#era: fatal trouble

[markstoes]

smiley hoon

[mapsareforbraindeads]

me when tell me. all your. deepest ALL YOUR BAD DESIIIIIRES 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[darkmatilda]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: knock knock knock in the middle of the night — two suitcases (plus a vanity case and a handbag) at the door, and not a request, but an announcement—you're moving in. when your dumb neighbor floods your apartment and the renovation will take at least two weeks, you find a very effective way to make it spencer reid’s problem.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, flatmates yay, lots of domestic scenes with them just watching movies etc, but they also talk about murdering each other once (just once, impressive for them), teasing so hard im not sure a single sentence goes by without it, reference to them getting married in vegas, CAT, reader wearing make up, spencer being a weirdo in one scene, spencer and nightmares...hope y'all not bored with one bed trope

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6k

𝐚/𝐧: request | this has a chance to be my favorite fic from this WHOLE series PERIOD masterlist

Spencer wasn’t asleep when the sound of the doorbell rang.

The time on the clock showed such a late hour that he could almost, without any blame directed at himself, ignore it. He didn’t do that, though, because of a passing thought that it might be one of his friends. Maybe in trouble, maybe wanting to share some sudden terrible news (said his fatal side), or on the contrary, something truly wonderful (a weak trembling voice of optimism).

He put the book aside, got up from the bed, and after a moment, suspiciously yet inquisitively looked through the peephole. He held his eye to it for four seconds, then pulled his head back.  A disbelieving snort from his mouth.

He was dreaming, and this dream was really starting to approach the border of absurdity. Lately, nightmares had been happening to him more and more often—that is, they had always accompanied him, but sometimes their frequency was rare, and sometimes they celebrated their renaissance in a truly sick and twisted form. He was currently in the era of such a renaissance, and he had plenty of reasons to suspect that the moment he opened that door, the woman standing behind it would grow fangs, turn into a monster-woman, and push him against one of the walls, in which he would grow like mold into a fresh fruit and remain in it forever, screaming for someone to free him, but no words would come out of his mouth, because it would turn out he didn’t have one.

He stepped a pace away from the door, ready to return to his bedroom.

That was a very sober thought for someone in the middle of a dream, right? Usually, one doesn’t have that much awareness in them — in most cases, one has none at all, is a video game character controlled by fears, but experiencing everything vividly.

He opposed the nightmare. Cool. But why, then, was something so strongly pushing him toward that door and making it impossible to walk away? The doorbell rang once more, and then again in short intervals, and Spencer already knew — this wasn’t a dream. With a heavy sigh, he rubbed his face and opened the door—only to come face to face with the woman’s fist, which had been just about to (firmly) knock on it. When his person appeared in the doorway, her hand froze in mid-air, then dropped onto the handle of one of the two suitcases with a leopard print.

And then, unfazed—despite the fact that she had just nearly punched him in the face—she spoke in an overly cheerful voice.

“Oh, you’re not asleep. How wonderful.”

Spencer briefly clenched his eyelids shut. Her facial expression, her tone of voice, and literally the suitcases at her feet made it obvious what this was about. A favor. One he would either agree to right away, feeling small about it, or agree to after several (dozen) minutes of her persuasive game, which he somehow never managed to resist despite being a profiler. Feeling even smaller in the process.

“I’m not asleep because someone is pounding on my door. There’s nothing wonderful about that.”

“Me visiting you at night. What about that isn’t wonderful?”

Spencer looked at her from under raised eyebrows, but she bore it with dignity. Silence had never been the cure for her brazen behavior—he had to approach it differently. He slightly relaxed his posture and nodded toward her suitcases.

“Quite a bit of luggage for a one-night visit,” he observed.

She shrugged.

“Just the essentials. What I managed to grab after my entire apartment got completely flooded by my stupid neighbor and now needs a deep renovation.”

He nodded with exaggerated, fake sympathy. He already knew what she was doing at his place at this hour, which didn’t mean he intended to be all meek about it. Besides, with people like her, sometimes it’s healthy to show them, to remind them, that you’re not at their beck and call.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “What are you planning to do now?”

She gave the handle of her suitcase a casual pat.

“Stay in the home of my generous friend,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. “Who doesn’t mind me disturbing him just a tiny bit for the next…hmm, not sure, let’s say two weeks.”

With those words, she confidently stepped forward, as if he had at least invited her in. As if he had said go ahead, make yourself at home. But Spencer didn’t move an inch, still blocking the entrance with his body, causing her to bump into him and take a half-step back. Frustration flickered across her face, but she swallowed it quickly, looking at him with fake confusion, continuing their little silly game.

“Your friend,” Reid pointed out, now standing about half as close to her as before, which forced him to clear his throat slightly so that his voice would remain steady. “Sounds like a really nice guy.”

The corners of her lips really wanted to lift. Instead, she nodded with full agreement.

“He is a nice guy,” she confirmed, looking straight at his face, directly into his eyes. “Although, if I had to list his flaws, we’d probably be standing here for at least another fifteen minutes—which of course we don’t want. But deep down, he is a nice guy. And besides…”

She paused for a moment, leaning her face a little closer to his.

“He’s my husband. And it’s his civic duty to let me in.”

He didn’t blink under the force of her gaze, surprised she even chose that weapon in their argument. Their marriage which—oh, man—should’ve been annulled ages ago, but at this point they’d both kind of forgotten about it.

Anyway, focused on her lips as they slowly and precisely pronounced the word husband, he completely missed the moment she slipped swiftly under the arm he had resting against the doorframe, leaving all her luggage in the hallway.

The thought crossed his mind to leave it there, just to make a point. But then he remembered he’d never really trusted his neighbors, so with a loud sigh of protest he grabbed her two suitcases, what turned out to be a small trunk behind them, and a handbag resting on top—so tiny he genuinely wondered what could fit in there besides lipstick.

Even the plastic evidence bags from crime scenes were way more spacious.

He carried the bags inside—her silhouette had already vanished somewhere deep into the apartment, which was a little weird considering she’d never (okay, except for that one time ages ago) actually been here before. His brain slowed for a second as he felt the weight of her suitcases in his hands. There was no way she was settling in here for the next two weeks! The fact that they were a pair of idiots who’d gotten married in Vegas didn’t obligate him to anything!  He had to find a way to get rid of her. He’d let her stay the night, sure, but after that…

“Oh, and my baby is here!” Her high, delighted voice rang out, and a moment later he found her in his living room, clutching a black cat tightly to her chest. “Mommy. Missed. You. So. Much.”

With each word, she planted a kiss on Marie’s tiny head.

Spencer generally avoided anthropomorphizing animals or assigning them emotions, but he could not shake the impression that the cat was staring at him in full-blown panic. And yet she stayed in her arms, even curling her tail up in contentment.

He shook his head, realizing he’d been standing still for too long, just staring at the scene. He cleared his throat to get her attention—not that it worked even in the slightest.She was still fully immersed in kissing their cat. Still, he decided to assume she was listening.

“How exactly do you see this playing out?” he asked, more seriously this time. “You’re planning to live on my couch for two weeks?”

She raised her brows at him, like he’d just said something worthy of divine punishment.

“Who said anything about the couch? You have a bed.”

“Just one.”

She sighed, like the whole conversation was exhausting.

“You know, I think savoir vivre has some thoughts about offering your bed to a guest.”

“Maybe it does. But a guest is usually someone you invite. Not someone who invites themselves.”

“I always thought you were a gentleman, Spencer. Don’t ruin that image.”

“Wait, seriously, you thought I—No. No, I’m not falling for that. You can call me whatever you want, I’m not giving up my bed. Listen, I’m tall, you have no idea how much my neck hurts after just one night on that couch…”

“In that case, we can take turns,” she said finally, with open displeasure in her voice. Spencer paused, genuinely surprised at the offer—and even more surprised it came from her. Then his eyes fell on her clothes, clearly the same ones she’d worn all day, and her makeup, still in place, suggesting she’d had a long—very long—day and probably just wanted to crash, no matter the terms. “My eternal need for comfort will be halfway satisfied. Your neck will be equally safe. Thoughts?”

He ran it through his head for a moment. He wasn’t used to compromising with her. Wow, sleep deprivation really did do unimaginable things to a (wo)man. Finally, he nodded—just a little. It actually sounded pretty fair. Besides, the idea of her sleeping on his couch for two weeks didn’t sit right with him.And it had nothing to do with her calling him a gentleman…

“But as for tonight… rock, paper, scissors?”

She shook her head quickly.

 “No. No way. Not with you. You probably know the exact probability of me throwing paper and you’ll use it against me. So—no.” 

Spencer stared at her for a beat, silently urging her to come up with a better tie-breaker. Not that they had straws in the apartment to draw from. Suddenly, the corner of her mouth tugged upward. 

At first, he agreed—hesitantly, but he did. She was already about to set the cat down at the far end of the room when a warning light suddenly went off in his brain.

 “Marie will decide,” she announced, shifting her gaze to the cat in her arms.

“Whichever one of us she walks up to gets the bed tonight.”

“You’re not, by any chance, hiding cat treats in your pockets, don’t you?” he asked, suspicious.

He wasn’t teasing. He was genuinely considering the possibility.

She let out a disbelieving huff.

“I barely even have pockets in this outfit,” she declared.

Spencer didn’t change his expression. To him, that sounded suspiciously like a deflection.

She closed her eyes for a second, visibly holding herself back from yelling at him—then suddenly threw her arms out wide.

“You don’t believe me? Fine. Be my guest. You can search me. FBI style. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice with that, don’t you?”

For a moment, he looked into her eyes—challenging, teasing.Then his gaze slid over her clothes, tightly clinging to her body, and the body itself—every curve highlighted by the fabric. Admittedly, there weren’t many places to hide anything in that outfit.

They managed to convince Marie to stay in one place while they both crouched on opposite sides of the room, each calling the cat to themselves. Her black paws went tap tap tap (a moment of hesitation) then tap tap tap ended in her arms. Spencer sighed, but he didn’t really have a reason to be annoyed, since he had agreed to the terms himself. The couch wasn’t that bad anyway, not as bad as he always claimed.

“Let’s not be ridiculous,” he suggested, finding it unexpectedly difficult to swallow.

He caught the mocking glint in her eyes and ignored it—just like he ignored the brief flicker of embarrassment that washed over him. “It’s late. Just…put Marie down and let’s see what happens.”

“That’s only because you haven’t seen each other in a while and she missed you,” he justified it.

What hurt him the most was the betrayal from his own child.

How could he have raised a Brutus?

“Mhm,” she nodded dismissively and adjusted the cat in her arms the way you’d shift a child on your hip, and a genuine smile, not part of any game, appeared on her lips. “Or maybe she just loves her mama more.”

🐾

That night when she decided to show up at his apartment and disturb him just a tiny bit for the next… hmm, not sure, let’s say two weeks, Spencer had assumed her moving in would be a lot more invasive. But somehow, they quickly fell into a rhythm that allowed them to mostly stay out of each other’s way.

The biggest differences were the chaos that overtook the bathroom (but more on that later), and the fact that every other night, he was forced to sleep on the couch. In that regard, when he agreed to her arrangement, he completely overlooked one surprisingly obvious thing. After just one night of her sleeping in his bed, it completely absorbed her scent.

He should’ve predicted it—it was pleasant, a blend of body lotion and other cosmetics, with a trace of her tying it all together. Because of his germophobia, he had always been a little more sensitive to smells than most, but this wasn’t germophobic Spencer talking, repulsed by her scent and finding it disruptive to the point of sleeplessness.

This was a different kind of Spencer. One who felt under some strange spell every time he laid his head on the pillow, his thoughts drifting in a direction he had no intention of exploring.

He couldn’t change the sheets every single night—she would notice, and he wouldn’t be able to explain himself. Not without completely combusting from embarrassment, assuming he even told her the truth.

So on the second night of her stay, when he was supposed to sleep in the bed marked by her presence and it all became too overwhelming…he accidentally spilled coffee on it, just to have an excuse to change the bedding.

He never drank coffee in bed. But they had never lived together before—she didn’t know his habits—so it went unnoticed. Still, just to make it more believable, he actually started drinking coffee in bed, even though he hated it.

But of course, he couldn’t keep doing that every time.

So eventually, he just forced himself to get used to it as quickly as possible.

It was a bit like the first time he let the cat sleep in his bed—foreign and strange at first, but over time, he even started to appreciate it. Especially when it began to ease his nightmares.

🐾

That night, it was his turn on the couch again, but he decided to delay falling asleep. Seriously delay it, dedicating the entire time to binge-watching several episodes of Doctor Who.

She was a bit of a night owl—it wasn’t unusual for her to come home very late—but that evening, she was around and constantly moving about the apartment.

He didn’t mind the sound of her footsteps (in fact, he found it rather endearing, especially when it was followed by a tap tap tap… the sound of tiny paws). He’d already gotten used to not living alone anymore, and besides, he was far too absorbed in the show.

He was pulled out of his absorption by a scoff from behind him. He turned around to see his flatmate, dressed in a satin pajama set with short shorts and a short-sleeved top. Her hair was freshly washed, and she was leaning on his kitchen island with her elbows, eyes fixed on the TV with a not-very-convinced expression.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asked.

“Doctor Who,” he replied shortly, not intending to get into a discussion about his favorite show—which was his favorite for reasons that were not up for debate.

“Easy there, Reid. I was just asking.”

“I can now subconsciously sense when one of your snide remarks is approaching. Thank yourself for moving in.”

“Snide remark right away? Maybe I just wanted to share my constructive criticism.”

“In your dictionary snide remark and constructive criticism are synonyms.”

“That all depends on your sensitivity level. For example, to me, saying this show is lame isn’t mean at all. It’s just how I feel.”

He rolled his eyes. She thought Doctor Who was lame, yet she kept cutting through the living room surprisingly often—just as often as she glanced toward the screen. And she was even engaged enough to form an opinion. Interesting.

He shook his head mockingly. “Good thing no one’s forcing you to watch. You have free will and can just…” he made a little walking-man gesture with his fingers.

She made a face that landed somewhere between a cynical smile and a grimace nonverbal way to say very funny. Then she pointed at the box of tea sitting right beneath her hand, which she must have forgotten about, so not at all focused on his lame show.

“There’s no other place I can make tea. So, in a way, I am being forced to watch and I can’t just…” She mimicked his earlier gesture to cap off her far-fetched explanation.

Spencer let out a dismissive laugh and turned back to watching. But it was hard to focus—there were constant noises coming from behind him: a mug being taken out, water being boiled. He caught himself glancing back discreetly more than once. Only to catch her staring at the TV screen.

Their eyes would usually meet then, and instead of looking away bashfully, she would just nod, as if doubling down on her opinion.

Uhm, lame.

Her large mug of green tea was ready, and he wondered what she would do next. Whether she would just head to her room or...

“I bought ice cream,” she announced, pulling a liter-sized tub from the freezer. She grabbed two spoons and walked over to the couch, handing him one over the backrest.

“No, I’ll pass,” he said. 

She shoved the spoon into his hand and took a seat beside him on the couch, close enough that their shoulders brushed with each unsynced breath, and sharing one tub of ice cream became easier.

“You said you wouldn’t watch my show,” he noted, turning the spoon in his hands.

The surface of the ice cream was so frozen she had to stab it with force to get the spoon in.

“I’m not watching,” she said with a shrug. “I’m just enjoying my tea. And sharing ice cream with you, like a good flatmate should. Give me some blanket, I’m freezing ‘cause of that ice creams” 

She lifted the tub slightly, giving him room to throw the blanket over her bare legs and smooth it down around her waist to keep the warmth in.

“Are you gaslighting me into thinking you’re not watching Doctor Who when you clearly haven’t taken your eyes off the screen since the episode started?” he asked, glancing up at her.

She didn’t answer—too focused on the screen, spoon resting against her bottom lip in total concentration. She might not have even heard him.

Spencer shook his head in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”

He watched her for a moment longer, trying to figure out whether the faint trace of a smile was truly forming on her lips or if he was just imagining it.

Two episodes of Doctor Who later, the ice cream tub was empty, so was her mug of tea, and her shoulder wasn’t just brushing against his anymore—it had fully settled there. His teasing about her hidden nerdy side and her totally-not-real fondness for the show had been met with the kind of patient silence only she could pull off, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in it with growing—by now no longer internal—satisfaction. Another episode ended and Spencer held off on starting the next one, the living room fell into a brief silence, broken only by his roommate’s yawn.

Sleepiness didn’t keep her from throwing him an expectant look toward the remote in his hand.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re out of tea and ice cream. What’s your excuse this time?”

Right on cue, their black cat jumped up onto her lap, curling into a nest. He gave the creature a look of betrayal. The woman let out a theatrical sigh and sank deeper into both the couch and his arm, sliding just slightly against them both. “I’m not heartless. I’m not going to make her move.”

"I’d argue with that," he muttered, referring to the first part of her statement. He reached for his traitorous cat, scratching behind her ear, only to find something else besides soft black fur—her fingers, brushing against his. His hand froze for a moment before he pulled it back, deciding that two people petting the cat at once might be a bit much. “All this just to avoid admitting that Doctor Who is actually a captivating show.”

“Oh my sweet baby loves when mama rubs her belly?” preoccupied with showering the cat with affection, she completely ignored his words.

“Pretending you don’t hear me, huh?”

In the meantime, the next episode had already begun, and her eyelids looked heavy, lazily half-closed.

“But I think it’s time to clip those claws, look at yourself Marie, when was your last little mani-pedi?”

"A bit hypocritical, don’t you think?" he remarked, nodding toward her own long nails. He realized he wasn’t paying any attention to the episode that had just started and was barely aware a few minutes had already passed. What he was very aware of was how late it had gotten—and how much heavier her temple was pressing against his shoulder.

"Well, I’ve never accidentally scratched anyone, unlike this little missy. On purpose, once or twice, I’ll admit. Be a dear and lean further into the corner of the couch, I’m figuring out how to get comfy here..."

Spencer let out a quiet sigh.

"I don’t get it. You fought so hard for my bed, and now that it’s your turn, you’d rather fall asleep on me?"

Her gaze slowly settled on him, and there was something searching in it. And that’s when it hit Spencer—their closeness, the position they had somehow ended up in, and the surprising comfort that came with it, one neither of them had questioned for even a second. He swallowed nervously, and she nodded thoughtfully.

 “You know what, you’re right,” she said slowly. “It would be a shame to waste my turn in the bed. Enjoy the episode.”

She kept her eyes on his face for a moment longer before setting the blanket aside, her bare feet carrying her toward his bedroom. Soft paw steps followed behind her, leaving him alone on the couch.

Spencer watched her go before fixing his gaze on his lame show. This was what he wanted, technically—catching up on a few episodes in peace. And yet, deep down, he really regretted not just keeping his mouth shut and letting her fall asleep.

🐾

A small excerpt from the bathroom chronicles.

It was the one room where Spencer always managed to maintain the greatest order, a near-sterile state. Mostly because he didn’t store books or documents there, and toilet paper and a toothbrush didn’t change their place on their own. Since she had moved in, the cosmetics cabinet looked more confusing than an overfilled bookshelf. Every morning he wondered how those shelves managed to withstand their weight. Once, he made a calculation in his head, added up the estimated weight of each of those cosmetics, assumed a certain shelf durability. He concluded that if he ever made a mistake and put the soap there instead of on the sink, everything would collapse.

A small assumption he had also made at the very beginning of their living together was that the woman would get up earlier than him. After all, she had to get the time to use all those cosmetics from somewhere, right? It turned out to be the opposite. They got out of bed at roughly the same time, and it always came down to an exciting race to the bathroom door, which she often won by resorting to tactics like grabbing the fabric of his shirt.

That morning, both of them had a solid chance of being late, so in response to one of his increasingly impatient knocks, she simply opened the bathroom door, letting him in while she finished doing her makeup.

The focus on her face as she traced the shape of her lips with a lip liner seemed sacred. While brushing his teeth, Spencer watched the process from the corner of his eye, considering two things in his mind. Why they hadn’t previously thought of simply sharing the bathroom instead of fighting over it, and why she even did that, since the shape of her lips was already so pretty. Then a silly comparison came to his mind — that as an occasional consumer who valued factory settings, he should only appreciate any enhancements.

Her fingers slowly lifted the lipstick and gently pressed its active side to her lower lip, spreading it. Oh, and now he probably understood the purpose of the lip liner — the two cosmetics created a very fitting combination on her bottom lip. Her eyes, focused on her reflection and her face, completely unexpectedly caught his, in the mirror.

Caught in such an inelegant act of staring, Spencer wanted to return to brushing his teeth, but he was doing that already, so he tried to do it more — which only resulted in his long arm with its long elbow knocking against the shelf and sending two creams tumbling down.

She smudged the lipstick outside the edge of her lips and turned toward him, ready to scream. Spencer was prepared to take a defensive stance and shift the blame onto—well, he didn’t know what yet—but it turned out the containers had landed on the floor intact. He quickly bent down to pick them up and set them back on the shelf, straightening up and raising a calming (yet simultaneously nervous) hand in her direction.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it, it’s fine…”

“You’re lucky. You and your big clumsy paws are very lucky.”

“There’s no need to overreact, seriously.”

“Oh, I’m overreacting?” she raised her eyebrows at him, hands on her hips, and her serious expression looked absurd with that red lipstick going well beyond the edge of her lips. He tried to point it out to her somehow, but she silenced him with a look, so he gave up. “Should I remind you how you reacted when I almost broke your mug?” she asked.

He shook his head side to side, smoothly deflecting the argument.

“It had sentimental value. Did your cream?”

She just looked at him in silence, for a long moment.

“It cost $300.”

Spencer blinked. Okay, a totally justified crash out. He really should control his clumsiness better… he leapt back suddenly when both her hands moved toward his neck.

“What are you doing?” he almost squeaked.

She widened her eyes at him like he was a complete lunatic, even shook her head in disbelief.

“I was going to tie your tie, you idiot,” she snorted. He looked down, stunned. Sure enough, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.“You thought what? That I was going to strangle you right away?”

“Well…yes?”

She shook her head again. In fact, she hadn’t really stopped.

 “And I’m the one who overreacts,” she muttered to herself. Louder, she added, “This job is seriously messing with your head, you realize that, right?”

Still pulling himself together, he shrugged. It wasn’t exactly a new opinion. Before he could get any kind of response out, her hands — this time slower, more controlled — reached for the two ends of his tie hanging loosely on either side of his neck.

That required a step in his direction; her elbows brushed his chest once or twice in the process, and on her face, in her lowered gaze, Spencer saw the same concentration she’d had while putting on her lipstick.

”We literally spent two weeks on a case where a wife strangled her husband,” he offered. He just needed to say something — anything — to break the silence that had fallen over the bathroom and cover the intrusive sound of him swallowing a bit too loudly.

Her gaze lifted to meet his, eyebrows raised.

“I’d be tying my husband’s tie if I planned to kill him?” she asked. Her fingers were just now folding one end of the tie over the other; looking up at him made the knot uneven. Spencer noticed, but said nothing.

Instead, he gave a small shrug.

 “Lulling him into a false sense of security?”

“First the tie, then cyanide in the coffee?”

“Exactly. Though, for future reference, maybe don’t say your plans out loud. Especially not around an FBI agent.”

“And the husband in question, while you’re at it. You can’t leave that part second.”

Spencer couldn’t stop the reply that slipped from his mouth.

 “I’m starting to suspect you really enjoy bringing that up.”

“I do. ’Cause it’s funny,” she said, giving his tie a pat with something that looked suspiciously like pride. “Done.”

He’d almost forgotten she was tying it at all. She stepped back, watching his reaction as he finally looked down at the tie. He frowned. Moving past her to stand closer to the mirror, he checked his reflection, just in case his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Only then did he let out a short laugh.

 “This is the worst tied tie I’ve ever seen.”

She crossed her arms with an offended scoff. “What exactly is wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He turned to her, pointing at the crooked knot like it was offensive. “Just look at it.”

Spencer just huffed at her stubbornness and started undoing it. He hadn’t said it to be cruel—the knot really was terrible. She watched him retie it properly, something close to wounded pride flickering in her eyes.

She shook her head, completely unbothered.

“It’s a decently tied tie.”

“You should let me try again, then,” she said.

“I’d like to remind you we’re almost late.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

His fingers were still on the tie, about to let it fall loosely back against his shirt when her words made them pause. He glanced at her expression—no teasing this time. The first few sounds he made barely qualified as speech; he had to clear his throat to make the words come out properly.

“Tomorrow, then.”

🐾

He opened the door slowly, careful not to make too much noise. Not just because it was the middle of the night—or really, the early hours of the morning by now—but also to spare his aching, exhausted head from any sound that might make it throb harder. The apartment, of course, was silent and dark. Spencer turned on only as many lights as necessary to find his way to the bed.

First, though, he headed to the bathroom. He didn’t have the energy for a full shower—he’d take one after at least a short nap—but he had to wash his hands. He needed to rinse the entire day off them. The last few days, really. The whole case they’d finally managed to close. He had to make sure that none of it lingered on his skin or fingers when he touched his blankets, when he reached into the cupboard for his favorite mug to make coffee, or when he scratched the cat behind the ear.

Only after that small ritual drag his body to the bedroom. On autopilot, he approached the bed and was even ready to lie down when he suddenly froze in place.

There was already someone in his bed. And it wasn’t just his cat, who was normally curled up on the pillow like a single mom who works two jobs.

Spencer was so sleepy that he forgot he had a flatmate for almost two weeks now. A flatmate who first turned restlessly in her sleep, then her eyes lit up in the darkness, awakened. It didn’t have to be bright for him to notice that she flinched.

“God, you scared me,” she said. Her voice still sleepy, hoarse. There was a chance that if he had left without a word, she would’ve fallen asleep again and wouldn’t remember the interaction in the morning, or that she had even been woken up. “I didn’t expect you guys to be back so soon,” she added.

Spencer nodded slightly, barely able to make any use of his mouth and form a sentence. He wiped his face with his hand, trying to shake himself out of that state.

“Me neither,” he mumbled.

Silence between them. He realized he’d have to go to the couch. That wasn’t a problem for him, all he cared about was sleep.

“I-I’ll move Marie, okay? I just want to take the pillow and go to the couch.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

Confused, he didn’t understand what she meant, and silently watched as she moved the cat to her side of the bed and pulled the blanket back on the other side.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight,” her voice, though quiet and gentle, had a lot of command in it.

“I’m not?” he repeated uncertainly.

Only then did it register, and he scratched his nose, shaking his head.

“No, seriously. Just give me the pillow—”

“Just lie down.”

He was probably too tired to insist, so he just sighed softly and rolled onto the mattress. He didn’t even manage to grab the edge of the blanket to cover himself when her hand did it for him, pushing it up almost to his nose.

A quiet snort escaped Spencer, and he adjusted the fabric so it ended just below his ribs.

There was a soft sound of impact — he recognized it instantly as the thump of cat paws hitting the floor as she jumped off the bed.

“She’s probably mad I took her spot,” he muttered.

“Mhm, likely. But her sulks don’t last long. You’ll wake up with her tail on your face,” she said, and Spencer liked how her voice adapted to the surroundings and the quiet. Even though she was lying right next to him, on her side, he didn’t feel like she was speaking directly into his ear. She fell silent for a moment, but didn’t fall asleep. “What kind of case was it?”

In the way he immediately shook his head, there was a surprising amount of force.

“Not something you’d want to hear about right now,” he assured her. “At night. In bed. Before sleep. Trust me on this one.”

She exhaled through her nose.

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmured in agreement. “Goodnight then.”

He replied, but without even a hint of conviction in the words. Suddenly, slides of all the nightmares that had been keeping him company the past few nights flashed through his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to push them away, but it only made them more vivid. Suddenly, it felt like something was pressing down on his chest, making it harder to take the next breath.

“Goodnight,” he repeated, though it felt a little strange.

Just to say something. The words left his mouth, so did the air, at least partially imitating a regular, healthy breath. It didn’t help lift the weight off his chest, but at least he didn’t look like his whole body was slowly being flattened.

He squeezed his eyelids shut too tightly, then tried to relax them, ready to fall asleep with that unpleasant feeling. I mean, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done that before.

Only then did he feel a certain weight actually settle on his chest. Not imagined, not vague, and not ominous.It was real, in the shape of a hand, resting on him softly— connecting him to the person lying next to him, and making him aware of her presence, and of her calm—unlike his—breathing.

Both the sound and the feeling were grounding in their own way, making him relax his tightly shut eyelids.

He woke up with a cat’s tail on his face and the slow realization dawning on him that he hadn’t had a nightmare that night.

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 5 - what are people's first impressions of you ?

masterlist / ko-fi

my last post : your 2025 main lesson and themes.

Pile 1

10 of cups, King of Swords, 9 of Wands, 7 of Swords, 4 of Wands, The Sun, The Lovers, Death

Mischevious, Cunning, Manipulative in a flirtatious way ??, flirtatious, funny, Victorious, Happy, Fun to be around, Doesn’t take responsibility for things, Playful, Too unserious, Hot and sexy, Hot n Fun, Short n Sweet, Wet n Wild, If you’re a woman, people might think you easily get super wet (what is wrong with people respectfully 💀), Femme fatale/fboy boy, You look like trouble pile 1 not gonna lie lmaoo, Too hot to handle, People assume you’re a cheater or just kind of sneaky but all of that dark energy comes out somehow really playful ?? At first glance you exude strong Gemini and Aries energies  : kind of childish and playful, really “oopsie daisy”. They’re impression is that you’re the type of person that plays dumb when you get called out for your misbehavior. People might think you are commitment phobic, A player but people don't even mind to be heartbroken if it's you : “I don’t care if I get played by them tbh” people lowkey want to get heartbroken by you (people are crazy 🤡) 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re a firecracker. Pile 1 I keep on seeing Maddy from Euphoria and Megan Thee Stallion’s Realer era, Pimpin is a song that plays in the background when you’re walking in the street lmaoo You look like you're always in a badass edit

I am hearing the lyrics “she bad mix the ratchet with the classy ooh so bad i just couldn’t let her past me no i told her “shawty, you so right but you so wrong”. Pile 1, you definitely got that aaah (reference to that one tiktok sound of She Knows - Ne-yo feat Juicy J and T pain). You literally make people do double takes on you.

People directly assume if you came into their life, you would ruin them but they would consent to their own self destruction because of how hot you are.

People's first impressions of you is that you’re a master manipulator, but not a horrible one that genuinely leaves others traumatized forever. You’re flirty, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not, but it's mostly people's delusions and projections that hurt them more than anything. They just assume things when you never meant anything, and honestly I don't even think you give people mixed signals. People mix them up by themselves. Like you smile at them just out of politeness and people are like “ damn they're into me or what ?!” What kind of people are around you Pile 1 ? Never met this level of delusion in my life 😭☠️

Something extremely strange about those impressions is that I don’t think people think you’re toxic ?? Which is a bit weird because I have been only describing manipulative behaviors… Pile 1, your energy is really complex to grasp and it stirs intense and contradictory reactions inside people when they first meet you.

I am getting people make a lot of assumptions about you because it’s not just first impressions. People project a lot on you, probably because you are really attractive and people seem to not be able to think a hot and sexy person can be a good and kind hearted person ??? These people are projecting hard literally

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a really sunny person, a really bright and happy go lucky person. 

They also instantly get that you probably got a lot of suitors and people at your feet, waiting for their chance with you. 

When they talk to you, I feel like people get really insecure and they instantly start to compare your life (i mean the 1000 assumptions of what your life is like that they created in their heads on the spot...) and compare it to their own lives. They compare your eloquence, your energy, your aura, the energy and the vibes you exude with their lack of charisma and presence. I don’t know if you’re around a lot of insecure people but be careful, some of them are secretly waiting for your downfall because of how jealous they are of you.

The type of people that are jealous of you instantly when they first see you are generally the same gender as you. If you’re a man, they compare for example how healthy your hair are, how women are easily attracted to you and follow you everywhere you go . Not going to lie it’s giving Chad VS Nice guy/ Incel kind of dynamic. Like they're internal dialogue would probably something like : “ Nice guys finish last anyways… I am sure he treats girls bad and is a player and girls still love him…It's so fucking unfair.” (such a low vibrational energy yikes 🤢). If you’re a girl, they compare your body, your smile, your makeup and how your outfits fit you perfectly , how their own crushes seem to like you more than them YET you don’t even pay mind to them (the jealous people’s crushes) lol 

Pile 1, I would advise you to be extra protective of yourself and your energy. Your spirit irritates a lot of people’s demons.

I find it interesting because this pile is heavy on gender dynamics, power of attraction,... Most of you here are probably straight, or bisexual at least. I don’t see much queer action going on. You also have a really young and fresh energy so you are probably in your 20s.

You incite a lot of hate, jealousy and envy from the same gender. And you incite a lot of obsession, desire and admiration from the opposite. You incite so much jealousy just by your presence, and it happens almost systematically and starts right when people meet you for the first time. I feel like you might have lilith somewhere prominent in your chart, first house, harshly aspected with your ascendant, also Neptune dominance.

People look at you and they instantly think to themselves “this person should star in a movie, what are they doing working in at the local Walmart ??” or “they should be in the cover of vogue. Why are they in college ? They're too hot to be sitting in a classroom all day ?!!” 

Something I am getting from all this channeling is that people's first impressions of you are generally extreme, and mostly false 💀 Different people have different assumptions about you, but everyone seem to agree that you first come across as a heartbreaker and a player. Basically pile 1, you look like trouble at first glance.

The quote I got for you is a beautiful one from Carl Jung : “People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls”

MUSIC : Pimpin by Megan Thee Stallion / Ne-yo feat Juicy J, T-pain - She Knows (Remix) 2014

Pile 2

Ace of Wands Rx, 5 of Wands, 4 of Wands, 6 of Swords, 2 of Swords, 8 of Cups, The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re really closed off and standoffish. Really protective over your energy, your time and your space. You appear somehow aggressively defensive, really “get out of my way bitch” type of energy. 

People’s first impressions are that you’re holding on to a lot of pain and hurt which, in result, makes you really hostile. People can see at first glance that you have been through a lot of negative experiences in life, which made you in return cold and distant. 

Pile 2, you give the energy of a black cat, and you hiss at any person trying to approach you too closely. You really have that lone cat energy.

You have the vibes of someone that bites back. I am hearing the audio “Get your fucking dog bitch!! “ / “It don’t bite.” / ‘YES IT DO !!!”. People think you will jump on them at any given moment if they say something that you don’t like,...lol

When they first meet you, people try to be really careful with their words because they are scared that if they say something wrong, they will cross you. If you’re with a group or someone else when people first meet you, they will avoid, out of fear, to directly engage with you, and will observe how your friends or the people that are with you handle you so they can do the same. 

Pile 2, people’s first impressions of you is that you are scary as hell lmaoo

You give people the impression that you’re judging them in a way. You might unintentionally side eye people a lot. You make people uncomfortable with your standoffish attitude. 

Now, this pile is divided in two sub-types : 

you are perceived exactly like what I described above : really bitchy vibes, no bullshit energy. You’re protective of your energy because you have a lot of self-respect and don’t want people to disrespect the way some did to you in the past. 

The second type, you are like this not really because of self-respect but because there is an underlying insecurity, something particularly broken inside of you. It feels almost like you put up this front of confidence and assertiveness and people usually can see right through it. If you’re faking it until making it a lot of people upon their first impressions pick up on that. 

These two sub-types can be blended too, like you could be both at the same time or perceived as both at the same time. (I don’t know if this makes sense )

People’s first impressions of you is that you are really authoritative and controlling. You probably have a really tight schedule that you don’t like to change for anyone. You look like you don’t like to compromise or work in groups. Their first impressions of you are also that you don’t really like change, you don’t like incompetency, and that you have a really good skincare routine (??random as hell lmaoo). 

People think you eat healthy boring food, like bland porridge for breakfast and a bland salad with almost no seasoning, that you snack on overtly expensive cereal and protein bars that taste like grass (people are really funny i swear this is so hyper specific)

I think their first impressions get them to make a few assumptions on you for a few minutes, but then they move on with their lives like “well i don’t know good for them” or “let them be”. People don’t want to get too carried away in the impressions they have of you and the assumptions they make from it because they don’t want to disturb your peace. Like you have an energetic protection that gives them a limited amount of time to ponder on who you might be. Like I am seeing a system almost like the one in Inside out, a little creature, a fairy or a guardian angel, coming into the person’s mind and starting the timer the moment they stare at you or interact with you for the first time with their foot tapping on the floor and their eyebrows frowned, looking over their watch each second ticking with growing impatience. People feel like they have to go through tests to be allowed to think of you deliberately. 

Pile 2, you have really protective guardian angels damn ! They tolerate no bullshit congrats!!

QUOTE : healed people hear differently

SONGS : Focus - Saweetie / Plan B - Megan thee Stallion / Here - Alessia Cara

Pile 3

King of pentacles, The Star, 7 of swords, 10 of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, 10 of Wands, 5 of Cups, Death

When I first started shuffling for your pile, High Maintenance of Saweetie started playing. Pile 3, you’re standing on business ! It was especially this lyric that stood out to me : 

“See I'ma rider but nah I ain't a die

'Cause I wouldn't take a bullet for a n***a, that's a lie”

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a workaholic with all your life figured out. You have a clear path of where your life will take you. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re extremely busy and productive, but, despite that, you are not a robot that does things mindlessly and repetitively. No, you are your own unique person, you have a clear and  higher vision, you seem like a complex individual with a mind of your own.

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a complex individual, with many layers. Instantly, people want to get to know you and get closer to you. They want to know your backstory, and what led you to be so passionate about everything you do today. They want to know how you seem to manage everything in your life so gracefully. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you are a deep soul that learned to make peace with the lighter side of life. You know when to let go and have fun, and when to cling onto things and be serious about things. 

People’s first impressions of you is that you’re beautiful, I am even hearing “striking”. 

People perceive your beauty as being ethereal. It’s not an instagram model type of pretty or handsome, it’s more sophisticated, it’s unique, it is just “you”. 

Maybe a lot of you are not conventionally attractive, you have a particular physical trait, something that makes you stand out instantly. It usually disturbs people a bit when they first meet you like “Oh!...”. I don’t know if you get what I am trying to say lol It is like you’re a woman with really thick and black body hair, but, instead of hiding them or shaving them, you just let them be there. You don’t really care much whether people see them or not. It could also be that you have back acne, and this does not stop you from wearing tank tops or just let them be visible. You don’t try to make a bold statement by doing this, because you’re just like “It’s natural what can I do about this ? It is what it is.” . People immediately pick up on this type of mentality from you. People want you to teach them how to do it. I am hearing “Teach me your ways master” lol . You seem really wise and you know how to not take everything personally. Really an old soul. 

Back to the physical trait thing (because I think people scrutinize your face a lot when they first meet you), you might have a roman nose, or you might look really “ethnic” or “exotic” to people. Maybe you’re a POC in a predominantly white environment, or you just look quite different from your peers.

-> Ok guys, I am picking up on something INSANE. People who would usually bully others for that physical trait you have, sense your strong self-respect and energy and are instantly subconsciously afraid to make fun of you or to try to belittle you. This is actually so fucked up what… I don’t know what is going on in this entire reading but a lot of low vibrational energies were channeled. Anyways. I feel like you grew up being the weird kid that grew into your features and personality, and now, retired high school bullies (not the one that bullied you, if it happened, just general retired high school bullies) lowkey sense they would have bullied you in the past if you were in the same class as them but now can’t do it because it’s lame and not socially acceptable for adults to do shit like that.

People are kind of scared to sit in your energy for too long when they first meet you and have their impressions about you because they feel like their energies are not high vibrational enough for them to be allowed to sit in your powerful energy for too long ?? Lol You intimidate people a lot but they don’t know why, they just feel the urge to shut the f up in your presence and just bathe in your energy silently ?? Weird 

Okay Pile 3, keep it up , never let people dim your light ! Your soul has a powerful pure essence that will  take you far in life.

QUOTE : My soul has traveled long and far to find yours

SONGS : Froot - MARINA / High Maintenance - Saweetie / Icy - ITZY

[titleleaf]

side note: if you want to read some killer late 19th century weird fiction by a queer writer: run, do not walk, to Vernon Lee's Hauntings. Lee's queerness falls right in that valley where modern identity categories fail due to the complexity of gendered experience, and it doesn't seem useful to retroactively pronounce One Definitive Label for her life and experience-- she used a male pseudonym and embraced gender-nonconformity by the standards of her era, both in physical presentation and in her career; she had powerful romantic relationships and long term collaborations with women; she had a complex relationship to physical intimacy; she lived a generally offbeat independent life as a scholar and international traveler -- but holy fuck her supernatural fiction is a first-class treat and has a lot of queer valences. Curious phenomena surround a charismatic orphan girl as Italy's pagan Classical past perseveres into its heavily Catholic present; a visiting academic becomes enthralled to a long-dead Renaissance femme fatale; a super-normie-looking married couple manifest troubling echoes of their ancestral forebears in the presence of the artist hired to paint their portrait; an uptight classical musician is tormented by a long-dead CASTRATO SEX GHOST who exerts preternatural force to seduce or to kill through the power of his otherworldly voice. It fucking rules. And you can read that shit for free. Please do.

[pinkbrries]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃. 𝐁𝐘 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄

all the songs june has taken a part of and is credited: songwriting, producing or both (enha’s discography and others)

nini says💬: hi !!! life has been soooooo busy (as you can notice by this… dead blog lol) but i wanted to out something out for june^^ will try to make posts as frequent as i possible can<3 hope you enjoy this one !!

june’s masterlist.

june is usually known for writing and being NO in between: either goes from fluffy, romantic songs (the cute song enha has are probably written/produced by her HELPPP) or from heart-wrenching, yearning, passionate or impossible love (like… she’s going through her third divorce and her kids are getting taken away😭😭)

she has tried different styles tho… different feelings here and there, BUT she usually uses love and similar feelings for her compositions.

she uses the pseudonym ‘LMJ’ (LeeMinJun) and every song that she’s accredited to, appears like that

june has KOMCA credits on 36 songs so far (legend. an icon. hardworking. girlboss. girl writes. girl produces) (she needs to sleep tho…)

got nominated by the korea brand awards on 2024 under the category "proud korean gran prize (composer)" and won.

there hasn’t been an enha comeback in which she hasn’t participated; she has either produced or composed at least one song.

*jake and june during a live* jake: there’s no way … / june: ??? what are you talking about / jake with literal heart eyes: there’s no way you’re this pretty and this TALENTED !! || *cue the minjake shippers going crazy on twt*: MY PARENTS. MY CRUMBS.

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

BORDER: DAY ONE

10 months

➞ she literally said on an interview that she wrote this one inspired on her situation because 😵‍💫😵‍💫 girly was crushing HARD on a boy during mixnine era …. and he rejected her because she was younger than him HELPPPP

➞ *cue the hyung line like: 🤨🤨🤨😐😐😐*

➞ #ripjune he didnt deserve you queen !!

BORDER: CARNIVAL

mixed up

MANIFESTO: DAY 1

tfw (that feeling when)

結 -YOU-

blossom

MEMORABILIA

fatal trouble

ROMANCE: UNTOLD –DAYDREAM–

your eyes only

hundred broken hearts

DESIRE : UNLEASH

too close

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

BORDER: DAY ONE

given-taken

➞ helping producing her own debut song … #legend

DIMENSION: DILEMMA

go big or go home

MANIFESTO: DAY 1

paradoxx invasion

foreshadow

➞ she decided to drop the craziest outro to ever exist and then, never speak about it ever again

➞ smh june …

DARK BLOOD

fate

➞ everyone, in unison: thanks june for heeseung’s siren vocals

ORANGE BLOOD

mortal

MEMORABILIA

criminal love

teeth by jungwon, heeseung, sunoo, niki

lucifer by jay, jake, sunghoon

➞ she went crazy with these…

➞ she really said ‘there won’t be any weird sounding songs for my members on my watch🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️’

➞ explains why the ‘02 liners and heeseung were giggling like high-schoolers with a crush on the behind the scenes where june is supervising the recording 🫨 …… anyways

uncover by june

➞ she didnt get the chance to songwrite her own solo:// … but AT LEAST, she produced it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

ROMANCE: UNTOLD

xo (only if you say so)

brought the heat back

ROMANCE: UNTOLD –DAYDREAM–

daydream

DESIRE : UNLEASH

loose

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆/𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆)

DIMENSION: ANSWER

polaroid love

➞ oh man…. this one started everything with her combining both producing and composing: you see– girly was bored, was being silly and feeling fluffy, and wrote down some lyrics here and there. she was like “heh” and also decided to play here and there with her computer… she went with some of the producers and showed it to them, and they were like ??? ok wait. this is actually good?? let’s add it to the repackage– and june was like 😦 “IS IT NOW???” 😭😭

➞ surprise …….. she didn’t know polaroid love would make it big)

DARK BLOOD

sacrifice (eat me up)

➞ she ACTUALLY wrote the most love-yearning lyrics and decided to actually produce this whole song…

➞ the original demo is recorded by her – the very first time she has recorded a demo (my girl was so NERVOUS when the producers showed the original demo to the rest of the boys😭😭)

➞ but omg ?? everyone LOVED it. they were like NOONA??? THIS IS GOOD WTH

➞ cue june being like :’))) thank you in tiny

➞ jay mentioned this demo once during a live and he was like *fool lovesick smile* “minjunnie noona’s demo is really cool and beautiful. i wish one day you guys can listen to it”

➞ engenes were like: ok first. #MinJay my Parents – second thing: HYBE WHERE IS THE DEMO???

ORANGE BLOOD

orange flower (you complete me)

➞ as expected from the romanticist herself ….

➞ nothing more to add except for the fact that she had this song archived … she wrote it when she was #InLove

➞ but one day she found it again in her laptop folders and was like oh??? – same thing as polaroid love: shows it to the producers, and they’re like ?? why didn’t you bring this one up before. it’s so nice???

ROMANCE: UNTOLD

moonstruck

➞ OH MAN she also !!! ALSO !!! did the demo recording for this one

➞ it started as a random tune she had stuck in her head for days. she wasn’t at the studio when the inspiration hit her so she recorded the humming and some lyrics on her voice notes and wrote down random lyrics on her notes app (an icon, truly …)

➞ and when she had the chance, she didn’t step out of the studio until she had the song down, same day the demo got recorded

➞ jungwon said the original demo is sooo good, like . june wasn’t playing around that day. “june noona’s voice sounds really beautiful in the original demo. it never fails to surprise me how talented she is”

➞ engenes (again): HYBE WHERE IS THE DEMO ?????

𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

“never got to say i love you” for the drama “a time called you” (2023) – songwriting and interpreted by june.

provided the female background vocals in the song "child" by mark by nct.

provided the female vocals in the song "0x1=lovesong (i know i love you)" by tomorrow x together.

co-writer of “miracle” by tomorrow x together.

co-producer of “blue fame” by le sserafim.

co-writer of “sour grapes” by le sserafim.

producer and co-writer of “cherish (my love)” by illit

producer and co-writer of “sos” by fifty fifty (demo record by her)

featured in “until i found you” by stephen sanchez and wrote her own part

co-producer of “impossible” by riize

co-writer and co-producer of “r.u.n” (r u next? theme song) by suzy

co-writer of “night poem” by nct dream

[dollechan]

. ▪︎ ⡷⢾ㅤㅤ 𝕻𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮 ⠀. ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ ୭

i. romã: símbolo da deusa da primavera, representa a inocência e o passado da ninfa, e o desejo secreto de Hades.

hades!heeseung x ninfa!femreader, angst, romance impossível, traição (significa: heeseung babaca), não corrigido!! a/n: angst e fantasia é sinal para escutar fatal trouble, moonstruck e lucifer do enhypen! wc. 1995

O seu vestido de seda escorrega pela escada de mármore, um som suave sai das teclas do piano. Seus pés descalços não se acostumam com a frieza do piso do Palácio, tudo tão novo e desconhecido. Se aproxima do salão principal onde o seu suposto mestre estaria.

– Seja bem vinda ao submundo, querida. – Uma voz sombria e baixa fala perto de você, se vira e descobre como Hades se parece. O nariz alto, cabelos vermelhos como o fogo que queima as pessoas más, os olhos afiados mas ainda sim brilhantes. Ele é lindo, definitivamente lindo. – Obrigada, meu Senhor. – Você responde baixinho, abaixando a cabeça diante da presença grandiosa do deus. – Não me chame assim, Heeseung basta. – Ele sorri e então complementa: – Te trouxeram aqui para ajudar minha esposa, Perséfone, então eu espero que faça um bom trabalho. Concorda com a cabeça, apesar de não querer trabalhar para a senhora da primavera, foi obrigada pelas próprias irmãs a fazer isso. Agora não poderia andar nua pelas florestas de carvalho ou brincar nas águas brilhantes dos rios e lagos com sua irmãs.

Nota que Hades, não, Heeseung desaparece do seu campo de visão. Decide então explorar mais o grande Palácio até achar uma área que seja a sua favorita.

– Minha esposa está ocupada lá em cima, mas fique a vontade para explorar e se sentir mais em casa. – Heeseung reaparece na sua frente. – Creio que seja impossível, senhor, Heeseung quero dizer. Aqui não há árvores! Seria pedir demais que tivessem um jardim? – Finalmente pode reclamar, deixa que os ombros se curvarem em decepção, o seu rosto não esconde a emoção também. – Acho que podemos ver o que fazer quando Perséfone chegar, gosto da ideia de ter um jardim, tenho certeza que Cérbero irá gostar também. – Ele põe as mãos no seu ombro, como uma forma de apoio. – Olhe para mim, _______. Espero que você não se decepcione aqui, tenho certeza que vai fazer um bom trabalho, hm, agora se anime! Te trouxeram para cá porquê queriam te dar uma vida melhor, então o seu desejo será uma ordem nesta casa! – Ele fala com certa animação, coisa que não esperava do deus do submundo. Apesar de ainda demonstrar ser sombrio e misterioso, Heeseung também conseguia ser o oposto disto.

– Querido, estou de volta. – Uma figura alta e esbelta adentra o grande salão onde estavam. Os cabelos vermelhos como uma romã, encaracolados até o chão, o vestido esvoaçante roxo adornada seu corpo lindamente; está era, com toda certeza, sua senhora. Se ajoelha diante dela, Perséfone põe a mão sobre a sua cabeça, a recebendo e abençoando. – Então você é minha nova amiga. Seja bem vinda ao submundo, lindinha, tenho certeza que iremos nos divertir muito! – Ela fala com entusiasmo, te ajudando a levantar e a abraçando logo em seguida. Heeseung observa com um sorriso no rosto, teria que se acostumar a não ser a única companhia da esposa naquela enorme casa. – Amor, ela disse que quer um jardim. – Expõe seus desejos sem demora, e ela jura que eles serão prontamente realizados assim que ela tirar um descanso. – Passei muito tempo lá em cima, preciso de um pouco de sono, mas prometo que amanhã poderemos aproveitar mais. Por agora está livre, senhorita, Heeseung aproveite e leve ela para conhecer Cérbero! Ele tem que se acostumar com ela.

☆ [….]

Ao decorrer do tempo se torna próxima de todos que habitavam aquela casa. Servia a deusa da primavera com afinco, não deixando de adorar Hécate e Ártemis, as oferecendo as romãs que crescem no jardim que Perséfone havia feito para você. Passava bastante tempo ali, quando não estava ajudando com os afazeres da casa, sempre acompanhada do cachorro de pelos negros e olhos azuis profundo e do seu senhor. Senhor esse que apesar da recepção calorosa, agora se mantinha mais distante, adotando com mais frequência sua versão misteriosa e distante.

Os séculos se passaram como alguns dias, sua devoção a Perséfone começava a ficar cada vez mais cega, jurava a sua vida pela dela. Invejava ela e ao mesmo tempo a adorava, estava sempre ao seu lado, como uma sombra. Hades passava cada vez menos tempo com você, e mesmo que a esposa estivesse junto de ti ele preferia ignorar a sua existência. O distanciamento parecia ter acontecido de forma tão repentina e não sabia o motivo.

– Heeseung, podemos conversar? Tenho percebido algumas coisas que vem me incomodando… – Bate de leve na grande porta de carvalho escuro, não recebe resposta mas sabe que ele está ali, adentra o cômodo observando o teto com diferentes pinturas representando os mitos que os cercavam. Perséfone não estava em casa, era verão e aquela era a deixa dela para ir para a superfície. Infelizmente não pode ir visitar suas irmãs este ani, então teria que ficar a sós com Heeseung por um tempo.

– Algum problema, querida? – Seus olhos vão de encontro aos deles, quando percebe a situação em que estava já era tarde demais. Aquela sala que julgava ser uma espécie de escritório, que apenas ele podia entrar, era na verdade um tipo de sauna. Ele estava em uma piscina, o seu torso estava exposto. Sua bochecha queima de vergonha. – Oh meus deuses! E-eu sinto muito! – Se apressa em cobrir os olhos. – Se não é nada urgente, prefiro que você saia, por favor. – A indelicadeza da voz dele não parece ser proposital, e sim um mecanismo de defesa. – Não é nada de extrema importância, mas de qualquer forma quero conversar com o senhor. Eu fiz… algo errado? Já faz algum tempo que você começou a ficar frio comigo, até mesmo com Perséfone. Só queria saber.

Escuta o barulho da água pingando, a aura azul dele se aproximando de você. Mantém os olhos bem fechados, não queria ter que se explicar a sua senhora caso ela descobrisse isso. Heeseung para atrás de você, a respiração quente dele batendo na sua nuca. Quer muito, muito mesmo virar e poder apreciá-lo, mas não pode.

– Quer mesmo saber? Vire para mim. – O tom firme faz sua pele arrepiar. – Não é um pedido, é uma ordem. Se vira lentamente, os olhos continuam fechados até segunda ordem. Sente a mão grande dele passeando pelo seu rosto, como um pintor estudando a sua musa. – Você me deixa maluco. – Ele passa os dedos pelos seus lábios, que se abrem involuntariamente. – E eu não quero ficar louco. – Essa é a sua desculpa? – A melhor que eu tenho.

Ele engaja uma carícia em seu rosto, mas então a visão da sua deusa de cabelos laranja lhe atormenta por trás de suas pálpebras. Abre os olhos por extinto e arregala-os, se mantém muda enquanto sai daquela sala; corre para o jardim de romãs e abraça Cérbero. Lágrimas douradas saem de seus olhos, estaria Hades apaixonado por você?

☆ […]

O tempo não parecia passar na escuridão do submundo. Agora quem estava o evitando era você, como una criança birrenta brava com os pais, se recusava a ficar na presença do mesmo depois do que aconteceu.

Mas se pega pensando mais do que deveria sobre o acontecimento, se lembra dos detalhes da sauna, da pressão do ar, a aura azulada dele, e o seu torso exposto. Pensa bastante sobre este último detalhe, apesar de saber que não podia, de jeito nenhum, cobiçar o homem de sua adorável senhora. Por isso está decidida a apenas se tornar uma sombra, um vulto, na casa.

Esse é o seu plano, e Heeseung estava mais do que feliz em fazer ele dar errado.

Se mantém quieta durante o café da manhã — que ele insiste em tomar com você —, mas ele começa a tagarelar sobre os mais diversos assuntos só para tirar uma reação do seu rostinho lindo. No jantar é a mesma coisa. Não a deixa em paz nem quando é o seu horário de descanso, ao invés de ouvir o farfalhar das folhas verdes só jardim dourado e avermelhado você escuta a voz dele, dessa vez cantando enquanto brinca com o cachorro de três cabeças. Sabe que aquilo é para chamar a sua atenção, mas não queria dar esse gostinho para ele.

Apesar de querer ignorá-lo, seu coração lhe diz para fazer outra coisa. – Não posso estar apaixonada por ele, posso? – Você pensa, desacreditada. Mas sente a pontada no coração toda vez que o vê; mas jamais, nem sequer pensa em trair a confiança de sua senhora.

Quando o verão dava adeus na superfície, a escuridão vazia mas tranquila do submundo te fazia se sentir melancólica. Sente falta das irmãs, de correr pelos bosques e brincar com o vento, da água fresca dos riachos. Tudo isso, que lhe foi tirado tão de repente mas poderia ser trazido de volta com uma única permissão. Heeseung continua a lhe perturbar em pensamento, apesar de sua presença já não ser mais a mesma dentro da casa, visto que sua esposa voltaria logo. Mas ele ainda quer você, mesmo que isso apodreça a árvore de romãs.

No jantar do dia anterior a volta de sua senhora ele parece perceber que você encara a janela até demais. – Sente falta não é? Da sua vida lá em cima. – A voz é baixa, ele brinca com a comida no prato como uma criança.

– Sim, sinto… Aqui é muito bom, não me entenda mal; mas, me pergunto como a superfície está. Tenho certeza que Perséfone fez um bom trabalho este ano. – O nome dela saindo de seus lábios fez com que o coração de Heeseung apertasse, não deveria desejar sua serva quando se tem uma esposa tão maravilhosa e que deu muito trabalho para conquistar confiança. Mas ele é um homem, e homens são idiotas e tem ideias idiotas.

– Me beije e eu a levarei de volta. Se não quiser me beijar a levarei do mesmo jeito. Eu só… preciso saber, você tem sido o alvo das minhas fantasias, preciso saber o quão macios são os seus lábios. – Um estado de choque te mantém quieta por pelo menos cinco minutos, sua falta de reação o faz desistir da ideia, o vê se levantar da cadeira, a cabeça baixa de vergonha. – Pegue suas coisas, dê adeus ao cão, iremos assim que você terminar o jantar.

– Espere! – Você se levanta, dando um pequeno susto no maior. – Irá me levar mesmo que eu não lhe dê um beijo? – Heeseung concorda com a cabeça. Então você se aproxima dele, até demais; suas mãos vão de encontro com as bochechas macias dele e seus lábios com os dele. Como um casal realmente apaixonado, o ósculo é simplesmente romântico. Nada a mais, nada de menos.

O olhar dele brilha quando encontra o seu, o abraço que envolve seu corpo ficando mais apertado a medida que aprofundam mais o beijo. O ar faz falta, se afastam, mantendo a proximidade.

– Se fizermos isso será um problema, certo? – Você pergunta, os cabelos alaranjados de Perséfone correm pela sua mente como um lembrete, sente culpa. – Não irei contar para ninguém. Eu prometo por toda a minha existência.

Então você olha pela janela, a romãzeira parecia primorosa, balançando seus frutos não colhidos ao vento. – Isso é errado, muito errado, deveria falar para ela. – Sua voz abaixa a cada palavra, seus ombros caem e seus olhos encaram o chão. A deusa da primavera continua a lhe atormenta por causa da culpa. Heeseung coloca as mãos no seu ombro, hesitante se deveria ou não lhe abraçar.

Se afasta mais dele, corre escada acima para poder pegar as poucas coisas que lhe pertenciam naquela casa.

O seu vestido de seda escorrega pela escada de mármore pela última vez, carregando uma pequena bolsa ao seu lado, ele a esperava no pé da escadaria com a cabeça baixa, e assim a mantém todo caminho até chegarem onde você poderia voltar a superfície.

– Seja sincera, Hades. – Ele olha para você, e então percebe a lágrima solitária descendo na bochecha dele. – Você me amou?

– Eu te amei, muito.

– O bastante para que largasse ela para ficar com uma pobre criatura como eu?

O silêncio é alto o bastante.

– Então, por favor, não me ame mais.

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

red!reader

❤︎❤︎❤︎

Without further ado: Ember

The fire behind the kiss marks on his neck.

She’s smoke curling from your collar, lipstick on your mirror, and a taste you can’t wash off. She bites her cherries in half and spits the pits like bullets. She’s poetry written in smeared eyeliner, dry wit, and dangerous curves. Red nails tap lighters. Red lips kiss trouble. She smells like peppermint and sex, and laughs when men call her crazy. But they always crawl back for more.

She’s the girl you fall in love with at a gas station at midnight—buying Marlboros and matches, licking cherry juice off her thumb. She’s every love song that ends in fire. She kisses like a dare and walks like she knows where all your bruises live. Her fingers leave claw marks on your back and her mouth never says sorry. She’s dry heat and heartbreak wrapped in silk. The kind of girl who leaves a party without saying goodbye. The kind of girl you write about for the rest of your life.

She's sex appeal and sin wrapped in a neat little package. She gives the femme fatale archetype a whole new meaning. Her love language is leaving red kisses over anything and everything in her path.

Ben didn’t stand a chance. Not when she walked in with her Lana Del Rey playlist looping, a cigarette behind her ear, and eyes like she’d already undressed him with her brain. She told him he looked like he peaked in the '40s and still somehow made it sound like foreplay. He called her trouble. She said, “Only if you’re soft.”

That was it. He was ruined. A war-era relic, brought to his knees by a dark-academia dream in red lipstick and a skirt too short for decency.

Ben’s had fame, blood, glory. But nothing like her. Ember is an all-American myth wrapped in smoke and sarcasm. She talks in metaphors. Laughs at men who try to tame her. And every time she walks away, he finds himself following.

She never needed a soldier. But now she’s got one.

❤︎ first meeting ❤︎

To be continued...

a/n: let me know what y'all think, please!!! <3

[simp-writer]

𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚊, 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝙶𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚡𝚢 𝚁𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: Short fic [requested] 𝑼𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔: 1.9k words 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒓: Platonic, Angst, Fluff, Found family dynamic

Boothill doesn’t know what he was expecting when he chose to visit Gastro-XV during a moment of peace, of which he rarely gets, but adopting a teenager and bringing them back to his ship wasn’t what he expected. Gastro-XV is a planet that was once thriving and full of life, however since a Stellaron landed on the planet it has turned into a barren desert. From what Boothill experienced there, they live by the saying “Every man for himself.” This makes sense in a way since supplies on their planet is very limited and leaving the planet in general is hard unless the IPC, those fudgeheads, or other companies take someone away from the planet. 

The teenager, who rightfully refused to give him their name, followed him around most of the time while he was on the planet. They would just stare at him or hide behind something if anyone came up to talk to Boothill. The planet had his internal fans working overtime. At some point of the teenager last following him and him leaving the planet, they snuck onto his ship. He was already four jumps away from the planet. So now he has to deal with Tumbleweed, his nickname for them, while also figuring out the moral question if he should return them to Gastro-XV. The planet was full of monsters ranging from the Fragmentum monsters he heard from the Trailblazer that were on Jarilo-VI or the abundance abominations. Boothill lets out a grumble as he chews on a bullet while patching Tumbleweed up. The kid had a bunch of bruises and wounds that were bandaged up poorly. He let the kid hold and bite onto his hat while he disinfected their wounds. Maybe it was just because he didn’t have too much time with Clementine. He still goes through days where he misses his daughter but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

It took Boothill less than an hour to decide what to do. First off, returning the child to their planet may be a bad thing. Their wounds were so bad it bordered on being fatal for them. Second off, with how the adults are on said planet it would be unlikely for Tumbleweed to survive until they could escape or even adulthood. Third off, its his still alive fatherly instincts that wanted to keep them. He already helped raise Rappa mostly to adulthood from the very damaged childhood she had. Despite being called “Silvergun Shura” by Rappa, she does and has referred to him in a fatherly sense before. What’s another kid to his ever growing list of adopted kids?

𖦏𖦏𖦏

Boothill had a ton of trouble at first when it came to taking care of Tumbleweed. Mostly since whatever personal information he asked for such as their name or age was met with them just hiding away in his ship. He has to assume this is something they picked up from the adults around them but it's still a tad annoying to chase them all around his spaceship. It took about a month of bonding to even get a guess about their age. He already did a scan to get a assumption of their age which is 13-16 which makes some sense for their height and how they act but it could be wrong and they can be older because of malnourishment because of their planet’s lack of resources.

Since Tumbleweed still refused to share their name, Boothill still calls them that until they choose to share their name. However for now, Boothill for sure knows they are 15-16 from their guess at their own age now. Boothill looked up information about Gastro-XV and figured out about half a Amber Era ago a Stellaron landed on the planet and ruined it, thus the child likely didn’t have any birthday experience. He asked them when their birthday was. Tumbleweed explained the season they remember being born in and comparing it to the semi-outdated calendar of the planet’s seasons and whatever other details they shared about their birthday, Boothill narrowed it down to a week. Since it already took a lot of time to narrow it down this much, he decided to make the whole week their birthday! He even enlisted Rappa’s help to decorate because he can’t set up decorations for a celebration for the life of him since he is more use to just showing up and doing the cooking and all.

𖦏𖦏𖦏

Boothill and Rappa ended up taking on major roles in Tumbleweed’s life. Boothill being the fatherly figure who has and will point his guns at anyone who dare disrespect his children. Rappa is a very fun and active older sister who loves to talk about ninjitsu to them. With whatever way Tumbleweed dresses, feminine or masculine, they will help them out anyway they can. Boothill has a “Dress however the fudge you want! I’ve got bullets I can put in those fudgehead’s brains if they think they can tell people how to dress!” way of caring. Rappa on the otherhand has a “You have mastered the way of disguise Ninja Yumi! I, Dazzling Ninja, shall help you stay undercover in whatever disguise you wish!” way of showing help. (Yumi means “bow” or “arrow” which can symbolize freedom or escaping a situation.)

Rappa and Boothill soon had to go their separate ways since Galaxy Rangers don’t team up for long, even if they had a familial relationship. Boothill knows he isn’t the best person to be raising a child, considering his job and all. He should have perhaps given them to a safer person but he also couldn’t give them up since they clung to him whenever he had to leave the ship for any reason. If he had to make a guess from the parenting books he had read to him by his system, something happened to their parents when they had to leave them for whatever reason. He doesn’t mind them clinging to him but he does worry if hugging his metal body makes them uncomfortable. He knows he can’t be like other parents and hugging their children when they are sad considering he is like all metal mostly.

Boothill is honestly happy to see Rappa and Tumbleweed to get along. It always makes him happy since it reminds him of being raised by Graey and Nick. He does wonder what they would think if they see him and what he is doing right now, but he feels like they would be more proud of him raising kids who were in desperate need of stability or a parental figure. Maybe if Nick and Graey were still alive, they’d all be having a big old family dinner. Maybe Nick and him would be out barbecuing while Graey is setting the table. Perhaps Tumbleweed would be bonding with Clementine. Rappa would maybe be running around the house and spray painting random corners to see when they would all be found. However it is all just hopeful wishes. Maybe in another world or in another universe, this would be real. Maybe he’d have a normal human body and he’d still find his adoptive kids in someway.

𖦏𖦏𖦏

When Boothill visited Paperfold University with Rappa as they planned out how to deal with the Slumbernana virus, he noticed Tumbleweed sneaking off to a classroom. Thankfully it was the middle of the night so no one would likely be there but he still wanted to follow incase any cleaning staff still lingered around. Boothill told Rappa this and she choose to follow him as well. They followed Tumbleweed into the empty classroom to see them reading a forgotten notebook likely left by a student leaving in a rush. Boothill had a toothy grin as he asked what they were doing. Tumbleweed quickly explained they were curious about what people were learning here since the education on their planet was trash and only went up to 6th grade. Rappa somehow put on a fancy professor outfit and decided to hold a impromptu class lesson. Boothill rolled his eyes but sat down as “Professor Dazzling Ninja” said.

Rappa mostly began to teach “Number one student Nija Yumi” math and reading, the latter is where Boothill paid attention. Rappa managed to make the often boring topic of Reading and Math entertaining with her add of “Teacher’s Ninjitsu style” to how she taught. She even brought out a extendable pointer as she drew nonsense symbols on the massive chalkboard as she pointed at them during question parts and expected a response even if it was wrong. Boothill ended up being more on the “getting the answer wrong until you had to dumb it down enough for a toddler to understand it” side of things while Tumbleweed used a empty notebook they found to take notes.

This became their night routine unless they had to do something for personal reasons or they were worn out for the day. Even after Rappa and the Trailblazer managed to get rid of the Slumbernana virus, they still did this for a while. Mostly because Rappa managed to convince the Trailblazer who managed to convince Dan Heng to help teach Tumbleweed since Rappa had to leave to chase after Evil Ninja Osaru and stop him. Boothill still sat in one these lessons, mostly because he could use a bit more help in learning to read. As of now, he could read at a 4th grade level. He doesn’t really care about just learning to read at that level at his age, but it’s better late than never since his own planet’s education was poor. He is just glad to see his third child so happy in doing something they have a passion about learning.

𖦏𖦏𖦏

Boothill was always happy to help teach his child how to use a gun. Hotcakes, he got taught to use one when he was younger than them! He’d only be more happy if they didn’t make fun of his Synesthesia Beacon messing with his swearing. Either way, he bought them a gun when he next found a gun shop and gifted it to them during their birthday-week! He was happy to help them test it out, moreso when the practice target were some IPC fudgeheads. Rappa gifted them a miniature version of her shurakins. She helped them learn the basics while talking about them needing to master the basics of the shurakins to help defend themselves if their ninja disguise was ever threatened!

Whenever Boothill decided to cook, it was always a filling meal. He may no longer be able to taste most foods, but he still knows how to cook! Mostly by following the recipe book and whatever Graey taught him. Some dishes may end up being failures because he wanted try something new, but he always gives his best word to Tumbleweed and Rappa while he eats his failures. No food goes to waste even if a cyborg has to eat it.

Boothill isn’t the best father in the universe, he knows that. He however just wants to be the best father to Rappa and his Tumbleweed. As long as he can do that, he is proud of himself. He just hopes that if Clementine is watching him, she is proud of her father. As of now, he has to get back to chasing down Rappa as she spray painted his torso while he slept and kept Tumbleweed from climbing into his ship’s hull when they got startled by Rappa jump scaring them.

[readingtillmidnight]

This Fatal Kiss by Alicia Jasinska

Release date: 24 September 2024

Genre: young adult romance fantasy

If you like:

Cozy/whimsical fantasy, Ghibli vibes

Slavik folklore

Disaster bisexuals

Poly romance

Enemies to lovers

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Synopsis

Cursed to haunt the river running through the magical spa town where she drowned, Gisela is a water nymph who dreams of returning to the living world and the family she left behind. All it takes to regain her humanity is a kiss from a mortal...but everyone sees her as a monster.

And then there’s Kazik, the brooding, interfering, spirit-hunting grandson of a local witch. He's determined to rid the world of unholy creatures like Gisela. After Kazik botches Gisela’s exorcism, she strikes up a deal. She won’t tell the other spirits that he’s losing his magic, if he agrees to play matchmaker and helps her get a kiss. But Gisela’s plan goes awry when Kazik also falls for the devilishly handsome young man that she sets her heart on—someone who could be linked to Gisela’s troubled past.

Content warnings

Death, violence, injury, a little blood

Mentions of past murder, suicide, rape (not explicit)

Biphobia, implied homophobia

Parental abandonment

Parentification

Suicidal thoughts

Religious bigotry

Review

Thank you to NetGalley for an ARC!

I LOVE THIS BOOK!!!💖💖💖

This book is so swoon-y and romantic and whimsical and fun, like I can't remember the last time I had so much fun while reading. My very serious stoic reputation is in tatters from grinning at my phone like a goof.

(In public what's more! The embarrassment!)

The setting is straight up so wondrous and whimsical, it reminds me a lot of Ghibli movies. Not just because it's a spa town like Spirited Away, but because of the way the spirits and magical creatures are secretly living amongst the humans + the connection to nature.

The main focus is on the relationship between Gisela and Kazik. I loved how the dynamic between them grew over the course of the book, like, their enemies era is so fun to read, but the way they gradually grew closer to each other is so 🤌. The banter between them was so much fun to read, like this book could just be Gisela and Kazik talking and I would eat it up.

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't talk about their relationship with Aleksey. I feel like Aleksey actually had more chemistry with Kazik than with Gisela, mainly because of, uh, major spoiler reasons, but also they just happened to spend more one-on-one time together. When all three of them are together though, their chemistry is pure FIRE 🔥🔥🔥.

Outside of the romance, each of the MCs have their own motivations and character arcs going on, all of which I found very compelling. I will not elaborate for spoiler reasons, but Gisela's is my favourite.

There is quite a lot going on in this book though. I found myself wondering how on earth the author was going to wrap everything up satisfactorily, because there was no way everything was getting resolved perfectly. Turns out I was right, because THIS IS THE FIRST BOOK OF A SERIES.

I am more than fine with getting more of this world and its characters, but I wish I had known that this was the start of a series so that I could have adjusted my expectations accordingly, because I went into this book fully believing it was a standalone.

Anyway, I adore this book so much, and I am very much looking forward to the sequel <3

[whypisces]

Reading list why pisces ♓︎ (seventeen edition)

Pt.br:

Sobre vinis e autocuidado.

Luzes da Cidade, Sorrisos do Coração - Choi Seungcheol

O medo e uma mãe casamenteira - Seungkwan

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “ただいま”.

— cachinhos. .ᐟ

eu quero seu sabor | c. hsl

noona - mingyu

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “três é bom” ᯓ minwon.

───── ✶ Só Chapados .ᐟ

✦ — 95z como ex-namorados

✦ — "cherry on top". ᯓ c.

soothe me till dawn

his favourites

mine, only mine

───── ✶ 𝓟romessa 𝓑oba .ᐟ

● 》 Era pra ser...(?) 《 ●

✦ — 𝓖𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝓑𝐨𝐲 ᯓ k. mingyu.

✦ — "biquíni amarelinho". ᯓ c. hansol.

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭”.

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “pega rapaz”.

Papai de açúcar, uma baby confusa e 4 cupidos - S.Coups (PART. 1)

Neste mundo existem algumas verdades absolutas; o Sol um dia vai explodir, a água é molhada, o capitalismo é um demônio e Yoon Jeonghan é perdidamente apaixonado pela sua melhor amiga.

n/a: hoshifighting escrevendo em português porque lee seokmin me tirou do eixo essa semana. pq o combo homem engraçadinho + homem gostoso me deixa bilu-teteia

En:

cherry f(l)avoured

the gambit —- y.jh

PEDAL TO THE METAL (series masterlist)

ASH AND AETHER (series masterlist)

Merger & Acquisition (Of My Heart)

famous poker player ! jeonghan x famous poker player ! reader

a date with the devil | yoon jeonghan

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

XOXO, YOON JEONGHAN

shiny star / yoon jeonghan

Out The Door | l. c

Runway to my Heart | idol!Joshua x Model!Reader | fluff

agrodolce

in good faith 🕯️ seungcheol x reader.

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

PEOPLE LIKE ME

Match My Freak | JWW

Fake it Til You Make it

Hello, Darling (c.hs)

Error 404: Feelings not Found

stolen entries (m)

goodnight n go

clockwork

You can love him, you can hate him, but you can't ignore him | Yoon Jeonghan

from the vantage point of death

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 1/2

ha ngl i had fun with this - it may or may not be what you were expecting when you sent this

[b.sk] boo seungkwan’s guide to love

ramen & fate | boo seungkwan

Revved Up

navillera (x.mh)

the long way | yoon jeonghan

building blocks | yjh

three silly little words | yoon jeonghan

smarter, and yours || l.jh

Fatal Trouble

Be My Sin.

how to give a blowjob (and other things) for dummies (only with Jeonghan) Y.JH.

distracted • hjs

at the altar | m.

Glass Towers

Training Wheels

[markstoes]

fatal trouble (250530)

[linderosse]

I LOVE YOUR WIELDERS OF WISDOM COMIC!!!! i think its wonderful and so absolutely necessary (if u will excuse my feminism)... the art style is GORGEOUS and im just so grateful someone is giving love to all the zeldas <33

sorry that this is anon but. i dislike being perceived lmao

Thank you so much!!

And heck yeah on the representation front! I’m doing my best to write a variety of interesting characters that will help me tell the stories I want to tell. To me, the fact that they’re mostly women is both incidental and vitally important at the same time.

Tetra was my first Zelda, and I always loved her pirate captain badassery and no-nonsense attitude. I was a bit of a ‘tomboy’ (used in the non-insulting sense, simply referring to a girl who liked traditionally boyish hobbies/clothing) growing up, so I identified with Tetra real hard <3. Heckin’ loved her practical, forthright nature— and the way the games don’t hesitate to show her wackier side and how her actions sometimes get her in trouble— and how she gets out of it, with or without help.

And of course, girls can also be girly and get things done! Love the more traditionally feminine Zeldas as well; shirking feminine mannerisms definitely isn’t a requirement for a well-written female character. You can have a character wear a tiara, battle in a dress, and still be cool. Heck, you can have ’em don a soft gown, not fight at all, and still be an awesome character: maybe she genuinely wants good for the world, or maybe she controls the board with gentle magic and soft “feminine” persuasion to achieve her goals, turning foes into friends— or her pawns.

And characters don’t always have to succeed! Sometimes persuasion fails. Sometimes they argue with someone they know is right. Sometimes her sword falters. But that’s fine! That’s what makes for a good, realistic, fun character— that’s how humans are.

(continued under the cut)

See, I feel like some popular media is trending towards forcing women to be *exclusively* badass, almost flawless in their physical skill yet boyish in their mannerisms.

Like, as a random example: Peach in the Mario movie. Movie Peach no longer giggles and blows kisses, because that would be too girly. And Movie Peach is a perfect platformer and politician, because female empowerment. Same thing with Galadriel in RoP (and it’s honestly a bit different and way worse with RoP Galadriel, because her mother-name is Nerwen which translates to man-maiden and she is canonically a tomboy, but they write it so badly in RoP that not even the rest of the characters in the show respect her for her over-the-top ‘female badassery.’) And as a huge, longtime fan of both the Mario series and the Silmarillion, it kinda hurt to see those Mary Sue-esque, somewhat shallow depictions of what should be complex characters.

Now, the thing is: one or two perfect characters like that are just fine! The problem lies in the fact that many of these shows have only a few female characters to begin with, and they’re all like that. Peach is kinda alright, but Galadriel’s major flaws are barely even shown because the writing has to try to make her look badass even when she’s making objectively terrible decisions.

Because here’s the thing— depicting only perfect women and minimizing flaws isn’t supporting female empowerment. Girls have flaws too, folks. Popular media relying only on the immaculate femme fatale badass just makes for a more cliche story, and imposes higher standards on young girls who look up to these characters. And the forced boyishness forces standards as well.

Why can’t Peach flutter her eyelashes, giggle, and still knock bad guys on their asses? Or, better yet, why can’t Peach flutter her eyelashes, giggle, knock bad guys on their asses, help Mario out, also get helped by Mario, and maybe admit that it took practice for her to get to where she is now?

That’s how she used to be in the middle Mario era, like Super Mario RPG, Thousand Year Door, and Super Paper Mario. Peach was feminine and still relatable to a young tomboy like myself.

I’ve rambled on for far too long, but anyways, that’s what I’m gonna try to do here with the Wisdomverse: tell stories of a bunch of different types of people, where each of them has their own take on what it means to be Zelda.

I can’t promise I’ll be perfect at writing this either, honestly. Perhaps I’ll fall into some of the same traps— I’m sure it’s hard to avoid them.

And perhaps my thoughts on this will evolve over time as well, and I’ll later have an even better understanding of how to write the characters I want to write.

Either way, I’ll certainly do my best!

Tl;dr: I got really sidetracked, but thank you for the kind message! Glad to hear you’re enjoying Wielders of Wisdom; hope to keep building my characters into interesting and at least somewhat complex women as things progress :)

[yoel-o-fellow]

backstory for the Otto Empire perhaps????

The Ottoneshan History - Abridged

The Ottoneshan Empire's origins can be traced back to an ancient country known as Alluneshia, once situated in the Northern part of the Moon Continent and nestled between the countries, Eureska and The Siens. The Alluneshans were an enlightened people whose culture revolved around the studying of stars and celestial divination. As a result, they became masters in glassmaking, and leaders in optical instrumentation. They were peaceful until their population started to dwindle, and the neighboring countries began threatening them with annexation, putting their existence on the cusp of extinction.

Alluneshan monks within the White Monk order foretold a prophesy. It spoke of the dawn of a new Alluneshan era - an era of prosperity, issued in by their future Moon Empress, Annuna. From that day on, the Alluneshan leaders became warmongers. They prepared for a battle between themselves and humans - a battle they would win with wit. Yet there was one fatal flaw with this prophecy. It was completely wrong, as Azaren - the heathen priest and the future Levehethen - predicted.

When the Alluneshans lost miserably on the two front war between the Sienese and the Eureskans, they were exiled from their homeland, and driven south to the ruthless deserts of the Sun Continent. The resident Accodians, known for their magnanimity, gifted the refugees an expansive section of the desert, hoping that the allus could cultivate it and bring about trade. The land featured the ruins of an ancient allu city, a city that brought about its own destruction after the god, Hexikutli, corrupted it. According to legend, the opposing gods sealed it off, making it untenantable to potential inhabitants. So the land was cursed, and the soil, too arid to cultivate. But deep within its depths lay multitudes of treasure, from natural minerals to old ancient riches. If the allus had the magic and the talent to extract it, they would become the wealthiest people on Sverenne completely turning their misfortunes around. And it was only appropriate for allus to break a curse begotten by allus.

Henceforth, the Alluneshans discarded their name, and called themselves the Ottoneshans - forsaking the leaders that led them to ruin, and taking the reigns of their own prosperity.

Knowing full well that only god magic could counter a godly curse, a contingent of Ottoneshans organized an expedition to Myr, in order to convince the naiad people to relinquish the Tear of El'Selsyion. The Tear of El'Selsyion was a magical relic with an inexhaustible water source - said to be gifted by the storm god herself. According to the ancients, the Tear's waters contained ethereal healing properties and the Ottoneshans believed that by utilizing its water they could rid their desert land of its curse. Their desperate pleas fell on deaf ears, and the naiads - unwilling to depart with a relic so intrinsic to their way of life - responded with violence, turning the negotiations into a bloody war. The Ottoneshans fought relentlessly, as they had nothing to lose, and they won the battle, driving the naiads further into hiding.

With the Tear now in their hands and with their mastery of light manipulation, they began revitalizing their land, and manufacturing canals. Their expert agricultural acuity led to the first germination of crops under a scorching sun. But their troubles did not end there. As they began to extract wealth from the earth, fellow allus inexplicably began to die. And when the earth beneath them gave way, they happened upon a horrifying discovery. They were not the only ones living on this cursed land.

Far beneath the ancient ruins, lay another city - a festering metropolis of silver ornate temples and dusty, crumbling dwellings, housing thousands of goblins. No one has a definitive answer to how they got there, but some theorize that they were what remained of the corrupted ancient city. Unknown to the allus, the goblins had resurfaced stealthily, and were smothering allus in their sleep. It was retribution for the tremors the Ottoneshans caused while constructing their city above. For a time, the two civilizations thought they would try diplomacy, and have a period where they would tolerate living together, side by side.

But the Goblin King often reneged on his word, citing the riches as source of contention, and the Ottoneshans saw the goblins as less than human - vermin to be exterminated. So over many years, the two races had endless skirmishes resulting in many unnecessary deaths. Eventually the Ottoneshans grew impatient and decided to deliver a final fatal blow, flushing the goblins out of their cave by using expert engineering and El'Selsyion's Tear, forever entombing the goblins' silver city in its watery depths. With their homeland destroyed, and many drowned, most of the goblins fled, and only a small few remained, forever being a thorn in the Ottoneshans' side.

With most of their obstacles out of the way, the Ottoneshans - over thousands of years - grew into an indomitable force, allying with the Accodians and always expanding their borders. In repudiation of their pushover past, they became the aggressors, and invaded the Adillans (the shell people) of the south, and various independent kingdoms and colonies that spotted the Sun continent's landscape.

I would go on, but the history has gotten long-winded, and I bet you are already tired of reading it. Lololol.

[mariacallous]

Regardless of who wins the US presidential election on November 5th, Pax Americana’s obituaries are now being drafted. They should be long ones. The Atlantic alliance was one of the most distinctive and seemingly durable features of post-war Europe. It brought security and freedom to tens of millions of people for decades, first by preventing Communism’s spread, then by winning the Cold War, and thereafter doubling NATO membership from 16 in 1989 to 32 now. 

True, the American-led security order was never healthy and lived riskily. The European end was cranky and often unreliable. Endemic underspending on defense strained American patience over many decades; so too did idiosyncratic decision-making, especially in France. Ungrateful or paranoid “peace” campaigners depicted the US nuclear presence in Europe as a menace, not a safeguard. Many Europeans were outraged by failed American wars in Indo-China in the 1960s and 1970s, by the “Global War on Terror” after 2001, and shunned the looming hard confrontation with China.

If the alliance was troubled, so too was the peace it brought. It failed to stop the Kremlin’s murderous cold-war rampages in the captive nations of Europe, and initially let Slobodan Milosević run riot in ex-Yugoslavia. “Europe whole, free and at peace” was an admirable motto for the post-1991 era. But it did not stretch far or firmly enough: Ukrainians are paying the price for that right now. 

A successful attack by Vladimir Putin on a NATO country may deal the decisive final blow, but the deadly rot started earlier. For decades US administrations urged fortitude on Europe. Now the Biden administration is so scared of escalation that it refuses to allow beleaguered Ukraine to use donated deep-strike weapons inside Russian territory. As a result, Ukraine’s front is crumbling under the daily onslaught of guide bombs and other munitions launched from airfields that defenders are not allowed to target. The US also prevents its NATO allies from responding promptly and decisively to Russian “sub-threshold” attacks: intrusions and other dirty tricks. 

Accelerating protectionism adds another dose of trust-killing poison: a decade ago, the US and Europe (and Pacific allies, too) could have built a giant common economic governance zone with not just free trade but common rule-setting. Instead, these countries chose selfish, short-sighted grandstanding. They are all poorer and weaker as a result.

As US influence ebbs on the continent, European countries are falling like dominos. Russia’s web of dirty tricks, economic ties, propaganda, and spycraft has snared Hungary, Slovakia, and Austria already, with Georgia and Bulgaria next – and more looming. 

Yet seen from Washington, European allies are mostly barely worthy of the name. Militarily, they are too small or backward to operate alongside high-tech American forces. The more advanced ones, such as Britain, lack the stockpiles to join any operation for long. Nor do they have much to offer on other fronts: diplomatic, economic, or cultural. Why pick up the tab? 

These flaws did not need to be fatal. Europe could easily be a more effective and capable ally and the US a more resolute and far-sighted one. But both sides enjoyed carping on about the alliance more than they cared to invest money and political capital in preserving it. When it is gone, they will miss it. European governments, having refused to pay the relatively modest costs of sustaining Ukraine and maintaining adequate defenses within NATO, will now face the colossal bill for running their own security. Americans, facing intensifying geopolitical competition, may miss their old allies—especially if some of them flip into the Chinese camp. 

No flowers, please. Instead, donations to any European military budget will be gratefully appreciated.

[nalyra-dreaming]

you said to an anon yesterday that lestat would probably feel relieved that louis is with armand as it means that louis will be protected. what did you mean by that?:) how does armand protect him in the books and in the show as well?

i’ve only read iwtv so i only know that much really. i’m sorry if this makes it a silly question, i just don’t absorb books very well or show material as my brain gets muddled. also, this isn’t armand hate, i adore him:)

All good. :)

Armand is a very complicated character, and he often does things that he thinks are right, even though others may see it... differently. :)

Lestat goes to Armand to ask for blood in the book, but also tells him about Louis (and Claudia), in a desperate attempt to save their lives. Because he knows of the old rules, he knows Armand. When Armand falls for Louis there it means that he will not kill Louis. That is an aspect of that in (the) IWTV (book).

Later on there is a phase where Louis lives with Armand in New York, at Trinity Gate. It's after Lestat has let the "ever-multiplying" vampires drive him from NOLA... because he is loathe to kill them. Armand had roused him in his coma once to get rid of the riff raff, but later, after Merrick Lestat does not like going after them anymore:

This is from "Prince Lestat" (which Rolin has already stated to take from):

The mavericks multiplying everywhere were causing trouble for one another, and their gang fights and brawls have made life ugly for the rest of us. And they think nothing of trying to burn with re or decapitate any other blood drinker who gets in their way. It is chaos. But who am I to police these preternatural nincompoops? When have I ever been on the side of law and order? I’m supposed to be the rebellious one, l’enfant terrible. So I let them drive me away out of the cities, and even from New Orleans, I let them drive me away. My beloved Louis de Pointe du Lac left soon after, and from that time on lived in New York with Armand. Armand keeps the island of Manhattan safe for them—Louis, Armand, and two young blood drinkers, Benjamin and Sybelle, and whoever else joins them in their palatial digs on the Upper East Side. No surprises there. Armand has always been skilled at destroying those who offend him. He was after all for hundreds of years the coven master of the old Children of Satan in Paris, and he’d burn to ashes any blood drinker who didn’t obey the vicious old rules of those miserable religious fanatics. He’s autocratic, ruthless. Well, he can have that mission."

Armand protects Louis. Armand keeps New York "safe". I think we are looking at a mix of Merrick and PL era with the show's Dubai penthouse.

Armand protects Louis, even "from himself", too, as was stated rather plainly in season 1. It was also already said by Assad and the others (and I mean it's been clear now through the trailers and teasers) that Armand has at least influenced Louis' memories... probably to keep him from (fatally) painful ones. Armand is a big spell and mind gift user after all :)

I honestly think that all Armand has done/will be shown to have done to/with Louis was to protect him - in the way he saw fit.

That is how Armand, as a centuries old coven master operates - he deals with things as he sees fit.

Loving Louis... means Armand won't kill him. Will protect him, too.

Unfortunately (for Claudia, and others) it is as simple as that. Because Armand could not love her.