#logically i know it isn’t & logically i know i have both time and options but 👍🏽

[butterflypeaflowertea]

they should invent a being in your twenties in which you do not feel your life is unsalvageable and ruined

[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[goofygubegubler]

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

You’re trapped with the one person who always gets under your skin. And this time, there’s no escape—just options.

wc: 4.8k |F!Reader (Intern) x Spencer Reid (BAU) | cw: enemies-to-lovers, mutual pining, locked-room tension, flirty office chaos, bratty reader x repressed Spencer, slow-burn heat, heavy innuendo, power play lite, Gen Z banter, Hotch is so done.

A/n: This is a pick-your-ending fic — at a certain point, you’ll choose between smut or fluff, each in its own post with separate warnings and word counts. If you’re into this format, let me know! It just fits certain stories, y’know? Love and chaos—MWAH 💋

The BAU was supposed to be a serious, elite unit. You had envisioned it as a whirlwind of case files, high-stakes chases, and brooding men in bulletproof vests. What you hadn’t expected was for it to be filled with this many attractive people—or for the most infuriating one to be Spencer freaking Reid.

He was unbearable. All logic and statistics and that smug little way he corrected people, like a walking, talking Wikipedia page you wanted to shove into a filing cabinet. And, of course, he always had to insert himself at the worst possible moments.

Like now.

You were halfway up the stairs to Hotch’s office, arms full of paperwork, when Spencer materialized beside you, keeping pace effortlessly.

"You look focused," he mused, sipping from his stupid World’s Best Genius mug. The Caltech logo gleamed mockingly under the fluorescent lights.

You ignored him.

"Or frustrated," he added, tilting his head like he was observing something under a microscope. "Maybe both."

Your grip on the files tightened. "Do you ever shut up?"

"I do. Statistically speaking, though, you tend to provoke responses, so the probability of silence is low."

You stopped dead in your tracks, turned to glare at him, and exhaled sharply. "Do you hear yourself when you talk?"

Spencer blinked. "Yes. That’s how hearing works."

Your nails dug into the folder. "I hate you."

"That seems like a misdirected use of emotional energy," he replied smoothly.

You inhaled sharply, clenching your jaw so tightly it could crack. Ah, yes, self-control. A beautiful, fleeting thing. Before you could hurl something at him—your files, your shoe, your entire existence—you flipped your hair with deliberate defiance and kept walking, your heels clicking a little louder than necessary against the steps.

Truth be told, you weren’t just frustrated—you were livid. Not just because of the mountain of paperwork threatening to bury you alive, though that was bad enough. Deadlines loomed, your patience was nonexistent, and apparently, the BAU believed in torturing interns via bureaucracy. But no, the universe wasn’t content with that level of suffering. No, you had to be ovulating, too.

And your body? Oh, your body had decided to make that fact impossible to ignore. Every brush of fabric, every deep inhale around a particularly nice-smelling coworker—hell, even the way Derek Morgan smiled at people was suddenly a personal attack. And then, as if the gods of humiliation weren’t done with you, there was Spencer Reid.

Unbearably smug. Infuriatingly brilliant. And, much to your horror, the hottest of them all. It was an objective fact, but one you would sooner choke on a case file than admit.

You stomped into Hotch’s office like a woman on a mission, dropping the stack of paperwork onto his desk with a satisfying thud.

Hotch barely glanced up. "Not so easy."

You groaned. "Hotch, please."

"All intern paperwork has to be proofread and signed by a superior agent," he said, sliding the files right back toward you without even looking.

You narrowed your eyes. "You didn't even check."

Hotch finally glanced up, unimpressed. "You think I don't know when something’s unfinished? The weight is off. The stack isn’t dense enough. And if that weren’t enough, you wouldn’t have dropped it like it burned you."

You inhaled sharply, then exhaled through your nose like a bull about to charge. "I know, but every time I try, they’re too busy, and besides, Hotch, you know me—"

"Reid’s not busy," Hotch cut in. "He does paperwork the fastest. Morgan even pays him to do his, not that I officially acknowledge that particular rule-breaking."

Your soul left your body. "You cannot be serious."

"It wasn’t a question." His expression remained unreadable, but you swore there was amusement in his eyes. "Reid is your assigned agent from now on."

Your hands are clenched at your sides. "Hotch, you don’t understand. That’s cruel. That’s a human rights violation. That’s—"

"Efficient," he interrupted smoothly. "And unavoidable. Unless, of course, you’d rather I reassign you to Rossi. He loves a good mentoring opportunity, and I hear he enjoys dictation."

Your mouth snapped shut. That was how he won. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of shutting you up with a perfectly placed, completely infuriating threat that left you with no choice but to storm out with whatever dignity you had left. You inhaled, exhaled, and bit back the thousand things you wanted to say.

But, of course, Hotch wasn’t done. He leaned back slightly, fixing you with that assessing stare that made your spine straighten. "And," he added, "we talked about the skirts."

You smirked, tilting your head, letting your inner party girl out for just a second. "Yeah, yeah, you’re required to say that, but let’s be real—HR only cares if it’s disruptive, and last I checked, no one’s tripped and fallen into a scandal because of my legs."

Hotch’s lips pressed into a flat line, his patience visibly thinning. "I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that."

You grinned, victorious. "Good choice, bossman."

His stare didn’t waver. "Leave."

And because you valued your job (and, fine, maybe because getting the last word on Aaron Hotchner was a dangerous game), you spun on your heel and strutted out, thoroughly pleased with yourself.

God, if you didn’t have a massive, wildly inappropriate crush on Spencer, you’d bounce on Hotch in a heartbeat. Even if he was divorced. Even if he had a kid. Even if he was old enough to be your father. Domineering, dangerously competent men were simply your type, and unfortunately, you were surrounded by them.

As you made your way back to your desk, you let yourself fantasize—just a little. Maybe, in another life, you could have both. A little Eiffel Tower moment, if you will—

"Hey, you in?"

Penelope’s voice pulled you from your wildly inappropriate thoughts. You blinked, turning to her just as she plopped down in the chair beside you. "In?"

"For going out tonight. Drinks, dancing, chaos—our usual."

You hesitated, your attention snagged by movement across the bullpen. Hotch stood by Spencer’s desk, speaking in that low, measured tone of his. Spencer, ever the picture of unbothered intellect, nodded along, his fingers idly drumming against a case file. Hotch’s brow furrowed, and something about the intensity of his gaze made your stomach twist.

"Okay, now I know you’re distracted." Penelope snapped her fingers in front of your face, making you jolt. "What’s got you zoning out like a lovesick teenager?"

You tore your gaze away and cleared your throat. "Hotch just told me I have to start running my paperwork through Spencer."

Penelope’s eyes widened. "Oof. Condolences. What did you do to deserve that?"

"Apparently, Hotch thinks I’m not cutting the ropes as a newbie," you deadpanned. "But he likes me otherwise, y’know."

Penelope snorted. "Oh, sweetheart. That is the most delusional thing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve been in a fandom war."

Before you could respond, movement caught your eye. Hotch and Spencer were walking toward you, Hotch balancing a precarious stack of files in his arms. You barely had time to brace yourself before he stopped beside Penelope, giving her a pointed look.

"Garcia. Back to work."

Penelope pouted dramatically. "Ugh, you are such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"And yet, here I am, still insisting," Hotch replied dryly. He barely glanced at her. "Garcia. Work."

Penelope gasped, clutching her chest like he’d personally wounded her. "Rude. And here I was, ready to offer my radiant presence for a night of fun. But nooo, crushed by the oppressive fist of bureaucracy once again." With a theatrical sigh, she stood, smoothing out her skirt. "Fine, fine, I’m going. But if my sparkle dims, Hotchner, just know it’s on your conscience."

"And yet, somehow, the world survives," Hotch replied flatly. Then, without another word, he plopped a massive stack of files onto your lap. "You and Reid need to redo this entire stack before you leave."

"Oh, fantastic," you drawled, shifting the weight of the folders in your arms. "Because nothing gets me hotter than redoing paperwork with my favorite human encyclopedia."

"That’s between you and HR," Hotch deadpanned before turning on his heel and walking away.

You scowled after him. "I hate this place."

"And yet, you continue to show up," Spencer mused, already pulling a file from the stack in your hands. "Let’s see how much damage you’ve done this time."

"Oh, bite me," you shot back, dropping the rest of the files onto your desk with a dramatic sigh. "Before you start spewing unsolicited critiques, just know that I put my heart and soul into those."

Spencer flipped through a few pages, his lips twitching. "You used gel pens again."

"So?"

"So, it smudged everywhere."

You rolled your eyes. "Forgive me for wanting my bureaucratic misery to sparkle a little."

"And your phrasing," he continued, ignoring your defense. "This is meant to be objective. What is ‘a concerning amount of eyebrow waggling’ supposed to quantify exactly?"

"It means the guy was sketchy!"

Spencer gave you a long, suffering look. "You are the worst intern in FBI history."

You smirked, tilting your head just enough to be insufferable. "Aw, Doctor, you say that like it’s a bad thing."

Spencer just exhaled through his nose and turned back to the files, flipping a page with unnecessary force. "If we ever have to testify based on your notes, the jury’s going to think we’re making it up."

"Oh, please," you scoffed, leaning back in your chair. "Eyebrow waggling is a known intimidation tactic."

"According to whom?"

"Me. Obviously."

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about the downfall of modern law enforcement before refocusing on the paperwork. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the slow exodus of the office. First, Morgan and Emily strolled out, offering half-hearted goodbyes that suggested they were thrilled not to be stuck with this nightmare. Then JJ, then Rossi—each departure leaving the bullpen quieter, the fluorescent lights humming louder.

By 6:30, even Penelope had fled, but not before dramatically sighing, "Ugh, this is so unfair! We were supposed to have a girls' night. Or at least get you drunk enough to make some questionable decisions!"

"Oh, trust me, I am questioning every decision that led me here," you deadpanned, glaring at the endless stack of papers.

Pen just pouted. "Well, hurry up and get it done so we can still salvage the night! I have snacks, face masks, and enough gossip to fill an entire season of reality TV."

"Maybe if someone would stop talking, we could actually finish this," Spencer cut in, not even looking up from his work.

The clock ticked on, relentless and unsympathetic. 7:15. Then 7:45. Then, somehow, 8:30. The bullpen had long since emptied, the low murmur of voices replaced with nothing but the scratch of pens and the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

And, of course, the sound of your own pulse hammering in your ears every time he shifted, every time he exhaled a little too sharply. The air between you crackled with something neither of you would dare acknowledge—something electric, infuriating, and impossible to ignore. Spencer was always irritating, but tonight, the sharp edges of his voice sent heat straight to your spine. His rolled-up sleeves, the furrow in his brow, the way his fingers tapped impatiently against the desk—it was too much. And he had no idea.

You shifted in your chair, pressing your thighs together, as another agonizing minute crawled by. The warmth pooling deep in your stomach was getting harder to ignore, bleeding into every impatient twitch of your fingers, every sharp inhale you tried to steady. It was making you reckless. Every movement he made—every flicker of irritation tightening his jaw, every absent tap of his fingers against the desk—sent another unwanted jolt through your system.

And you were nowhere near done.

You propped your chin in your palm, elbow sinking into the desk, twirling a pen between your fingers in a half-hearted attempt at distraction. But the numbers on the page swam uselessly in and out of focus, blurring into meaningless symbols. How were you supposed to concentrate when the biggest source of your frustration was sitting just feet away—close enough to feel, close enough to rile you up with nothing more than his presence?

Spencer’s voice was sharp, his presence sharper, and despite the fact that you supposedly couldn’t stand him, your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo. You were existing in a frustrating limbo—exhaustion pressing at your skull, attraction setting fire to your nerves. Your skin felt too hot, too tight, hypersensitive to every minute movement across the desk. You could feel the weight of his eyes even when he wasn’t looking at you. If you weren’t careful, this night was about to get a whole lot longer in more ways than one.

It took exactly one sharp exhale from across the desk for your tenuous grasp on focus to fully snap. Spencer, who had been nothing but an irritatingly efficient machine for the past two hours, finally looked up. And oh, he was irritated. The pen in his hand hit the desk with a clatter, and he leveled you with something caught between exasperation and begrudging patience.

“Are you even paying attention?”

You blinked slowly, head tilting. “Hmm?”

Spencer sighed, dragging a hand through his already slightly tousled hair. “Your lack of attention to detail has ensured that we need the regional case file, not this—a duplicate copy.” He gestured at the offending document like it had personally insulted him. “Which means, thanks to this mistake, we need the actual original file.”

You stretched your arms over your head, arching your back slightly just for the principle of it all. His eyes flickered downward before snapping back up, his jaw tightening, but you pretended not to notice.

“And?”

“And,” Spencer said tightly, voice teetering on the edge of patience, “Garcia’s already gone for the night, so we can’t just pull it from the digital archives. That means I have to go to the file room and physically retrieve it.”

You raised an eyebrow, lazily dragging your gaze back to him. "Cool. Have fun."

His expression darkened. "The file room is in the basement."

“Sounds like a you problem.”

His jaw flexed. "The file room is on sublevel two—buried under concrete, terrible ventilation, not a single camera, and if that door shuts behind you? You're stuck until someone remembers to check."

You blinked at him, unimpressed. "So, what I’m hearing is: a perfect setting for a horror movie."

Spencer's lips pressed into a thin line. "It’s a security feature."

"It’s an oversight. The FBI, an organization that prides itself on preparedness, has a room where someone could just get stuck until an unsuspecting soul wanders down there?"

He exhaled, slow and measured. "Yes."

You grinned. "That’s insane."

Spencer, to no one’s surprise, did not grin back. "That’s protocol."

You sighed dramatically, leaning back in your chair, stretching deliberately slow. His gaze flickered downward for the briefest second before he forcibly dragged his eyes back to your face. Oh, he noticed. And that little detail sent something devious curling inside you.

“Well, since you’re the one so concerned with protocol, go get the file."

His stare was unimpressed. "You made the mistake. You go."

You scoffed. "Oh, please. If I hadn’t made a mistake, you’d have found another reason to be insufferable. You were just waiting for an excuse."

Spencer inhaled sharply, like he was holding something back. "That’s not true."

You smirked. "No? Then what was that little lecture just now? Don’t tell me you just enjoy talking down to me. That’s kind of kinky, Doctor."

His fingers flexed against the desk, a telltale sign of irritation but also something else. His voice came out quieter, a touch too taut. “The file name is ACB-714. Basement archives, second cabinet on the left."

You gave him a lazy salute. “Consider it handled."

Truthfully, you needed an excuse to step away. The way he’d spoken to you—sharp, clipped, just on the edge of losing control—had sent your brain spiraling into places you did not need to be right now. It was bad enough working alongside him when your body was already betraying you, but the fact that he sounded that good when he was frustrated was unbelievable. Unnecessary. Unfair.

And the way he looked at you? Like he was barely keeping himself in check? Like he was two seconds from saying something neither of you could take back? That was dangerous.

You pushed back from your desk, the sharp click of your heels against the tile the only indication of certainty when everything inside you was anything but. Maybe the basement’s clinical chill would help, its walls lined with forgotten case files and the ghosts of bureaucratic neglect grounding you back into something solid. Maybe the hum of the fluorescents, cold and impersonal, would smother the slow, insidious heat crawling beneath your skin—the heat fed by too many lingering glances, too many tension-laced arguments that never seemed to resolve.

The door groaned as you stepped inside, its weight swinging shut behind you with an eerie finality, unnoticed in your distraction. The file room stretched ahead, a silent graveyard of paperwork, thick with dust and the acrid bite of industrial-strength cleaner. Overhead, the fluorescents flickered erratically, their jittery glow casting restless shadows against the endless rows of filing cabinets standing like sentinels in the dim light.

Your mission was simple—retrieve one file, ACB-714, and get out. But the second you stepped into the file room, your focus was already shot to hell.

Spencer Reid was ruining your life.

Okay, maybe that was dramatic, but at the very least, he was ruining your concentration. He had rattled off instructions with that sharp, impatient cadence, his fingers pressing into the bridge of his nose like he was physically restraining himself from strangling you. The worst part? It wasn't just the irritation that got to you. It was the way he watched you, the way he always seemed locked in on you, even in exasperation.

You wanted to be annoyed. You wanted to let it roll off your back. But your body betrayed you, heat curling at the base of your spine in a way that was neither productive nor appropriate for a professional setting.

Your fingertips skimmed over the metal cabinet labels, your eyes skimming but not really seeing. Was he always like this? So insufferably exacting? So unwilling to let anything slide? It wasn’t just the way he corrected you—it was how he did it. Precise and controlled, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin and lived for it.

It was honestly impressive.

You blew out a breath, pushing your hair out of your face as you rolled your shoulders back. Focus. Find the file. Get out. But instead, you leaned lazily against a filing cabinet, barely noticing how the movement nudged the doorstop at the threshold.

The sharp click of metal shifting barely registered before it was too late.

Your stomach dropped.

The door.

Oh, you had to be kidding.

Panic didn’t hit immediately. No, it crept in slow, slinking up your spine like a cold hand tracing your vertebrae. You turned on your heel, already knowing what you’d see before you even reached for the handle.

Locked.

Of course it was fucking locked. Because why wouldn’t the government’s precious archive room operate like a goddamn haunted house? You stared at the heavy metal door, willing it to magically swing back open. It didn’t.

Your hand flew to your face, pinching the bridge of your nose as you exhaled. This was just perfect. You had let your brain wander off into Spencer Reid���induced nonsense, and now you were locked in an FBI basement because you couldn’t be bothered to properly secure a doorstop.

And you weren’t just trapped. You were trapped while ovulating, which meant your body was already in a state of desperate, hormone-fueled hysteria. Which meant you had spent the last fifteen minutes alternating between rolling your eyes at Spencer’s condescending attitude and staring at his hands. His long, unnecessarily pretty hands, which had absolutely no business looking that good while shuffling through case files.

Great. Now you were locked in a basement, overthinking, and horny.

You slid down against the filing cabinet with a groan, head thumping back against the metal. How long would it take for someone to notice? Would Penelope come looking for you, or would she just assume you finally gave in and quit? Maybe Spencer would realize something was off. Maybe he’d put the pieces together, retrace your steps, and...

No. No way. If anything, he’d think you were just slacking off. He’d probably roll his eyes, make some condescending remark about how you were the worst intern in FBI history, and move on with his night. Because that’s what he did—he got under your skin, poked and prodded and found every little thing that made you tick.

And the worst part? You let him.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, determined to push him out of your head.

Then, just as you started to resign yourself to a long, embarrassing night of solitude, a noise broke through the thick silence.

Footsteps. Slow. Purposeful.

Then—finally—the sound of the door handle turning.

The door swung open, and there he was, framed by the dim hallway light, looking every bit as exasperated as you knew he would. His gaze flicked over you, arms crossed, mouth already pulling into a disapproving frown.

"Unbelievable," he muttered, stepping inside with an exasperated shake of his head. "You, of all people, got yourself locked in a room that explicitly warns you not to let the door close behind you. I even told you."

You scoffed, pushing up from the floor. "Wow, Spence. So good to see you, too. Did you miss me?"

"Not particularly," he deadpanned, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on you for half a second too long. Then, with the same distracted precision he applied to everything, he grabbed the doorstop and wedged it beneath the heavy metal frame.

"There. Now, let's get—"

The sharp, metallic click of the door lock echoed through the room.

Silence.

Spencer froze.

You blinked.

Then, slowly, terribly, you turned to face each other.

"Reid," you started, voice calm in a way that meant you were absolutely about to lose it. "Did you just—"

"No," he said immediately, but his voice had gone slightly higher. "No, I didn't."

Your arms crossed, mirroring his stance. "Then what was that noise, genius?"

Spencer inhaled sharply through his nose, then reached for the handle, twisting it once, twice, then yanking with just enough force to confirm the worst.

Locked.

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"You," you said, pointing an accusatory finger. "Just locked us both in."

He opened his mouth, then shut it, jaw tightening. "Technically—"

"Oh, no. No, technically, Spencer. You just pulled a me."

His eyes narrowed. "Pulled a you? I think not."

"Oh, I think so!" You threw your arms up. "Because last I checked, I was the one who got us into this mess and you were supposed to be the responsible one!"

Spencer let out a long breath, adjusting his stance like he was physically restraining himself from escalating. "Okay, well, panicking isn’t going to fix anything."

"Who’s panicking? I’m not panicking." You were definitely panicking. Not because you were locked in—no, you could handle that. But because it meant you were stuck here. Alone. With Spencer. For God knows how long.

And you were already on edge.

Already warm, restless, caught in some ridiculous hormone-induced haze that had made your brain hyperfocus on things you had no business noticing. Like the way Spencer’s shirt sleeves were pushed up, revealing the lean, tense muscles of his forearms. Or how his hair was just slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. Or the way he smelled—like old books and something subtly sharp, like cedarwood and coffee grounds.

God, you needed to get out of here.

"This is your fault," you muttered, pacing a tight circle.

"Oh, so it’s my fault you got distracted and let the door close on you?" His voice had that smug edge again, laced with something else—something almost amused, like he’d warned you this would happen and was now relishing in being right. It made you whirl on him, irritation flaring hot beneath your skin.

"Yes, actually! If you hadn't been hovering over me like some insufferable know-it-all, I wouldn't have lost my train of thought."

Spencer scoffed. "Hovering? I was doing my job. You were the one lost in your own head, probably thinking about something ridiculous like—I don’t know—lip gloss flavors or whatever occupies that overly cluttered brain of yours."

You gasped, shoving at his chest. "Oh, bite me, Doctor Condescension! Not all of us have an eidetic memory to store every single useless fact known to man. Some of us have normal human brains that get distracted when we’re trying to multitask!"

Spencer barely budged from your shove, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk. "Right. Multitasking. You mean twirling your pen and zoning out?"

You opened your mouth, ready to snap back, but the reality of the situation hit you again like a truck. The file room. Locked. No way out. You groaned, dragging your hands down your face.

"Okay, genius, how do we get out? Since you're so brilliant and never make mistakes?"

Spencer crossed his arms, the smugness practically radiating off of him. "We wait. Someone will come looking."

You threw up your hands. "Oh, great! Because getting caught in a locked basement with you is exactly how I wanted to end my night."

He rolled his eyes. "You act like this is some unbearable torture."

"It is!" You gestured wildly. "I could be out right now, drinking with Penelope, having a girls' night, doing literally anything else but this! But no, I’m stuck in here with you, arguing over whose fault this is when we both know it’s yours."

Spencer let out a sharp breath, tilting his head. "You’re exhausting."

"You’re infuriating!"

"You’re impossible."

"You—" You jabbed a finger into his chest. "—are the bane of my existence!"

"And yet," he said, voice dropping just enough to send something shivering down your spine, "you can’t seem to stop talking to me."

You faltered for half a second before scoffing. "Oh, please, don’t flatter yourself. If I had any other option, I wouldn’t waste my breath on you."

Spencer stepped closer, his presence suddenly suffocating in the small, stale room. "Funny. Because despite all your complaining, you never actually walk away."

Your heart slammed against your ribs. This was new. This was dangerous. The air shifted, tension curling like a live wire between you, and you hated that some deep, embarrassing part of you liked it. Too much.

You swallowed, forcing out a breathless laugh. "What, and let you think you’ve won? Not a chance."

Spencer studied you, his gaze flickering down to your lips so fast you might have imagined it. Then, just as quickly, he scoffed, a deliberate shift in his expression that screamed of warning more than dismissal. "See? Impossible. I told you."

Something inside you snapped. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of this situation. Maybe it was the fact that you were ovulating, and his stupid smug face was the only thing in your line of sight. But before you could even process the words spilling from your lips, you blurted out, "God, I hate how much I like you."

The silence that followed was deafening. You barely even registered what you’d said at first, not until Spencer’s entire expression shifted—his usual composure cracking just enough to reveal something startled, something unguarded. His lips parted slightly, his breath hitching just enough for you to catch it.

And then, like a freight train hitting you at full speed, the realization crashed down.

You panicked. "I mean—not like like, obviously. Just, you know, tolerate. Barely. In a work acquaintance kind of way. Like an annoying gnat I’ve learned to ignore, except I can’t ignore you because you never shut up, and—"

Spencer surged forward and kissed you.

The force of it backed you against the filing cabinets, steel biting into your spine as his hands found your waist, gripping just hard enough to steal whatever breath you had left. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was months of pent-up frustration, sharp and heated and all-consuming.

You barely had time to process it before you were kissing him back, fingers tangling in his shirt like you needed something to hold onto. Like letting go meant losing whatever the hell this was.

Spencer pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Shut up, for once."

You would’ve argued. You really would have. But then he kissed you again, and suddenly, there was nothing left to say.

PICK YOUR ENDING

➤ [Ending 1 – Smut]

➤ [Ending 2 – Fluff]

[spr1ngpvrinbwunnie]

Can I ask what you think would happen if pre-doctor Harley Sawyer had an S/O who has been with him for so long to the point of marriage being the next goal, but some kind of accident happens and they lose their memories of him? I was curious to see what you thought he'd react like, shading this "bond" with someone who worked so hard to gain his trust and love only to forget everything they had with him.

And maybe if you're up for it cause it could mix with the scenario, what's he like as a husband of he for some reason got to that point?

He’s already a man who struggles with trust, with connection, with letting himself have something good. And then to have that ripped away?

Yeah. He wouldn't take it well.

💔 Harley Sawyer & an S/O Who Lost Their Memories 💫

Initial Reaction – Shock, Denial, & a Deep, Ugly Fear

Harley isn’t a man who loves easily. If he got to the point of marriage? That means you had to fight, push, and tear down every wall he built around himself. You were different. You got through to him.

And then, just like that, it’s gone. You don’t know him. You don’t remember him.

At first, he thinks he can handle it. He’s logical, right? He can fix this.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the blank stare, the way you flinch when he reaches for you, the way his name means nothing to you anymore—

That’s when it really hits. That bond you both built, the one thing he let himself trust, it’s shattered.

How He Handles It – Badly, But He Won’t Show It

On the surface? He’s calm. Composed. Maybe even a little cold. He won’t let you see how deep the damage goes.

But behind closed doors? It wrecks him.

He stays up at night, replaying memories that you no longer have.

He clenches his fists hard enough to leave marks, fights the urge to force the memories back—because logic tells him he can’t.

He stares at old pictures, whispers your name like it’s a prayer, like saying it enough times will bring you back.

Would he try to make you remember?

Yes. But not by pushing you. Harley is methodical—he’ll watch, wait, test small things. He’ll see if old habits stick.

He’ll leave your favorite coffee on the table, just to see if you reach for it the way you used to.

He won’t tell you who he is to you. But his actions will.

And if you never remember? If he has to live with the fact that you’ll never look at him the same way again?

He’d rather you be safe, even if it means losing you completely.

Would He Stay? Would He Let Go?

Harley Sawyer does not let go easily.

But he’s also a man who knows what it means to lose everything. And if he thinks staying will hurt you more than it’ll hurt him?

He’d leave. He’d walk away before you could reject him—because that’s a pain he doesn’t think he could survive.

Maybe he disappears from your life entirely, watching from a distance, never interfering.

Or maybe, just maybe—he stays in the background. A shadow of what he used to be to you. Someone important, but no longer in the way he once was.

Harley Sawyer as a Husband – If He Ever Got That Far

"Husband" is just a word. What matters is that you’re mine. And I don’t let go."

He’s not a conventional husband. Marriage isn’t something he dreams about—it’s a risk. A vulnerability.

But if he got there? He’d take it seriously. You would be the only person who’s ever gotten that far, and that means something.

Protective as hell. He doesn’t get jealous, but he does get possessive. The kind where he doesn’t need to say anything—just a look is enough.

Acts of service > words of love. You won’t get flowery speeches, but you’ll find a knife at your bedside if he thinks you need protection. He’ll know you’re stressed before you say anything. He’ll have already handled it.

Physicality matters. He’s not one for PDA, but behind closed doors? His touches are grounding. Steady. Not always gentle, but always intentional.

He’s in it for life. Divorce? Not an option. If you get into a fight? He’s not leaving the house until it’s resolved. If something threatens you? It’s already handled before you even know about it.

What If You Started Falling for Him Again?

Would he let it happen?

At first, he wouldn’t believe it.

But if you started looking at him the way you used to? If your body remembered what your mind forgot—if you reached for him in your sleep, if his voice became a comfort again?

He’d try to stay distant. Try to convince himself it’s not real.

But the moment you tell him, even hesitantly, “I think I love you”—

That’s when he breaks.

That’s when he exhales the breath he’s been holding since he lost you.

And that’s when he finally, finally lets himself believe he hasn’t lost you after all.

[jikooklove9795]

Jimin & Jungkook: We're the plot. Try to keep up

When I logged in yesterday, I got a few asks about dating rumors. Same old story. One was about Jimin and the other about Jungkook.

I think the Jimin one came right after he was seen at the airport. It was about Jimin dating Saeon. Imagine their surprise when Jungkook was spotted the very next day flying out to Japan. To join Jimin.

Their logic and theories honestly make me roll my eyes. So according to them, Jimin can’t hang out or travel with friends like a normal person without it turning into a dating rumor? Thanks for making it clear that casual friendships are now off- limits. Wild times we are living in.

I think Jimin said it for you guys specifically when he mentioned he doesn’t even remember what having a crush feels like. He's seen all your dating rumor theories trying to link him with others and he wanted it gone. Because when it comes to love its always been Jungkook for him. Otherwise why would he drop Jungkook’s pic on the board right after singing “Who’s my heart waiting for"? That wasn't subtle. It was a polite way of saying "Stop with the fake rumors, I've already chosen". That was him shutting down outside dating noise and reminding us where his heart actually lies.

It wasn’t his friends or other members who featured on his album, both times, it was Jungkook. First in Letter on FACE, an album which Jimin said was so personal it didn’t feel right to involve anyone else. And then again in WHO, where he pulled a total Taeyang move. Introducing his boyfriend the same way Taeyang introduced his girlfriend. He said it without saying it.

The Jungkook one was about him dating Winter. Honestly, the number of asks I get trying to link him with a woman—any woman—is kind of concerning. One day it’s Chaewon, the next it’s Hyunji, then suddenly it’s Winter and it goes on and on. It’s like they just spin a wheel and go with whoever it lands on.

Remember the day Jungkook attended Aespa’s concert? I got two asks that day. One about Winter, the other about Hyunji. The Hyunji one was hilarious. It was her birthday on March 15, and the anon claimed Jungkook took leave just to celebrate it with her and apparently wore a cap similar to hers. Do they even realize how absurd that sounds? Because literally the next day, he was seen at Aespa’s concert and later he went out to eat with Mingyu. So let me get this straight. Jungkook who was separated from his "gf" took leave to celebrate her birthday, only to ditch her the very next day for a concert and dinner with his friend? Wow. His priorities must be... very unique.

Except the Jungkook I know doesn’t operate like that. He’s always been a satellite orbiting his partner:

The same Jungkook who kept asking Jimin to come over or if he could go to Jimin’s place just to spend time together. The one who went live each time Jimin flew out of the country only to disappear from socials when Jimin came back:

The Jungkook who literally raced through the airport because Jimin was waiting at home. The one who kept watching Jimin’s content, showing how much he misses him, always supporting his work in ways he never has for anyone else. Because Jimin isn’t just a friend. He’s his boyfriend/ partner/ fiancé. And Jungkook knows exactly how to treat those roles differently. His boyfriend has always been his priority and he makes sure we know it.

Both of them couldn't even think about being separated during their military service that they decided to enlist as companions. Making them the first Korean idols/celebrities to choose this option. For them staying together is the top priority.

Now to talk about the Winter situation. Jungkook wearing a Ralph Lauren cap has nothing to do with her. Winter was announced as an ambassador for the brand in Nov 2023. While Jungkook's been wearing that brand long before she was ever announced as an ambassador. I remember him rocking it back in 2022:

The only “proof” these antis have are clothing and accessories. Items that are literally worn by dozens of Korean celebrities.

Meanwhile, Jikook has always set themselves apart even in this area. Matching jackets on Valentine’s Day, couple rings on meaningful Korean couple day:

And they’ve never shied away from it. It’s intentional. They want to be seen, to be linked as partners.

Remember when Jungkook told Jimin they should get matching shorts while filming AYS? And throughout AYS Sapporo, their color-coordinated outfits didn’t go unnoticed.

If Jungkook had a gf most of that 2023 lives would not have happened. He would have happily spent time with her before getting thrown into his crazy schedule. Not to mention Jikook's trip to Japan for AYS. That would have been definitely out of the question. Which bf would spent days away from his gf, abroad with his bandmate, when he would be enlisting in less than 3 weeks? He was swamped with work the minute he landed back in Seoul. If their primary and only objective was about releasing content for fans AYS episodes 1 to 5 would have been more than enough. Jikook flew to Japan on 23rd Nov and flew back to SK on 28th Nov. Not to mention we didnt get to see any of their content from Tokyo. They were in Tokyo for 2 days. Last days before enlistment is very important to people in a relationship that they'll make time for each other no matter what before they get separated for 18 months. And Jungkook? Well he did make time. He cleared 5 days out of his schedule to spend it with his bf, abroad, when he already knew he will have Jimin by his side for the next 18 months too.

On 24th May 2025, Winter was on a schedule with her group to attend fan meetings.

And Jungkook? He was on a different mission. He didn’t go live this time when Jimin flew out. He got on a plane and followed him instead. They recreated the 2023 Silver Day traveling pattern but with a twist. This time its Jungkook following Jimin. Same energy just reversed roles. The intention is still there, loud and clear.

Since we are talking about patterns, here's another one:

They don't play with numbers, they make statements.

Now going back to where I began. Baseless dating rumors. Must’ve been a rough one for the homophobic squad when Jungkook denied having a girlfriend and straight-up said the girlfriend questions were annoying. And just when they thought it couldn’t get worse, he drops the “I go the other way” TikTok like a mic. You really had to push him that hard for him to go out of his way to make a point. That wasn’t a slip-up. That was intentional. Message loud and clear. He's tired of the forced heteronormative narratives, and he’s not here to play along.

Ever wonder why antis come up with a brand new dating rumor for Jimin or Jungkook every few weeks? Or why none of their ships ever last longer than a few weeks? Or why their shipping moments happen only once in a blue moon? It's because their “proof” is basically a collage of matching clothes, accessories, and the occasional concert attendance. Groundbreaking stuff.

Sometimes they get lucky. Like when Jungkook went to Aespa’s concert. Boom! Instant ship with Winter. Until of course, someone pointed out that the cap he wore looks like the one Hyunji wears. How dare he come to support his "gf" while wearing a cap from his other ship 😬 Oops. Now both shippers are side-eyeing each other while Jungkook is out here probably just trying to enjoy music and a night out.

I almost forgot about their wild theories behind Jungkook naming his acc Bow Wow. And a group of shippers swears its because Winter posted something similar to a dog barking and that's why Jungkook chose that name. While way back in 2023, Jungkook said that he most likely would open an IG acc to post about Bam. And every "bow" clearly represents a dog. I’ve yet to meet a single dog that goes around saying 'meow' or 'quack'—unless it’s got a serious identity crisis. I mean, come on, use a little common sense. Yeah 🙂 I still think about that and it never fails to make me laugh thinking how shippers were fighting tooth and nail to own moments for their ship. The dedication is unreal 😂

It’s honestly hilarious how one moment is enough to light their delusional ship on fire, and the very next moment Jungkook himself tosses a bucket of ice water on it, intentionally or not. They must be exhausted trying to keep their narratives afloat.

But hey, maybe instead of blaming Jungkook for "ruining" their shipping dreams, they should question why they’re so desperate to link him with anyone but the one person he actually shows real, consistent intimacy with, Jimin. What’s that about? Oh right, homophobia dressed up as shipping.

Antis are out here linking them to friends, colleagues and random strangers, unlocking new levels of delusion daily. Meanwhile, Jimin and Jungkook are over here casually soft-launching their relationship with couple clues so loud, they might as well rent a billboard.

Credits to the owner of the video

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 10

Prior and future chapters here.

A visitor in the park.

CW: domestic violence, rape, ableist language, homophobic slurs (f-word), internalized ableism, suicidal ideation, mention of burning.

-

It seems cruel that such terrible things must happen at moments when you are your happiest. There’s logic in it, sure—there can be no joy without pain, and happiness is bracketed on either side by sadness—but logic and cruelty don’t have to live apart from each other. In fact, you would often say they are married. 

Your boyfriend stands over you, blotting out the sun like a raincloud come to pour down on the briefest moment of peace you have felt in the last several days. Everything about him is innocuous: his clothes, his posture, hands shoved deep into his pockets as he stares down at you with unspeakable fondness in his eyes. 

“Hi honey,” he says. “How was work?” 

Johnny goes to stand, but your boyfriend is quicker, banging his shin violently against Johnny’s knee. Johnny sucks in a breath as the pain winds him, body bowing over to protect his most vulnerable areas. 

“Don’t stand on my account,” your boyfriend says to his crumpled figure. “Did I get the right knee? I did, didn’t I? I wasn’t sure if it was the right or the left—“

“Hey!” you bellow, the volume of your own voice surprising you. You stand between them, put both hands against your boyfriend’s chest, and push. He nearly goes sprawling on the sidewalk, only barely managing to get his feet under him in time. You point a shaking finger in his face. “You don’t fucking touch him!”

“An accident,” he laughs, lifting his hands. “I stumbled into him. It could have happened to anybody.” 

“Yer a fucking cunt,” Johnny groans, both hands gripping his thigh above his knee, knuckles pale. “And so’s yer mother. Syphilis-infected-cocksucking bitch.”

“Not nice,” your boyfriend says mildly, shoving his hands back into his pocket. “Do you kiss my fiancé with that mouth?” 

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” you hiss. All three of you quiet down as an older couple inches by, hand in weathered hand. When they are a safe distance away, you ask: “How did you know I was here? Were you following me?”

“I can’t reveal all my secrets,” he says, lowering his voice to a dangerous timber, one that promises violence. “The same way you’re not willing to give up all of yours. You thought I wouldn’t notice you coming home late all the time? Do I look stupid?” 

Johnny makes a sound, some kind of wounded laugh that only serves to put you on edge even more. You can imagine his answer—but he doesn’t know your boyfriend. He doesn’t know the kind of grim, intelligent cruelty that is wielded against you every day. Johnny is hot headed and craving violence, but he’s in no condition to experience it. 

You have to protect him. 

“We can talk about it at home,” you mutter, making sure to keep between the two men who seem eager for each other’s blood. Your boyfriend tongues his cheek, eyeing Johnny, weighing his options. 

“Come on,” you say, louder. Reaching out, you grip his arm, nails digging into his skin. He doesn’t even flinch. But after an endless moment of waiting for further provocation from Johnny, he decides Johnny isn’t worth his time. He laces his fingers in yours and pulls you along, further away from the bench, from Johnny, from the sunlight. 

“Get in the car,” he says, walking to the driver’s side. 

“You’re not supposed to drive.” 

“I won’t say it again.” 

He won’t, either. You know him. So instead you slip into the passenger seat. There’s no worse feeling than being in an enclosed space with him. The air feels heavy and oppressive, weighing you down. At the same time, your body buzzes with adrenalin, preparing for pain. You numbly buckle your seatbelt while he starts the car. 

“How long have you been cheating on me with that cripple next door?” he asks calmly. 

“I’m not.”

The calm snaps, nothing but a thin sheet of icy veneer over a deep, dark lake of fury. 

“Don’t—lie—to—me,” he says through his teeth. He holds out a hand and wiggles his fingers. “Phone. Hand it over. You’ve lost your privileges.” 

“I don’t have it,” you lie. “It’s at work.” 

“You really do,” he says, staring at you with borderline awe. “You think I’m a fucking idiot, don’t you? Oh, baby. Oh, honey. You’re in for it. How do you think I fucking found you? Give me the goddamn phone.” 

You shake your head. You can’t give it up. Not when it’s the only safe way for Simon to contact you. 

He reaches for your hand. The two of you struggle as you try to avoid his touch, briefly banging your knuckles on the car window, but then he has your hand in his grasp, and he takes your smallest finger and wrenches it back, back—you feel the pop, pain lancing through your hand all the way to your wrist. 

You screech. 

“Give me the phone,” he says, letting you cradle the misshapen hand against your breast. You grit your teeth, tears dripping off your chin. When he reaches for your hand again, you break and turn out your pockets, handing over your last lifeline. He takes the phone and beats it against the dashboard, again and again and again until the screen is a spider’s web of cracks, glass littering your knees. 

He hands you back the broken phone. 

“You broke my fucking finger,” you cry, voice warbling embarrassingly. 

“You broke your own finger by not listening to me the first time,” he says, tossing the phone in your lap when you don’t take it. He puts the car in reverse. “Don’t blame me for your mistakes, baby.” 

-

The two of you spend five hours in the emergency room together. This is an integral part of the experience; when he hurts you, he has to heal you. 

Your pinky isn’t broken, only dislocated. They set it and splint it and warn you that it could take months to feel normal again, like you know at all what that word means. Beneath the tinny lights of the exam room, your makeup job must be failing, because the nurse asks your boyfriend to step out so that she can ask you a few questions alone. 

This isn’t your first time in the emergency room, and you know the rules. You stick to your story (the one he had stitched together on the drive to the ER) even without your boyfriend’s oppressive presence looming over your shoulder. The nurse gives you a look that is both professional and pitying. You spend the rest of the visit refusing to meet her eyes, chewing on the nails of your good hand. 

“Could you be any more suspicious?” your boyfriend asks mildly while the two of you leave. He waves to one of the nurses, who gives back a cheerful little salute. 

Making friends wherever he goes; that’s your boyfriend. 

-

Walking into your apartment is like walking into another world. 

Everything has been upended: the couch cushions, the silverware drawers, the chairs at the table. DVD’s have been removed from their boxes. Even the fucking lamps have had their lampshades removed. The bathroom and bedroom doors have been taken off their hinges and laid neatly against one another in the bedroom. 

“You weren’t the only one busy today,” he says, relishing in your grim expression. “You know the drill. Clean up. Then we’ll go to bed.” 

This is an old trick of his that you know well. He tore the place apart searching for contraband—but he knows that even he isn’t all-powerful. Now he waits to see where you will rush to clean up first, where your anxious mind will take you, desperate to find out if he’s found whatever you’ve been hiding. Once it was money. Another time, a business card for a lawyer. 

This time, a lighter that’s not your own. 

You’re smarter now, though. You don’t go straight for your sock drawer where the lighter is hidden. You begin at the northernmost point of the apartment and clean north to south, east to west, methodical, your hand throbbing as the anesthetic wears off. 

It is deeply late by the time you make it to the bedroom to find your clothes strewn across the bed. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, body aching from a long day at work (and a longer day after work). You can’t help but think of Johnny as you clean, tucking clothes back into their drawers, putting clothes back on their hangers. Did he make it home safely? Did he finally message Simon? Did he try to walk home? Thinking about Johnny out alone in the dark makes your stomach turn unpleasantly. 

Sock drawer now. Most of these are still in the dresser, though some have been pushed out into the floor in your boyfriend’s search for ammunition to use against you. You pick up the few outliers and stuff them back into the drawer. 

No lighter. 

It’s not there. You know even as you continue to search without hope, rifling through your paired socks as subtly as you can. This is all just another game. He’s found the lighter and has just been waiting for you to notice it’s gone so that he can torment you with it. Maybe he’ll flick the spark wheel (the way Johnny can’t—God, Johnny, please be okay—) and hold the flame to your skin or your hair—

You touch something hard, plastic. Your breath catches. It’s there. It’s still there, tucked inside a pair of socks. He hadn’t found it. Relief rises up in you so poignantly that tears fill your eyes, even as you force yourself to shut the drawer and move on to another part of the room, feeling your boyfriend’s presence at the door, watching. 

The lighter was so little, but it meant so much. You couldn’t even put into words why. Because it was Johnny’s, maybe. Because it was yours, now. Because it was one thing your boyfriend hadn’t put his hands on and destroyed or claimed as his own. Nothing belonged to you—not your money, not your body, nothing. Except maybe that silly lighter. 

You wait until after he fucks you to speak, stubbornly maintaining your silence even through the pain and humiliation he inflicts on you. There’s something even worse about the way he draws your body against his afterwards, an arm looped possessively over your waist, the imitation of a loving cuddle. 

“I want to break up,” you say. 

He gives a long-suffering sigh, breath rustling your hair. “Keep dreaming, baby.” 

The words won’t stop tripping out of your mouth. 

“I mean it. I hate you—and you hate me. All we do is fight and hurt each other. Why…” you get choked up, swallow past the lump in your throat. “We don’t have to do this anymore. You can’t possibly be happy. Is this really how you want to live the rest of your life? Tormenting me?” 

He is quiet for longer than you expect. You hold your breath, tears dripping from your eyes and over the bridge of your nose, down into your pillowcase. Maybe he’s thinking about it. Maybe he’s really considering it. 

At last, he says: “Don’t ever think that there’s anywhere else in the world…anything else I’d rather be, than right where I am.”

Your heart plummets.

“Now go to sleep,” he says, kissing your neck. “You work in the morning.”

-

The sun goes down before Simon finds him. Johnny sits shivering on the bench where you left him, his eyes red rimmed and unseeing even when he hears the familiar footsteps of his lover against the pavement. 

Simon sits next to him where you once sat, and for a long time, neither of them speaks. When Johnny finally breaks the silence, his voice is rough from hours of crying and disuse. 

“I brought her here,” he says. 

Simon nods. He knows. Of course he knows. 

“I think she liked it,” Johnny adds, trying to find any brightness in the dark that encompasses him. 

But all at once the tears come back, his throat burning, head throbbing. He bends at the waist, elbow on his thigh, and shakes, trying to keep his crying quiet, still clinging to the remnants of a dignity that God tears more from his grasp every day. When Simon’s warm arm wraps around him, it just makes him cry harder, even as he leans into the heat of the other man like a flower bends toward the sun. 

“I’m useless,” Johnny weeps. “Fuckin’ useless. He showed up and just—took her, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Even you think I’m useless—druggin’ me to keep me from getting in your way. I can’t dress myself, can’t tie my own shoes. What fucking good am I, as a human being? What’s the good in being alive if I have to live like this?”

Simon says nothing. Johnny leans up, letting the moonlight wash over his tear-soaked face. He wipes at his cheeks. 

“You can’t be happy, either,” he says, taking in the solemn lines of Simon’s face, the shadows under his eyes. Simon looks older than his age, and Johnny knows who is responsible, who has aged him. Terrified to know the answer, he asks: “Is this how you want to live? With an overgrown child as your lover? One who can’t remember where he took off his shoes? Who needs you to, to cut up his food and button his shirts?” 

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” says Simon simply. “If that’s how I get to be with you. Then yeah, Johnny. I’m solid.” 

Johnny shakes his head. He can’t even find the energy within him to be angry. All that’s left is disbelief. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it. I—“ Simon ducks his head. “—I never should have put those pills in your juice. I should have trusted you. I wish I could take that back.” 

Johnny sniffs wetly. It’s as close to an apology as he’s ever heard Simon give, and it makes no small amount of guilt bloom in Johnny’s aching chest. 

“You were right not to trust me,” says Johnny. “I was lying.”

“I know,” says Simon. He reaches down and laces his fingers with Johnny’s one hand. “But I want to be a man who trusts you, even if I’m wrong.” 

Johnny is quiet for a long time, turning those words over in his head. A painful longing rises up in his chest, one he hasn’t felt since the days when he was still in the 141, days when he could barely breathe for wanting the man beside him so badly. When they’d had to love each other in secret, and it felt like he would happily have given anything if it meant they didn’t have to hide anymore. 

I miss you, he thinks. I miss myself. Leaning in, he lays his cheek against Simon’s shoulder. 

“Are we gonna make it?” he wonders quietly, watching the last of the fireflies twinkle around the dim park. Soon it will be too cold for them. Soon it will be too cold for Johnny. 

“Whatever we do, we’ll do it together,” Simon promises, laying his temple against Johnny’s head. 

-

He waits until you are asleep to creep out of the bed. There is no rest for him—not when he gets in these restless, paranoid moods. Not when he has a hunch to follow. 

Quietly, he drifts through the apartment like a ghost. Everything is back in its place, but he tries to think of anywhere he might have missed to search. You are hiding something; he knows it. He knows you. You’re see-through to him, predictable in a way that used to thrill him but now just irritates. 

“Where is it?” he mutters, standing in the living room, turning a slow circle. 

Was the lighter really all you’d been hiding? That stupid piece of plastic and metal? He’d found it easily and decided it served him better left in its place. Let you think that he had missed it. Let you think that he was slipping. 

“I’m sharper than ever, baby,” he mutters to himself in the darkness. 

Halfheartedly, he searches a few places that he had already gone through: checking some of the mugs on the top shelf in the kitchen, feeling beneath the table in the foyer for anything taped beneath it. 

He thinks about the cripple next door while he does it. Johnny. A problem, if he’s ever seen one. Him and his boyfriend both. What two faggots want with you, he can’t imagine—good Samaritans, perhaps? Well they would find out in good time what happened to people who put their noses where they didn’t belong. 

Regardless, he doesn’t like it. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

Sighing, he braces his hands against the table, resting his weight against it. If he’d known that this building would cause so much trouble, he never would have moved you in here. Not that the two of you had been swimming in options. 

Your keys on the table catch his eye, but he doesn’t know why. He nudges them with his hand, metal dragging over the wood. On a whim, he counts them. 

There is an extra key. 

His brows lift. He picks up the keys and goes through them one by one, wracking his brain to remember what each one is for. At last he’s left with a single unfamiliar key. One that looks identical to the key to their apartment. A duplicate? he wonders. For when she’s locked out? 

But no, the keys are different. Just similar. 

An idea tickles at the back of his brain, but he’s never been the kind of man to ignore his instincts. He goes to the door without bothering to slip on his shoes, and steps silently out into the hallway. At this time of night, there is no one out and about, no one peeking at him from their doors.  On silent feet, he pads to his neighbor’s door and grips the knob. Locked. 

He slips the key into the lock—and it opens. 

Oh that little bitch. Fury rises up in him until he can taste it in the back of his throat. He wants to go and wake you, take a fistful of your hair and drag you out into the hallway for all your nosy neighbors to see, wants to hear that shriek of pain you give when he hurts you so unexpectedly—

But no. He has to be smart. 

He locks 5C’s door again, checks the handle, then slips back into his apartment. There will be no rest for him tonight. Not when there is so much to think about. 

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ velvet crowbar ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ berlin x lover!reader headcanons

¡!being berlin’s significant other would include¡!

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

╰┈➤ berlin is immediately captivated by your appearance. there’s a rare elegance about you, an understated beauty that commands attention without trying. it’s unlike anything he’s encountered, and it draws him in effortlessly, leaving him interested to know more.

╰┈➤ while your beauty enthralls him, it’s your wit and charm that truly ensnare him. you have a way with words, a sharpness to your intellect that leaves him yearning for deeper conversations and a desire to unravel every aspect of who you are. you become an enigma he’s determined to solve.

╰┈➤ berlin’s nature is cold and unyielding, a result of two decades spent in the unforgiving confines of a north korean prison camp. his past is a tightly locked door, one he refuses to open at first. it isn’t a matter of trust, it’s his way of protecting himself from a pain he refuses to relive.

╰┈➤ dating berlin is nothing short of extravagant. he has a taste for the finer things in life, and he spares no expense in showing you that. lavish dinners, exclusive outings, and opulent gifts are all part of the experience. his funds, after all, seem endless, given the spoils of his opulent career.

╰┈➤ at the beginning, berlin is purposefully vague about his work. he deceives his around the truth with charisma and calculated deflections. when he finally reveals his identity, a high-profile criminal and a key member of his brother’s gang, you’re understandably shocked. but your love for him is more potent than your fear. he makes it clear that betrayal is not an option, his warning softened by the lingering heat of a kiss that leaves no room for doubt.

╰┈➤ his jealousy is a force of nature, impossible to contain. when he introduces you to his crew, it’s denver’s passing glances and rio’s inappropriate comments that instantly set him off. but what truly unsettles him is your bond with the professor, his brother. there’s something about how easily you and the professor connect, sharing moments outside of berlin’s presence, that claws away at him. he despises the idea of not being the sole center of your world, his need for control over both you and his relationships simmering beneath his polished exterior.

╰┈➤ berlin insists on having you by his side at all times, your presence a source of grounding and pride for him. though he would never risk your safety by involving you in the criminal work of his team, you are always there, his hand firmly holding yours, or you standing beside him, your hand resting on his shoulder, a quiet gesture of his authority and your loyalty. you speak in his defense or offer support when needed, an unspoken understanding between you both. despite your non-involvement in their activities, berlin bestows upon you your own city codename, kabul. it is a choice made with care, reflecting his regard for you and cementing your place within his world.

╰┈➤ there are instances when berlin’s volatile nature becomes a challenge. his mind, scarred by years of torment and isolation, is not entirely stable. his temper flares, and though his anger can be terrifying, he never directs it to harm you intentionally. when the storm within him finally subsides, he is left stricken with guilt, his apologies sincere as he cups your face, searching for forgiveness in your tear-filled eyes. seeing the hurt he has caused tears at whatever remains of his hardened heart, and he vows to try and control himself for your sake.

╰┈➤ the gang is stunned by your existence. berlin has always been a man of logic and control, a figure immune to sentiment or attachment. yet here you are, the one person who has unraveled him, proving that even he possesses a sliver of humanity buried beneath his cold, calculated exterior. you are his achilles’ heel, the one weakness that could undo him, and yet he clings to you as fiercely as he clings to life itself.

╰┈➤ berlin is unapologetically affectionate toward you, even in front of the other gang members. whether it’s pulling you into his lap during a quiet moment, brushing his fingers over your cheek, or pressing an unabashed kiss to your lips as if no one else exists, his displays of affection are bold and deliberate. he wants everyone to know you belong to him and, more importantly, that he belongs to you.

╰┈➤ as planning for the heist begins, you are present for every discussion and strategy session, a silent observer in the shadows of their grand designs. while you outwardly support berlin, deep down, you are uneasy about the plan’s immense scale and the inevitable danger it poses to him. yet you know berlin too well to argue, once his mind is set, there is no persuading him. all you can do is pray that his brilliance and luck will see him through safely.

╰┈➤ for the professor, your presence is an anomaly he hadn’t accounted for. in his meticulous calculations, you are the crack that threatens to destabilize his perfect plan. before the heist begins, he warns you in no uncertain terms, you are not to contact berlin under any circumstances. when the time comes, you will receive specific instructions, and you are expected to follow them to the letter. but that isn’t enough for you. the thought of being kept apart from berlin, especially in the face of such danger, fills you with dread, and you can’t shake the desperate need to protect him, no matter the cost.

a/n: let me know your thoughts or if you have anymore requests!! also part two to scarface is coming soon!! 🤍

[touchstarvedbbg]

I have an idea about LI noticed mc stockings are tearing off and finding it hard to tell mc about it (are they telling her or not telling her but finding a way to cover it from people's gaze)

I’m assuming you mean ripping? I like this idea

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Touchstarved LIs handling a wardrobe malfunction

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Pairings: All LIs x reader

Warnings: This is SFW but has some suggestive details

Comments: I’m assuming that this means having the back of your pants/stockings kind of rip? That’s how it’s interpreted here

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Vere

|🩰| He’d actually enjoy this. 10/10 that’s it. (Jokes)

|🩰| Despite liking how you look in this specific moment, Vere isn’t the type to enjoy sharing. At all. If he finds people looking too hard he wouldn’t be all too pleased.

|🩰| He’d actually try to cover it up by standing behind ever so slightly if the rip happens to be in the hind quarters. Thats his, thanks.

|🩰| Eventually he’ll tell you, but in a more teasing way. Probably trying to get a rise out of you more than anything else.

|🩰| “I didn’t know you wanted the world to see your ass that badly (name)” or something like that. He’s VERY cheeky.

|🩰| However teasing he is there would be a hint of jealousy in his voice if that makes sense? You would know he doesn’t want everyone else seeing you like this, but if it were just him he’d be thrilled.

|🩰| Not typically the super handy type in public, but he would be all over and hugging you from behind whenever the two of you are standing still in order to keep prying eyes away.

|🩰| people can see his skin. But yours? Oh no that’s only his to see, thank you.

Leander

|🩰| Leander would have the hardest time telling you out of all of them. Partially because he knows you’d be incredibly embarrassed and ashamed (or at least… hopefully)

|🩰| But also partially because DAMN. He definitely likes what he sees and doesn’t exactly want it put away.

|🩰| Puts a hand on your hip and guides you beside him. If you look closely you might catch him staring a little too hard for a moment or two.

|🩰| Blushing 100%. It’s so funny when he’s slick with a blush on his face

|🩰| After a moment or two of admiring you, he’ll probably tie his jacket around your waist. If you don’t ask, he won’t elaborate.

|🩰| But if you do ask he would try to come up with a slick response then fail (most likely). Ends up just telling you as it is. “Your pants ripped” or something like that

|🩰| He would personally get you new clothing. either through stealing or legitimate means (both are fine… right?). Tries to avoid future mishaps to keep your dignity.

Ais

|🩰| Quickest to act out of all of the LIs. Ais knows he has all the time in the world to see that in private. The rest of the world doesn’t need to see it as well.

|🩰| Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much extra clothing (nor does he really wear any himself…). So Ais would have to get creative with ways to hide it until you can get changed.

|🩰| Of course the only logical option is to put his hand.. right over the rip.

|🩰| If you ask why he probably wouldn’t have a good explanation. He’d just shrug and guide you out before saying much of anything else.

|🩰| If this doesn’t work he’ll probably carry you back to wherever you can get a change of clothing (either from him or from yourself.)

|🩰| Similarly to Vere you’d notice some jealousy, but Ais actually acts on fixing the problem… not saving the problem for his eyes only 😭

|🩰| Once you’re in private finding a change of clothing though best believe his eyes will wander for a while.

Mhin

|🩰| The most likely to actually tell you. Mhin would most certainly want people to tell them, so they’d extend the same courtesy to you out of care.

|🩰| A little awkward about telling you. (They’re really awkward) so actions end up speaking much louder than words. However they would help remedy the situation rather quick once they get over initial shock

|🩰| Very, VERY rarely takes off their cloak/hood, but on this occasion they’d take it off and hand it to you for a while to cover up.

|🩰| It’s not a question of if you want to cover up. They want you to cover up. They wouldn’t want the rest of Eridia to see you in ways that only they should.

|🩰| Doesn’t stare. It would honestly feel impolite of them. You don’t intend for people to see you like that, including them.

|🩰| Takes you to find a change once it’s possible, but until then you get to wear their cloak. (Me, personally I would decide to take as long as possible)

|🩰| Would also try to get you new clothing somehow, they’d probably have to take on more soulless hunts but best believe they’ll make sure it doesn’t happen to you again.

Kuras

|🩰| Very few things catch him off guard but he would pause for a moment or two, just staring. Probably taking a long time to decide whether or not you’re just making a really showy fashion statement.

|🩰| Eventually he’ll walk up behind you and make sure that nobody else can see what’s going on.

|🩰| “Excuse us, but I’ll be needing (name) to help me in my clinic.” He will really come up with any excuse to save you face.

|🩰| Very quick about getting you somewhere you can change, he very rarely goes much of anywhere directly or in a hurry, but he would certainly take a direct route to wherever you need to go.

|🩰| If you ask him what’s gotten in to him… his bluntness wouldn’t be doing any favors in this situation.

|🩰| Ends up saying something incredibly embarrassing to the both of you without thinking about it. This is really out of character for him, which would probably be a hint as to how flustered he is.

|🩰| He’s a gentleman, really, but that doesn’t mean that what he’s seeing doesn’t get him going at least a little bit. Eyes are wandering ever so slightly once your alone until you change.

[mysticinsightstarot]

☆PAC : CAREER AND FINANCES NEXT 6 MONTHS☆

Pile 1 > Pile 2

Pile 3 > Pile 4

**✨ DISCLAIMER & HOW TO PICK A PILE ✨**🔮

*Disclaimer:* This reading is for entertainment purposes only and is meant to offer guidance and insight into your journey! Remember, tarot is a reflection of potential energies, but your choices and free will ultimately shape your path. 🌿💫 Take what resonates with your heart and leave the rest! You are the creator of your destiny! ✨---**✨

HOW TO PICK A PILE ✨**

1️⃣ Take a few deep breaths, relax, and clear your mind. Focus on your career and finances and what you want to know about the next 6 months. 💼💸🌿

2️⃣ Look at the 4 images (shining open door, compass on a map, glowing light bulb, and tree full of fruit). 🌟 Which one pulls you in? Trust your first instinct! 🔮

3️⃣ The image that calls to you the most holds your message for the next 6 months in your career and finances. 🌟✨

Once you've chosen, scroll down to the reading that aligns with your pile for your personalized insight! 💖✨

💫✨ Pile 1: The Shining Open Door ✨💫 You picked the pile with the glowing door—oh, I see you’re READY to step into something BIG! 🌟 Let’s dive into what’s ahead in your career and finances because, honey, things are about to shift! 🚀

1. Current Energy: Queen of Swords & King of Swords 👑⚔️ Whew, talk about power couple vibes—but it’s ALL YOU! 💪 You’re rocking both your logical side and your fierce independence. The Queen is telling me you’re super clear on your goals, cutting through the fluff, and making decisions like a BOSS LADY (or boss dude 😉). The King shows that you're also in complete control of your mental game—your mind is sharp, and your vision is crystal clear. Double swords = serious focus and balance between intellect and emotions. Yasss, no one’s messing with your boundaries or your vision right now! 🔥🔪

2. Opportunity: Two of Wands 🌍🤔 It’s decision time, boo! You’ve got a HUGE opportunity ahead that involves looking beyond where you are now. Are we talking overseas ventures 🌏 or simply a big career move? This is your “make a plan and conquer” card. The world is literally in your hands, and now you’ve just gotta decide which path is calling your name. 👑 The shining door is OPEN, and it’s saying, “Step through, but choose wisely!” 💡

3. Challenge: Death 🖤⚡ Before you gasp—this isn’t about literal death, it’s TRANSFORMATION, babe! 🦋 Something in your career or finances has to die (not literally! 😬) so you can fully transform. Maybe it’s an old job, a limiting belief, or even a partnership that isn’t vibing with your higher self anymore. Change can be spooky 👻, but this card says, "Embrace it!" Let go of the old so you can evolve into the next-level version of YOU! 🔥🚀 You got this! 💯

4. Outcome: 7 of Cups & 6 of Cups 💫🍬👶 Oooh, choices, choices! 😍 The 7 of Cups says you’re gonna have A LOT of options coming your way (think candy store level options 🍭)! But be careful, not all of them are as sweet as they seem. Some might be glittering distractions, and you don’t want to get stuck in that confusion. 🤔 The 6 of Cups is bringing in a more nostalgic, sweet energy—maybe an opportunity from the past reappears? 🌸 Or someone from your past (a mentor, a colleague, or even a childhood dream) is going to help guide you toward the right cup. Trust your intuition and choose the one that fills your heart the most. 💖✨

Bottom of the Deck: Ace of Cups 🌊💙 Awww, look at that! The Ace of Cups says this whole journey is leading to a brand-new emotional beginning. Whether it’s finding a career path you LOVE or something that sparks passion in your work, this is a whole new level of fulfillment! 🌟 It’s all about filling your own cup first and letting those good vibes overflow into everything you do. Self-love, baby, and trust that this opportunity is gonna make your heart sing! 🎶💧💖

Get ready to slay the game! ⚔️👑 Your career and finances are transforming into something new and powerful, and it’s all in your hands now. ✨ The door is open—are you ready to step through? 🔑🌟

🌸💼 Pick another pile or send a love offering to the tarot spirits (me 👀) if this resonated with you! 🎉💖 #CareerVibes #ManifestingSuccess #BossMode

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Pile 2 (Compass on Map):

✨🧭 Pile 2: The Compass on the Map 🧭✨ Oooooh, you picked the pile with the compass! 🔮💫 This is ALL about finding your true direction, bb! The universe is guiding you toward something amazing, and trust me, you’re about to LEVEL UP in ways you didn’t expect! Let’s take a peek into your future career glow-up, and honey, the wands energy here is SPICY 🔥🍃!

1. Current Energy: Ace of Wands 🌟🔥 OMG, YES!! You’re in full-on go mode right now! 🚀 This Ace is all about passion, inspiration, and new beginnings. You’ve got a burning idea inside you, and it’s like the universe just handed you a cosmic match to light it up! 💡✨ You’re feeling creative, ready to make bold moves, and so full of ENERGY it’s electric. ⚡️ Whether it's a new project, career path, or just you vibing with your creative genius—GET IT! 🔥🌿

2. Opportunity: Ace of Cups 💧💖 Double Aces?! Okay, the universe is literally pouring opportunities into your lap! 💦 This is something that’s going to fill your heart with pure joy! 🌸 Whether it’s a new job you’ll fall in love with or a chance to work on something that ignites your soul, this card says, “Embrace it, babe!” 💖 It’s about connecting with what truly makes you happy, and maybe, just maybe, aligning career and personal fulfillment. 💼💖 Passion meets heart—talk about a dream opportunity!!! 💫💧

3. Challenge: Justice, Wheel of Fortune & Six of Wands ⚖️🎡🏆 Whoa, hold up, THREE cards here for your challenge?! Okay, let’s break it down! 🔍

Justice says you’ve gotta keep things balanced. Maybe there’s something legal or contractual in your career that needs fairness (look out for contracts or deals, bb!). ⚖️ Don't worry—just make sure everything's fair and aligned with your values.

Wheel of Fortune means things are spinning fast! 🎡 Luck is on your side, but it’s a wild ride, so hold on tight and ride those career waves! 🌊 You’re on the brink of big change, and it might feel like a rollercoaster. 🎢 Stay grounded!

Six of Wands is like, "Oh hey, don’t forget you're a winner!" 🏆 But be careful not to let success go to your head. 🌟 Humble queen vibes will take you far, just stay true to yourself, and victory is guaranteed. 👑💪

4. Outcome: 9 of Wands, 4 of Pentacles, Knight of Wands, Queen of Wands & 4 of Wands 🔥👑🎉 OMG, this outcome is a total powerhouse of energy! 🔥 Get ready for a rollercoaster of action and success:

Nine of Wands says you’re feeling a bit tired from the hustle—but don’t give up! 🏋️‍♀️ You’re almost there!

Four of Pentacles is a reminder to hold onto your resources and not overspend or over-invest just yet. 💰 Patience, love!

Knight of Wands is YOU charging forward, full steam ahead, pursuing your goals with fiery passion. 🐎💨 Think bold moves, fast results!

Queen of Wands is ultimate BOSS energy! 🧡✨ You’re about to own your space, radiating confidence and magnetism. People can’t help but notice you!

Four of Wands HELLOOO celebration vibes! 🎉🎊 This is you reaching a major milestone, like a promotion, career achievement, or even a new home or office space. It’s all about success, stability, and joy!

Bottom of the Deck: Page of Wands 📩🔥 Oooh, the Page of Wands at the bottom says you’re entering a phase of super exciting communication and fresh ideas! 💬🔥 Expect some news soon—whether it’s a job offer, a new project, or an opportunity to collaborate with someone exciting. The universe is like, “Go for it, bb!” 🚀 You’ve got the vision, the drive, and now… it’s time to take action and run with it!

Summary: 🔮✨ Get ready for a passionate new beginning that aligns your creativity and heart! You’re stepping into big opportunities (seriously, double aces?!!!), and while the road might be a little bumpy, you’re destined for success! Just balance those scales ⚖️, keep pushing through the challenges 💪, and soon you’ll be celebrating 🎉 like the Queen/King of your career kingdom!

🌟💼 Drop a comment or hit me up if you feel this energy! Let's ride the Wheel of Fortune together! 🔥🍃 #CareerGlowUp #LevelingUp #CreativePassion #ManifestingSuccess

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Pile 3 (Light Bulb Glowing):

💡✨ Pile 3: The Light Bulb Glowing 💡✨ Yasss, you picked the glowing light bulb! 🌟 The universe is about to shine some serious truth into your life, but ooooh, honey, it might get a little wild before things brighten up. 🌪️ Let’s break down what’s coming in your career and finances because this pile is all about BIG revelations and shaking off the old to welcome the new. Hold on tight, bb, it’s gonna be a ride! 🌀💡

1. Current Energy: 9 of Swords 😱💤 Oooh, sweetie, you’ve been STRESSING. 🥲 The 9 of Swords is serving up anxiety central—are you losing sleep over career decisions or financial worries? 😩 It’s like you’re overthinking EVERYTHING, replaying scenarios in your mind at 3 AM like a bad soap opera. 🎬 But here’s the tea: your worries are bigger in your head than they are in real life. 🧠✨ The light bulb is about to switch on, and things will start making sense soon. Hang in there, bb! 🖤💫

2. Opportunity: 2 of Swords & Ace of Swords ⚔️💡 Okay, so the 2 of Swords says you’re at a crossroads, but guess what? You’ve been avoiding making a choice! 🙈 Whether it's a new job, a financial decision, or a major life move, it’s time to rip off the blindfold, babe! 🚨 The Ace of Swords swoops in with a FLASH of clarity! ⚡✨ This is your a-ha moment, the truth you’ve been waiting for—it's like a light bulb 💡 finally going on over your head! You’re gonna cut through all the confusion, sharpen your focus, and see the path CLEARLY. 🔥 You’ll be making decisions like a total boss. ⚔️

3. Challenge: The Tower 🌪️💥 OMG, here comes the Tower—total SHAKE-UP energy! 🏰⚡ Don’t panic, bb! This card says that whatever is falling apart was meant to go. 💨 Maybe your current job or financial situation needs a complete teardown so you can rebuild from scratch. 🧱 The universe is like, “Honey, we’re tearing down the old to make space for the NEW.” 🔄 Embrace the chaos, because it’s leading you to something SO much better. This is the card of divine intervention, where things might get a little wild… but trust me, it’s for your highest good! 💣💫

4. Outcome: Wheel of Fortune 🎡🔮 YASS, here we GO! The Wheel of Fortune is spinning in your favor, baby! 💫 This is BIG karmic energy—what goes up must come down, and vice versa. 🎡 Your luck is turning, and the universe is pushing you toward your destiny. Expect some unexpected changes (but this time, the good kind! 🙌), whether it’s a surprise job offer, a financial breakthrough, or a lucky opportunity. 🍀 You’re stepping into a whole new cycle, bb! Keep your vibes high because fortune is on YOUR side! 🎉✨

Bottom of the Deck: 4 of Pentacles 💰🛑 Okay, so the 4 of Pentacles lurking at the bottom says you might be holding on a little too tight. 🏦💰 Whether it’s fear of losing money or clinging to an old job or security, you need to let go a bit, love. 🙅‍♀️ Don’t be afraid to invest in yourself or take a risk—you can’t grow by staying in your comfort zone! 🔄 Trust that the universe has your back and that letting go of control will open you up to receiving MORE abundance. 💸✨

Summary: 💡⚡ This spread is all about breakthroughs! You’ve been feeling stressed and stuck, but the universe is about to give you that “A-HA” moment you need. ⚔️ Even though the Tower might shake things up, it’s clearing the path for your destiny to unfold, and the Wheel of Fortune says you’re about to enter a super lucky phase! 🍀 Just don’t hold on too tight to the past, bb—let that light bulb glow and illuminate your way forward! 💡✨

💫🌟 Hit me up if this reading resonated, and let’s ride this Wheel of Fortune together! 💫 #BreakthroughVibes #DestinyCalling #KarmicShift #GlowUpJourney #LetGoAndGrow

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Pile 4 (Tree Full of Fruit):

🍎🍃 Pile 4: The Tree Full of Fruit 🍃🍎 OMG, y’all, you chose the fruit tree?! 🍑🌳 Get ready because the universe is about to shower you with blessings like it’s RAINING FRUIT! 🍒🍓 This pile is all about hard work paying off and those juicy rewards coming in HOT! 💥 Let’s take a bite of this reading and see what’s coming for you in career and life abundance! 🍏✨

1. Current Energy: 10 of Wands 💼🔥 OK, bb, the 10 of Wands shows you’ve been carrying A LOT of weight lately—like, a whole tree’s worth of responsibility! 🌳💼 Maybe you’ve been juggling a million things at work or grinding to the max in your career, and now you’re feeling BURNT OUT. 🥵 Don’t worry, though! You’re about to offload some of that baggage and get the rest you deserve. Take a deep breath—your hard work is about to pay off BIG TIME, but you need to delegate or drop some of those extra “wands” first. 🌿✨

2. Opportunity: 3 of Pentacles 🛠️🌟 Collaborative energy coming in HOT! 🔥 The 3 of Pentacles says there’s a major opportunity coming your way to work with others and build something amazing together! 🤝💼 Maybe it’s a new project or a team effort at work, but whatever it is, it’s going to elevate you to new heights. 🏗️✨ Teamwork makes the dream work, bb! Don’t be afraid to share your vision and ideas with the people around you—they’re going to help you manifest your goals and bring those fruits to the surface! 🍇🍃

3. Challenge: Ace of Pentacles 💰🌱 YAAAAS, the Ace of Pentacles is here! But in the challenge spot? 🤔 That’s because the universe is handing you this golden seed, and now it’s up to YOU to plant it! 🌱💫 Whether it’s a new job, financial opportunity, or big career move, you need to make sure you’re READY to nurture this gift. 🌟💸 Sometimes the hardest part is believing you deserve this abundance, but TRUST—your hard work has earned you this opportunity. 💼🌿 Now water that seed and watch it grow into a full-blown money tree! 💰🍃

4. Outcome: Wheel of Fortune & 10 of Cups 🔄🌈💖 OMG, bb, this outcome is literally everything! 🎡✨ The Wheel of Fortune says you’re stepping into a whole new cycle of luck and abundance—so buckle up because it’s about to get GOOD! 🎢 Your career and finances are about to take a major upturn thanks to all the effort you’ve put in. And guess what? The 10 of Cups is like a happy, glowing rainbow 🌈 saying that your career success will bring you so much joy and fulfillment in your personal life, too! 💖 Whether it’s a new job, promotion, or financial win, it’s gonna make your heart BURST with happiness. 🥳✨

Bottom of the Deck: Justice ⚖️💼 Ohhh, the Justice card lurking at the bottom is serving BIG karma vibes! ✨ Everything is falling into balance now. ⚖️ You’ve put in the hard work, stayed true to your values, and now you’re reaping the rewards! 🍎✨ Whatever’s been out of balance in your career is getting righted by the universe. Contracts? Legal matters? Business deals? Expect them to go in your favor! You’re being rewarded for the good vibes and energy you’ve been putting out there! 🌿✨

Summary: 🍇💰 You’ve been working your butt off (and maybe feeling a little overwhelmed, bb!), but the universe is saying, "Hold on, your harvest is almost here!" 🌱✨ With opportunities to collaborate and a golden career opportunity on the horizon, you’re about to level up in a big way! Just believe you deserve it, plant those seeds, and watch them grow into your dream life filled with success, abundance, and HAPPINESS! 🌈💸

🍒🍃 Drop a comment if you’re ready to reap those fruits of your labor and step into your success! 🍇✨ #CareerHarvest #AbundanceComing #FruitfulVibes #JusticeServed #WheelOfFortuneFlow

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✨ SENDING YOU GOOD VIBES ✨

No matter which pile you chose, I’m sending you ALL the success and abundance vibes! 🌈💖 The next 6 months are filled with opportunities and growth in your career and finances, so trust the journey and keep believing in yourself! You’ve got this! 💼✨💸

If you enjoyed this reading, be sure to like, follow, and repost to spread the love and help others find their message! 💫🔮

🎥 Exciting news! My YouTube channel is launching soon, where I’ll be diving into personal development, spirituality, and philosophy—all combined to help you grow and create a supportive community! 🌟✨ Let’s embark on this journey together and elevate our lives! 🌐💖

And guess what? My website is also launching soon, where you’ll be able to book personal readings and get even more spiritual insights! 💻✨ Stay tuned for updates and be part of this incredible adventure! 💖

Thank you for all your love and support—can’t wait to see you all on this exciting journey! 💖💫 #CareerVibes #FinancialAbundance #TarotGuidance #GoodEnergyOnly #PersonalDevelopment

[paxarsenal]

One Last Wish

Another wavewave fanfic by the one and only PaxArsenal! This is just the headcanon I have for TFP, and I apologize for the inconsistent storytelling if it isn't up to canon Transformers lore. I digress, enjoy this fanfic!

Conjunx Ritus...

1. The Act of Intimacy

This depends heavily on the couple.  The couple performs an intimate act such as holding hands, possibly a sensual massage, or cleaning one another, the options are endless.

2. Act of Disclosure

This can be a story about anything, so long as it tells your partner what makes you–you.  For some it’s the story of their birth, for others, it might be how they became the leader of their faction by getting into a bar fight, for some it might be revealing just how guilty they feel for joining their faction in the first place.

3. Act of Profference

This is a gift. The ritual’s instigator gives the other a gift, usually catered to the potential Conjunx. 

4. Act of Devotion

The entire ceremony is an act of devotion for the one who started the ritual: it is the other's turn to perform an action that shows he too loves his potential Conjunx.

Once the 4 acts of kindness have been performed and accepted the pair are officially bonded as Conjunx Endura.

~~~

One Final Wish

The war was over. 

For the past million years, the Great War waged and never shuttered. In a time like this, it’s limited. Both Autobots and Decepticons saw it all; Megatron finally sacrificed his crown to Optimus Prime, who bowed with respect and pity for the Kaon gladiator. While both leaders recoiled their woes and sorrows at the losses, Shockwave could only turn to Soundwave. His sleek HUD stood cracked among fellow Decepticons, his frame barely breathing. Transformers need no concept of oxygen to respire, yet Soundwave struggled to get his engines running. It was the end. The Decepticons surrendered; they had surrendered. He was exhausted; everyone was exhausted. Still, Soundwave held high; his back straightened like a regal to an audience, his slender arms relaxed and helm in a proper position. In Shockwave’s eye, Soundwave always knew how to present himself. That’s what a former senator does best. 

Back at their home, the Autobots paraded all over Cybertron. Their smiles and laughs reciprocated towards the crowd as mechs and femmes cheered for their victory. Little by little, the planet rebuilt itself, and more Cybertronians returned to their home; buildings resurrected, and bots buried their dead. What was a celebration meant an embarrassment to the Decepticons. Each officer sat in their cells with Energon-charged cuffs. Inadequate Energon supplied, and occasionally, the guards failed to deliver sustenance. Only Optimus Prime was allowed as a visitor, sharing nostalgic moments with Megatron about days gone by. Starscream paced back and forth as he muttered words of self-encouragement and spite towards his leaders, much to a nervous wreck like himself. Megatron sat on the rusting berth with his red optics closed, Optimus talking about who knows what. However, Shockwave paid no attention to his former leader. Another mech in mind, his gun arm tapped his right wall. How unfortunate for his cell to be facing Megatron and Starscream. A quiet knock on the other wall told him Soundwave was still responsive. 

“Are you perhaps still on lord Megatron’s vow of silence?” Shockwave asked.

“... Negative: He isn’t our lord anymore,” Soundwave answered, his voice laced with a silver tongue, “So why call him that moniker.”  

Unknowingly, Shockwave grew facilitated by Soundwave’s authentic voice. Not the recordings of Optimus Prime’s interrogations, not Megatron's constant harangues and meeting audios, just his voice. Something Shockwave looked forward to for centuries. “Maybe I have gotten acquainted with it. With millions of cycles gone and past, it’s logical reasoning.” He finally articulated to his comrade. Soft lulls tickled Shockwave’s fins; Lazorbeak had awoken. 

“Is that minibot alright?” Shockwave questioned again, hoping to continue the conversation. He leaned on the enclosed walls, rusting and dull from improper hygiene and neglect. Space was tight, yet the scientist made do.

Soundwave replied bluntly, “He’s alright.” Silence caved into the pair. Lazorbeak’s inconsistent squeaks and wings clicking suited as tools to smother the pain-staking rings of tension and animosity. The minibot recoiled within Soundwave’s frame, his thin digits trying to calm it down. 

“You know you can stop that,” The ex-communications officer directly stated, “There’s no use in small talk. We are all going to be offline.”

Shockwave couldn’t come up with another word. He knew Soundwave was right. Instead, he slowly slid to the dusty ground and sighed, “... Is that so?” 

Within a few minutes, Soundwave knocked again, but this time, he commed Shockwave through his visor: At least I can be offlined with you.

~~~

Reconciliation wasn’t an option for the losers. All former Decepticon officers knelt before the renewed High Council. With tight cuffs around their servos and high security, nothing could go wrong. They made sure of that. The judge was an elderly Transformer with millennia ahead of him. He struck on the metal gavel once the mass settled down. As he cleared his voicebox, his olden optics scanned through the digital tablet, “By decree, former warlord Megatron shall stand conducted via public execution for his crimes against Cybertron. That goes for his associates, former senator Soundwave, ex-High Council scientist Shockwave, and Decepticon captain Starscream. Except for ex-Deception Medic Knockout, he will receive punishment by another method.” Every Cybertronian darted to Knockout, who nervously ducked under the podium seat.

Starscream twitched yet kept silent after Elite Guards repositioned their guns to his shaking helm. As if it wasn’t vibrating enough, it could have removed some bolts by now. Soundwave and Megatron said nothing. They knelt before the jury and accepted their fate. The judge continued, “For better or worse, all charges remain true. Our Autobot representative wishes to speak.”

Optimus Prime uncovered from the shadows and strode towards his podium. Each stride was bold and confident, something Shockwave had seen Megatron do. It was remarkable what chiefs could be and influence. Orion Pax to Optimus Prime, and Megatrous to Megatron. The Empurata con’s spark yanked and jerked; it felt familiar yet so ancient. By the Allspark, Primus did grant individuals as saints while traitors martyrs. 

Optimus’s voice boomed throughout the courtroom. “Mechs and Femmes, as we gather here to address the Decepticon problem, I want to make some adjustments. These are criminals, yes. But I wish to give them a last desire before they part.” Some bots booed and argued against his idea, yet he held on. “It’s only befitting since we aren’t like them.” His blue optics stared into Megatron as the ex-warlord shifted away disgusted.

Still, Megatron wished for a better system; Starscream’s request was immediately rejected. Soundwave stood muted amidst the proceeding. The purple bot didn’t ask for anything. Coincidentally, it gave Shockwave a chance to speak. 

“May I ask for one proposal?” Shockwave confidently asked. Prime let him continue. 

“I would like to perform a Conjunx Ritus.” The jury gasped. What did that Empurata freak say? A Conjunx Ritus? With who? Soundwave’s helm immediately whipped toward Shockwave as Starscream barely caught his laugh between his servo. Megatron darted bullets at him, red optics narrowing with a snarl, “What are you doing?” He hissed. The Prime’s mouth fell agape at the unusual request, and they could hear that cranky medic shout profanities against Primus's vain. Shockwave didn’t look at him, and his audibles fell into deaf tones, instead finding his gaze on Optimus Prime. “Please, Prime, it’s one final wish.” 

Gesturing to Soundwave, he knelt on one knee before Soundwave as he held up his cuffed arms. “Soundwave… With our sparks still alight…Would you be my Conjunx Endura…?”

Soundwave sat there, emotionless and conflicted–dumbfounded. His still cracked HUD mask reflected onto Shockwave’s crimson one. With one shaky outstretched limb, he held onto Shockwave’s, never letting go of those same sharp servos that once carried him during a stressful night on the Nemesis. Those same servos that caressed his crown when they interfaced. The same ones that he loved so much, belonging to that societal outcast hailed from Kalis. As unstable as his voice, Soundwave’s helm titled down as a gleam flashed away from his blurry visor screen. 

“Proposal: Accepted.”

“Let our damnation be our union.”

~~~

Soundwave and Shockwave requested to be executed first. They wanted Megatron and Starscream to observe their coalition for the final time. The Conjunx Ritus traditions remain the same; four acts of kindness shall be performed and accepted before the pair are officially bonded mates. Such acts include the act of intimacy, disclosure, profference, and devotion. 

If the violet mech could frown, he would’ve frowned the deepest, even more profound than Megatron’s awful organic-piranha scowl. The thought of being intimate in a public space felt unnecessary–illogical in his own words. Nonetheless, the ceremony must persist in the optics of the populace. 

Soundwave sneakily unlocked his compartment as purple tentacles laced Shockwave’s gun arm like ribbons. 

Oh. Intimacy completed.

In the second part of the ritual, the act of disclosure, Soundwave told Shockwave of his journey to become a senator (both were senators at some vorns ago), his obstacles and achievements, his wins and losses, and his eventual downfall. Once it was Shockwave’s turn, he immediately tapped his digits impatiently. 

Shockwave laid his fins low, “The story… of my Empurata…” 

“Are you ashamed?” Soundwave whispered. 

He chuckled, “No, if not, I wouldn’t have met you.”

The third part of the ceremony is an act of Profference. A predacon optic laid within Shockwave’s palm. Soundwave titled his helm amusingly. “As much as I dedicated my time to Project Predacon, I’d have wished to dedicate mine to you.” How fitting it was. Shockwave panicked last minute on that gift. There was absolutely nothing on this wasteland to behold a mech so close to regality or godhood, by Shockwave’s logic. Still, Soundwave accepted and caressed it gently between his fingers. Shockwave’s fins fluttered satisfied.

Fourth and last was the act of Devotion. Shockwave grew curious on this part. What did Soundwave have in mind for his contribution? Applying logic wouldn’t wither the mystery of surprises. The audience held their breath as Soundwave stood in silence. At last, the bot retrieved something that even his partner would dilate and dim his optic on. 

“Lazorbeak…” Shockwave gasped, feathery claw reaching for the minibot to find it limp and unresponsive, devoid of a spark. 

“We… talked about it,” Soundwave slowly explained. “He would rather stay loyal than live without my protection and company.” He paused. “You always had a nick for exotic inventions and experiments. May we see that… another time. Lazorbeak wants to see.”

The Empurata had no words. “Do you perhaps believe in the afterlife or some kind of reincarnation those organics revere?”

“Negative: I suppose so. No logic in Cybertron would decode that unless we try to see it.”

Shockwave chuckled, a mere light in his red optic when his future sparkmate used his infamous line, “Then let’s see to that… that one last experimentation.”

The bronze bells hammered in the background. No spectator to cheer, no energon to toast high in the air, no ‘congratulations’ or ‘well done’. Just a clearing over the destruction of their planet to unify their eternal coalition. What seemed to be seconds or minutes before the officiant cleared his throat.

“I pronounce you to you today as Sparkmates…” 

Once the Conjunx Ritus was over, Soundwave rested his crown on Shockwave’s optic as he sighed. His comrade… No, Conjunx Endura held his helm to look at him with the exact gaze he had given all those years ago. The other returned the gesture and stared lovely into his one optic, his servos hovering on Shockwave’s spark chamber. The spark hammered and didn’t stop. He couldn’t feel it, yet he understood he would’ve called it love.

“I love you, Shockwave.”

“I love you too, my Soundwave.”

“... Affirmative: See you on the other side.” 

The Elite Guards released their ammunition as Soundwave and Shockwave’s frames fell onto the ground, lifeless as energon poured out of their wounds. Together, their sparks diminished at the same time. On the outskirts of the city, they laid their bodies side by side as Cybertron’s dust buried them. Although their carcasses may fade away, their consciousness and spark are still ablaze by their one final wish.

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian discloses he knows Tim's secret...

Red Robin and Robin met in an office. Red Robin looked confused as to why they were meeting before patrolling, but Robin emphasized it was urgent.

Red Robin: Um, Robin, why did you want to meet up tonight?

Robin: Had to talk to you about… how do I put this? I’d rather not be rude in this conversation.

Red Robin: You don’t want to be rude? Has hell frozen over?

Robin: Not funny. Be serious, Drake. I was eavesdropping when you were talking to Nightwing earlier, and… are you queer?

Red Robin: What?

Robin: Queer. You prefer the same sex, though what I heard you still like the opposite gender?

Red Robin: I—

Robin: I'm not done talking. I wasn’t expecting you could be both, especially as a man, but if you are, I have questions. What we talk about in private here stays that way. I chose to speak in our hero suits because… I feel more comfortable this way.

Red Robin (raising his eyebrow waiting to speak): …

Robin: You may speak.

Red Robin: Fantastic. Glad you could give me permission. To start, were you listening in on my conversation? B told you to stop doing that!

Robin: He did. Yeah, I don’t always follow that advice. You don’t always follow his rules either.

Red Robin (flustered): D- Don’t bring logic into this! You’re not supposed to eavesdrop! And… This is a lot to take in. I was going to tell you last! Let me calm down.

Red Robin sighed and sat down on the floor. Robin took a seat next to him, crossing his legs in the lotus position. Robin gently patted his brother’s arm.

Robin: I’m… sorry for listening in on your conversation. I overheard you tell Nightwing you weren’t sure how everyone would handle this news. Drake, I don’t understand a lot of romantic things, but I want you to know I… support you and your queerness.

Red Robin: Okay, first of all, stop saying “queer.” You’re not saying it offensively, but it’s kind of weird to hear sometimes.

Red Robin chuckled, lowering his head.

Red Robin: I wasn’t sure how to tell you because we don’t always get along, and you’re kind of an asshole to me most of the time.

Robin nodded without argument.

Red Robin: I’m glad you support me being bisexual. Honestly, you were last on the list, Red Hood owes me sixty bucks because I guessed you had no idea.

Robin: I’m happy you won the bet. It took me a while to find out Batwoman was lesbian, I’m usually slow with this stuff. When I found out you were bisexual I was surprised, but not in a bad way. More admonishing myself for not being able to tell.

Red Robin: That's reassuring to learn. You're not as smart as you think you are.

Robin: Don't act cocky. My reaction to finding out you are also not straight is the same, I wasn’t aware, but it doesn’t change how I see you. You date both genders, that simply means you'll fail at dating with both genders. You’re not harming animals or children or people your age, you’re happy, that’s what matters. I want you to know that we may never get along, but it won't be because of who you date.

Red Robin stared at his brother, tilting his head with a bemused smile, then playfully punched him in the arm.

Red Robin: That… was the most robotic yet sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. You and Batman both reacted weirdly when I came out, but honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Robin: Father and I aren’t mushy people. We get straight to the point. You know grandfather isn’t homophobic either, he says he’ll judge people on their other qualities, not who they sleep with.

Red Robin: Ra’s saying that makes sense. Thanks, Robin.

Robin: You’re welcome. Who else have you told?

Red Robin: So far, Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, and you.

Robin: So, you’d be attracted to Sabrina Carpenter and Nicholas Galitzine? I’ve been listening to her music and watching Red, White & Royal Blue. Both good.

Red Robin laughed, easing any remaining tension.

Red Robin: You picked good options. But don’t forget Taylor Zakhar Perez... I like who I like, personality-wise.

Robin: Since turning bi, you’ve realized you should date for personality over the messy way you used to do it.

Red Robin: It’s not turning. I’m not a werewolf. Nice dig at my dating history, you're not wrong either. I haven't told... Spoiler yet. Think she'll be mad?

Robin: Did you dump her due to being bi?

Red Robin (laughing): No, we just weren't compatible. Dating isn't any easier though. Don't make a snide comment.

Robin (smiling proudly): Red Robin, I told you your sexual preference wouldn’t change how I see you. I can mock you and support you at the same time. After all, you’re my brother.

Red Robin: Thanks, bro. Any other questions you want to ask?

Robin (pulling out a notepad): Yes. When did you first know you were bisexual?

Red Robin: I need a minute to answer that properly. Next question.

Robin: Hm. How should I introduce you to strangers?

Red Robin: You never said I was your straight brother when you thought I was straight, keep it that way.

Robin: Great. I can insult you there too. Have you met anyone to date yet? Man or woman?

Red Robin: I’m looking.

Robin: I will fight anyone who rejects or insults you for being part of the LGBTQ. That’s not a question, just a supportive statement. Only I get to tease you, and that will only be because you suck at being a hero.

Red Robin: Thanks, brat. Again I wouldn't have it any other way.

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

hey guess what. it's finally time for my Stardew Valley Loredump. i’m about to ramble about my farmer and yo-yo/yoba and shane in a probably long-ass, disjointed post because i have a problem ok. not expecting anyone to read it all of course—just want to finally write these brainstorming shenanigans down. the loredump will be below the cut below the image 👇 (WARNING: IT'S LONG):

SAMUEL IZAWA:

*samuel is 28 years old, pan, japanese okinawan (no im not self projecting hahaha), and goes by he/they. main thing is that they’re from “our world” where stardew valley is a video game, but he died and ended up in the stardew universe. because i think isekai tropes are fun and silly. as the player, samuel can do things others in the stardew world can’t do, such as: 

summon the in-game HUD that’s only visible to him, so he can see health/energy levels and inventory and all that.

speaking of inventory, it’s essentially a pocket dimension samuel can shove stuff in. the inventory doesn’t really care about size/weight/etc as long as it’s something the system considers an “item.” so like samuel can put a whole ass four poster bed in there but he can’t do that to a person or a whole house. samuel just needs to touch the item to make it disappear into his inventory. he can then summon it back out when he needs it. the game’s inventory limit system remains the same. samuel gets 12 slots on their own, but if they have a bag on them it increases to 36.

can access the player menu you can normally access in game. so like profile, skills, collections, relationships, etc are all there. no options or quit tab though. having the relationship tab is a nightmare for samuel, who has major insecurities about what people think of him. that tab is a quantifiable measure on how much people like him. it a real brain demon for him to know it exists and is right there for him to access anytime. 

can see the “stats” of food and healing items. hp/energy recovery amounts, buffs, etc. 

*funny thing is that samuel has never played SDV himself and only has knowledge based on what he’s heard and seen online secondhand. ironically he was planning on playing the game for the first time before the whole dying thing ruined it. they can’t even remember how they died, but it doesn’t bother them as much as they think it should. they didn’t leave much behind in that life.

*anyway, i’m talking a lot of game terms here, but don’t get it twisted. while samuel has all these game systems going on, the SDV world is very much a real one that doesn’t normally work by that logic. by that i mean time flows normally like in our world and there isn’t just 4 months in a year. things exist outside the valley. there’s a whole planet of places and people. 

*luckily samuel has help in navigating this new world in the form of yo-yo the junimo, who is the first living thing samuel sees when he first wakes up in that joja cubicle. yo-yo helps explain a lot of things and guide samuel around in its own abrasive way. he’s also there to be like, “hey i gave you a second chance at life so you kinda owe me actually. sign this contract.” and samuel, who is a pushover and also confused, is just like, “ok.” (yo-yo sounds like danny devito btw. because i think it’s funny.) 

*i call the contract a “magical girl contract” because that’s essentially what it is. samuel gets access to extra powers/abilities on top the stuff he can already do as a player. in return he fights monsters n shit for yo-yo and generally does things for them that they can’t do easily on their own. the extra benefits include: 

higher pain tolerance. which isn’t always a good thing. especially when you tend to not be great with self-preservation like samuel is. 

can heal most injuries by just eating/drinking stuff to regain hp.

yo-yo can teleport the both of them around as needed, but it’s tiring and it drains a lot of magic. distance matters too.

yo-yo can spawn items but it drains magic as well. the more valuable/rare the item, the more draining it is. spawning items is already a magic-intensive thing in the first place. also yo-yo isn’t creating the item out of nothing. they’re actually randomly taking it from wherever it already exists in the world. for example, say yo-yo “spawns” a jar of pickles. somebody in the world is going to open their fridge and discover their jar of pickles is missing or maybe a grocery store will have a sudden empty spot on its shelf. yo-yo doesn’t have control of where the items are taken from (or so they claim).

samuel and yo-yo’s magic pools became connected so they can both do more than they could do on their own before. this is one of the reasons why yo-yo wanted a contract with samuel, who has a larger magic pool than normal due to being from another world. but it’s possible for one side to use up all the magic for the both of them. 

*samuel’s personality can be summed up as Awkward People-Pleasing Tired Sad Garbage Dork. either he’s dressed like a grandparent in sweaters and turtlenecks or he’s wearing a button up shirt with the collar undone and jeans. they usually have their neck covered in public to hide the mark of yoba embedded there. he has a “resting bitch face” as some may call, but that’s just because his brain is busy over-analyzing 193828 different things. he loves being outside in the grass and dirt, looking at bugs n shit. he’s also a nerd who likes to play video games and ramble about the lore in them (he likes RPGs the most, but if the game’s got a good story and cool world, he’s into it). they like to do things with their hands like model building/painting. in their new stardew life, they get into woodcarving after willy teaches them the basics (he carves shane a little chicken). 

*samuel does NOT know how to say “no.” absolute pushover. their self-worth is based on how much they’re liked by others, which isn’t healthy obviously. he has a fear that the only way he can be liked is by being useful. he’s scared that he is inherently a bad and selfish person, because he can’t say for sure if he’s helping others purely out of kindness or because it just makes him feel better about existing. deep down there’s anger/frustration that’s accumulated over the years, anger towards himself and also others because he’s always doing things for other people—going above and beyond—but it never feels like enough. at the same time though, they hate it when these thoughts come up because they believe that you shouldn’t go into helping somebody expecting that you’ll get something out of it. he hates how much of a hypocrite he is. he hates how he bases so much of his self-worth on the opinions of others, but feels helpless to it. they usually just push these emotions down because samuel feels guilty about them. how can they be a good person if they’re thinking like this? how can they deserve to exist with this mindset? however they get a chance to let out the anger/bitterness/frustration through fighting monsters. kind of disassociating in a way. this also isn’t a good thing because his demeanor is much colder and scarier during combat. having someone who’s felt powerless for so long suddenly gain power is a dangerous thing.

*this mindset when monster fighting shatters when samuel meets krobus and realizes that monsters aren’t just the simple enemy NPCs their brain had been automatically categorizing them as. guilt galore. he gets real depressed about that for a while but yo-yo, krobus, and shane are there to help him. 

*SPEAKING OF SHANE… it’s crush at first sight for samuel because hot damn is shane their type. i mean just look at him. mamma mia. haha anyyyway, they first meet at the stardrop saloon. samuel’s waiting at the bar for his to-go order near where shane is drinking. shane’s looking sad, so samuel gives in and decides they’ll start a convo to maybe distract him from whatever’s bothering him. samuel employs the “crack a dumb joke to hide the fact that i’m nervous because i’m talking to a hot person and then use that opening to introduce myself” strat. shane, being an asshole, is like, “oh so you’re the new farmer. here’s a tip: don’t bother me.” samuel takes 999 damage and their brain immediately goes “THIS IS MY FAULT I FUCKED UP like who wants to be talked to by a stranger when they’re sad goddammit why am i so bad at this?!!” it’s overall not a great first impression. after that, samuel tries to avoid shane out of embarrassment, but circumstances keep making them run into each other. for instance, samuel works a lot with marnie with her being a mentor figure to him in animal husbandry, so he and shane have a lot of opportunity to interact through that (plus marnie is secretly trying to get them closer to each other). through these meetings and shenanigans, samuel and shane get to know each other better until one day they’re friends. then good friends. then best friends. then kiss friends. then marry friends. :)

YOBA (A.K.A. YO-YO): 

*yo-yo is ????? years old and goes by any pronouns but most of the time it's it/they.

*yo-yo is actually THE yoba, but they’re not the completely benevolent creator-of-all-things humans have made them out to be. maybe they were in the past, but now they’re selfish and rude and swear a lot. but they do still care, even if they don’t admit it (tsundere-ass). yoba is currently stuck in the form of a little junimo and is substantially weakened because it gave too much of itself away to the world in the past and got burned for it. because the world kept taking and taking. and now there’s war and pollution and shit and yoba/yo-yo is maybe just a teensy tiny bit angry and bitter now. but it’s ok because now they got this human from another reality to help them reclaim the pieces of itself. and maybe along the way relearn how to love the world again.  

*oh also yoba didn’t create the whole planet like the creation story claims. they’re technically an alien that came across a young planet full of life and decided to stay and help it develop. 

*main reason yo-yo made a contract with samuel is because it needs help finding/reclaiming the pieces of itself. pieces can usually be found in strong monsters empowered by the piece. this isn’t always the case though. sometimes it’s in an ancient artifact. sometimes it’s in a specific place like a temple. sometimes it’s in a person. 

*samuel doesn’t have to deal with having an existential crisis about yo-yo, since he’s from our world where yoba doesn’t even exist as a god. yo-yo claims to be the one responsible for bringing samuel over into the stardew universe, but there are holes in their story. where did yoba even find the power to do such a thing when they’re in such a weakened state? mysterious. 

*the first time yoba reveals itself to shane is kind of chaotic. it’s in the middle of the night when yo-yo suddenly appears in shane’s room, grabs his face with its little stick arms and yells, “WAKE UP!!! YOUR BOYFRIEND IS IN MORTAL PERIL!!!” shane is like, “WHAT THE F–”     it was an act of desperation on yo-yo’s part, because samuel was in trouble and shane was the only one it could think of going to for help. essentially samuel meets something Bad in the deep mines, something that takes him out of commission and puts him in a trance state while draining his lifeforce. y’know, the classic kind of trance state where you need to figure out how to get the person back–how to snap them out of it. yo-yo tried and failed, so that’s where shane comes in. it’s the classic “love-interest-breaks-main-character-out-of-mind-control-with-sheer-power-of-love” trope. except shane does punch samuel during it. lovingly. in the face. hey it works ok.     after the chaos is over and everyone’s safe and gathered together, samuel and yo-yo explain everything to shane (well more like samuel explains everything while yo-yo wishes outloud that they had their memory erasing powers back). shane, who is canonically an atheist, learns that this talking pottymouthed jerkass apple is actually THE yoba and is just like, “yeah. this might as well happen.” and then he remains atheist because what else are you going to do when you learn that god is a talking pottymouthed jerkass apple who calls you a bitch and is also responsible for your partner having to go do dangerous shit. he and yo-yo have a rocky relationship at first to say the least. but once they both realize how much the other cares about samuel, things get a little better. 

*yeah, yoba may be a bitch and they may be angry and they may be bitter, but they really do care, even if they try to convince themselves otherwise. even though so much got taken from it, it still cares about humans and dwarves and shadow people and everything else on the planet. and when it eventually comes down to it, yoba will step up to protect what it loves, even if it means losing everything again. 

SHANE FINCH: 

*this post was technically supposed to just be about my farmer and yo-yo’s lore and stuff, but i gotta give some personal headcanons i have about shane… like for instance his last name is “finch.” because i thought the bird theme was cute. he’s 29 years old, bi, and half asian, half white (in our world that asian half is korean). i’m not being specific because i don’t know if korea even exists in the stardew world, since all we know in the game is that there’s a “ferngill republic” and a “gotoro empire.” i was thinking of just headcanoning that stardew’s planet is essentially the same as earth. so like most of the same countries/nations exist except the history diverged a bit along the way, leading to the ferngill republic and gotoro empire. OK SORRY for the tangent—back on topic.

*so shane is a trans man who started transitioning back in high school. he had two best friends who were very supportive and really helped him on his journey to figure himself out. those two friends were like family to him. it was good that he had this support because his parents were always pretty shitty and shane transitioning just made them act even shittier. the only good family member of shane’s is marnie, who was supportive, but she lived far away, was busy, AND wasn’t on good terms with her sister (shane’s mom), so shane didn’t get to see her much. 

*the moment shane became a legal adult, he got away from his parents, finding a place with his two best friends and moving in together. oh and his friends’ names were rosa and heath. should’ve probably mentioned that earlier oops.     shane, rosa, and heath go to the same college together, suffer student loans, graduate, etc. haven’t thought of what shane would get a degree in yet—most likely something “generic” because he’s unsure of what he wants to do himself (i feel u bby). 

*ok so rosa and heath were dating since high school, but they were so comfortable with shane and vice versa that things never got that awkward living together. however when rosa and heath got married (“yoba, FINALLY,” shane would say), shane felt like it was time to find his own place, much to the devastation of his bffs. the apartment ended up close to where rosa and heath lived of course—the couple made sure of it (“stop backseating my apartment hunting!” “MAKE US”). 

*rosa and heath get pregnant and have a healthy baby girl that they name jasmine. i headcanon jas as black (from heath’s side) and portuguese (rosa’s side). everyone is thrilled about the baby. shane was immediately offered godfather role and he happily accepted. jas was the cutest baby ever and he adored her. he babysat jas all the time. 

*jas was 4 years old when rosa and heath tragically passed away in a car accident. they were coming home from a business dinner when they lost control of their car on some black ice and slid into oncoming traffic. shane was babysitting jas when he got the call. in the span of one cold winter night, shane and jas’s world shattered. 

*rosa and heath didn’t have any reliable relatives either. those relatives only came to take the money and belongings. shane was the only one jas had, so he adopted her. he tried his best to pick up the pieces. he really did. he lasted for a year trying to raise a kid on his own with the salary of a dead-end job, but he knew the situation wasn’t good with the money and how much his mental health was spiraling. he knew he and jas were in dire need of more support (“jas deserves better than this”). so he turned to the one person he had left to rely on: his aunty marnie. and that’s how shane and jas ended up in pelican town.

*shane’s joja jacket was actually originally rosa’s. rosa worked as an accountant for joja and would get free promotional items all the time from the company. the jacket was one of the only things she actually ended up using because “it’s pretty comfy for being joja bs.” she would wear it all the time, much to her more fashion-conscious husband’s chagrin (yet he would patch up any holes she’d get in it anyway). after rosa died, shane kept her jacket. there were a lot of memories in it. 

~~~

ok that’s it for now. if anyone actually read all that, thank you for even wasting your time to process my ramblings. i’m sorry it’s so fucking long like jfc.

*who is mr. qi?

[daenerysstormreborn]

The whole concept of left brain/right brain isn’t super solid but I think it’s the most accurate way to describe the difference between Arya and Sansa’s skill sets. I think with training either girl could be a politician or a warrior. I think they both could’ve survived if their roles were swapped. Both have demonstrated the ability to adapt.

Arya specializes in the concrete and logical, in immediate observations and perceptions, and intuitive reactions to those. Arya is quick on her toes and great at making on-the spot assessments and reacting appropriately. She’s extremely observant and perceptive and these things come very naturally to her. She’s great at learning language, but isn’t said to write poetry and doesn’t take marked interest in story or songs. Her focus is typically on her immediate environment and current situation. She doesn’t spend time ruminating or crafting distant future lives for herself. She is alert and attuned to the facts and the present.

Sansa is more abstract and artistic, focusing on the qualitative aspects of life, engaging in creative pursuits. She loves the romantic and fantastical and is more attuned to ideas and concepts than the facts of her immediate surroundings. She absorbs history and heraldry and has a knack for aesthetics and mastery of her native language (i.e., writing poetry and being an eloquent speaker. Learning new language is “left brain” whereas mastery of your native language is “right brain.”), but isn’t said to be very good at math and her romanticized lens inhibits her perception of fact at times. She has a vivid imagination and spends a lot of time ruminating on her past and conjuring fantasies of idealized futures, comparing her own life to familiar narratives instead of being 100% present in her surroundings.

Which isn’t to say these skill sets are mutually exclusive to the girls. Arya can be very creative (she is excellent with performing and getting into roles as a faceless man) and Sansa can be quick on her toes (like when she saved Dontos). These skill sets also are not opposites and the girls do not “complete” each other. Both are full complete people on their own who are learning to apply their natural strengths to navigate their worlds.

What’s interesting to me is that they’re both a little aimless right now for different reasons relating to what I described above. Arya is great at taking action but doesn’t have a vision of her ideal future (at least not that we’ve seen) so she doesn’t know where to go next. Her biggest desires are “go home” and “go to the wall to see Jon” but those aren’t options to her so she ends up a bit directionless, traveling across the ocean and becoming a faceless man because she has to do SOMETHING because she’s a doer, but doesn’t know what to do. Meanwhile Sansa has goals for her future of being a lady with a loving husband and a family, but she is not a doer and doesn’t know what steps to take to escape her current situation, so she goes along with Littlefinger’s plan. Arya has inertia but no direction and Sansa has direction but no inertia

Of course, for both girls, age and and trauma are factors in them going down the paths they’re on and I expect that we’ll see them both grow!

[nthspecialll]

"That Jimmy isn’t as dumb as he looks."

Jimmy Brooks is one of the first characters we can choose to kill or to let live after being dumb enough to confront Arthur about seeing him in Blackwater, other than that one encounter, we can find references to him two different places throughout the game, which might lead to something interesting going on.

The most commonly known other place to find Jimmy Brooks is in the strange man's cabin where two different poems can appear depending on if he is killed or not. "There was a man called Jimmy Brooks, Who was always running into crooks, Till one chased him down, And he had to talk his way round, That Jimmy isn’t as dumb as he looks." Now this points is strange, him not being as dumb as to just recklessly point out a killer. Though it could refer to him being able to talk his way out, I wouldn't say that anything he said saved him, him being saved is completely depending on Arthur. I feel that we as a player already have an idea about if we will kill him or not before he starts very badly pleading for his life.

The second place, a lesser known place, in which you can find Jimmy Brooks, is on the register stone a little outside of Cornwall Oil and Tar.

"J. Brooks. US Post 63." (Confirmed to be about him)

Now the person we saw in Valentine looks about thirty, but this was made 36 years ago and I doubt he worked in the US post when he was like four, and I will not put him in his mid fourties, same age as Dutch.

These two instances alone can be explained logically, however when dealing with anything related to The Strange Man, you can allow yourself to think a bit more.... Unlogically, magically if you will.

The Strange Man is sometimes seen as Death and the time after the Blackwater Masacre is often seen as marking Arthur's last time leading to his inevitable death, and with it approaching, Death might want to see what kind of person he is dealing with.

Jimmy Brooks is one of the first times that Arthur's honor is affected, a trial of Arthur's character, and it wouldn't be the first time that The Strange Man tests the morality of people he knows is dying, he does the same to John in rdr1, sending him out to rob Sister Calderón or stop a man from cheating. The only difference is that John has to go to the trial whereas the trial is presented to Arthur. However it can simpily be that The Strange Man is adapting the challenges to the people.

Arthur's trial is one of life and death, John's aren't. The ones John gets are more about his morals about life rather than death. Encourage a man to cheat, or tell him he is better. Rob the sister, or donate to her.

Both of the negative things John can do are... Negative, but they aren't that bad. Encouraging a man to cheat is just bad moral but not illegal, and robbing a sister is illegal but you can gain something from it, thus you would choose to go there even if you had the choice not to.

Arthur's on the other hand. It would be better for Arthur to not at all encounter Jimmy, stealing a horse and chasing after him through an entire town is bound to draw attention, and afterwards killing him not far from said town, is not optional, even if you save him, you have drawn attention to yourself. If Arthur's trail was optional, he would not take it thus it is forced upon him.

There is also a reason why The Strange Man appeared for John but not for Arthur and it is all about their redemptions.

Arthur's redemption comes from inside, he doesn't care what others think about him, only what he thinks about himself, and until he changes his mind about himself and everything he does, nothing can even sway him. He thinks he is a bad man, nothing can change that until he himself changes his perspective. He doesn't need The Strange Man telling him "you have done bad" because he knows and he is suffering for it already, he needs to be shown he can be a good man.

John on the other hand, his redemption comes from the outside, he doesn't change because he wants to, he changes because the world needs him to. He doesn't care about what he did or who he killed and he doesn't need to prove to himself that he is a changed man, he needs to show the world that he is a changed man, that is the only way he will be left alone. However The Strange Man is there to remind him why he hasn't been forgiven yet, because he killed many and he needs to be reminded of it.

Now who is Jimmy Brooks then? Well, he can just be a random man who looks young for his age and was influenced by The Strange Man to do what he did, but he could also be dead. It is a solution to him being old enough to work with the US Post in 63 and being in his thirties in 99.

He died sometime after 63, when he was in his thirties, and then when Death (The Strange Man) needed Arthur's morals tested, he didn't want to put an living person's life on the line, as it was not their time to die, so he used a person who was in fact already dead.

Anything with The Strange Man is possible.

[insert-random-account-name]

Analyze the Princess- The Prisoner

Okay, I was too lazy to post, and now a series I hadn't touched for weeks has three updates in five minutes. Shush.

The Prisoner-

The Prisoner is another fairly common route to appear in playthroughs, yet it still manages to be grossly underrepresented, since 90% of the contents are usually missed by players who instantly get themselves locked in chains. The Prisoner is the most human, both physically and mentally, of all the Princesses. There is no terrifying metamorphosis, sudden change in attitude, fantasy-based appendages, or anything that is obviously impossible, with no explanation around it (except the endings). Just the cold, numb reality of being locked in a basement without a key, having to rely on someone you don’t quite trust who doesn’t quite trust you, and wondering just how far you have to go in order to free yourself. She meshes perfectly with the Voice of the Skeptic, with both having the same general outlook, goals, and blunt manner of speaking. 

You get the Prisoner by entering the basement armed, cutting her free, and then allowing her to cut your throat when it comes down to it. This results in a skeptical, analytical Princess who isn’t particularly eager to trust. She is reluctant to allow you near her, and refuses to let you cut her free, instead requesting that you relinquish your blade so she can do the job herself. She’s guarded, not revealing any more information than she absolutely has to. If you ask her about the events of the previous chapter, she seems irritated that you “gave away the game”. Unwilling to trust the one who betrayed her, even if it was against your will, the Prisoner is very hard to work with, since she basically asks you to hand her, someone who has every reason to kill you, your only weapon, but refuses to tell you what exactly she’s doing, and then, if you oblige, cuts her head off in the blind hope that you will take it out of the cabin. 

The Prisoner learned early on that no one is to be trusted. She woke up in chains, locked in a basement with no hope of escape, for reasons she doesn’t know. The first person to find her comes down the stairs with a knife in hand. Even though you agree to help her, you attempt to plunge your blade into her back while she’s looking away. Despite you letting her take the blade and kill you, she’s left wondering what on Earth happened for you to lash out so suddenly. The cabin door doesn’t open, and she’s stuck. Then everything resets, and she’s back in the basement, with even less chance of escape. And then you come back, still clinging to your knife. With every passing second, she can feel chains, both figurative and literal, tightening around her neck, taking away options. The Prisoner knows that this place can’t be trusted, and that you might be the missing piece to escaping. However, she still remembers what she sees as a betrayal. 

The Prisoner represents overthinking. Her logic runs itself in circles, building up a plan for escape that will keep the knife in her hands, not key in any outside observers, and free her from her chains. However, the “perfect” idea involves cutting her own head off, a confusing escalation. Her lack of trust leads her to having to place the ultimate trust in you. Her logic is stretched so thin by the time she removes her head that the most logical of all the voices cannot understand why she would do such a thing. The overthinking gets to you too, for if you insist upon leaving no stone unturned, you’ll find a shackle locked around your neck, mirroring the Prisoner’s predicament. A search for the best option soon leaves you with no options. You cannot trust one another, so there you sit, out of reach, eyeing each other with cautious curiosity. The Prisoner’s route reflects the heart of the occupant: Clever, yet patient.

Other parts:

The Razor The Stranger The Damsel The Prisoner The Tower The Witch The Spectre

(If you like my yapping, check out my other analyses. There's one for the voices here and my one for the narrator here)

[babydollmarauders]

WYD NOW? — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!singer!reader

summary: in which y/n writes a song about her ex-boyfriend, 3 years after their breakup, and it gets back to him, leading to their reconnection

notes: inspired by the song WYD Now? by Sadie Jean. ending kinda sucks, but ehh i did my best. pretty sure i lost motivation for this halfway through it, but i tried to power through.

not my gif

*** JUNE 17TH, 2018 ***

“i bet, at this time in a few years, we’ll be painting the walls of our shared apartment.” my boyfriend’s whisper rings through my ears as i turn my head to look at him.

heat rises to my cheeks, Jack’s blue eyes gazing into mine.

“yeah?” i laugh, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he took before coming over.

“mhm.” he hums in confirmation, his hand snaking up under the stolen shirt that adorns my body, gripping my waist and pulling me closer. “i’ll be playing hockey, and you’ll be a big pop star, my little songbird.”

i bury my face into his neck in attempt to hide the redness on the apples of my cheeks from the nickname.

“you gonna write songs about me?” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the side of my head.

“i already do.” i murmur, my lips brushing against his collarbone, causing him to shiver.

*** JULY 30TH, 2019 ***

“i don’t think i understand.” it feels like my head is underwater, my lungs burning for oxygen, but unable to receive it.

“we can still be friends, y/n. you can call me whenever.” Jack sits on my bed, gripping my hands in his hold. “the future is just, so far away and we don’t know what’ll happen.

“i don’t want my dreams to hold you back from achieving yours, y/n. you may not see it right now, but this just seems like the best option for now. and maybe, down the line, once we’re both at a stable place in our careers, if we’re both single, we can revisit us.”

my head is bobbing ‘yes’ but my heart is screaming ‘no!’

it’s like my brain understands where he’s coming from, that he’s being logical and that he’s doing this for the greater good of both of us; no matter what we’ve always thought, we’re still just kids, we were dreaming. but my heart isn’t getting that message. all my heart knows is that it’s being crushed into a thousand pieces and it feels pretty unsalvageable right now.

“are you okay?”

it’s my instinct to tell him ‘yes’. my instinct to not let him know how much he’s really hurting me. how much i want to scream that we’ll be fine. that i would give up my dream to be by his side while he accomplishes his. but i know that would just hurt him; because that isn’t what he wants.

he may be hurting me, but he’s doing it for all the right reasons. he doesn’t want me to push my dreams aside for his, because he wants to see me living them. he wants the best for me.

“yeah, i’m okay. i understand.”

*** PRESENT: SOCIAL MEDIA ***

y/nonthegram

liked by tatemcrae and 246,517 others

y/nonthegram in your faded t-shirt

that i’ve kept this long

i still hear you laughing

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user13 NEW LYRICS??

user92 that’s what i was thinking too! seems too poetic to just be a caption

trevorzegras hey that looks familiar

user57 OH MY GOD NEW MUSIC?

user04 AHHH ANNOUNCE A NEW ALBUM PLEASE

user6 I’LL EVEN JUST TAKE A NEW SINGLE! I JUST NEED NEW MUSIC

tatemcrae my best friend writes the best captions

y/nonthegram MY best friend writes the best songs

tatemcrae says you!

user83 new love song? break-up song? both?

colecaufield what’s this 👀

y/nonthegram

liked by trevorzegras and 283,752 others

y/nonthegram surprise! ‘WYD Now?’ out tonight at midnight.

wholly written in my bedroom at 2am, this song means the absolute most to me, and i hope some of you can find comfort in it like i have <3

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user04 OH MY GOD! THANK YOU FOR BLESSING OUR EARS TONIGHT!

colecaufield so proud of you!

y/nonthegram thank you, coley ♥️

user94 since when does she know nhl players?

user63 she went to high school with some of the 2019 draft class

user72 I CAN’T WAIT OMG

user18 SHAKING, CRYING, THROWING UP! I’M SO EXCITED

_alexturcotte our little melody makin’ munchkin, making moves!

y/nonthegram oh god please don’t bring back “melody makin’ munchkin”

_alexturcotte too late

tatemcrae GO BEST FRIEND THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND

y/nonthegram LEMME KISS YOUR FACE!! MWAH!!

user55 i’m so curious to hear these lyrics 😭 how am i gonna wait 8 more hours?!

jackhughes

liked by y/nonthegram and 352,850 others

jackhughes 3/3

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user77 hey wait, didn’t @/y/nonthegram date Jack in high school? is the new song yesterday about him?

user55 yess! it’s gotta be!

trevorzegras dizzyyy

user91 you should go listen to y/n’s new song 👀

user02 have you heard ‘WYD Now?’ ???

user36 omg he remembered to post 3/3

colecaufield same time next summer? 🫡

subbanator 🚀

y/nonthegram

liked by jackhughes and 227,951 others

y/nonthegram i’m so grateful for all the love on ‘WYD Now?’ these past couple days! thank you all! <3

here’s some photos @/tatemcrae took at our song celly night last night to celebrate the release of WYD Now? and greedy!

in celebration, i’ll be answering some questions in the comments!

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user74 is the song fictional? or was it inspired by someone?

y/nonthegram not fictional <3

user99 is this a single off the upcoming album? or just a normal song?

y/nonthegram the album is still being written, so i can’t confirm or deny if this is a single because i’m not sure yet if it’ll be on the track list! <3

colecaufield omg y/n please come to Montreal! i love you so much! you’re my idol!

y/nonthegram hey remember that time i bumped you with my car? i think we should do that again! i’ll stomp on the gas this time!

colecaufield omg you noticed me!!

user42 at 18, where did you imagine yourself being at this age?

y/nonthegram New Jersey <3

trevorzegras where did he set the bar?

y/nonthegram above the moon

user28 if the song isn’t fictional, then who’s it about?

user96 it’s 100% about jack hughes. if you scroll way down on her page, there’s pics of her and jack in high school, but they stop when they were 18. then he moved to new jersey and now he’s playing hockey, like the song states “you finally got the job you like”. that we’re all aware of, she didn’t have any other boyfriends in high school. she and jack seemingly dated from ages 16-18 until he left for the NHL

liked by y/nonthegram

_quinnhughes 💙

user10 this song was amazing! i really related and it made me feel so seen!

user88 big question is: has jack heard the song yet?

jackhughes call me?

user98 @/user88 if he hadn’t, i’m guessing he has now

*** PRESENT: REAL LIFE ***

my heart races as the notification comes through.

i wasn’t sure if he listened to my music, or if the song would get back to him. i just needed to get my feelings down on paper, and then it turned into a song, and then i liked it too much to not release it.

the night i wrote it, i had played a small show in New York, and i could’ve sworn i saw him in the back of the venue. of course, i knew it wasn’t, but it had rattled me; bringing all my feelings for him back to the forefront of my brain.

“call him.” my head snaps up to face my best friend, her eyes soft as she looks at me from the doorway.

“i-” Tate cuts me off with a shake of her head.

“don’t make excuses, y/n. call him.” she repeats, “you deserve to be happy, and from what you’ve told me, he makes you happy.”

she doesn’t stick around; instead bidding me goodbye and heading back to my guest room to give me some privacy.

i pace my bedroom, iphone clutched in my hand. his contact is pulled up, but i can’t seem to build up the nerve to call him. though, it seems i don’t have to, because my phone begins to ring instead, Jack’s photo displaying on the screen.

“hi.” i breathe out, pressing the phone to my ear.

“hi.” he repeats. “i heard your new song. i’m so proud of you, my little songbird.”

my face heats up, blood rushing to my cheeks. i haven’t heard that nickname in almost four years.

“thank you.” my words come out a whisper, still in disbelief that i’m talking to him again.

“did you mean it?” the question causes a panic to erupt in me, swarms of butterflies erupting in my nervous system.

“did i mean what, Jacky?” i need him to say it.

“what you wrote,” he clears his throat, “in the song. did you mean it all? do you still think of me? do you really wanna try again?”

laying sprawled out on my bed, i stare up at the ceiling as i speak.

“i wouldn’t have written it if it wasn’t true.”

“oh- okay. so, uh,” he stutters, but i can hear the smile on his lips, causing the same reaction upon my own face, “where are you right now?”

“um, my apartment?” my brows thread together in confusion, but he just chuckles.

“i mean like, are you living in LA? are you home in Michigan? what state?”

“oh.” i bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment. “i live in New York, Jack.”

“really?” his voice is emotionally distant and seemingly hurt. “so close?”

“yeah.” i nod, although he can’t see me. “i’ve gone to a few of your games.”

“you did?”

“mhm.” i hum in confirmation. “i just- i didn’t wanna be the one to reach out and then have you think oddly of me or have you already be in a relationship or something. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i just didn’t wanna be seen as that clingy ex-girlfriend or anything.”

“that’s not what you are, y/n.” he sighs, “would you wanna meet up soon? catch up? i’d love to hear about your glamorous new pop star life.”

“i’d love to. although, i wouldn’t call myself a pop star, Jacky.”

“you are to me.” i blush at his words, glad he can’t see how much of a mess i am at the moment. “are you free on saturday? i have practice in the morning, but after that, maybe we could go to lunch?”

“yeah, i can do that.” i confirm.

“okay great, i’ll text you on friday to hash out details?”

“sounds great!” my cool hand rises to press against my heated face in attempt to cool myself down.

“great. i gotta go, Luke and i are going out with the guys. i’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“yeah. bye, Jack.” i wait for him to repeat a goodbye before hanging up, burying face in my pillow and letting out a muffled scream.

***

my knee bounces underneath the table of the New York City diner, my hands clasped together on the table.

Jack should be here any minute, and saying i’m nervous would be an understatement. my palms are clammy, my legs won’t stop shaking, and i’m eighty percent sure that i have no skin left on my bottom lip because i’ve chewed it all off.

the little bell above the door rings and my head snaps up to look, but it’s just a young couple with their toddler. i send a friendly smile to the tired looking mother before looking back down at my hands that won’t stop fidgeting.

i zone out, retreating back into my head and all the thoughts that have been plaguing me since we planned this meeting.

what if he doesn’t like me anymore?

what if he has a girlfriend and he’s just trying to be nice?

or worse, what if he’s just asked me here so he could tell me to leave him alone? to stop writing songs about him.

“hi.” i’m pulled out of my thoughts by Jack sliding into the booth across from me, a gentle smile on his face.

his hand snakes across the table to hold mine, and i can’t help but feel like a teenager again, back when we used to have dates like this all the time; where he would hold my hand over the table and we would laugh and joke around for hours.

“hey.” i smile back, giving his hand a small squeeze in return.

“how are you?” he questions. he brings his hand back in order to hold his menu, but his focus remains on me, not even glancing down at the menu yet.

“i’m good!” i nod. “how are you?”

“good, i’m glad. i’m good too.”

we’re interrupted by a waitress, taking a second to look over our menu’s before giving her our orders.

once she retreats, i squirm from the small talk, never having been any good at it. which Jack seems to remember.

“so, how’s the pop star life?” he smirks teasingly, and i giggle.

“not a pop star.” i remind him, shaking my head. “but it’s good. i like where i’m at right now in my career. i like having a strong fanbase but still being unknown enough that i’m not being hounded on or followed like, say, Taylor Swift.

“i’m able to just write my music and put it out, go on small tours, interact with my fans on a more personal level; it’s really nice. i don’t know if i would want it to be more than that.”

he nods in understanding, a wide grin on his face as he listens.

“i get it. and i’m really glad you’ve achieved what you wanted. i’ve always rooted for you.”

“what about you? mr. ninety-nine point season!” he blushes at my words, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, which rest on the tabletop. “how’s that?”

“it’s good! really good.” he looks back up at me, and i have to fight myself from getting lost in his eyes like i would when we were seventeen. “i love it. it’s hard, it’s a lot of work, but it’s amazing. and honestly, i’m pretty glad i’m not on a canadian team. i like that i can go out and still have a pretty normal life outside of hockey, ya know? not be stopped on the street a bunch.”

“yeah, i get it.” i tell him. “i’m so glad you’re happy though. you play great, as you always have.”

he releases a ‘thanks’ before a silence settles over us, neither of us sure what exactly to say next.

i begin to play with the paper wrapper from my straw, winding it around my finger before sliding it off and gently pulling it straight again.

“so, Cole sends me your songs.”

snap! the paper wrapper breaks in two as i look up at him.

“he does?”

“yeah. you know i don’t get on social media too much, so i don’t always know right away when you put one out, but Cole sends me all of them. just in case i miss one.” he explains.

my head bobs up and down as i try to display a level of cool, “oh.”

“that doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asks. “that i don’t always listen to them right away?”

“not at all! i didn’t really think you listened to them at all.” i confess, sinking lower into the booth. “not really your genre.”

he smiles gently, reaching forward to hold my hand tightly in his.

“y/n, you could write a children’s nursery rhyme, and i would still listen to it.”

my head tips back against the booth, joyous laughter spilling from my lips. my nose scrunches, resulting in a small snort, which cause him to laugh as well.

“you’re just saying that.” i choke out, and he shakes his head.

“no! i’m serious! i would!” Jack insists, right as the waitress arrives with our food. she sets our food in front of us, making sure we’re all set before she retreats.

a comfortable small talk takes over as we eat; discussing our friends and their accomplishments since graduation.

“you remember that time,” Jack starts through broken laughter, “that you hit Cole with your car because he said he didn’t think it would hurt?”

“yes! and i barely even tapped him, but the big baby whined that it hurt so bad, i may have crushed his NHL dreams!” my face hurts from smiling so big, but i can no longer fight it.

“and then he was fine and back to practice that afternoon! not even a bruise left on him!” he retorts.

“ever the dramatic, Cole is.” i sigh, sitting back in my seat from position slouched over the table.

“since we’re walking down memory lane, do you remember how i said that maybe down the line, we could revisit us?”

i’m sobered up now, my smile gone as i eye him. he’s playing with his bracelets, a sign of nerves from him, and i just now realize that he’s still wearing the string friendship bracelet i gave him at eighteen; just before his draft.

i swallow the lump that built in throat, nodding, “yeah.”

“you think maybe now would be a good time to do that?” he asks. “start slow; go on dates again, maybe you could come over sometime for movie night with Luke and i, come to a few more of my games, where i actually know you’re there this time. and then see where that could take us?”

butterflies swarm my stomach, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and my teeth sink into my lower lip, biting back a smile.

“i’d love that, Jack.”