrors of their recent cases when she got shot and many more events in her life that she couldn't help but rant about to you. You were her friend, and you felt honored to become one.

Wednesday, 10:57 PM

"Something's wrong," Spencer announced, sitting on the swivel chair with his legs crisscrossed.

Hotch immediately lifted his gaze from the file he had in his hands, glancing at Spencer. "What did you find?"

What the Unit Chief didn't know was that his youngest profiler had been staring into space for a good 30 minutes. Spencer fidgeted on the hem of his slacks. "Dr. L/N has never been MIA for more than a day." He replied, unaware of his conversation with his leader.

"Reid. I need your focus on this mission and not Dr. L/N's?" Hotch diverted, bringing his attention back to the file in his hands.

Thursday, 7:00 AM

Spencer's statement didn't leave the back of Hotch's mind, sending you a text as soon as his alarm went off. He couldn't get a blink of sleep.

As much as he tried to think about the case, worry for a compassionate friend began to creep into his veins.

Hey, if you don't mind. Would you happen to have time for me to visit on Saturday afternoon?

He tapped the sides of his phone, staring at the screen. With a small sigh, Hotch exited the bed and got ready for work.

Within the ten minutes he spent showering, Hotch glanced at the screen with furrowed brows in the absence of your reply.

It wasn't like you were obligated to respond to him at that time of the day, but he had known you enough years to know that you were wide awake at the strike of 7 AM.

Hotch remembered clearly how the two of you coincidentally met at the park where he usually goes for a run. He learned then that you never fail to wake up at 5 AM in the morning, emptying your mind to make space for people's troubles that you gladly eased.

He dialed a phone number, "Hello, Garcia?"

Friday, 1:29 PM

The team arrived back to Quantico, wiped out and drained from the case, unenthusiastic about the fact that they had to stay for a few hours and complete some paperwork before they could finally go home.

"Did L/N change her number?" JJ walked in the bullpen, waving her phone to the others. She placed a hand on her hip as she navigated through her phone, preparing to edit your contact information.

Not to create competition, but JJ had it worst in their past case. The anxiety that coursed through her bloodstream needed the comfort of your soft voice. She would discuss it with her husband, Will, but you always understood better. She loved the way you explained her emotions to her, giving her a clearer vision of what she was feeling. It made it easier for her to express her feelings when she came home to Will.

Spencer perked up, "I don't think so. She's very consistent with everything. She would've told us if she changed her number." He sat on his seat with his legs crisscrossed.

Derek didn't waste a minute and dialed your clinic's main landline. They should've been calling there to set an appointment anyway, but they were too attached to you to even bother. In their eyes, you were the whole clinic; no other psychiatrist was available.

"[Hi, you are calling from...]" Multiple sighs of relief escaped from the four of them when they finally got someone to pick up the call. "[This is Alexa. What can I help you with today?]"

"I wanted to set an appointment with Dr. L/N, does she have any open spots for this weekend?" Derek asked, making eye contact with the three agents with him, assuring them that everything was alright.

Until it wasn't.

"[I'm sorry, Sir. Dr. L/N is not available right now, but—]"

"Is she on vacation?" Emily interjected, moving to the edge of her seat.

"[Uh, who am I speaking to?]"

They all exchanged looks. JJ leaned against Derek's desk, clearing her throat. "This is Jennifer Jareau from the FBI. I'm a friend of Dr. Y/N L/N and haven't been able to contact her in a while. I just wanted to ask if, by chance, you have other means of contacting her?"

A long pause. Worry began to creep over their minds. They could hear murmurs and movements, and after three minutes of waiting, someone picked the phone back up.

"[Good afternoon. My name is Dr. Basset, and I'm the head psychiatrist in the clinic. Unfortunately, we haven't heard of Dr. L/N since last Saturday. She hasn't been showing up for her shift either. We were getting worried because she wasn't answering her personal cell and home landline. One of our staff knew where she lived, but her apartment was quiet. They said no one answered the door.]"

Well shit.

That wasn't normal for you to just disappear. You always notified the whole team three months before you would go on vacation or requested leave. So, you being unavailable with your means of communication spiked up their worry through the roof.

They nodded to each other, making a wordless agreement that whatever was happening, it was clear that it was not something they should take lightly.

"Okay, Dr. Basset. Is there a chance you can provide us with any other information about Y/N? Her emergency contact, parents' names, anything would help us." JJ swallowed the lump in her throat. Where could you be?

"[Of course! Let me just go get it.]" Dr. Basset said, shuffling on his end.

Rossi walked out of his room with the intention of filling up his cup with another dose of coffee, but the expressions that the four agents had on their faces didn't pass his peripheral. "What happened? Did you all lose a bet with Garcia?"

Spencer turned his seat, "Dr. L/N is missing." He announced.

"Missing? Did someone report her missing?" Rossi knitted his brows. He wasn't frequent in your office, but he did have a monthly visit.

"She hasn't been to work for a week or answering any of our calls," Emily stated, biting the nail on her thumb.

"Call Hotch," Rossi told Emily, who didn't waste time nodding and went straight to Hotch's office. He looked at the others. "I know everyone is tired from the case, but this one is very important."

Derek stood up, leather jacket wrapping his lean build. "You don't have to tell us twice." He glanced at Spencer, who was already standing, clutching his messenger bag. Then, to JJ, who nodded her chin of approval.

Emily was about to knock on Hotch's door when it swung open, a file in his hand. "We have a case." He announced.

"But-" Emily attempted to intervene, but he continued speaking.

"We need to find our psychiatrist, Dr. Y/N L/N. Penelope's on her way to debrief us. Gather in the conference room in five minutes."

[sp-by-april]

I'm gonna be so real with yall, I literally scrapped the whole thing and rewrote it after talking to @angel-gone-dark tonight lol. This F!Reader is definitely me with the serial number filed off, but yall are welcome to enjoy it. I hope you like PRAISE 🥰😍

PC!Kyle x F!Reader

[Kyle Broflovski Master List]

Have you ever had a first date so awful that you immediately went to a different bar?

Well, I’d just finished one for the record books. There was this little hotel bar downtown where I knew I had very little chance of running into anyone I knew... So I headed straight there.

I ordered a whiskey sour and this older guy next to me took notice.

“The whiskey here kind of sucks, and it’s overpriced. Oh-for-two,” He slurred.

“Thanks, for the tip,” I rolled my eyes and grabbed my drink the second that the bartender set it down.

He nudged me with his elbow, “I’ve got the real top shelf upstairs in my room,”

“Stan, she could be your fucking daughter,” The voice next to him scolded.

“Shit,” Stan looked me over, “Are you my daughter?”

“Maybe. My ex was always ranting about my daddy issues and you look like just the sort of guy who could cause them,” I said matter-of-factly.

Stan nudged his friend next, “Pay for her drink, I’m gonna hit the head,”

He spun out of his seat and headed to the back of the bar while I said a silent prayer.

Stan’s friend slid over to the seat next to me and whipped out his wallet, “Sorry about him,”

“It’s fine,” I sipped my drink, “I just had a horrible date so it makes sense that trying to decompress from it is just as annoying,”

He tossed a pile of cash on the bar top and signaled the bartender for two more drinks, “How horrible?”

“When I introduced myself...” I took a deep, centering breath, “He said I wasn’t the type of girl he usually dated,”

He looked at me suspiciously, “...Hot?”

I fought back a smile and took another sip, “Let’s go with that, yeah,”

He was the kind of guy it was easy to open up to and I’m the kind of girl who’s a sucker for anyone who can crack through my armor. I couldn’t help it, I was attracted to him. We got our introductions out of the way and I knew that if I had the chance, I’d fuck Kyle before the night was over.

Luckily when Stan came back, he gave me the opening I was looking for, “Is she coming upstairs with us?”

“Why not? You’ve got the top-shelf stuff, right?” I shrugged and tried to keep an air of casual disinterest.

The hotel suite was huge. My friends and I had all gotten together recently, pooling our resources to rent a room to party in and even with four of us, it was half the size.

I sat down on the couch and tried not to be intimidated as Stan clanked an expensive-looking bottle of booze on the table in front of me and two glasses.

“You guys have fun,” He said with an exaggerated yawn, “I’m gonna crash,”

He headed to the bedroom and then stuck his head out, “Kyle, actually I think I locked myself out of the safe. Can you come here a second?”

Kyle rolled his eyes and followed Stan into the room.

I waited patiently for maybe a minute. I knew I had put myself in a pretty reckless situation, so I’m not proud, but I eavesdropped.

I heard the sound of a lot of weight on bed-springs. I figured Stan finally collapsed.

“You’re gonna fuck her, aren’t you?” Stan chuckled.

Kyle sounded hopeful, “If I’m lucky,”

“There’s a bottle of Viagra in my drawer,” Stan added helpfully.

“I’m good, but thanks for the assist,”

“She’s how old?” He asked incredulously.

“Twenty… something,”

“Uh-huh. She’s a hot girl who’s used to fucking other twenty-something guys with all the stamina in the world. That’s all I’m saying,”

“If I change my mind you’ll be the first to know,”

I pretended to mindlessly scroll through my phone as he reentered the room.

“Everything okay?” I asked as I slid my phone back into my purse.

Kyle looked me over with a slight smile, “Better now,”

He sat down next to me and I realized I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. I decided to ignore it the best way I could think of… I kissed him.

He curled his hand around the back of my neck and I wanted to melt into him. I climbed on his lap instead.

Kyle scanned my face, “Your heart’s beating really fast,”

I felt like the sexual prowess and reputation of every girl under 30 was sitting squarely on my shoulders, of course my heart was racing.

“That’s…” I hoped the flush in my face wasn’t as obvious as it felt, “Weird,”

I leaned in to kiss him again, but he grabbed my wrist. I blinked as he took my pulse.

“Are you...” He looked me up and down again, “Do I make you nervous?”

“No. I mean– Maybe a little,”

He tilted his head as he tried to read me, “It’s because of your bad date from earlier, right?”

“Right,” I lied and then accidentally followed it with the truth, “I just don’t want to disappoint another guy,”

“I don’t think you could do that if you tried,” He cupped my cheeks in his palms, “Forget about him, you’re mine tonight,”

I kissed him as if my life depended on it. I slid my tongue in his mouth and as I felt him throb underneath me, I finally started to relax. I pulled off my blouse and he reached behind me and expertly, effortlessly, unhooked my bra. I tossed it behind me.

I dipped my hands between us so that I could unbutton and unzip him as we kissed. I was in for a surprise. The guy was fucking hung. I wasn’t prepared for it at all. Once I had him in my hand and I could feel just how thick he was and how sticky he was for me, I had to fight the anxiety back again.

I hiked up my skirt, slid my slit over him as he purred in my ear, “You’re so fucking wet,”

I sank onto him and gasped sharply. His hot breath fell onto my skin as he groaned, reveling in the initial sensation of squeezing inside.

I pulled him into another kiss as my hips started to move and I couldn’t believe how good he felt. His hands were drawn to my breasts, palming, caressing, and squeezing them so thoughtfully that I couldn’t help but whine, especially as his thumbs rolled over my nipples.

“You have a perfect body,” He was looking at me so intently, watching my every move, listening to my every sound, that I was starting to think that he was right.

To top it off, he was hitting that sweet spot inside of me so lusciously, that I knew I had a mind-blowing orgasm on the horizon. I was finally out of my head and just focusing on how good he fucking felt.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” He gathered up my hair and pulled it away from my face, “I want to see you feel as good as you look,”

I was somehow in control and completely under his thumb. It was more than a little intoxicating.

Then his hand dropped between us and his fingers found my clit. The way he touched me was so fucking good, and so overwhelming, I couldn’t take it. I prayed Stan was dead asleep as I moaned fucking shamelessly.

“Be a good girl and come for me,” He kissed my neck and I really didn’t have a choice.

My back arched and it felt like every single muscle in my poor little body seized up fiercely as all the pleasure swelled and crested inside of me. A loud, quivering moan poured out of me and I was practically shaking as the soft, silky walls inside of me closed around him. I gripped him tight, clinging onto him like the pathetic, desperately needy girl that I really was.

He pulled my mouth to his, as if he was going to kiss me, but he didn’t. I’d never had a guy edge me on a fucking kiss before, all I could do was whimper at his mouth. As he scanned my face, he seemed so satisfied that it was palpable.

He finally pulled me the rest of the way and I locked my lips onto his like I starved for him. He groaned into my mouth and his eyes rolled back. His hips jumped up into me with a surprising amount of force and I sighed into our kiss as I felt every inch of him pulsing, filling me up with hot sticky spurts in a perfect culmination of his satisfaction.

Once it was over, he held my face, kissing me again and again. When we finally exchanged numbers at the end of the night, he saved my contact as “Pretty Girl” and I knew it was just a matter of time until we hooked up again.

[satansapostle6]

Love The Sinner | Dexter Morgan

Dexter Morgan, a vigilante serial killer hiding in plain sight, loses sleep for the first time in his life when he’s met with the very last thing he expected: a kindred spirit.

Warnings: Violence. Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Part One. Eyes of Darkness.

Most people, when they’re getting arrested, shit their pants with fear. Some scream, some cry. Some rage, and some try to run, and some just freeze. That’s what you usually see, when you’re in your parents’ living room, and your dad can’t wait to turn on the TV to the channel dickety-six news, of all things. But sometimes, people have other reactions when being handcuffed and shoved in the back of a squad car. Sometimes people enjoy it, for one reason or another. I smiled when Miami Metro put me in cuffs on the news. Laughed, even. You see my story is many things, but boring certainly isn’t one of them.

Let’s start simple. My name is Nicole Carvalho, and as of today, America knows me as ‘Murderous MILF’. You really can’t make these things up; I love this country. I keep reminding myself, if I ever go free, I need to clip that out of the newspapers. But see, right now, at this very moment, I’m sitting alone in an almost blindingly white interrogation room at the precinct, waiting for a cop to question me while they study me on the surveillance footage. I can’t lie, I’m sitting back right now in my chair, smirking. You see, I killed the men who violated and later took my baby girl’s life, and I’m currently very pleased with myself.

I don't think my grandfather pictured this when he left Brazil. This truly is the American dream; committing a crime and letting your own peers decide whether or not it was justified. In all honesty, a jury will be much kinder to me than ‘God’ has been. So, I figured I’d let myself have this one thing. I think I waited about a half an hour before they sent someone in; a female detective. They must’ve figured a matching vagina couldn’t hurt. The first thing I noticed about this detective was that she was strikingly young; close to my age. I’m thirty-six, so I would estimate her to be maybe a little younger.

But apart from her age, the next thing I noticed about this detective was that she was very robotic in how she interacted with me; she didn’t necessarily look like she wanted to be there. She barely looked up at me when she came in, holding my files and looking down at them like a teenager doing a presentation in high school.

“So. Nicole Carvalho. I’m Detective Morgan.”

She sits down across from me less like I’m a murder suspect and more like she’s interviewing me for a secretary job. I look at her, sitting forward as I join her in the conversation, still smug as ever. I think she was secretly hoping I’d say it, the four words that usually drove most cops insane that, for some reason, no one ever thinks to say in the movies.

“I want my lawyer.”

I smile as I say it. Detective Morgan also smiles, looking down at the table before getting up. I’ll never forget how pleased she sounded.

“Guess that means I can’t ask you anymore questions.”

She gets up and walks out, and that’s the end of it. In all honesty, I don’t think she was looking forward to questioning a woman about the murder of her daughter’s rapist. After the detective left me alone, I was allowed to call myself the lawyer that I had in mind. This, of course, was a friend of a friend, a perfectly shady guy named Johnny Bertelli, who was, in the nicest way possible, a fucking scum bag. You see, I work as a project manager at a marketing firm, so I’ve met my fair share of good lawyers, but Johnny was the fucking best.

He made Johnnie Cochran look like an idiot. He was the kind of lawyer who laughed at the prosecution in court, and I needed him. So there i was, in the Miami Metro precinct punching a number I’d gotten off Google into a wall phone. I looked around the precinct as I waited for someone to pick up, and suddenly it was like I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned around, and I saw a pretty timid, mild-mannered looking guy who seemed as if he’d been standing there trying to figure out how to get my attention.

But the strange thing was, he didn’t seem to want my attention, at all, actually. If anything, he seemed perturbed by the fact that I was looking his way. I looked over at him, not knowing what the fuck his story could’ve been. Miami’s a weird place, because in this moment, I realized the guy wandering the precinct in a Polo and khakis could very well be an employee. I looked at the guy, not knowing what he could’ve wanted with me as I struggled with the phone. Funny enough, he actually just wanted to be helpful.

“You gotta press pound,” he says quietly, “For the call to go through,” and I almost laugh.

I appreciate the odd moment, just thanking him.“Thank you.”

He just nods, and says nothing as he quietly retreats to wherever it was he came from. I took his advice, and sure enough, the phone worked and patched me through to Johnny’s office. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, seeing as I was obviously a bit preoccupied, but I felt that strange man’s eyes linger on me for a moment. Even as I turned around, I could sense his surreal sort of presence that he had. Sure, I was used to having men’s leering eyes on me out in public; it was hardly unusual. But this was different.

Like he was less looking at my body and flesh, but more so imagining what was underneath it.

*****

The next couple years of my life were eventful, to say the fucking least. Johnny of course advised me to take my case to trial instead of taking a plea, for obvious reasons; there was no way any jury was going to give me the maximum sentence, or God forbid, the death penalty. I was a single mother who stabbed her twelve year-old daughter’s rapist seventeen times. In the eyes of the public, I was practically a fucking hero. Johnny’s confident that any jury would feel sympathetic to me, despite the brutality of what I’d done. As he says, the facts are still there.

My neighbor, a weasley little creep named George Randall got me, and my Isabelle, to trust him, and took advantage of her in the worst way. Then she killed herself, because of what he did, and I had to find out through a note left on her desk for me to find. So, I went to George’s with an empty baking dish of his, and once he let me in, I whipped out the knife I’d borrowed from him, the same knife I used to use to cook for my little girl, and I made his stomach burst like a water balloon. At this point, I’d already chosen to show little remorse for the crime I’d committed, feeling perfectly at peace with the possibility of prison, or the death penalty.

But Johnny said there was probably no need to be too fearful of either. He’d even told me there was a possibility I’d just get a few years, and then parole, or something, and I wasn’t sure that wasn’t bullshit, but I also liked his confidence. The reality of it was, Johnny had made much worse people look way better. To him, my case was already closed. All I had to do was play the part of the grieving mother, which took no effort on my part. I had to wait almost a year for my case to go to trial, which I of course did outside of a cell.

This gave me enough time to get all my affairs in order, or so to speak. My job was okay for the time being, and I knew I’d probably still have it so long as I wasn’t convicted of murder, given my ‘years of dedicated service’. Things were going to be relatively fine, eventually, but for now, I was stuck being paraded around like a jester on some twisted apology tour for avenging my daughter’s death. I’m a pretty good actor, but even my patience has its limits. And maybe wearing my white So Kate’s to court wasn’t necessarily the best judgement call.

But Johnny, being more than worth the money I pay him, made it work. I walked into the courtroom with him, humble and graceful, and didn’t let my eyes linger so as not to appear guilty. But even then, I caught a glimpse of him in the room. The guy who helped me with the phone. He was watching my trial, probably just as a police department employee. Probably.

“Will the defendant please rise?”

I complied with Judge Willis’s request, with my trusty guard dog by my side. I remained dignified, my head held high, but not too high, of course, as the proceedings began.

“Miss Carvalho. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, your honor,” I told him.

The damage was done. My fate rested entirely in the hands of twelve strangers, and for some reason, there was a thirteenth who seemed oddly invested in the outcome.

-

Part Two.

[rythyme]

hello ok so i saw your recent ex-morning posts and like i watched sotus but i have No Idea what's going on at the moment. f it's not too much effort can you explain why the ex-morning stuff is so, i dunno how to say it, noteworthy, i guess? like just what's up maybe?

Tl;dr: The Ex-Morning is GMMTV's literal RPF with the serial numbers filed off, starring the actors from said RPF.

i'll do my best to explain more under the cut

ok let's do this

SOTUS and KristSingto were some of the biggest cash cows GMMTV has ever had. I would argue that the success of SOTUS in 2016 is the main reason we have a BL renaissance today.

Krist and Singto have not acted together since 2018. Until recently, it was assumed that they would never be paired up again.

There were rumors that they had a falling out, which supposedly explained why they stopped acting together. Mostly speculation, but who knows.

Krist made a poor taste comment a while back that led to him being somewhat "cancelled" for a few years. He only started dipping his toes back into BL last year.

Singto, on the other hand, never stopped acting in BLs and has had at least 6 on-screen male acting partners since then (maybe more if you count his one-sided crushes on Mike and Lee Thanat in Baker Boys, or whatever the hell was going on in Shadow). This is very notable, since the BL business model tends to keep acting pairs in the same "ship" for years at a time.

Acting pairs almost never "get back together" after getting a new male acting partner. The literal only exception I can think of is when Tay Tawan acted with Joss Wayar in 3 Will Be Free and then continued to act with New in DBK/Cherry Magic.

Despite everything, KristSingto is still extremely popular among fans to this day and is still one of the most popular "ships" of all time.

When Singto's schedule opened up, GMMTV finally got the opportunity to profit off of it again -- in the most intentional and transparent way possible.

The plot of The Ex-Morning -- exes reuniting and falling for each other again -- mirrors the careers and relationship of Singto and Krist. The fact that Krist's character has a publicity blunder and has to restore his reputation is even more fuel for the fire.

The director for The Ex-Morning is the same director who made SOTUS

The flashback in The Ex-Morning shows Krist and Singto with their signature iced coffee and pink milk, which intentionally calls back to their characters in SOTUS.

P'Aof, who is said to be writing some of the screenplay for The Ex-Morning, said that he wrote it to match Krist and Singto's relationship. This story was tailor made for them.

Conclusion: GMMTV is going for the SOTUS / KristSingto cash grab by essentially having Aof write some kind of amalgamation of KristSingto RPF and SOTUS post-canon future fic.

Do I know that it's a blatant cash grab? Yes. Will I will be watching it anyway because it looks low-key good in its own right? Also yes.