#Normal TL (1)

[goldentigerfestival]

Yuri's dialogue (JP) is so fascinating to study, like... the repetitive use of certain words/phrases that others use sparingly but he uses constantly. the way it feels like his vocabulary is more expansive than what he uses, but he defaults to a "comfort" level of speech. the way it mixes in with his sort of "street talk" words and the sheer level of informality. the way his "street talk" phrasing is contrasted by the tone of his voice (on that note, people I know who also know JP are also very endeared by these aspects of him so I KNOW IT'S NOT JUST ME!!!).

'cause the thing is, he uses phrases that yeah, other people do use, but he uses a handful over and over and over (contrast to other characters' sparing use of repetition). it's actually... really refreshing? it sounds more relatable and less "video game/anime/JRPG/RPG" writing or something, idk. like closer to how a real person would speak.

I do my best in my translations not to make things sound too stiff across the board, but Yuri makes it so easy. it's why I'm so interested in translating all his lines in Vesperia, like... the actual, original tone for him with his original wording because it's smth Eng only players don't get to experience ('cause even if you listen with JP audio, if you don't know the language, ofc you're gonna miss out on context. it's nobody's fault for not knowing, just... they unfortunately miss out). the thing is, there are a lot of times when the lines in and of themselves are not contextually incorrect in the English ver (usually the situation for smaller scenes, because they altered the text outright for more important stuff which was the stuff that originally set me off, but there were also plenty of cases of just vocal tone shifting with the correct context that still gave off the wrong impression), but Yuri's tone is shifted away from the original in Eng even though it's completely and perfectly translatable.

I am by no means about to translate the entire game because let's face it, I really don't care that much for Vesperia on the whole. I'm kinda stuck with it because Yuri's there lo and behold I actually am WAY more engaged in his stories in Rays, Link and Asteria because it's an amazing character put into circumstances where he actually gets to shine and feels more alive, which Vesperia did not provide nearly as well with its very disjointed story. also, Tales gachas have banger stories that are arguably better than the mainline games, and they regularly make Yuri a very central character to the gachas. Crestoria was also about to do it until they pulled the plug on that game and I'm pretty confident something interesting has been lost to the world. also I just generally don't have the energy or motivation to do that, so... I'll only be focusing on Yuri's lines, especially because his stuff is where the bulk of the messing around was. he's just insanely fun to translate for and I love burying myself head first into his speech.

will I actually finish this project? dunno. will I get around to posting it? whatever I get done (so all of it if I complete it), and if I decide to call it quits then I'll post what I have at the time I decide that. will it take a long time? probably, but I can always mention stuff along the way...

[tea-of-destiny]

i know i've been replaying this one song a lot but surely the number isn't that--

oh

[amsercompendium]

It's Quicker And Easier To Eat Your Young!

[catboii]

.

[nerdy-stilinski]

coming on here just to say caps double PK goal - today might be salvageable after all

[tcnderhearts]

Delilah verses/timeline tag dump

[cupidsvendingmachine]

god. does anyone else ever think about the short phenomenon of inside job and utdr fans intermingling because deltarune chapter 2 and part 1 of inside job were so close in release date and target audience. like that was crazy

[thegracefullion]

10 Generations. 10 Different Heroines. 1 Legacy. Welcome to the Literary Heroine Legacy Challenge! I’ve been itching for a good legacy to revive my love for the Sims 4, and I haven’t found one so I wrote one myself.  I was inspired after reading Emma— the family dynamics, drama, and romance were everything I ever wanted in a Sims challenge. So I modernized the stories and adapted them to fit this game.  Special shoutout to Designergirl81, who I met through MissLollypopSims’ Discord! The generations of Anne of Avonlea and Dorothy were their brainchildren. 💗 I designed each generation to reference a famous literary heroine. This is a very story-oriented challenge but feel free to bend, tweak, and change as much as you can! Sims Challenges aren’t meant to limit your fun. 😉 TL;DR: Play your own way while letting these rules guide your storytelling! The official tag of the challenge is #TheLiteraryHeroineChallengeTS4. Have fun! Check out the rules here or keep reading!

Basic Rules

Play on any life span you want but I recommend playing on Normal life span.

You are encouraged to play with female heirs. Of course, this is optional!

You are discouraged from using money cheats. Some generations have stories that are related to their social class— so try to stay true to the story as much as you can.

You can live wherever you want unless the generation states otherwise.

Feel free to customize each generation’s race and sexual orientation

Unless specifically stated, each generation has to finish their aspiration and career.

Even if most of these books are classics, I wrote this with a more modern take on it. You don’t need any mods or CC to fit the eras’ aesthetics— but if you want to, you totally can!

⭐ means there’s a recommended mod for this!

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 1: Elizabeth Bennett 📚 Do not consider me now as an elegant female, intending to play you, but as a rational creature, speaking the truth from her heart. 📚

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that all Sims 4 challenges must start with an heir. In this case, that’s you, which is surprising because everyone else in your life has decided that you are plain, especially when compared to your other two sisters. Lately though, you start to sense that you’ve been getting more attention from your neighbors. One particular Sim hasn’t been able to leave you and your family alone… and you don’t like them at all, not one bit. Well… maybe just a bit.

Aspiration: Successful Lineage 

Traits: Family Oriented, Hot-Headed, Bookworm OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Journalist

→ Master the Writing skill. → Live in a rundown family home passed down by your parents with two sisters until you are married. → Have a negative relationship with a neighbor. → Reject a proposal from your work boyfriend. → Build a relationship with your neighbor after you reject the proposal of your ex. → Have a scandal involving one of your sisters that your neighbor supports you through. → Fall in love and marry this neighbor then move in with him. → Have two children.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 2: Emma Woodhouse 💗  It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble.  💗

Growing up, you were always the sheltered one. Your father was very protective of you, and therefore never let you out of his sight. Of course, that didn’t stop you from becoming well-loved by the entire town. You were known for throwing the best dinner parties and befriending everyone your father and mother knew. Needless to say, this got to your head a bit. You weren’t arrogant, you were confident. In everyone’s eyes, you could do no wrong. Well, everyone except your childhood best friend— who was never afraid to call you out for being a bit clueless at times. 

Aspiration: Neighborhood Confidante OR Party Animal

Traits: Self-Assured, High Maintenance, Music-Lover OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Romance Consultant or Lawyer

→ Master the Charisma and Piano skills. → Host at least 5 gold-star dinners. → Have a childhood best friend who’s a bit older than you. For example: When you’re 17 (end of teenage years), they’re already 20 (start of young adult years). * → You can’t have good friends who are your age until your childhood best friend ages up into a young adult. → Make a new friend that you treat like a “project” until you two fall out. Choose if you two will reconcile in the future. → Profess your love to your childhood best friend during a heated argument. → Marry your best friend and live with your mother and father in your childhood home until your parents die. Have one child. *It goes without saying to only get with your childhood best friend when the two sims are both young adults 🙂 No super uncomfortable age gaps, please.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 3: Scarlett O’Hara ✨ “Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get him back.” ✨ All your life, you grew up spoiled. Your mother and father were so in love, and you almost expected to have a story as romantic and easy as theirs. However, when your high school flame elopes quickly with someone else right after graduation, you start to spiral. No longer able to get things your way, you begin to self-sabotage and jump from relationship to relationship. Deep down you know you should stop and smarten up but frankly, my dear, you don’t give a damn.

Aspiration: Soulmate— you fail this 

Traits: Materialistic, Genius, Jealous OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: None until your divorce then become a Manual Laborer + Barista

⭐ Recommended Mods: Healthcare Redux Mod, Extreme Violence Mod

→ Don’t master any skill. → Have a high school flame who elopes with someone else. → Elope immediately with someone else. Have them die tragically.* → Marry another person quickly who you have bad compatibility with. Get negative romance with them right before they pass.* → Marry a third time. Have them catch you in a compromising moment with your high school flame, which leads to a divorce that leaves you with nothing. → End up working two part time jobs to keep your household running. → Have 4 kids with your 3 husbands (you can cheat for twins, if you want). *You decide how they die. I recommended having mods like the Healthcare Redux and Extreme Violence in your game for realistic roleplay reasons— but if he gets tragically eaten by a Cowplant that works too! 🙂

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 4: Jo March 🧾 “When the first soreness was over, she could laugh at her poor little book, yet believe in it still, and feel herself the wiser and stronger for the buffeting she had received.” 🧾 Growing up was not easy for you. Your childhood was incredibly unpredictable with your mother jumping from relationship-to-relationship. And when things started to stabilize emotionally, you ended up in poverty.  Luckily, you had your siblings to cling to, and a passion for writing that’s unmatched. You wrote a ton of things across different genres, except for romance which you didn’t quite understand. In fact, everyone always expected you to be a little woman, not rough or wild, but you knew in your heart that’s not what you were destined to become.

Aspiration: Best-Selling Author

Traits: Creative, Unflirty, and Ambitious OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Author

⭐ Recommended Mods: Writing Career Overhaul, SNB Banking

→ Master the Writing and Logic skills. → Be best friends with all of your siblings. → Start selling short stories as a teenager to help pay the bills. → Get a best friend in high school who professes their love to you during graduation. Turn them down. Optional: Have them marry one of your other siblings. → Move away to the city to focus on your writing. Always send 30% of your income to your mother until she dies. → Due to a tragedy in the family, adopt a child of one of your siblings.* → Win a Starlight Accolade for one of your novels. → Never marry but live a fulfilling life. *They are to be the next heir to preserve the bloodline. You can adopt more if you want.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 5: Anne Shirley 📖 “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.” 📖 You were adopted by your aunt and lived a happy childhood. Despite being surrounded by family drama, you never let it dampen your spirit. You struggled with social cues and caused mayhem wherever you went— of course, that never stopped you from making your voice heard. You were, afterall, raised by someone who was never afraid to make a point. However, unlike your aunt, you always longed for romance. You always imagined big declarations of passion— but perhaps it’s time to learn that love creeps to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways.

Aspiration: Academic OR Soulmate

Traits: Romantic, Socially Awkward, and Loyal OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Education Career

⭐ Recommended Mod: Education Overhaul

→ Master the Research and Debate skill. → Have a childhood enemy that you become best friends with in high school. → Go to University and study Language and Literature. → Fall out with your best friend while in University. → Start dating someone you meet in University but break up right after graduation. → Get a job in the Education Career and write on the side. → Reconnect with your former best friend and realize you love them. → Get married to your best friend. → Retire from the Education career and become a freelance writer in your twilight years.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 6: Nancy Drew 🔍 “I don't promise to forget the mystery, but I know I'll have a marvelous time.”  🔍 Every bedtime, your mother read you stories that she and your grandmother wrote. Among all of those, it’s your grandmother’s mysteries that impacted you the most. There was something so thrilling about being a heroic, fearless woman who helped others out. Because of this, you gained a bunch of friends who loved you very deeply. With their support, you grew up as a well-known detective who can solve any case.  It was a fun life, but you eventually settled down in Henford-On-Bagley to have a family of your own.

Aspiration: Friend of the World 

Traits: Generous, Nosy, and Outgoing OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Detective OR  ⭐ Zerbu’s Simvestigations Mod

→ Master the fitness skill. → Be close friends with both your parents. → Have 2 best friends who are either your roommates (Discover University) or live in the same apartment complex as you (For Rent) for your entire YA life. → Get engaged to someone you meet on-the-job. → Before marrying your fiance, go on a trip to Selvadorada with your 2 best friends and explore the Jungle Temples. → Settle down in Henford-On-Bagley and have a farm life of your own. → Never move away once you settle in Henford-On-Bagley.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 7: Dorothy Gale 🐶 “If we walk far enough, we shall sometime come to someplace.”  🐶 Growing up you knew that there was more to the world than what was outside your own backdoor.  Afterall, your mother was a famous detective— if she went on her own adventures, why can’t you?

With her and your father’s support, you spend your young adult life traveling. You made some great friends along the way (and even some loves), but eventually you start to wonder if there is no place like home.

Aspiration: Local Aspirations— complete at least two

Beach Life

Mt. Komorebi Sightseer 

Fount of Tomarani Knowledge

Traits: Adventurous, Dog Lover, and Loves Outdoors OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Any Freelance Career 

⭐ Recommended Mods: SimNation Travel, Home Region

→ Have a dog that goes everywhere with you. → Live in 3 or more worlds during your Young Adult life. → Make 3 best friends that each teach you a valuable life lesson. → After making your three best friends, use reward points to add the following traits: Brave, Savant, and Incredibly Friendly. → As an adult, realize you miss your family and return home. → Have a long distance relationship with the father of your children.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 8: Wendy Darling 🌟 “She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. ”  🌟 You grew up waiting. First, for your father’s seasonal visits… which eventually stops when you become a teenager. Next, for the opportunity to leave Henford-on-Bagley to pursue your dreams of becoming an actress. And finally, for your first love, a man who refused to propose to you, no matter how long you waited for him to. Eventually you grew tired waiting and decided to grow up. You married a sensible man, had a child, and gave up your dreams of becoming an actress. Still, you held on to the dreams of your first love and end up reconnecting in a night of passion that leaves you pregnant with his child. Realizing that he’ll never grow up, you decide to dedicate your life to your family and husband.

Aspiration: Master Actor/Actress - you fail this or the⭐ Housewife Aspiration (after you marry)

Traits: Perfectionist, Proper, and Cheerful OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Actor/Actress

→ Master the Parenting skill. → Have a distant family dynamic with your father who never lives with you. → Join the drama club and meet your first love. Optional: He has the childish trait. → Give your first love all of your major romantic milestones. → Lose touch with your first love when you move to Del Sol Valley. → Marry a man you’d consider as sensible. Have one child with him. → Have a one time secret affair that results in another child. → Dedicate your life to your children afterwards.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 9: Alice Liddell  🐰 “It would be so nice if something made sense for a change.”  🐰

There were times you felt like you never truly belonged anywhere. While everyone at home lived and abided by your parents’ rules, your head was always in the clouds. Sensibilities and propriety were never in your vocabulary, much to the disdain of your father and the rest of your siblings. Still, you were a free spirit that could never be controlled. After moving out as a young adult, you fell in love with cooking and mixology. You also met a group of misfits who were as different as you. Every Sunday, you’d host special “tea” parties with them, that broadened your worldview and made you realize that the world gets curiouser and curiouser with each passing day.

Aspiration: Master Mixologist or Master Chef

Traits: Clumsy, Foodie, and Childish OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Culinary Career

⭐ Recommended Mods: Basemental, Grannies Cookbook, Open Love Life

→ Master the Cooking and Mixology Skills. → Have a juice/nectar hobby on the side. → Have a club with people who have weird or eccentric traits.* → Fall in love with someone with the Erratic Trait. → Host “tea” parties every Sunday in your own home. ⭐ Optional: Use the Basemental Mods and have your Sims get high on dope/drunk on alcohol during the tea parties. → Dye your hair a different, brighter color. → Live in a quirky and colorful house. → Befriend a rabbit who you talk to constantly. Name them The Mad Hatter. → ⭐ Optional: Be in a polyamorous relationship with Romantic Boundaries OR the Open Love Life Mod → Have two children. *You decide what weird and eccentric means.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Generation 10: Countess Ellen Olenska  🎨 “The real loneliness is living among all these people who only ask one to pretend.”  🎨

You appreciated your mother’s lifestyle. You saw the world for what it could become, and not what everyone wanted it to be. However, you worried about your younger sister. You saw her innocence and wanted to protect it. When you turned into a young adult, you moved away and took your sister with you to start anew. However, life was not always easy. Straight out of teenhood, you married someone from a different city and had a tumultuous relationship with him. You separate with him and continue to care for your sister. You’re able to provide for her through your paintings, which also brought you a lot of fame. When she grew up into a Young Adult, she formed an attachment with a man that… intrigued you. She married him. This kept him in your life, but made it difficult for you to ignore your feelings. One night, you find yourself alone together, and you must make a choice: stay with him and break your sister's heart, or leave forever to give them peace. You have a price to pay either way— we can't behave like people in novels without consequence, can we?

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Traits: Gloomy, Art Lover, and Family Oriented OR choose/roll for the last trait

Career: Critic 

⭐ Recommended Mods: RPO, Wonderful Whims, Custom Relationship Bits, Soulmates

→ Master the Painting Skill. → Become a Level 3 Celebrity with your paintings. → Marry someone who isn’t your soulmate straight out of high school. Have a negative relationship with him before separating. ⭐ Optional: Only temporarily separate with him using the RPO Mod. → Be best friends with your sister. → Become soulmates with the partner of your sister without consummating the relationship. → When you’re an adult, invite your sister’s partner over, and make a choice— woohoo together and break your sister's heart, or end the emotional affair. → If you woohoo together - Tell your sister the next day and become enemies. Name your child after them. → If you end the emotional affair - Move away from your love and get back together with your ex-husband. Die without having your own children.

[reidrum]

let it once be me | the prophecy part 3

note: hey ,,, remember her ,,,,,,,,, ! feeling hashtag nervous to post this but pls tell me ur thoughts this went through !!! so many drafts !!! almost lost my mind like thirty times lol but thank u for reading <3 (reading prior parts may be helpful in having context for this part but im not really sure it's necessary, they're way shorter than this part either way)

summary: you and spencer are faced with yet another wedge in your relationship, and you're not sure if it'll survive this time

cw: heavy spoilers for everett lynch arc (15.10), we're ignoring the cm tl and time doesn't exist, maeve flashback, hurt/comfort, angst, happy ending !

wc: 8k (wtf)

part 1 part 2 part 3

Spencer feels he’s lived many lives, and that his lived experiences have thoroughly prepared him to navigate novel situations with a small familiarity. A cushion really, to allow him the comfort of seeing the path before he has to walk it blind. It almost acts as a sense of pride for him, a testament to what he’s overcome and capable of facing.

There’s nothing prideful about how awful things have been going with you.

It’s been weeks since your talk with him. Weeks since he vowed to prove to you that you were it for him, and he’s made so little progress he finds it embarrassing for someone with his caliber of intellect.

He’s toeing a fine line between being in your presence enough for you to see that he’s trying, and giving you  space so that you don’t feel smothered. It was harder in the immediate days after your talk, when you couldn’t even stand to stay in the same room as him for more than five minutes. You had come home to his apartment the day after having decided Penelope had enough of your moping. Once you got in you immediately went to settle into the guest room.

It was near radio silent between you both those first few days. He didn’t want to force you, but it didn’t feel great when you would leave a room as soon as he’d enter. As the days went on, Spencer started getting resourceful. He’d make you breakfast in the morning and leave it on the table for you, your coffee next to it made exactly how you take it. Then it was little notes left in the most random places, all written with different things he loved about you. He never saw your reaction when you read them, but they’d always disappear from its spot the next day. Little things to remind you he’s there for you.

More days passed and it finally felt like the ice was starting to melt away. You’d started lingering longer in the living room if he was sat at the table still. One time you even made breakfast for the both of you, and although you weren’t there to eat it with him Spencer had never felt more hopeful.

In the field your dynamics changed even more. Normally, he would make sure to be paired up with you in the field to personally ensure that you were being safe. Since the fallout however, he didn’t want to be an unwelcome presence that only left you more tense in high stake situations. So he’d do things like privately tell Emily to double check your bulletproof vest, or make sure Luke was at your 6 if he couldn’t do it himself.

The last thing he wanted was for your current circumstance with each other, one that he knows he created, to distract you in the field and god forbid cause something to happen to you. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him, but Spencer remembers he’s already done the worst hurt he can fathom to you, and what he really means is that he can’t afford to hurt you any further. As much as it worried him to do so, he had reluctantly learned to place some trust in his teammates to keep you safe. It was a balance he’d learned to adapt to.

It worked fine until it didn’t.

The silent car ride from the jet back to your apartment was so thick with tension, but not the one you’ve both become accustomed to over the weeks. No this was a different strain of anger, one that descended down to the primal nature of your relationship—you endangering yourself.

Spencer opens the door, barely waiting for you to enter behind him before slamming it shut. “That, what you did today, was fucking reckless.”

The anger flares through your widened eyes, “Reckless? I saved the hostages, Spencer. He would have killed them!”

“And what about you?”

“What about me, I had it handled.” you huff.

He raises his hands in exasperation, “He had a gun to your head!” he yells, “You have no idea what it’s like to see that.”

“This isn’t the first time someone drew a weapon on me, and there’s definitely more times than I can count when they’ve drawn one on you,” you pause, “Or is it different right now because you got deja vu?”

“What’s that supposed to mean—” Spencer’s face pales in recognition, “That’s not fair.”

“The hell do you mean it’s not fair? You expect me to believe otherwise?”

“He was going to shoot you!” he loudly repeats, “You don’t think I care about your safety?”

“I think you only give a shit right now because you thought another girl you loved was about to get her brains blown out in front of you. Again.”

He’s stunned into silence. Your words feel like a paralytic to Spencer. Like venom slowly traveling down his veins seizing any chance for his body to save himself. All the progress he thinks you both have made just unraveled itself into nothing. It’s paradoxical that his mind is quiet. You’re usually the reason his mind can relax, but somehow you’ve achieved the same outcome by metaphorically stabbing him square in the face.

He can’t understand when you developed the idea that he could care less about you. He can’t understand how you can even think he would be capable of 

of not being with you entirely. He can’t understand where along the line you started believing that he stopped loving you.

It may not be a sentiment you actually hold, but he prides himself on being a good profiler, and more so knowing you better than himself. He knows that’s what you’re thinking, and there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

He speaks under his breath after a couple of minutes,  “How long are we going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what—“

“This!” He gestures wildly with his hands. “This back and forth where you’ve convinced yourself you’re able to move past this but clearly can’t!”

You stare at him, “Look, I’m trying.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

The familiar sting burns the backs of your eyes, the first sign of your resolve crumbling. “That’s not fair.”

He sighs and moves closer, your head hanging low and finding the wooden floor patterns deeply interesting. “You won’t even look at me.” he whispers, “Do you still love me?”

You look up at him stunned, “Spencer…I—I do…It’s just…”

He feels his heart breaking in a new way, “That’s not convincing.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess I can't,” he shakes his head defeatedly. “I don’t know what else I can do, baby.”

“…I want to forgive you.”

Spencer’s eyes blur from tears, “But you can’t.”

“I don’t know how,” you whisper before a sardonic chuckle leaves you, “You know me, memory like an elephant.”

Spencer refrains from telling you that dolphins are actually the species with the longest memory capacity, and that the reason for possessing such a feature is to maintain the social dynamics and relationships that come with survival in the ocean. A dolphin’s memory is what keeps them rooted back to where they belong, being able to remember individuals and behaviors even after being apart for so long. That no matter how far they stray, they’ll always come home. 

He settles for a soft agreement, “Yeah, I do know you.”

You make the mistake of meeting his eyes, equally and tragically as broken as yours, puffy and red rimmed.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whisper brokenly.

“I don’t either.”

The silence weighs heavy in the living room. The metronomic tick of the clock becomes louder, the birds and the wind outside whistle louder. You’re cornered, forced to come to face the results. And like a prey backed into the corner you do what the prey do best—You run.

“I have to go.” you grab the keys and put your shoes on.

“What?” he steps closer, “You can’t just leave, we just got home.”

“I can’t be here right now,” your voice cracks, “I just…need some time to think.”l

Spencer’s heart falls straight through the floor. Time to think about what? Is this when the foundation beneath you both finally buckles under the immense pressure it’s been on for weeks, and you’re left to scavenge the ruins?

As much as it pains him to let you walk out the door, he knows that nothing would be accomplished at home and it would only hurt you more to stay.

“Okay.” he whispers.

“Okay.”

“Be safe.” I love you.

You look back, “I will. You too.” I love you too.

The door shuts gentler this time, as if careful not to disturb the few pieces of Spencer still left standing behind the door. It doesn’t matter, they’ve already fallen over. Any resolve he had left is slipping away with every step you take further away, never feeling more defeated in his life than this moment.

He trudges over to the study, hoping he can at least bury himself in work to distract himself from the turmoil of his reality. The desk is strewn across with files and papers, mentally making a list of the tasks he has to do. At the top of his to-do list is the Everett Lynch case, having just closed the case a few days back meaning the paperwork would be due to the brass soon.

Spencer glances over the open file and reviews the details of the final moments of the case, recalling the stark change in Lynch’s MO that still left him puzzled. The victimology and the profile just didn’t add up to what actually happened, why he ended up dying with his mother in the house. That wasn’t supposed to happen, Spencer wasn’t supposed to send five SWAT agent in not knowing their fate only seconds later. How the case simply ended anticlimactically after nearly a year long chase. A dull ache begins to form in his head as he thinks, the bureau is going to have a field day processing this case.

He rubs his forehead with his hand to soothe the pain building up, making a note to get painkillers after he finishes. As he continues to read the file he starts to see his confusion take a basis as the initial profile doesn’t add up at all to what actually happened, in fact for as long as he evaded the FBI he really shouldn’t have just, died.

Spencer freezes. Did he die?

Lynch wouldn’t just commit suicide, that was too easy. He watched the house blow up with him and his mother inside, not even including the agents the explosion took out with it. The pain in his head is too much to bear at this point and he decides that getting Advil can’t wait until he’s done. He stands up and immediately wobbles as he grips the desk for support. Through the blurred vision and spinning room Spencer tries to makes sense of Lynch’s discrepancy. 

Everett Lynch wouldn’t commit suicide, because he didn’t. 

“He’s still alive.” he realizes gravely. Then it all goes black.

———

You get in your car and drive off to god knows where, just not there. It’s sheer autopilot driving you to the other side of town, which is more than welcomed as the tears threaten to blur your vision coming down in hot trails. You end up pulling into the parking lot of your favorite donut shop, one that you discovered with Spencer a little before you started dating. There was time to kill after being paired up to visit the unsub’s  dump site and you were so insistent about needing a sweet treat, Spencer thought it was clinical.

“You’re acting like you’ll die if we don’t stop for a, what did you call it? A sweet treat?”

“I will!” you whine, “Don’t you know that girls, specifically me, are mandated to have at least one sweet treat per day?”

He pulls into the parking lot of the donut shop he’d spotted on the way there. “Oh yeah? What happens if you don’t?” he teases.

“You’ll see me as the unsub in the next case.”

Spencer can’t help the laugh that leaves him, loud and earnest. “Alright, c’mon. We already have enough criminals to last us till retirement.”

You and Spencer are definitely not together at this moment in time, but the little old lady owner of the shop really can’t believe otherwise as she watches you both bicker about which flavors you’re getting for the half dozen box. She’s almost certain you’re together as she watches Spencer end up getting all the flavors you wanted despite putting up a fight for others. And she’s fully convinced, with no room for sway, that you are together as Spencer pulls his card out before you can even protest and watches as you miss the look he gives you as you dramatically sigh in content after the first bite.

Spencer would later tell you after a few months together, that the donut shop was the first time he realized he was in love with you. You recall how the same half dozen would appear on your desk every Friday since that first visit, with one chocolate sprinkled donut missing but placed on a napkin on Spencer’s desk. You would joke that he pavloved his way into your heart with donuts, but wouldn’t reveal your true cards that you fell in love with Spencer after a month on the job. The donut shop happened the week after.

“You alright, hon?” the little old lady owner breaks your thoughts.

You look around and realize you’ve walked yourself into the shop. You wipe at your eyes quickly, “I’m okay, Dolores. Can I just get the usual half dozen please?”

She’s not convinced but it seems she knows better than to ask and pry. She gathers the usual six donuts for the box, slipping in an extra one just for good measure, and rings you up at the register.

“Seven right?” you mumble as you file through your bag for the loose ten.

Dolores smiles, “It’s on the house today, hon. Don’t worry.”

You look up at her, knowing she’s only doing that because you showed up with tear streaks on your face, “Oh, no it’s okay you don’t have to do that let me just—“

She pushes the box towards you, “You both tip enough to cover the box anyway, please just take it. Hope you feel better soon, hon.”

Her kind gesture thaws your heart out a little and you give her a small smile. “Thanks, Dolores.”

You walk back to your car, locking the doors once you get in. You don’t move to turn the car on, opting to allow your emotions to overflow again in solitude with the comfort of a bavarian kreme donut. The tears prick your eyes on instinct thinking of the current state of your life, of your relationship.

Spencer was right, have you convinced yourself you’re capable of moving past this? You do still love Spencer, you knew that much. But you are hurt, you are tired, and you just want to stop feeling like you’ll always come in second place even when there’s no one to occupy first place. You’ve waited so long to feel chosen, like someone has waited all their life for someone like you to come around. Meeting Spencer felt like finding the little daisies that grew in between the cracks of concrete, proof that despite your stone hard exterior you were still worthy of being loved.

The sound of your phone ringing jolts you up, almost dropping your donut. With your free hand you look at the caller and press accept.

“Hi, Emily.” you try to make your voice sound even.

“Hey we’ve got a—wait are you okay?”

You clear your throat, “Yeah, totally fine don’t worry. What’s up?”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe you but Emily really doesn’t have time right now, “Listen, Lynch is still alive.”

You almost choke. “What?”

“The casualty report doesn’t include Lynch and they couldn’t find his body anywhere. While they were searching the house they found tunnels. He escaped.”

“Fuck, okay what do you need me to do?”

“There’s a gas station clerk who thinks he saw him and his car, I need you and Matt to go check it out and see what he knows.”

You scramble to put your donut down and wipe your hands on the napkin, “Yeah, of course I’m on my way.”

“Okay, Matt will meet you there,” she pauses, “I…Is Spencer with you?”

Your heart clenched again, “No, he’s not. He’s at the apartment.”

Emily hums, “He didn’t pick up when I called, it’s okay I’ll send JJ and Penelope to go get him. Reconvene at the bureau in a couple hours?”

“Sounds good.” you hang up and immediately start driving over to the gas station. Something doesn’t feel right, you can feel it in your gut. You quickly check Spencer’s location just to be safe, and relax when you see he’s still at home. He’s probably just taking a nap.

What Emily decides you can’t ever know about is the call she gets twenty minutes later from a hysterically crying Penelope, who in between sobs tells her that they’re on the way to George Washington Hospital. That when JJ and Penelope opened the door to Spencer’s apartment he was passed out on the floor, blood dripping from his nose. How when JJ went to start CPR he entered a seizure and coded in the ambulance.

No, you can’t know this, because Emily knows that the call alone that she has to give you is going to shatter your broken pieces even further.

—

You pull out your phone to call Emily and see an incoming call from her, “Hey, I was just about to call you. The guy said he drove a red ford pickup, we were able to get the license plate from the security cameras but it came up as a stolen plate—“ 

Emily says your name in a tone you’ve never heard her use. It makes you stop in your tracks, an icy chill shooting down your spine, “What?”

“Something’s happened.”

You step outside of the gas station shop holding your breath, “What do you mean?”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose, “It’s about Spencer, he’s…”

She pauses for too long. The panic rises fast. “Emily.”

“They found him passed out on the floor of his apartment. Penelope called 911 and they’re on the way to the hospital right now.”

No. 

No, no, no.

The color drains from your face as fast as your heart plunges to the ground. “Wh—what?”

She’s lying, she has to be right? You just saw Spencer literally a few hours ago and he was fine. No signs of distress or anything, she has to be lying. She has to be lying.

“The EMT thinks he has a brain bleed, it um…caused him to have a seizure when JJ and Penelope found him.”

The nausea rises before you can anticipate it, scanning your surroundings for a trash can and immediately hurling up the contents of your stomach. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve you put the phone back to your ear, “Which hospital?”

“George Washington Memorial, they should already be there by now.”

“Okay, I’m on the way.” you sniffle.

Emily doesn’t know what other encouraging words she can provide you, she doesn’t think any words exist to comfort herself even let alone you. “Keep me updated please.”

The call ends and you have to steady yourself on the nearby wall, head reeling with mountainous emotions and unable to make sense of any of them. 

You look around through blurred eyes for Matt calling out to him, “Matt, Matt give me the keys I need to go to the hospital.” you hold a shaky hand out.

He looks at you confused and concerned, “What? Are you okay, why do you need to go—“

“Sp—“ you stutter, unable to even speak the words into existence, “Spencer’s in the hospital.”

Matt’s face pales, “I’ll drive you, come on.”

—

“They said it’s a brain bleed.” you mumble after a few minutes of silence in the car.

“A brain bleed? How could that have…” he trails off in realization.

“What?” you ask nervously.

He grips the steering wheel harder, “The bomb, at the Lynch house.”

Fuck. The EMTs who checked him out that day said he only had a mild concussion, nothing else to be concerned about. A few cuts and scratches but nothing that wouldn’t heal. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

You sniffle and hastily wipe at your face again, your skin growing red with irritation with every contact.

Matt looks at you with a look he wouldn’t call pity, but certainly close, “It’s going to be okay, he’ll pull through. He always does.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as if it could prevent the fresh wave of tears from falling, “You don’t know that.”

He sighs deeply and turns into the hospital parking lot, stopping in front of the entrance, “Go in, I’ll park the car.”

You open the car door and rush inside the lobby, finding the receptionist immediately. She looks up at you and her face softens in empathy, “Who are you here for?”

“Um, Spencer Reid. He should have just gotten in.” you strain.

The receptionist clacks a few buttons on her keyboard before speaking again, “It looks like he’s in the ICU, are you blood related?”

“Are we…what?” you ask confused.

“Well honey, because he’s in the ICU we can only let in blood related family or spouses to stay with them.”

You outwardly deflate, “Oh…I—“

“She’s his fiancée!”

You look to the source of the new voice and are met with Penelope, donning matching red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. Her eyes look at you in silent communication and you turn back to the desk, “Y—Yeah, I’m his fiancée.”

If the receptionist isn’t convinced she doesn’t show it, willing to turn a blind eye in pure understanding of the situation. “Room 204.”

“Thank you.” You duck down the hall scanning the numbers before coming up on 204, the door cracked open slightly. Your hand hovers over the handle in hesitation, scared of what you’ll find on the other side. Penelope comes up behind you and rests her hand on yours and helps you open the door.

The sight hits you like a truck. All the wires hooked up to his limbs pumping IV fluids and the heart monitor beeping steadily. He’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. His skin is clammy, the hair sticking to his forehead. You can see that from across the room and all you can think about is how uncomfortable he must feel from the sweat coating him. You used to tease him once upon a time when he’d sometimes take multiple showers a day because of how much it bothered him.

“Another shower? Spence, our water bill is about to be crazy.”

He laughs and waves you off, “Don’t worry about that, I can charge the water bill as bureau compensation.”

“Okay, one that sounds illegal. Two, the more time you spend in the shower, the less time you spend with me.” you moan with fake petulance.

You yelp as he suddenly sneaks up behind you, caging you to his chest with his arms, “So join me.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of getting clean?” you giggle, leaning your head back into the crevice of his neck.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, “You do know what showers are for, right?”

You nod, “To get clean! It would get even dirtier before it got cleaner.”

“I think that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

The smile on your face grows the widest it can before you break off into a sprint down the hallway towards the bathroom, Spencer trailing behind with your laughs mixing in the light air.

You don’t know why you’re thinking so deeply about the state of his perspiration, maybe a convoluted defense mechanism your brain conjured up so you don’t have to come to terms with Spencer lying near comatose a few feet away.

Your feet hesitantly carry you closer to the bed, feeling somewhat calmed by the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lean down and look him over, as if you could see the damaged inflicted on him even though it’s nestled deep in his brain. Spencer always said his brain would lead to his demise, and you hope all those times you played it off as a joke that it cemented itself as one, a joke. That you would be able to see his hazel eyes open again and they’d fill you with reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, that all he needed in this world was you, and that he loved you.

You will and wish and hope to have his eyes open. You try not to think about if you’ll ever get to see them again.

A choked sob escapes your throat before you can help it, your hand coming over your mouth to muffle the impact. Spencer is hurt. Spencer is fighting for his life, and you were fighting him not even a few hours ago.

“Oh, honey,” Penelope reaches for your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, “He’s gonna be okay, the doctors said the surgery went well. Just waiting for him to wake up now.”

You cry even harder and Penelope tightens her grip on you, determined to not let you fall further down the slope.

“W—We got into a fight,” you sniffle, “before I left. It was bad, Penny. He was so mad, and then I was so mad. And then I just left.”

“You didn’t know this would happen, honey. None of us did.”

“I didn’t even say I love you. Th—The last conversation we had was a fucking fight a—and now…” you cry, “He can’t die, Pen. He can’t die I didn’t even get to tell him—“

Penelope grabs your face with both of her hands, “Hey. No, we’re not doing that. We are not spiraling, not when there’s no reason to. Okay?”

Whatever response you had falls dead on your lips when you take another look at Spencer’s motionless body on the bed. The calmness on his face is a stark difference from the Spencer you saw only a few hours ago.

She was right, there’s nothing you can do right now but wait. You’d just have to trust that Spencer would pull through.

You almost chuckle dryly through the tears. Trust and Spencer? The irony of it all laughs in your face.

—

Spencer’s eyes blink open and adjust to the bright light blinding him. He takes in his surroundings and realizes he’s standing in the middle of the bullpen. That’s weird, he thinks, I thought I was in the study.

“Reid, you sure you don’t want to join me and Elle in Jamaica?” Derek sings, “My guy can swing you a great deal.”

Derek? Elle?

He snaps his head in the direction of the voice, seeing Derek not even looking in his direction but still looking towards Spencer. Just, a different and much younger Spencer.

“Have a great two weeks off everyone, you all deserve it. Don’t call me at my cabin.” Gideon rushes out as he beelines to the door right past Spencer. “Seriously, don’t call me.”

Gideon? But Gideon…died. Where is he?

The scene changes with a snap and suddenly he’s back in his apartment, his old apartment. The one he lived in before he moved in with you. He is definitely in a dream, though with the vividity and theme of important people in his past he’s not entirely sure he’s only sleeping. A head of blonde hair on his couch catches his eye. He slowly walks around and his breath hitches at who he sees.

“Maeve?”

She smiles softly, “Hi Spencer.”

He slowly walks around the couch and kneels in front of her. The tears prick his eyes before he can help it, “I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. I—I’m so sorry for—“

Maeve holds a hand up, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, I promise. You did what you could. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s not?”

She shakes her head. “You’re dying, Spence.”

His face falls, “I am?”

“Collateral from the explosion, you have a brain bleed.”

It takes a few minutes for him to comprehend what she said, and he can feel his head spinning fast in his head. He can’t actually be dying right? The explosion happened days ago and yet now is when his brain decides to tap out, that can’t be right.

It simply cannot be right because that’s when he remembers you and the last conversation he had with you, and he has to clutch his heart at the prospect of his fate.

He won’t know if you’ll ever forgive him, if you’ll ever learn to trust him again, if you even still love him. He won’t know anything if he dies. He cannot die.

“M—Maeve, I can’t be here I—“

She places her hand atop of his own and he feels her. He can feel her hand on his, like she’s real and here.  It’s alarming, and warm. “I know, it’s okay. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”

Maeve gestures for him to follow her and before his eyes the scene changes again to a nearby park, one that looks a little too familiar to him.

She starts walking through the park, “We’re all okay up here you know? I get to read a lot more now, there’s so much time to read and postulate. Sometimes I get lucky and I can meet the authors. I got to meet Kant and Dostoevsky a while ago, very interesting people. Gideon plays with this nice little octopus friend. I know he’s having the best time.” she laughs, “But you, Spencer Reid, are not okay down there.”

He looks up at her and swallows, “I know.”

She turns onto the fork in the trail, “What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

“I think you do know.”

A few silent minutes pass. “I…I’m scared to let myself be happy again,” he admits.

Maeve looks at him with a saddened smile, “And why’s that?”

Because everything he loves leaves him. Because when he laughs just a little too hard, he’s already scanning the surroundings waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because when Spencer feels he’s trekked up the mountain with long and winding breaths, something always seems to be waiting at the top ready to knock him down.

“Don’t think I deserve it, to be honest.” he admits, “I keep…messing up everytime.”

Maeve stops walking, “You love so deeply, Spencer. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

“Emphasis on the curse.” he deprecates.

“It’s only a curse because you don’t let yourself feel wholly. I know given everything that’s happened it’s hard but,” she pauses, “You’re not a clipped bird, Spence. You just…lost a few feathers. Nothing you can’t get back.”

It’s easier said than done when it feels like his mere existence causes you pain as of late.

“I feel like I have to hold parts of me back so I can protect her…from myself.”

Maeve turns to him, “She deserves all of you, Spence. It is a privilege to be loved by you, but it’s a greater privilege to be loved. And you deserve to feel loved.”

“What if I ruin it?” More accurately, what if he’s already ruined it, is what he means.

“You are not destined for sorrow and misery, despite what your life has made you think. She loves you. She would not have stayed this long if she didn’t. But there is one thing I think she could use from you.”

Spencer looks at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“She wants to feel chosen, Spencer. And I know you think you choose her everyday just by loving her. But the reality is, you can’t fully choose her without choosing yourself first. That means allowing yourself to be happy.”

A few stray tears streak down his face and he haphazardly wipes them away. For the entirety of Spencer’s life his purpose was to be of service to others. With his intelligence, his kindness, his courage. His needs always came second because the few times he thought to put himself first, disaster struck. 

When he met you this notion only reinforced itself, wanting to ensure he could make you as happy as he could. You became his priority and he didn’t mind that at all. It was easy being with you, you made life feel easy. So when Spencer started to let his guard down piece by piece, allowing himself the little bits of your happiness to seep into his being, he wasn’t thinking about the abyss that had always loomed over him his whole life.

He couldn’t, not when you managed to infiltrate his entire existence by wrapping and tethering yourself to him with strings of gold. How could he? You made things so easy.

But then prison happened. Then Cat, again. Then Maeve, again. Three strikes. It should have been game over by now. He broke your trust, betrayed your love and he wasn’t sure if you would even stay long enough to see the damage unfold. But you did, and he still can’t really figure out why.

So here he is in limbo? Purgatory? Some figment of his mind in the wake of near death that is giving him the opportunity to make amends. Not with Maeve or Gideon or you or any other grudge he has yet to settle in his life. No, he has the chance to make amends with himself and forgive himself for standing in the way of what he really deserves.

A faint beeping in the distance reels him back to the present moment, Maeve’s face coming into focus again. The dull ache in his eyes coming forward again with how many tears are falling.

“Love is our true destiny, we do not find the meaning of it alone, we find it with another.”

He smiles with a watery chuckle, “Thomas Merton.”

“Spencer, I promise you, you will be happy again. And forever. Just keep the door open when it comes knocking.”

The beeping starts to get louder, like it’s approaching him fast. A warm glow begins to build around him, then light. He looks around the park again and sees the trees and benches begin to blur. He looks at Maeve as she stands with a fond smile, her figure slowly fading as well.

“Take care, Spencer.” and with a blink Maeve is gone.

In the silence he is left in, he looks to the epitaph of Jason Gideon in front of him and back to the spot where Maeve was standing, whispering a soft, “You too.” before closing his eyes and succumbing to the beeping.

—

It’s been 4 hours since you’ve been sat next to his bed. You’d be a lot more concerned than you were, which is already a lot, if it wasn’t for his heartbeat monitor beeping steadily throughout the hours. A sign of life, as morbid as it sounds, but it’s hard to be rational given the circumstances.

It had taken all of 3.5 hours for you to braven up and hold his hand in comfort. Hour one you simply stared at his hand, as if it would regain mobility and reach out for you. Hour two you were able to place your hand on the bed, not anywhere near his obviously. But enough to feel close, satiated. By hour three you had your fingers mere millimeters from his own, feeling like a magnetic force of the same poles was repelling you.

The 3.5 hour mark is when the exhaustion of the day caught up to you, and finally allowed yourself to relax in his hand.

At hour 4.5 is when you felt the twitch.

You look up and whisper, “Spencer?”

He slowly opens his eyes, revealing his hazel brown irises with gold flecks on the insides that meet yours sitting right beside him. You can see the recognition begin to flood his face, but is stopped momentarily when he starts to panic realizing the breathing tube is still in his throat. You hit the call button besides his bed and watch the doctors rush in to help stabilize him back down.

It’s another two hours of testing and scans before the three of you are left alone again, with the nurse promising to check on him in a few hours.

You’re stiff next to him, unsure what to do now that he’s awake and perceiving you again. With a small voice you speak, “They said they found you in the study.”

Spencer racks his brain for memories of before his fall, only able to remember bits and pieces. He remembers fighting with you and when you left. He remembers walking to the study. And he remembers reading…”Lynch! Did you get him? He’s still alive, you have to call Emily—“

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you shush. “We know he’s still alive, they’ve almost got him right now. It’s okay.”

That seems to make him visibly relax knowing the immediate stressor was almost resolved. Now there’s just the matter of the other elephant in the room.

“You’re here.”

Your eyes soften as your brows raise in shock, “Of course I’m here, Spence.”

He stares at you and takes in your features—your puffy cheeks and red eyes, the skin around your nails picked to death, your lip nearly split in half from the bites and bleeding. He needs to apologize again, he knows that. But the second he opens his mouth you cut him off.

“Penny, can you give us a minute please?”

She smiles and stands, “Sure hon, I’ll be right outside.”

Once she leaves you turn back to Spencer, “We don’t have to talk about all of that anymore, it’s okay. You’re hurt and that’s more important right now.”

He should have expected that you would do this, selflessly push your discomfort and feelings down because someone you cared about was hurting. It was one of the few things he didn’t like that you did, and he’s not going to let it go again.

“Angel, you can’t forgive me just because you thought I was going to die.” he says sadly.

You’re taken aback. “I—I know.”

He swallows, “I really want you to.”

Your eyes blur again, “I know.” Another pause. “I’m trying really hard.”

A gentle squeeze, “I know.”

“I…I still love you, Spence. I don’t think that will ever change, but I’m nervous if one day it won’t be enough…that I won’t be enough.” you trail off.

Again, he shouldn’t be surprised that’s what you’re thinking. He hasn’t done a very good job at convincing you yet. It still hurts knowing that you feel that way.

“Do you know what I thought about everyday when I was in Millburn?”

You shake your head as he continues, “I thought about how when you eat cupcakes you tear the bottom half and stick it on top to make a cupcake sandwich. When we’re watching Doctor Who and you’re singing along to the theme song with only syllables. How you let me eat the olives on your plate and I give you the pickles on mine.”

“Why would you be thinking about that?” you ask confused.

“Because I don’t think I would have survived if I didn’t.”

The lump forms in your throat, “But…you took me off the visiting list after the first time I came to see you.”

“I couldn’t let you keep seeing me like that, honey.” he strains, “The way they were looking at you, what they did to me. I had to protect you.”a

You swallow hard, a few tears falling down your face, “Th—That’s not fair, Spence. I understand why you did it, but then when all the other shit happened… I don’t know what I was supposed to believe. I couldn’t stop wondering if I ever was enough for you.”

Spencer can feel his heart splintering.

“You will always be enough, because it is always you. God, sweetheart it’s not even a question of how much, it just is. I see you in everything I do—you’re the tangled headphones we use to listen to music flying back on the jet. You’re the annotations I make when I read something that reminds me of you, or if I think you’d enjoy it. You’re the smell of bavarian kreme donuts from Dolores’ even though the chocolate sprinkle ones are far superior.”

His heart blooms hearing a soft giggle from you, an earnest smile forming on your face.

“You are entangled in the things that make me happy, and you make them too good to be true. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I meant it when I said I would spend all of time making it up to you. You are my Catalina comet, and I love you.”

You can’t help the sob that leaves you as you remember the memory.

“I’m cold Spence, are you sure we’ll be able to see it?”

He tugs you closer under his arm as he keeps trekking to find the perfect spot, a chaste kiss to your temple, “I promise it’ll be worth it. Come on, I think it's a good spot over there.”

You help Spencer set out the blanket on the ground and use the extra one to wrap around you both, huddling closer together as you wait for the celestial body to make its appearance.

“The first time they did the calculations they used old observational data that led to some incorrect results, and they thought the orbit was only four years.”

“They just got it wrong?”

“Not everyone gets it right on the first try, sweet girl.” he says softly, “But then they did the math again, made sure all the factors and numbers were correct. And you know what they found?”

You ponder for a moment, “Did they realize the orbit was longer?”

Spencer beams down at you, “My smart girl. That’s exactly what they found. So when they did the calculations again, they found out that the Catalina comet is even more special than anyone thought. It’s even more of a rare sighting to get to see it, once in a lifetime really.”

You hang onto his every word, captivated by the story, “Do people wish on comets?” you ask doe eyed.

His hand smooths your hair back, “They do, some say the rarer comets have extra special energy to aid their wishes.”

You look at him skeptically, “Do you really believe that?”

“Do you?”

You look back to the sky, “I think I do.”

Spencer doesn’t look away from you, “Then I do too.”

You giggle and lightly shove him, “Cheesy…” He smiles fondly and pulls you closer into his chest, his arms warming you up before you gasp, “Look!”

There across the night sky streaks the Catalina Comet in all her glory, Spencer watches the comet track through Ursa Major and before he can start telling you about why it goes that path, you’ve already clamped your eyes shut and squeezed his hand, silently gesturing for him to do the same.

He complies, obviously. You open your eyes again after making your wish, “Did you make yours?”

Spencer opens his eyes and admiringly looks at you, “Yeah, I did angel.” 

He didn’t need to make any wishes.

“Spence…” you whine through sobs.

His hand comes up shakily to wipe the tears from your cheeks, “Didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.”

“Well, what did you expect by bringing that story up?” you laugh with fake anger.

“To be fair, you were already crying.” he chuckles.

You scoff, “Mean.” You look at his eyes, and really look at him and see nothing but love and adoration staring back at you. You take a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” his eyes soften, you continue, “I love you.”

He brings your hand up to his lips and gently kisses it, “I love you so much. I’m sorry again, sweet girl.”

You lean up to him on the bed and press a soft kiss to his lips, and Spencer can feel his wounds start to hurt less and less. “You should get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You make yourself as comfy as you can whilst sat on the armchair, bent over to be able to rest your head next to Spencer. It feels okay for a bit, and then he tangles his hand in your hair gently moving back and forth and suddenly you’re satisfied with never moving ever again.

The quiet air between you both is enough to lull you to sleep, before a thought runs through your mind.

“You know something funny,” you mumble, “Pen told the receptionist I was your fiancée so they’d let me see you.”

And poor Spencer, in between his sleepy haze and the dull ache of pain from his injuries, only hears the word fiancée.

“You found the ring?” he sighs, “I thought I hid it well.”

You still under his hand.

“…There’s a ring?”

His eyes shoot open, realizing he misheard you and tries to play it off, “So…Penelope lied to staff. Tsk Tsk.”

“There’s a ring.” you say pointedly, the corners of your lips upturned to reach a smile.

Spencer thinks he can try and get out of this but decides it’s better to come clean, “Fine, okay. Of course there’s a ring.”

“Of course?”

The surprise on your face honestly stuns Spencer, and he feels a little saddened that you were in disbelief of the possibility.

“Yeah baby, of course.”

Your bottom lip wobbles with a creeping suspicion of his answer, “How long have you had it?”

“Got it after our six month.”

You shakily exhale. There is no ounce of doubt in your body that he loves you, and that you really are all he needs. “ ‘M sorry I ruined the surprise.”

He grins, “It’s okay, you won’t know when I’m going to do it. It’ll knock you off your feet, I promise.”

You definitely aren’t expecting it during a Planetarium date months later where he got the museum people to show the Catalina Comet passing over you both as he got down on one knee. You are expecting the endless stream of tears from the both of you, the aching cheeks from smiling too much, and the multiple missed attempts at sliding the ring on from how much you both were shaking.

[ghelullu]

I have tried to sort my thoughts about Skeletá and mostly failed, but still wanted to talk about it because it’s such an interesting little big album already after only a handful of listens

tl;dr: I like it alot, it has some certified bangers on it, some songs didn’t fully land for me personally, I love the variety and his voice is amazing.

I think what stood out to me the most – apart from the very obvious and super cool 80s vibe going on (80s lovers WIN) – is the sheer variety of songs on it and how most of them did not sound the way I expected them to sound at all: Cenotaph was so much groovier and uplifting than I thought (looking back and knowing it’s about his brother, I feel like I should’ve seen that coming), De Profundis Borealis is less heavy than I thought (and hoped; insert the "I know it's not a black metal song" clip), Marks of the Evil one is just so much etc! And I do mean this as an absolute positive in a time where most successful music does not surprise us often anymore.

I totally applaud and respect him for not doing the easy thing: Making an album that follows directly down Impera’s path sound wise – that would have been safe, considering the commercial and critical success it had. Instead he took some of Impera’s (and Phantomime’s) sound, threw in some things from the old albums and a ton of stuff out of his Very Normal brilliant brain to mix something… well. Different.

It is not an album aimed to please people, it’s not targeted at his „old“ fans, not at his new fans from the last album, not at critics or whatever; it’s not a people pleaser album, in my opinion (I’ve seen people say it’s too „commercial“, gotta disagree; I think they just heard it's more „pop", not understanding how 80s Rock worked), but rather Tobias doing what *he* thinks fits, what he thinks needs to be done, what he thinks would be cool, interesting, fun.

While doing that he’s once again not afraid of things that are bordering on too cringe, too corny, too whatever. We’ve all seen that one Reddit review of Missilia Amori – but one thing about his music I really respect is how he can take stuff that wouldn’t work with other artists, would be painfully cringe, and make it work. Because with him it is (and comes across as such) intentional and well handled, often with a wink; he’s been doing that literally from the beginning, because he, unlike some people on Reddit, is capable of not taking himself and things *so* fucking seriously all the time.

He knows that things, art, music, yes, even Big Serious Metal, can just be fucking FUN. (Plus, have these people never listened to any bit of 80s Rock? Like, really?)

And there is so much going on in this album. Lyrics wise, yes, some absolute gold (the 3rd rider "looking cool" absolutely took me out, though), I won’t even touch on that here, because I haven’t studied them enough. But every song is very different: Different vibe, different themes, different *things* that make them stand out (something I LOVE about his music is how every song has at least 1-2 thingies, special, interesting melodies, intrument bits, vocal moments, whatever, that just scratch the brain right and make you come back again and again).

While there are many callbacks to his previous works (and obviously even way more to other artists; it's once again a loveletter of his to his favourite artists growing up), in my opinion it’s also the least „typical Ghost“ album to date; in a way it’s more a Tobias album, which is fine to me, and fitting, considering how incredibly personal it is – and a fun coincidence with the other Tobias album, Passiflora, having finally blessed our ears earlier this year. I think there are surprisingly many similarities? Obviously he has developed all of his skills enormously since, but… It was fun listening to both of these very personal albums back to back, highly recommended.

Lots of high praise, is it my new fave? It doesn’t beat Prequelle, my #1, at this moment in time, and I don’t think it will, even after multiple listens. It’s an album that definitely requires being listened to at least a dozen times. Many songs on it – on Tobias’ work in general – are absolutely required to be listened to multiple times before you can fully appreciate and connect with it (which is, i may add, a GOOD thing. He puts in so much stuff to discover!).

First of all, for me the ballads didn’t land. And this is mostly a personal preference, I am not a ballads person, they rarely hit for me (Life Eternal taking me out almost immediately was an outlier and to this day the Helvetesfönster – Life Eternal combo is the only music that ever made me bawl my eyes out). Both Guiding Lights (his vocals are so, so good) and Excelsis are objectively fantastic songs and I understand why people love them so much, but especially Excelsis is musically just a bit too much...I don’t have the right word...; the end however is wonderful (and circles nicely back to Life Eternal (and also Respite!))

I would have very, very, VERY much preferred a heavy song instead of one of these two. A Faith, a Mummy Dust, a Twenties, you know, some growls? The heavy riff in Lachryma gave me hope there’d be more in another song, but it’s fine, it’s his baby! I expected De Profundis to be the heavier song, but it turned out softer than i thought, but it’s still super fun and I think it will do a bit of a Watcher in the Sky, where it’s cool on the album and then FUCK live!

Speaking of live, many of these songs will shine live, as the 4 already played prove. The vocals on the album – SO good, so much variety! Sometimes he sounds like Ozzy, sometimes like Phil Collins, sometimes very Phantomime, the high notes but also more lower register, bless him (that was one of my big wishes), just great! – show that he’s experimented with his voice (despite talking shit about it all the time) a lot and that he has much more trust into his abilities to perform them live (with the reduced mask; and he’s already proven that; I cannot stress enough how incredible he sounds live now).

The instrumentals are fantastic, such nice guitar solos, the synths, the keyboard-guitar sex in Umbra is just 👌🏽, but really, they shine in all songs. And you cannot forget the Cowbell, bless him.

My favourite is Lachryma with the heavy guitars and the catchy pop-y chorus, followed by Peacefield (esp live) and Umbra; honorable mention Marks of the Evil one and Missilia Amori, and De Profundis

There is so much to love about this album; how personal it is for him, how much it feels like a big hug (and punch in the gut, followed by another hug tbh and of course some horny) from him to the world. How much growth both as a singer, instrumentalist, producer etc but also in his...presentation of himself and his art he has shown.

He doesn’t hide behind a full latex mask on stage anymore, but he also doesn’t hide his messages behind a mask of 3 layers of satanic lyrics anymore.

It’s in every way such a vulnerable, wonderful work and I’m very grateful he shared this with us

[sargeteen]

𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 ! ᶜˡ¹⁶

i know places we won’t be found ⋆˙⟡

𝓬harles leclerc x 𝓶ale!driver reader synopsis: formula 1 fans have shipped reader and charles together since they started racing together. and even after they post about each other all the time, their fans were still surprised to see their wedding photos on april fools day.

genre: smau warnings: slightly suggestive in comments, google translated french

author’s note: shout out to shayne and courtney from smosh for this idea

masterlist.

october 2023

liked by maxverstappen1, f1, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: charles_leclerc, redbullracing

youruser nice to us as always austin ❤️

view all comments

userone history will say they're just best friends

usertwo sorry keep getting distracted by charles being shirtless in that last pic

userthree wait...but y/n got 7th?? ⤷ userfour walk with me here; charles got first so that's why y/n is happy ⤷ userthree not everything is about charyn 😭😭

redbullracing that's our cowboy 🔥🔥 liked by youruser, charles_leclerc, and others

userfive since when did y/n use red hearts and not blue hearts

charles_leclerc forza ferrari ❤️ ⤷ youruser it was a misclick ⤷ charles_leclerc ok suuure ☺️ ⤷ usersix stop being gay on the tl

userseven they're worse than lestappen ⤷ usereight imagine actually shipping real people

december 2023

liked by oscarpiastri, lando, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: charles_leclerc

youruser im a switch

view all comments

usernine im sorry you're a what

userten wait what you're a what

lando i think there was a better way to say you switch between ski's and snowboard ⤷ youruser no i don't think so

usereleven saying you're a switch and tagging charles is crazy 😭😭

charles_leclerc and a bad one at that ⤷ youruser don't call me out charles ⤷ usertwelve HELLO??????

userthirteen guys it's getting hard to defend you just announce your relationship at this point omfg im tired ⤷ userfourteen right like i've been defending them for years cause i don't like shipping irl people but they're making it so hard 😭

danielricciardo i think you should stay to snowboarding ⤷ youruser but skiing is so fun cause when i fall people give me attention ⤷ lando attention whore omfg

february 2024

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and others tagged: charles_leclerc

youruser oh monaco mon amour

view all comments

userfifteen monaco mention charles home country mention

usersixteen no yeah it's totally normal to post a picture of your best friend of you on a date no yeah

userseventeen race season soon!!!

charles_leclerc when did you take that picture of me y/n ⤷ youruser a magician never reveals his secrets ☺️

usereighteen i just want a hard launch so bad ⤷ usernineteen baby they've been hard launching for years

oscarpiastri y/n are you my uncle then ⤷ youruser not on instagram oscar 😭😭 ⤷ usertwenty WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

april first 2024

liked by lando, carlossainz, danielricciardo, and others

youruser & charles_leclerc 02/17/24. 🤍

view all comments

usertwone WHAT WHAT WHAT

maxverstappen1 seems like forever ago when y/n told me he had a crush on charles ⤷ youruser stop outing me max 😭😭

usertwtwo BRO WHAT HELLO??

usertwthree ON APRIL FOOLS DAY??????

usertwfour this has to be fake ⤷ usertwfive BRO THEY'RE LITERALLY KISSING WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT HAS TO BE FAKE????

danielricciardo finally!! so happy for you two 🤍 ⤷ youruser you're the best secret keeper danny 🤍

oscarpiastri papa y papa ⤷ youruser come home son your brother misses you

usertwsix WHAT IS GOING ONNN WTF

scuderiaferrari redbullracing i guess we can be civil ... ⤷ redbullracing red ferrari sounds good to me

lando WAIT WHAT YOU GUYS GOT MARRIED ⤷ youruser you were literally there but okay

liked by youruser, scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1, and others tagged: youruser, maxverstappen1, lando, oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, pierregasly, and others

charles_leclerc voici pour toujours et plus encore [here's to forever and more]

view all comments

usertwseven okay it has to be real cause charles posted about it too

pierregasly you deserve it calamar, happy for you two ⤷ charles_leclerc much love calamar

usertweight SO WE WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG??

youruser mon amour ma vie mon éternité 🤍 [my love my life my forever] ⤷ charles_leclerc je t'aime 🤍 [i love you]

maxverstappen1 incredibly proud of you two ⤷ charles_leclerc thank you max ⤷ youruser the mastermind behind us for real

usertwnine not to like take away from y/n and charles but max and charles just followed each other again ⤷ userthirty any deniers have no proof now cause max and charles literally followed each other again and y/n said he was behind it all

oscarpiastri when is family dinner ⤷ charles_leclerc this wednesday son ⤷ userthione I LOVE HOW THEY'RE RUNNING WITH THIS LMFAOO

carlossainz welcome to team red y/n ❤️ ⤷ youruser half red, but thank you carlos ❤️

liked by lando, charles_leclerc, logansargeant, and others tagged: charles_leclerc

youruser after years of having to hide our relationship, it's finally yours to love. i don't know what i would do without charles, he's been there since day one. so glad he said yes, i love you baby and here's to forever and more 🤍

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userthitwo both of them saying here's to forever and more 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

userthitree I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT WE WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG OMFG THIS IS CRAZY

logansargeant you guys are too cute ⤷ youruser logan do you need another dad or something ⤷ charles_leclerc mon amour we can't keep adopting younger drivers

charles_leclerc the easiest yes i've ever had to say 🤍 ⤷ youruser ugh i love you sm charlie 🤍

userthifour can you hear me getting run over

userthifive yeah fuck all the people who didn't like you two together

danielricciardo i still can't believe you two are married and i was at the wedding ⤷ youruser sometimes i forget too and then i look down and there's a ring on my finger ⤷ charles_leclerc this isn't a sign for something is it?? ⤷ danielricciardo don't get divorced in my comment chain please

userthisix the f1 grid parents fr

lando you guys are disgustingly cute ⤷ youruser i'm taking that a compliment thank you lando

a/n: i had too much fun with this oml i hope you guys liked it

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Is it normal or something to work on if someone doesn't want to sub and bottom at all? My friends/ acquaintances said it's kind of predatory and sexist/ misogynistic if this person has no trauma to justify never wanting to change the dynamics and only seek "holes they can dominate". Which rubbed me the wrong way but I'm ace and don't have sex period, my knowledge comes from text so I don't really feel confident to have an opinion. For the record since we all sound like stalkers, I have a crush on this dom person which I know won't go anywhere and they are the one who's open about their sex life.

hi anon,

I'm gonna try so hard to use my niceys words about this because it sounds like you and your friends are young, but this is wildly inappropriate on numerous levels

1.) nobody's sexual preferences are "something to work on" as long as they're treating their partners with care and respect. the person your friends are so worried about could be a huge shithole, but since none of you know it's extremely uncalled for to speculate.

2.) no one needs trauma to justify to their sexual interests or lack thereof. period.

3.) there is nothing inherently "predatory and sexist/misogynistic" about not wanting to bottom or be a sub. why the fuck are we acting like being a bottom or a sub is the default, neutral state of sexual being but topping and domming are suspect.

4.) once again re: "seek[ing] "holes they can dominate"" do you know ANYTHING about this person that would indicate that they treat their partners badly? anything at all? or are we just assuming doms are too scary?

4a.) even if this particular individual were a proven asshole that's a matter of their personal choices rather than their sexual proclivities, and you can't extrapolate that behavior to every other top and/or dom in the world.

tl;dr tell your friends to grow up, get a grip, and mind their business.

[myerssimp21]

Iceberg's Jewel pt. 1

This is just another idea rattling around in my head! While this is still yandere Batfam, the premise is slightly different—here, they haven’t quite met you yet. The focus starts with Oswald Cobblepot and the Iceberg Lounge, but trust me, the Batfamily won’t be far behind. Timeline-wise, this would technically come first, even though in my other yandere Batfam fics, Tim and Jason have already had their moments with you. So yes, there will be a plot hole later where they’ve somehow already hooked up with you—just roll with it. Consider it canon-ish, but mostly just me playing around with ideas. tl;dr: This is a prequel of sorts to my other yandere Batfam fics, but I’m mostly here to have fun with the concept. Hope you enjoy! 💙 word count: 3201

Oswald Cobblepot prided himself on running a tight ship. The Iceberg Lounge was a beacon of opulence in Gotham, catering to a clientele that wanted their danger with a side of champagne. When he put out that little “Help Wanted” sign as a joke—an amusing way to signal to the people he was looking for that he was ready to onboard—he hadn’t expected someone like you to waltz in.

You were nervous but bright-eyed, clutching a copy of your résumé (how quaint) in one hand, wearing a Gotham University sweater that screamed student loans and part-time hustle. The smile you gave him when he walked into the lounge floor was disarming—too genuine for this city. You asked to speak to someone about the janitorial position, and Os had to bite back a laugh.

“A janitor? Here? Sweetheart, you might be too good for this place,” he muttered under his breath, too quietly for you to hear, before waving a hand dismissively at one of his goons. “Send her to my office.”

His office wasn’t where interviews were usually held—far too personal, far too… revealing. But for some reason, he wanted to gauge you himself. Maybe it was your naivete; maybe it was the way your gaze lingered on the crystal chandeliers and plush carpets like you’d never seen luxury this close before. You were looking at him as a normal boss, not a criminal mastermind, and he realized he might like that.

By the time you’d been seated in the chair across from his polished mahogany desk for only 15 minutes, he was already hooked. He asked simple questions at first—your availability, your experience—but quickly veered into territory that let him know more about you. Your classes at Gotham U were interesting, but you worked too much to fully appreciate them. You loved your psychology major but struggled with scheduling, hoping that the pay here was more than the measly pay you scrounged from your other two jobs. He listened with great interest as you spoke of your genuine excitement to be working in a "classy place like this."

He didn’t have the heart to tell you this place wasn’t really classy—just good at pretending.

Cobblepot tilted his head, the curiosity in his expression sharpening as he tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, a sly grin forming. “So, what do you think of our little city?”

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously, shifting in your seat. “It’s… something, that’s for sure. Gotham’s kinda like… I don’t know, a scrappy mutt? It bites, like, a lot, but you can’t help but wanna pet it anyway. It’s scrappy and loveable.”

Oswald chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Lovable?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You’re a strange one. Most people run for the hills when it comes to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “I’m already here, so I might as well figure it out, y’know? Plus, it’s not all bad. I mean, the people are tough, and the city’s got… personality. A weird, messed-up personality, but still.”

He found himself appreciating your honesty. It was a rare thing in his world—people who weren’t either trying to butter him up or wring him dry. And that smile… Hm. Something about it didn’t belong here.

Then, the door to his office slammed open. A goon stumbled in without so much as a knock, huffing like a dog chasing its own tail as he fumbled a thick stack of papers in his hands.

Oswald snapped to attention so fast it was animalistic. One second, he was relaxed, bemused by you—the next, his face contorted with fury, his lips curling back in a snarl that made the dim office feel suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Cobblepot snarled, his tone cutting like ice. The very air in the room seemed to turn electric, humming with the promise of violence.

The goon froze mid-step, eyes darting between you and his boss. He looked like he’d just walked into an execution chamber by mistake.

Oswald’s teeth clenched so tight a vein throbbed visibly in his temple. “You knock before coming into my office,” he seethed, voice dropping to something far more dangerous than the initial explosion. Cold. Calculating. A blade slipping between ribs. “You wait. You don’t—”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you.

Frozen.

Wide-eyed.

And just like that, the change was immediate.

His snarl vanished. The storm passed in an instant, like flicking off a switch. The barely-contained rabid rage that had been twisting his face smoothed into something almost… embarrassed. Guiltily casual.

Cobblepot glanced back at you, then at the goon, then back at you. For a brief, telling second, he looked—not regretful, but calculating. Then he sighed through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off an unpleasant thought.

"Handle it later," he ordered, voice abruptly warm. Silk-soft. As if he hadn’t just been inches from taking a man’s head off. His hand flicked lazily toward the door, a dismissive gesture. “Can’t you see I’m with someone?”

The goon scuttled out of the room like a kicked dog, the papers in his hands rustling violently as he clutched them to his chest.

The moment the door shut, Oswald let out a measured breath, as if centering himself. Then, in a whiplash-inducing shift, he turned back to you with an awkward, almost sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that,” he said, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, as if his outburst had never happened. He waved a hand, dismissing it entirely, his gaze keenly watching your expression for any lasting tension. “Some of my employees just don’t have any manners.”

You offered a polite, thin smile, still shaken, but brushed it off with a shrug. You had already figured this place wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming, but the speed at which his fury had vanished was... unsettling.

Oswald noticed.

He noticed everything.

And for the first time in a long, long while… he wasn’t sure if he liked the way your smile still had a hint of nerves clinging to it.

The Batcave was unusually quiet, save for the faint tapping of Tim’s keyboard and the low hum of the monitors. Bruce sat at the console, watching the live feed from Oswald Cobblepot’s office. You were seated across from the Penguin, a mixture of nerves and polite excitement etched on your face. The Iceberg Lounge’s chandelier lights reflected in your wide eyes as you gestured animatedly, your Gotham University sweater and résumé betraying your earnestness in a city that thrived on deception.

“Can’t decide if she’s brave or just clueless,” Tim remarked, leaning back slightly as he toggled between camera feeds. “She walked into Cobblepot’s lair with a résumé. A résumé, Bruce.”

“She’s a student trying to make ends meet. That’s not bravery—it’s necessity.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the comms. “She really responded to a ‘help wanted’ ad? Tt. Typical. Of course that bloated bird would choose a naive one. She’ll probably end up scrubbing vomit out of his VIP lounge carpets.”

Tim tutted thoughtfully at Damian’s comment. “I mean…..he’s probably aiming higher than janitorial work for her. Did you hear the way he sweetened his voice?”

Damian scoffed but didn't reply. 

A new voice broke in over the comms—Dick, speaking from his position on patrol. “You think she knows what she’s getting into? Working there isn’t exactly safe.”

“She doesn’t,” Bruce answered simply, “But that doesn’t make her unique. Plenty of people stumble into Gotham’s underworld without realizing it. We can’t save everyone.”

Tim muttered, “Still doesn’t mean we should ignore it. If Penguin’s targeting her for something, we’ll want to know why.”

Damian chimed in again, his tone slightly mocking. “We already know why, Drake. He likes his toys naïve, optimistic, and disposable. She won’t last a week before she gets a reality check—or worse.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward the feed as Cobblepot stood, offering you a hand and gesturing toward the door. “They’re moving,” Bruce said. “Tim, keep the office feed rolling, and find another camera angle.” 

“We won’t have audio and depending on where he’s taking her, I’m not sure we’ll have visuals either.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the Batcave.

Dick broke it. “She’s smart enough to know what Cobblepot is, right? I mean, who walks into the Iceberg Lounge thinking it’s just a nightclub?”

“People who don’t know Gotham,” Tim replied, scrolling through files, soaking in what he can on you. “..She’s a psych major at Gotham U, full-time. She’s been juggling two jobs already, so she’s probably just desperate for the paycheck.”

Damian’s tone turned sharper. “Desperation or not, she’s still a fool. You don’t wear a sweater with your university’s name on it when you waltz into the lion’s den.”

Tim smirked. “Guess she didn’t take Gotham’s prerequisite: Street Smarts 101.”

The screen now displayed the empty office, Cobblepot’s desk abandoned. You were out of their sight, and for the moment, out of their reach. But the Batfamily wasn’t about to let you disappear into the darkness of Gotham without a trace. Tim was scrambling to find a feed that would give them info as to where Cobblepot’s taking you, but at the very least, they have relevant info on you.

Dick’s voice again. “Did you hear her in that interview? ‘Lovable but scrappy.’” He smiled faintly at the words. “She actually likes Gotham. We should keep it that way.”

Tim again, confirming some details. “Transferred to Gotham U from out of state. No criminal record, no red flags.”

Damian’s voice cut in, sharp and dry. “Other than walking into the Iceberg Lounge with a résumé. That’s a red flag for stupidity.”

Dick countered, his tone softer now. “She doesn’t know any better. Give her a break.”

Jason laughed, his voice snarky over the comms line from his own patrol. “Oh, sure, Grayson. Let’s all gather around and shield her from the big bad city. What’s next, care packages?”

Dick sighed audibly, “Don’t you have a crime boss to scare right now?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Already done. You should’ve seen the look on his face. Priceless.” Another faint noise came through, likely the reloading of a gun.

Bruce’s voice cut through before Dick could respond. “Enough. Focus, Jason.”

“Whatever you say, B,” Jason replied breezily, though the teasing lilt was still in his voice. “I’ll keep an eye out, too, just in case our scrappy little friend stirs up any trouble at the Iceberg.”

Damian snorted. “I’ll enjoy seeing Cobblepot’s face when she quits.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on your face, captured mid-smile on the monitor. Quietly, he murmured, “She’ll need another job. A safe one. I’m sure Wayne Enterprises will have something available for her.”

“Keep me updated,” Batman ordered as he stood, his cape swishing as he headed toward the Batmobile. “If she gets in over her head, we’re pulling her out. No debates.”

Damian’s voice came back, quieter this time, reluctant. “She’s already in over her head.”

Little did they know, Oswald Cobblepot’s schemes for you were the furthest thing from exploitative labor. In his mind, the idea of you actually toiling away with a mop and bucket was quickly becoming unthinkable—borderline offensive, even.

The moment he saw the way your eyes sparkled with hope and determination, and saw the way you'd listed your good grades on your resume in a hopeful attempt at impressing him and proving your aptitudes, he’d decided he’d let you sleep on the job if you wanted to. Hell, he’d set up a whole suite in the back of the Lounge if it kept you close and content. You could waste time dusting the empty liquor shelves or filing nonexistent paperwork all day if it made you feel productive. What mattered to him wasn’t what you did—it was that you were here, where he could keep an eye on you.

But of course, Cobblepot wouldn't admit that to himself. Not yet, at least. No, this was just “good business,” he rationalized. You were a valuable asset—your charm and friendliness were enough to lighten up even the Iceberg’s darkest corners. You had a way of making the whole place feel... welcoming and warm, like you were untouched by Gotham’s grime and crime. Plus you wanted to be productive. He scoffed under his breath, amused. Of course one of the first fresh faces ready to work at the Lounge was also someone who he didn’t dream of involving in his actual operations. Just his luck.

So, if you decided you needed an afternoon nap in the dusty janitorial closet? He’d send a goon to bring you a pillow. If you scoured the cleaning supply catalog for hours without actually ordering anything? He’d find it endearing. As long as you were happy and oblivious to the underworld swirling just beneath the Lounge’s polished surface, you could do whatever you wanted.

Unbeknownst to them all, while they debated your safety, Oswald was sitting back in his office, already plotting ways to make your life easier. Sure, he’d keep up the charade of being your boss for now—keep you busy with harmless tasks so you didn’t get suspicious. But he wasn’t about to let you work too hard. Not his sweet, naive new hire.

You didn’t belong in Gotham’s shadows. And as far as Oswald Cobblepot was concerned, he’d make sure you never had to find out just how dark they could get. Or at least, he’d try. 

By the time Oswald walked you to the janitorial closet—a tiny, forgotten room in the back of the lounge—he was already plotting how to keep you close. The closet was practically empty, a detail that normally wouldn’t bother him, but the way your face fell at the sight made him want to slap whoever was supposed to manage the damn place.

"Um… is this where I’m supposed to… work?" you asked softly, your voice unsure as you peeked into the empty closet. Your eyes darted around, taking in the barren shelves and dusty floor, as though you’d missed some hidden stash of supplies. "It just… doesn’t look ready yet?"

"Ah… this won’t do," he said quickly, covering his irritation with a smooth smile. "Looks like someone’s dropped the ball here. Don’t you worry about this, darlin’. I’ll get one of my guys on it—someone reliable. You’ll have everything you need to get started." 

His tone was honeyed, and though he aimed for casual reassurance, his sharp eyes flickered to the shelves like he wanted to set the whole closet ablaze for offending you. For fuck’s sake.

“No, no, this won’t do at all,” Oswald said again, shaking his head and clucking his tongue like he was personally offended by the state of the janitorial closet. “You deserve better than this mess, darlin’. I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow, you have my word.”

You blinked at him, “If you want me on the job today, I can make something work,” you offered tentatively, gesturing toward the dusty shelves. “I’ve been in worse spots before.” You gave him a sheepish smile, trying to seem accommodating.

Cobblepot scoffed softly, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, absolutely not. I won’t have my new employee starting off in such... subpar conditions. It’s a poor reflection on me, and I can’t have that, now can I?” He straightened his tie with an air of exaggerated importance before leaning on his cane. “Here’s what we’ll do instead. You take the night to get familiar with the Lounge—on the house, of course. Have some drinks, relax, mingle a bit. Consider it my way of welcoming you to the team.”

You blinked again, even more confused. “Oh, um, that’s really generous, but shouldn’t I, like… fill out some paperwork first? Or sign something?”

Oswald chuckled, a warm, low sound that almost made you feel silly for asking. “Paperwork? We’ll handle all that boring nonsense tomorrow. No need to rush into the dull parts of the job, eh?” He gestured toward the door, ushering you back into the main lounge. “For tonight, enjoy yourself. Swing by the bar, meet some of the staff, maybe say hello to the security team. It’s important to me that you feel comfortable at the Iceberg.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of test, but his expression was disarmingly sincere. “Well… if you’re sure…”

“Positive,” he interrupted, clapping a hand on your shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Now, off you go. The night’s young, and the Lounge is at your disposal.”

As you stepped out of the closet and back into the opulent main floor, you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a smile that seemed too genuine for someone of his reputation. You didn’t know him, but you’d heard some things. 

Unbeknownst to you, Cobblepot wasn’t just offering you free alcohol or a night to relax—he was staking his claim. He wanted you to feel at home, to see the Lounge as a safe haven, a place you’d always want to return to. Sure, there’d be paperwork eventually, but for now, the only thing that mattered was keeping you here, comfortable and unaware of the darker dealings hidden beneath the glamour.

Tim leaned back in his chair, toggling between the camera feeds inside the Iceberg Lounge. He was alone in the Batcave now, the others out on patrol in the city. “Well, there she is,” he muttered, zeroing in on his view of you at the bar. You were perched on a sleek barstool, your Gotham University sweater a stark contrast to the high-end fashion of the Lounge’s usual clientele. “She’s… drinking. A lot.”

Jason, freshly back from patrol—or what little of it he actually bothered to finish—sauntered into the Batcave, pulling off his helmet and setting it down with a thud. “That’s her?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied without looking away. “You decided to show up?” His eyes flickered to the time down at the bottom of his monitor. "Thirty minutes early? B's not gonna be thrilled."

Jason ignored the jab, stepping closer to get a better look. “Huh,” he muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp eyes drank you in. You were laughing at something the bartender said, your cheeks flushed. You gestured animatedly with your glass while saying something they couldn't hear. “She doesn’t look like much.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Jason. “That’s what you cut patrol short for? To see her in person?”

Jason shrugged, his gaze fixed on you. “I was curious. Heard you and Damian going back and forth about her. Figured I’d check it out for myself.” His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t expect her to be… this.”

Tim tilted his head. “This what?”

Jason gestured vaguely at the screen. “This… normal. Sweater, messy hair, drinking like she’s celebrating her midterms being over. Doesn’t scream ‘Iceberg Lounge material,’ y’know?”

Tim chuckled, toggling to another camera feed for a better angle. “That’s kind of the point. She thought she was interviewing for a janitorial position, Jason. Janitorial.”

Jason blinked, then snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “She walked in there with a résumé—an actual paper résumé—and asked about cleaning floors or whatever. Cobblepot probably laughed his ass off before offering her a drink.”

“He’s footing the bill by the way,” Tim added, toggling to a feed that showed the Penguin subtly watching you from across the room as he conversed with some guests. “She hasn’t reached for her wallet once. He’s just… letting her.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Penguin’s expression. There was no malice there yet, no obvious scheme in motion. Instead, Cobblepot looked almost… satisfied, like he was pleased with what he was seeing. “The hell’s his angle?” Jason muttered, his top lip curling in disgust at the possibilities.

“No idea,” Tim replied. “But if I had to guess? He’s trying to butter her up. Make her think the Lounge is a safe place, keep her happy and oblivious while he decides what to do with her.”

Jason scoffed, leaning back against the console.”She won’t last a week.”

Tim smirked. “You’re awfully invested for someone who just met her. Maybe you should prep a care package.”

“I didn’t meet her,” Jason shot back, though his eyes flicked back to the screen almost involuntarily. “I’m just saying, someone needs to give her a reality check before she gets eaten alive.”

“Maybe,” Tim said, watching as you swayed slightly to the music, chatting with another patron who’d joined you at the bar. “But she doesn’t look like she’s in danger. Yet.”

Jason grunted, pushing off the console and grabbing his helmet. “Yeah, well, I’m keeping an eye on this one. If Penguin tries anything, I’m ending it.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re helping? Didn’t you just skip the last half of your patrol?”

Jason smirked as he turned toward the exit. “Hey, monitoring Gotham’s underworld is part of the job, isn’t it? I’m just doing my part.”

Tim shook his head with a laugh as Jason disappeared up the stairs. “Sure you are.”

Back on the screen, you were oblivious to the scrutiny, to the way the curiosities of Gotham's vigilantes were beginning to blossom into something more.

[anunkindncss]

TRASH DAD PSA — GRAB YOUR JUICEBOX, THIS ONE’S GONNA STING AND ITS BEEN A MINUTE.

Alright, gather ‘round, gremlins and goblins, because Trash Dad’s pulling the minivan over and we’re gonna have a real loud talk about manners on the internet — specifically, your inability to read a damn blog description before flailing into someone’s inbox like a feral raccoon in a recycling bin.

Rule #1:

If someone puts content warnings, shipping preferences, fandom tags, or literal neon-lit disclaimers on their blog and you STILL come whining like, “ummm this makes me uncomfy,” then congratulations — you played yourself.

You were warned. You were guided. You had every signpost telling you “Hey, maybe don’t go poking around here if this ain’t your scene,” and you decided to march in anyway like you were entitled to rearrange someone else’s sandbox. Spoiler alert: you’re not.

Rule #2:

People can ship what they want. People can write what they want. It is not your business.

Don’t like it? That’s cool. Use the magical tools at your disposal:

Scroll. Mute. Block. Leave.

But don’t you dare vague, subtweet, or passive-aggressively try to guilt someone into censoring themselves on their space because you can’t handle seeing a tag you disagree with.

Rule #3:

This is a customizable, adult space. Not preschool. You don’t get gold stars for tone policing or moral grandstanding. We write here to explore, to create, to get unhinged and sometimes deeply messy. If that rattles your pearl-clutching sensibilities, then maybe go knit a Tumblr cozy and chill out somewhere quieter.

Look, Trash Dad gets it — some content just ain’t for you. That’s normal. That’s human. But how you react to it? That’s where your character shows. So either be an adult and curate your space, or go play in traffic on MySpace (not in real life we DON’T want that).

TL;DR:

Mind your damn business. Read the blog. Respect boundaries. And for the love of whatever gods are left, stop trying to make everyone write like they’re a character in a Disney channel original.

Now be good or I’m turning this car around.

— Trash Dad, patron saint of tags, tolerance, and respect for the craft.

[geniusphilester]

i'm a bit of a balatro nerd, so here's some notes on dan's screencap in his insta story

if you haven't played before, balatro is poker in its most core mechanics, with single-player roguelike (so you lose a lot and build from playing a lot) deck building (what it sounds like, you build your deck) mechanics to make poker Bigger. you can do some weird and wild things with it, but at its base, you're playing flushes and straights and pairs and trying to score chips.

if you want to see it in action, markiplier has a good video that seems like it'll be first in a series.

in balatro, you get a base level of hands per round depending on your deck/add-ons like vouchers or jokers. for checkered deck, which dan is playing, it's 4 hands/3 discards, so you have four hands to try to get enough chips to get to the next round. there are three rounds per ante, and the regular game ends at ante 8. you can also skip rounds to get stuff.

which is the long version of saying: dan has gotten to endless mode, which means he's beat the regular part of the game and is shooting for a ludicrously high score. he has to get 47 billion chips to win this round and get to the next one. for comparison, round 1 in ante 1 on white stake difficulty (which is the one dan's playing in) needs 300 chips to advance.

also for comparison: i have hundreds of hours on this game and i haven't cracked the 100 million chips achievement on steam

he's doing a flush build (which makes sense for checkered deck; it only has hearts and spades, unlike the normal four suits) and his flush is leveled to 24, which is really good/necessary to get this late in the game. he has a lot of money, he used all his discards for the round, and he has a bunch of face cards with modifications on them. it's good strategy just looking at this much, basically

and then all the jokers he has up top make this REALLY impressive. in order from left to right

gluttonous joker: played clubs get +3 multiplier. odd one for checkered deck (no clubs to start with) but a) maybe he added some and b) even if he didn't, it's a negative card, so it's not taking up room that any other joker could use. (for this set of circumstances, base slots for jokers would be five.)

sock and buskin: retrigger all played face cards, which means all the cards dan is playing in this hand will score a second time. two of his face cards have red seals, which means they'd play a third time, one of those red seals is a glass card that'll give him a higher multiplier...i could keep going, but doing a face-card flush build is a good way to score big.

photograph: first played face card gives x2 multiplier when scored. again, another great joker for a face-card build.

blueprint: copies the joker to the right. GREAT card if you have good jokers. it also has holographic, which means it add a +10 multiplier as well.

triboulet: highest tier of joker (legendary) where kings and queens give x2 multiplier when played. but imagine it twice, since he has blueprint as well.

the tribe: x2 multiplier if hand contains a flush. and he's obviously doing a flush build.

to add to all of this, his order is really good because the cards play left to right. times multipliers stack on each other, and since chips get exponential, you need that to really get anywhere.

tl;dr - while some of this is luck (the store doesn't always sell jokers this good at the right time), dan is good at balatro.

[luniise-kel]

very self indulgent comic :3

(I did a breakdown of this comic here!)

((so im putting up a disclaimer bc a lot of people have been slightly freaky about this comic so 1. this is based on a personal experience and 2. some of you guys are thinking its sad for the wrong reasons. yes, its sad and yes its with akechi but, yall r making this out to be the saddest thing to ever do. i explained it in the breakdown but hes just practicing his smile emote. i dont normally like to tell people how to interpret my shit but please dont be too weird about it! again think about this however you want but kept in mind i know a lot of people (myself included) who have done this exact thing. oki ty

tl;dr: comic is sad! akechi isnt faking a smile! pls dont be weird about it!))