#as if it was not the most obvious thing in the universe

[youryurigoddess]

So one thing led to another, and I’ve just paid a visit to the first (that we know of) confirmed Good Omens S3 filming locations. Due to the obvious sensitivity of this material, please tag it accordingly and share only with the fans consenting to know potential spoilers.

A fellow Good Omens fan has mentioned that residents of a certain Edinburgh area had unexpected guests recently, knocking on their door and telling them they are filming in their street soon. Imagine their surprise when a polite question about the details led to the offhand answer: “IT'S ONLY GOOD OMENS”.

For those unaware, the City of Edinburgh Council has been working really hard on promoting the city for film and TV industry for a few years now (the effects of which we saw in S2), and has a set of very clear and very publicly available guidelines regarding the modus operandi here.

The Good Omens production has both large scale and a high impact on a specific location due to the crew size, amount of technology used, and requirement for crowd control in most of the exterior and interior scenes (e.g., bookshop, pub, or coffee shop windows), which is why not only the local authorities, but also residents were informed about the filming with an at least 8 days notice:

Ironically, I just had happened to have a trip here planned and a hotel booked within walking distance to the locations on the attached TM and parking plan map, so it would be a waste not to use this opportunity for the greater good of the fandom. Can’t stay long enough to see the actual crew, so unfortunately the hair photos will have to be made by someone else. Disappointing, I know. But there’s still a lot to be excited about!

According to the provided notice, the filming will happen within one working day with the required set-up planned for the day before, mostly in the afternoon hours. The attached map shows planned parking suspension and SYL dispensation on two streets close to the chosen locations, which is where the trailers and equipment vehicles will park:

Location One turns out to be, rather surprisingly, a cosy corner bookshop. The shop — one of the Edinburgh’s oldest surviving secondhand bookstores — is very small, but crammed with a wide ranging library of beautiful books to serve readers and collectors, including antiquarian true first editions and signed copies.

It’s giving Muriel’s sweet and whimsical charm, but the bits and pieces of the unpublished Good Omens sequel point out not towards Whickber Street, where the angel currently resides, but more towards a new in-universe location. Maybe one that will be opened in the future post-Second Coming, maybe one that will remind one of the characters about a home base of operations back in the heart of London’s Soho (and theirs— wait, who said that?).

Notice that the road closure includes north and south sides of the pavement visible in the last photo, so both indoor and outdoor shots could be expected:

Location Two seems a bit more complex, since it’s basically a skewed triangle consisting of one longer street and a short side street diverging from it. Conveniently for the filmmakers, the architecture here is uncharacteristic enough that it could be easily presented as British, Scottish, or even American. I’m personally a bit partial to the last option since it would make sense story- and budget-wise, especially now with the two people previously adamant on shooting the US scenes only on location there not on the production team anymore.

The contrasting structures and materials visible here easily offer background for multiple potential contexts and scenarios, so much in fact that it’s easy to imagine more than one scene being shot here for cost- and time-effective reasons. Some of the buildings along the cobbled road have the right look and feel for historical flashbacks, as you can see below. I find the two separate entrances next to each other particularly lovely:

A considerable part of the buildings in the area, however, belongs to a more modern complex that communicates a very different personality and function. With a bit of camera and post-production magic, it could transform to a wide range of settings — please let me know your thoughts and ideas if you have any!

Specific filming times and more detailed information are consciously not shared out of concern for the crew and cast members who clearly don’t want them to become public knowledge. Those of you who live in the area and might visit the set anyway, please don’t forget to make sure that your presence won’t bother them as well as other locals. And remember to keep any new photos and information contained with tags so that you won’t spoil it to the people who would rather wait for the movie itself!

[reiding-writing]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭.

a case involving female students being murdered in their dormitories brings the team to stanford university. You have more of a connection to it than you originally realise.

cold!reader ❅ 8.4k ❅ cold!reader masterlist. ❅ main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, violence against women, detail of murder and injury, abuse of power, student-professor relationships, miscarriage and abortion, character death, manipulation, cynicism

“Three women, all doctorate students of Stanford University, have all been killed inside their dorm rooms in the last two weeks,” There’s a click of a button, and then three images flash up on the screen, headshots of the girls. “All three were found with their stomachs cut open and their reproductive organs removed,”

What a lovely way to start a Monday morning.

“So much for the best University in California,” Morgan nudges your arm with his elbow, and your roll your eyes.

“What was the medical knowledge of the unsub?”

“You tell me,” JJ clicks another button on her remote, and the smiling photos of the victims are replaced with their crime scene photos.

Hands and feet tied to their beds, a large incision at the pelvic bone that had been stretched open to leave the internal organs bare, and the uterus cut out of the body. The surface knowledge was there, but the execution was not. Messy lines and uneven incisions that left the gap left in the victims more blood and tissue than actual hole.

“So we’re not looking for a professional then,” Morgan points out the obvious with a cross of his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“They clearly know something about it though,” Spencer leans forward as Morgan leans back, squinting his eyes like it’s going to make the images clearer. “There’s several different ways to perform a hysterectomy, but for a complete hysterectomy like our unsub is doing, the most common method is to start with an incision just above the pelvic bone,”

We’ll discuss the details of hysterectomies whilst we’re on the plane,” Hotch taps both of his hands on the table as he stands. “Gather your things, wheels up in thirty,”

There’s a chorus of “Yes Sir,”s as you all follow him out of the conference room to return to your respective desks and gather your belongings for the flight, an air of fatigue still surrounding the group even through the graphic imagery you were presented with.

“Going back to your alma mater, how do you feel?” Morgan clasps his right hand into a fist and holds it out to you like an invisible microphone.

You push it away without much thought as you pack your laptop into your bag, rolling your eyes at him for what feels like the tenth time since you’d walked through the door an hour ago. “It’s been almost— no, it has been ten years since I graduated, what’s there to ‘feel’?”

“Okay robot face, damn, no lingering love for the College that gave you your career?” Morgan’s taunt is laced with that familiar air of light-heartedness that’s there to remind you that he really is just poking fun, but you’ve never been very receptive to his humour.

“No.”

He lets out a sharp laugh in a mix of amusement and surprise, opening his mouth to make another comment, but the expression on your face tells him you’re definitely done talking about the topic.

He does have some self restraint.

—

Stepping out of the San Jose International Airport almost felt like going into a time machine, spitting you right back out where you’d left that decade ago just 18 miles from your old campus.

It felt even more surreal actually reaching Stanford’s main site, walking around the place you’d dedicated four years of your life to. Not much had changed since you’d left, not that you really expected it to, but it felt almost foreign to you to walk around the campus as you were now, a properly matured adult compared to the almost naive teenager you started as.

You began where you always did, at the most recent crime scene, a college dorm room on the south-east side of the campus.

It was pretty standard, a bedroom big enough for a double bed and a desk, a built in wardrobe, and a private bathroom; Decorated how you would expect from a girl in her early twenties, covered in memories and interests that gave it a personality outside of the off-white paint on the walls.

Of course, it was mildly ruined by the fact the previously pink bedsheets were stained in a pool of oxidised blood that dripped down onto the rug adorned floor and ledger small spatters on the skirting boards, but what can you really expect when the girl had been cut open whilst she was still alive and most definitely struggling against it.

“There’s no signs of forced entry,” All Morgan could do was shrug as he examined the fire door that acted as the room’s only entrance. “The inside lock was unfastened and there’s no marks indicating it was forced open, or that it even could be without heavy grade tools,”

“So our unsub had his own key then?”

“Or,” Emily’s suggestion was side-stepped by Spencer, “He was let in,”

There’s a small hum from Hotch as he stands beside you, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “Alright,” He turns his eyes onto you with a small nod, “Take Prentiss to the Mortuary and check the autopsy. Morgan, Reid, get Garcia to find a list of professors the victims shared and go and speak with them, they might’ve noticed a change in the girls’ behaviours before their deaths.”

“Will do,”

“Got it,”

There’s a series of shared nods between you as you spilt up, leaving Hotch, Rossi and JJ at the crime scene in search of any more information they could utilise.

—

Trying to catch a Professor when they’re not busy is harder than most people would think. So hard in fact that Spencer and Morgan had been left with standing inside one of the lecture rooms to endure the last twenty minutes of a forensic psychology lesson so they could get the professor between classes.

“Professor Callahan?”

“For any personal feedback on your essay please send me an email,” The professor doesn’t so much as look up from the papers he collects and organises on his desk, seemingly already in a rush even after barely two minutes of the lecture ending.

Morgan and Spencer share a glance.

“My name’s Dr Spencer Reid, and this is Agent Morgan, we’re from the FBI,”

Callahan looks up this time, rectangle glasses reflecting the two back to each other through the overhead lighting.

“We were hoping we could ask you a few questions, Sir,”

Spencer watches the Professor’s eyebrows knit in confusion before his eyes spark with a hint of realisation, and then understanding.

“Yes, of course,” He nods, collecting the pile of papers in his right arm. “Please, follow me into my office,”

His office is filled with bookshelves stacked with psychology texts and framed accolades lining the walls. Small busts of philosophers in the mpty spaces. His desk is littered with small rememberences of his former students, and lining the opposite wall is another, a small plaque reading Dr. Wittchen at it’s forefront.

“Did you notice any changes in the girls’ behaviour, or anything unusual leading up to their deaths?” Spencer’s question is cautious, if not a little bit emotionally insensitive.

Callahan’s expression shifts to one of concern. “Honestly, I hadn’t noticed anything alarming. They were all such high achievers, incredibly driven. The stress of their programs sometimes affected them, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Spencer nods, then glances toward the accompanying desk. “What about Professor Wittchen? Does he interact with the students much?”

Callahan hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “Robert is highly respected, very dedicated to his work. He can be a little tough on their grades, but more often than not he’s sat in here doing one-on-one tutoring in his spare time,”

Spencer hums softly at Callahan’s assessment. “Do you know if he turoed any of the girls? He might have a better insight into any changes in their mannerisms,”

“I’m not sure I’m afraid,” Callahan shakes his head, “I leave him to his teachings most of the ime, but I can let him know you’ve asked,”

As they speak, Morgan’s gaze drifts to a nearby display shelf adorned with photographs of past students on the far wall, each one framed and labeled with a name and a date.

Etched into the wood of the shelf itself an engraving reading, “Shelf of Stars.” stood front and centre, and as Morgan’s eyes wandered the pictures, a certain label caught his attention.

Front and centre, there you sat, “2006 PhD” followed by your name, a picture of you and your Professors in what’s presuambly your first year.

“No way,” Morgan breathes out a laugh. “Reid come look at this,”

“What? What’s wrong?” Spencer and Callahan’s expressions mirror each other as they glance over at Morgan in concern, only for him to quash any need for worry as he holds up the frame in their direction.

“Look how different she looks! What happened, did she get hit by a truck when she turned 20 or what?”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Spencer’s eyes, one that almost turns to fondness as he takes in the bright smile printed behind the glass. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that since you’ve been with the team.

“You know her?” Callahan raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s on our team,” Morgan nods with a chuckle as he places the picture back where he found it, pulling out his phone to snap a photo, probably to make fun of you later.

“Really?” Professor Callahan looks more than a little surprised at the revelation. “I knew she was destined for great things, but the FBI, wow,” He breathes out a short sigh, nodding. “Robert’ll have a field day when he finds out she chose forensics over clinical,”

Spencer gives what’s almost a laugh, clearing his throat. “Well, Professor, thank you for speaking with us, we’ll contact you if we find any more information,”

“No problem at all, my door is always open,” Callahan follows Spencer and Morgan over to the office door, holding it open for them as they leave.

“Oh, Agents?” He stops them before they get too far. “If you have any time in or after your investigation, ask her to pay us a visit? It’d be nice to catch up,”

“We’ll let her know,”

—

“From what I can tell, the removal of the uterus was done antemortem, and the victims cause of death was the blood loss that resulted from it,” The Coroner lifts the muscle torn by the initial incision to give you and Emily a proper look at the damage.

“The nature of the incisions tells that they were most likely done with proper surgical instruments, a scalpel most likely, but their nature is unpracticed, see here for example,”

She points towards the left side of the victims pelvis, where the muscle had been separated from the uteral lining. “In a professional hysterectomy, this tissue here would also be removed, but in this case it’s been left attached to the surrounding tissues, and the same can be said for the others,”

“So our unsub knows the basics, is that something that would require medical training?” Emily furrows her eyebrows at the sight, and you’re much the same.

The sight is almost enough to make you feel nauseous, but you don’t need sickly thoughts clouding your judgement right now.

“Possibly, although with how the internet is, it’s possible they read an article or watched a documentary on how the procedure is done,” The coroner sways her head side to side, “I’d say that whoever did this has had some training, but not necessarily in the field,”

Emily hums, turning her gaze from the victim towards you. “Medical student maybe?”

You hum absently, eyes trained on the gaping hole left in the girl’s stomach. “Maybe, probably won’t still be a student though,”

It affects you more than it should, you think, a malingering nagging in the back of your head that won’t leave you alone but also won’t tell you why it’s there in the first place.

You sigh, “We should look at biologists too, clinical fields,”

Emily gives you an agreeing nod. “I’ll call Garcia,” She pats your shoulder deftly as she leaves the room.

“Was there anything else strange about the body?” You tear your eyes away from the girl to look up at the coroner, who only gives you a small shake of her head.

“Not that I can see,” Her gaze, though objective, flickers with small amounts of uncertainty. “It’s so upsetting, things like this, what spurs someone to do something so… primally horrific?”

“A rejection probably, a denial of a sexual relationship or children that’s projected onto other women because he can’t get to the person he really wants to hurt,” You shrug out an exhale. “More common than you’d think,”

She frowns. “it’s awful,”

“Yeah,” You purse your lips together. “But it is what it is,”

—

“Did the three girls have any clear connections?”

Garcia taps away on her keyboard, and the jingling of her earrings over the reciever suggests that she’s shaking her head. “Apart from being Stanford students, not really. Julie was doing an MsC in Pediatric Therapy, Ophelia doing an MA in History of Medicine, and Marie doing a PhD in Psychology.” She sighs. “None of them had any classes together, no mutual friends, I don’t even think they knew the others existed,”

“There has to be some overlap,” Morgan groans exasperatedly, glancing over at the mostly bare profile board that him and Spencer were trying to put together. They’d spoken to most of the girls’ professors by now, and apart from offhanded comments about stress and pressure, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

It was frustrating, really frustrating, and for all they knew, the team was on a time limit before another girl suffered the same fate. They needed a break in the case, sooner rather than later.

“What about the students Emily asked you to look into? Spencer bends almost awkardly towards Morgan’s phone, trying to raise his voice into the speaker whilst still writing against the whiteboard.

“Nada, I’m afraid, no one who had connections to all three girls, past or present, I’ve hit a wall,”

“No kidding,” Morgan exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his phone. “Thanks anyway, sweetness,”

“Of course my love, I’ll hit you back if I find anything, Penny G out,” —

“So we’ve got three dead girls, no connections, and no signature to help us track down this guy, lovely,” Emily sips on her coffee, leaning back into her chair with a sigh.

“Isn’t this like every other case we’ve ever had?” You raise an eyebrow is disinterest, stretching you arms above your head and almost hitting Morgan in the face as he and Spencer reenter the room from their lunch break.

The Psychology department had been kind enough to loan you one of their staff rooms during your investigation, and comments had already been made about Hotch’s demeanour as he walked around you like he was keeping an eye on a group of toddlers.

“There’s something we’re missing here,” Rossi pours over the whiteboard with a disgruntled sigh, his palm dragging down the side of his face. “There’s always something,”

Reid nods, tapping his pen against his notebook as he takes a seat. “Even perfectionists leave traces. It’s just a matter of understanding their logic—how they justify their actions.”

“Change of subject quickly,” Morgan holds up a hand as he walks around the table, his other hand landing on your shoulder. “Talking of leaving traces, who was going to tell us that you actually knew how to smile?”

You shrug his hand off of you with a furrow of your eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m talking little nineteen year old you beaming like you were trying to compete with the sun,” He digs his phone from his pocket, holding the screen out to face the group. “I mean look at this, look at you, its weird,”

You snatch the phone from him as soon as you recognise the picture. “Why do you have that picture?”

“We took a trip to see one of your old Professors,” Morgan wrestles the device back out of your hands before you have a chance to what he assumes will be deleting the evidence of your past sunniness. “He asked to see you at some point by the way, wants to ‘catch up’,”

“Delete that photo, Morgan.” You cross one leg over the other with a huff.

“No way, Ice Queen, I’m gonna make fun of you with this forever,”

“I hate you,”

”I love you too,” He blows an air kiss in your direction.

The shrill ring of the door opening cuts through the room, snapping everyone to attention. A mildly out of breath PD officer leaning against the doorframe.

“There’s been another one,” she says, her voice tight.

The room erupts into motion.

—

When you arrive, the scene is eerily similar to the others. The victim, a young woman in her early twenties, lies in the middle of her dorm room, fully clothed and carefully positioned. Her face is serene, as though she’s simply sleeping. The blood pooling out of her lower abdomen tells you that she’s not.

“Victim’s name is Natalie Yu. Twenty-one, Psychology major. She fits the profile—academic, driven, top of her class.” JJ fills you in easily.

You step closer, your heart sinking as you take in the meticulous staging. The unsub’s reverence for his victims is apparent in every detail. No signs of a struggle. No personal belongings out of place.

Reid crouches near the body, his eyes narrowing. “Same as the others. No physical trauma that would suggest a cause of death other than bloodloss. Removal of reproductive organs.”

Morgan stands by the door, his jaw clenched. “This guy’s escalating. Three murders in three weeks, and now this. He’s not slowing down.”

Something catches Prentiss’s eye. She kneels beside the victim and carefully lifts the edge of her blouse. Tucked neatly into the waistband of her jeans is a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she murmurs, pulling on gloves before unfolding the note. The room goes still as she reads aloud:

“It was meant to be you.”

You lean over Emily’s shoulder to get a glance at the writing yourself. And then you immediately regret doing so. The handwriting is unmistakable—sharp, angular strokes that you’d recognise anywhere.

But you can’t say that. Not yet.

“‘It was meant to be you’?” Rossi repeats, stepping closer. “What the hell does that mean?”

Reid frowns. “It’s personal. Direct. He’s targeting someone specific now.”

“It could be a taunt,” JJ offers. “A way to throw us off or instill fear in the team.”

Morgan shakes his head, his expression grim. “No. This is different. This isn’t just about control anymore—this is about sending a message,”

“It’s personal,” Reid says again, his gaze sweeping the room. For a brief moment, his eyes land on you, and you feel like he can see right through you.

“Excuse me,” you manage, your voice steady despite the panic clawing at your chest.

You step outside, the crisp air hitting you like a jolt. Your hands shake as you pull out your phone, staring at the screen without really seeing it. The note wasn’t just a taunt—it was a reminder. He knew you were here. He’d known the moment you stepped onto campus.

It was meant to be you.

The words echo in your mind, a sinister promise that leaves no room for doubt.

—

“This is different from the previous victims,” Spencer says, “The note changes everything. If we assume the unsub has been fixated on someone specific all along, the other victims could have been surrogates—stand-ins for the real target.”

Prentiss looks at him sharply. “You think the unsub is escalating because the real target is now within reach?”

He nods. “Exactly. The murders were practice, perfecting the method. But now that the target is accessible, he’s shifting focus.”

“Great,” Morgan mutters. “Wonderful.”

JJ gestures to the note. “We need to figure out who he’s targeting—and fast.”

You stand by the door, your stomach twisting. You can’t let them figure it out, not like this.

“I’ll follow up on the note,” you say, forcing a calm you don’t feel. “Maybe there’s something about the phrasing or handwriting we can use to narrow down suspects.”

Morgan eyes you, his brow furrowed. “You sure you’re good? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

You nod quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

—

You barricade yourself in the staff room, spreading out the case files across the table. You stare at the note, the handwriting glaring up at you like a brand.

“It was meant to be you.”

You were just a kid, desperate to prove yourself. He saw that. He used it.

You grip the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You can’t let him win. Not again.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s Spencer, holding a cup of coffee.

“Thought you could use this,” he says, setting it down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You manage a display of gratitude, but his gaze lingers, sharp and questioning.

“You’ve been off since we got here,” he says softly. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Your heart skips a beat. Reid is too perceptive for his own good, and you know he won’t let this go.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods, stepping back. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

As he leaves, you let out a shaky breath. The walls are closing in, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this to yourself. Not if you don’t want anyone else to die because of it.

—

Spencer stands near the board, absentmindedly tapping his pen against his palm. Morgan is leaning against a table, arms crossed, while Prentiss and JJ exchange quiet remarks by the coffee pot. Rossi, as always, is seated with his chair tipped back, his eyes fixed on the board.

But it’s Hotch who breaks the silence. “This unsub’s timeline is escalating, and the note makes it clear they’re getting bolder. If we don’t figure out their connection to Stanford soon, someone else is going to die.”

Morgan sighs. “We’ve gone through the victim profiles a dozen times. There’s no overlap other than the school. No shared clubs, professors, dorms, nothing. It’s like this guy’s picking them at random.”

“Not random,” Spencer interjects, his voice sharp. “The victims are stand-ins for someone else. I’m sure of it. The note confirmed it—‘It was meant to be you.’ The unsub isn’t just killing; they’re trying to send a message to someone.”

Rossi tilts his head. “None of them bear any significant physical relation to each other,”

Reid nods. “It doesn’t have to be physical. It’s an ideal, there’s something specific that ties all of the victims together, something linked to whoever the unsub is actually after,”

JJ frowns. “But who is it? If it’s not one of the victims, how do we figure out who the unsub is fixated on?”

You tense in your chair, your hands curling into fists under the table. You can feel their eyes shifting to you, their collective attention like a spotlight burning against your skin.

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “You did go here. Maybe there’s something you’d recognise—something we’ve missed.”

You meet their gazes with forced calm, willing your voice to remain steady. “Just because I went to Stanford doesn’t mean this case has anything to do with me.”

Prentiss leans forward slightly, her tone gentle but insistent. “No one’s saying it does, but if there’s even a chance—”

“There’s not.” you cut her off, sharper than you intended. The words hang in the air, and you immediately regret your tone. It doesn’t change anything though. “We’re here because of the victims, not because I graduated from here a decade ago.”

The room falls quiet, and the tension thickens. Hotch watches you carefully, his unreadable gaze a weight you can’t escape.

“I need some air,” you say abruptly, standing before anyone can argue. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You leave the room before anyone can stop you, the sound of your boots echoing down the sterile hall.

—

Stanford’s campus feels both foreign and familiar as you wander its paths. The sprawling quads and ivy-covered buildings haven’t changed much in the years since you left, but the memories they stir feel sharp and raw.

You stop at a bench near the Psychology department, the cool breeze doing little to calm the storm inside you. Your arms wrap around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together.

“You’re not fine.”

The voice startles you, but you don’t turn around. You’d recognise that soft, observant tone anywhere. Spencer.

He sits beside you, leaving a respectful distance between you, his lanky frame folding awkwardly on the bench. “You’ve been different since we got here,” he says after a moment. “Quiet. Hesitant. That’s not like you,”

You don’t respond, staring out at the students passing by, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the weight in your chest.

“I know it’s not just the case,” he continues, his voice gentle but unyielding. “There’s something else. Something you’re not telling us.”

Your jaw tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,”

His certainty grates on your already frayed nerves, and you finally turn to him, your eyes flashing. “What are you trying to say, Reid? Spit it out.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing as he chooses his words carefully. “I think you know who the unsub is. Or at least… you suspect,”

You laugh, the sound bitter and sharp. “That’s a hell of an accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says quickly. “I’m worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself, and the way you reacted to that note…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It was different. You looked like you’d seen a ghost,”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you snap, the defensive edge in your voice sharper than you intend.

He doesn’t flinch, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s more than that. I can see it. You’re scared,”

The word hits you like a slap, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. He’s right, of course. You are scared. Terrified, even. But admitting that feels like surrendering, like letting him win.

“Stop it,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Spencer leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies you. “I think I do. I think this unsub has a connection to you. And I think that’s why you’ve been avoiding us—because you don’t want us to figure it out.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, and you glare at him, your composure threatening to crack. “You don’t know what he did to me.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and the moment they do, you see the understanding dawn in his eyes. “Who?” Spencer presses gently. “Who are we talking about?”

Your chest heaves as you fight back the tears threatening to spill. “One of my Professors.”

“Did he…” Spencer hesitates in pressing the subject, a mix of his usual timidness when it comes to you and the fear that he’s broaching on a very concerning topic.

“It was consensual.”

Spencer watches you closely, his eyes searching your face for a sign, some clue, as if trying to understand the puzzle that is your inner workings.

He doesn’t push, but the silence between you both is suffocating. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks again, but it still cuts through the heavy air between you.

"You were just a kid," Spencer murmurs, his words soft but no less sharp. "He took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, when you were still figuring things out. That’s manipulation."

You flinch at the truth of it, at the way he so easily sees the pieces of your life you've tried so hard to bury. You didn’t want to think about him anymore, didn’t want to remember how he twisted every gesture, every word, until it was all about him, all about what he wanted.

You can still feel the weight of his hands, the way he made you feel like you didn’t have a choice, that this was all part of the price you had to pay to succeed, to be seen as worthy of your place in academia.

Spencer shifts slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “He used his power over you. You were just a kid, and he was a professor. Someone you trusted.” His words are steady, but they cut deep. "You were in a position where you thought you had to do what he wanted. But it wasn’t your fault,”

“It was consensual.” you say again, more firmly this time, though it feels like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than him, the words raw and drenched in a cold calmness you didn’t really feel.

“Was it?” Spencer asks gently, his voice low. “If you were 19 and you thought you had to do it to get ahead, was it really? Was it truly your choice?”

You feel the air leave your lungs, and you want to scream at him, to deny everything, to make him stop asking these questions, because the answers are too painful, too complicated.

But he’s right. You were a child—so young, so desperate to succeed, to make a name for yourself in a field dominated by people like him. You thought you were lucky when he took you under his wing, when he offered you guidance, extra attention, time. But you weren’t.

“I had an abortion,” you finally confess, the words coming out in a broken whisper.

Spencer’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s silent, processing your admission. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes. He doesn’t push, though, just watches you, his expression a mix of sympathy and concern, but there's no judgment in it. Not like you expected.

“In my shitty college dorm room,” Your voice catches, and you blink rapidly, trying to stop the sting in your eyes. “I thought I was dying. The amount of blood—” You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling in your lap. “I didn't know how to make it stop.Sometimes I wish it didn’t.”

“Don’t say that.”

Spencer leans in a little, his gaze intense, but gentle. “You were just a kid,” he says softly, his words like a balm, soothing yet cutting through the guilt. “He took advantage of you. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

You want to believe him. You want so badly to hear those words and let them erase the shame that has clung to you for so long. But the voices of doubt are louder in your head. The fear that somehow, deep down, it was your fault. That maybe you could’ve said no, maybe you could’ve gotten away before it went too far.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you say, your voice low, almost ashamed of the vulnerability. “I couldn’t tell my parents or my friends… or anyone. It was like everything I worked for, everything I had, was tied to him. If I said something, everything would’ve been ruined.”

Spencer’s brows furrow, and he lets out a soft exhale. “No one should ever have to carry that weight alone, especially not at your age.” His voice is steady, but there’s something deeply empathetic in his tone. “It’s not a burden you should’ve had to bear by yourself.”

“I lied to him too,” you whisper, the confession hanging heavily in the air. “I told him I miscarried. He was devastated. He wasn’t even angry—just sad. But I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything.”

“You…” Spencer starts, hesitating to make sure he words his response correctly. “Being in a state of shock is normal after a traumatic event,”

You shake your head. “I know what shock feels like. I was just numb. I murdered my own child and I didn’t even feel guilty about it.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens slightly, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes, but it’s not directed at you. It’s directed at him, at the man who should’ve protected you, not preyed on you. His voice is tight, but he keeps it calm.

“You did what you had to do. That’s not your fault.”

“It was alive. Seventeen weeks. I flushed it down the fucking toilet,” You drag your palm down your face, leaning forward until your elbows are resting on your knees.

“I didn’t even want to graduate after that,” you admit, your voice raw. “I couldn’t face him. I just wanted to disappear, but I was not going to put myself through hell without getting something out of it.”

Spencer is quiet for a long moment, taking in everything you’ve said. His gaze never wavers from yours, like he’s trying to understand every piece of you, trying to reach that place where you’re still hiding, still locked away from the rest of the world.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation for what happened. You did what you needed to survive. And you are surviving. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. The storm inside you hasn’t calmed, but for the first time in a long while, it feels like it’s not threatening to swallow you whole. The walls you’ve built around yourself feel just a little more porous, itching to crumble.

“I’m scared,” you say, the vulnerability you’ve been holding back creeping into your voice. “He’s murdering people because of me.”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. He sits up straighter, his expression serious. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll help you, and we’ll make sure that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“You can’t tell anyone what I just told you.”

He lets out a sigh of your name.

“Promise me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” He nods solemnly. “I promise.”

—

The moment you walk through the doors of the empty lecture hall, you feel it—that same nauseating mix of dread and anticipation curling in your stomach. The air is stale, thick with the weight of memories you spent years trying to forget.

He’s already there, standing at the podium like he belongs there, like nothing has changed. Like he hasn’t left a trail of bodies behind him.

“Ah,” Professor Wittchen exhales as if relieved. “There you are,”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I should’ve known you’d pick this place.”

His lips curve into a small smile, a smile that used to make you feel seen. Now, it makes your skin crawl. “It’s fitting, don’t you think? This is where it all began,”

He watches you with the same unwavering gaze he always had, the one that used to make you feel special—chosen. Now, it just feels predatory.

“I missed you,” he says simply, stepping closer.

You don’t move.

“You should’ve visited,” he continues, his voice warm, inviting, like this is a casual conversation and not a confrontation between a killer and his last loose end. “You were my brightest student,”

“I was your victim.” you correct, voice sharp.

His expression doesn’t falter. If anything, he looks pleased. “Victim?” he echoes, like he’s rolling the word around in his mouth, testing its weight. “That’s not how I remember it.”

You swallow hard, jaw clenched. You knew this was how he would react. Knew he would twist things, make them blurry, like he always had.

He tilts his head, studying you. “I heard you became a profiler. That’s impressive. Though I always thought you were more inclined to be a Psychiatrist.”

“You shouldn't be surprised,” you say flatly. “I learned from the best manipulators.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “Now, that’s not fair,”

Your nails dig into your palms. “I know it’s you,” you say, cutting through the act. “You murdered four innocent women because you couldn’t move on.”

He exhales, almost disappointed. “That’s not quite right.”

You don’t let him continue. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”

His gaze darkens, and for the first time since you stepped into this room, the warmth fades from his expression. “It’s been ten years since you left me,” he says simply. “You never even had the decency to say goodbye. I tried to find a substitute, but they weren’t like you. No body is. You’re special.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you force yourself to hold his stare. “I didn’t owe you anything.”

Wittchen exhales through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve disappointed him. “That’s not true. I shaped you. I made you.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You ruined my life.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and then—slowly—he steps down from the podium, closing the distance between you. “You don’t believe that.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t move.

He stops inches from you, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I see it in your eyes. You still need me.”

You know what he’s doing. You know how his mind works, how he bends reality to his will, how he rewrites history to suit his narrative.

And for the first time, you don’t fall for it.

“You’re pathetic,” you whisper. “You think killing people will make me what? Love you? Miss you?” You shake your head. “You mean nothing to me.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s subtle, but you catch it. The crack in his mask. The first glimpse of the monster beneath.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

There it is. The control slipping.

Good.

You see the flash of something dark behind his eyes—anger, frustration, maybe even desperation. He knows he’s losing control, and for a man like him, that’s unbearable.

You take a step forward. Not away, but closer.

“I hate you.” you say, your voice sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the room.

Wittchen’s lips barely twitch, but you see the flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he thinks you’re still playing a game with him. Like this is another debate, another test of wills.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”

He sighs, tilting his head like you’re disappointing him. “I did anything you didn’t ask for,” he says, like it’s a fact. “You wanted me.”

Rage burns through you, hot and all-consuming. “I was nineteen,” you spit. You knew exactly what you were doing. You took advantage of me.”

Wittchen exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that,”

“It was exactly like that,” you snap, stepping closer. “And do you want to know the worst part? I spent years telling myself it wasn’t. That maybe I did love you, that maybe I wanted to be with you. But I didn’t.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it.

“I don’t regret leaving you,” you continue, voice trembling with fury. “I don’t regret moving on, or never looking back. But do you know what I do regret?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches you carefully, like he’s waiting for the killing blow.

“I regret ever letting you touch me. I regret every second I spent thinking you were something special, that you cared about me. You didn’t. You only cared about what I could give you.”

Something shifts in his expression—subtle, but enough. His fingers twitch again.

You steel yourself and drive the dagger deeper.

“You think I miscarried?” you ask, voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s what I told you, right? That I lost the baby?”

His face remains eerily blank.

“I lied,” you whisper. “I had an abortion.”

His entire body stiffens.

“Because the thought of being tied to you for the rest of my life made me sick. And I would’ve rather died from sepsis than deal with you.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

For a moment, Wittchen doesn’t react. Doesn’t breathe.

Then, without warning, he moves.

His hand goes for his waistband, and in a split second, you see the glint of a gun.

But you’re faster.

Your own weapon is already in your hands before he can fully draw his, aimed directly at his chest.

“Don’t.” you warn, your voice steel.

Wittchen hesitates, his gun halfway raised, his eyes locked onto yours.

For the first time, there’s something close to uncertainty in his expression.

—

The team is listening.

They hear every word.

Spencer’s grip on his gun is tight, knuckles white, jaw clenched so hard it aches. The rest of the team stands tense beside him, ears trained on the conversation happening just beyond the door.

They could go in. They should go in.

But they don’t.

Not yet.

Because this isn’t their battle.

Still, when they hear the shift in the conversation, the moment Wittchen reaches for his gun, every muscle in Spencer’s body tenses, ready to move.

And then—

Silence.

A long, stretching silence.

Then a single gunshot.

—

“You’re lying,” Wittchen snaps, his voice rising as his fingers curl tighter around the revolver’s grip. He pulls back the hammer with a metallic click, the sound loud in the charged silence of the lecture hall.

His arm is steady, the barrel aimed at your chest, but you don't flinch. “You miscarried. You were sick. That’s the truth. I took care of you. I was there when you needed me.”

Your lips curl into a bitter smile.

“The baby was fine,” you say, voice cold and firm. “I just didn’t want it.”

The words hang between you, heavy and raw.

For a split second, something akin to disbelief flickers in his eyes. But he recovers quickly, his jaw tightening as his grip on the gun tightens. The cold, calculating look is back.

The man who used his power over you is right here, still trying to control the situation. But he’s unraveling, and you can see it now—the cracks in his façade.

“You think you can just walk away from all this?” Wittchen growls, his voice a low threat. His eyes dart between you and the gun in your hand, calculating the distance, the time it would take to react.

“You’re going to watch me.” you reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside you. You take a step forward, gun lowered in favour of a pair of handcuffs.

He lets out a sharp breath, taking a step backwards, his arm still outstretched, but his expression is one of rage and something else—desperation.

“I gave you everything,” Wittchen sneers. “I could’ve given you more. You were a star, you were going places. But you threw it all away.”

“I didn’t throw away anything.” you say, voice sharp, anger curling in your gut. “I made my life what I wanted it to be.”

You take another step toward him. Your hand grips your gun tighter, its cold weight a reminder of how far you’ve come, how much you’ve survived.

“I was a kid,” you say, quieter now, more dangerous. “A kid who wanted to make something of herself. But you? You made sure I’d always be tied to you, that I’d never escape your reach. You took that from me. And now?”

Now, you’re not just angry. Now, you’re done.

“I don’t need you anymore,” you continue, voice quiet but lethal. “And I don’t need to live in fear of you. Not anymore. Just give up.”

Wittchen’s face hardens. His finger moves closer to the trigger, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still. His eyes are cold, calculating—he’s trying to force you to back down, to make you fear him again. But you don’t. Not anymore.

And he knows it.

The silence stretches out, suffocating. And then, without another word, he turns the gun away from you and towards himself.

For a moment, the world is frozen.

The sharp scent of gunpowder lingers in the air.

You don’t flinch.

You don’t move.

Wittchen stares at you, almost smiling.

A slow, dark red stain spreads across his chest. His gun falls from his hand, clattering uselessly to the floor.

Then, his knees buckle.

He collapses.

The impact is dull, almost anticlimactic.

His breath comes in shallow gasps, and for the first time since you walked into this room, he looks small.

Weak.

The man who once held so much power over you is nothing more than a dying, pathetic heap on the floor.

And somehow, there’s no satisfaction in it.

You watch as the light fades from his eyes, as the last breath leaves his lips.

And then—

It’s over.

—

The gunshot sends the team into action.

Spencer is the first through the door, gun raised, eyes scanning the room for threats.

But all he finds is you—standing still, gun loose in one hand, handcuffs in the other, staring blankly ahead.

Wittchen is on the floor, unmoving. Blood pools around him.

For a second, no one speaks.

Then you move.

Without looking at any of them, you turn away from the corpse.

And then, numbly, silently, you walk past them.

You don’t stop when Spencer calls your name.

You don’t stop when JJ reaches for you.

You just keep walking.

Because it’s finally over.

And yet, somehow, it doesn’t feel like a victory at all.

—

The air outside the lecture hall is thick with tension.

Your gun feels heavy in your hands, and at some point, you register someone gently taking it from you. You don’t resist.

The hallways of Stanford feel different now. The ghosts you tried so hard to forget have been exorcised, but their shadows still linger.

You reach the nearest exit and step outside, inhaling sharply as the crisp night air hits you. You brace your hands on your knees, grounding yourself.

Then you hear footsteps behind you.

You know it’s them.

You straighten, forcing yourself to meet their gazes.

Hotch stands with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his presence steady. JJ and Emily exchange a look, worry etched into their features. Rossi, as always, watches with quiet understanding.

Then there’s Morgan.

He looks… shaken.

Guilt lingers in his eyes, and when he steps forward, his voice is lower, softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You blink, caught off guard.

“For what?” Your voice is hoarse, raw.

Morgan exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw with his eyes full of regret. “I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. You don’t want to talk about it. But there’s something in his voice, in the way his usually confident demeanor falters, that makes you nod stiffly.

“I know.”

It’s the closest thing to forgiveness you can offer right now.

Morgan nods, accepting it.

Spencer is the last to approach.

He doesn’t say anything at first—just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes, though, say everything.

You hold his gaze for a moment before sighing. “What?”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits. His voice is careful, but there’s an edge of something else—frustration, sadness, maybe even anger. Not at you. Never at you. But at what happened. At what Wittchen took from you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur.

—

The hum of the jet is steady and low, a constant presence that fills the silence between breaths.

You sit by the window, staring out at the clouds, your reflection barely visible against the dark glass.

You should be exhausted.

You are exhausted.

But sleep won’t come.

Your mind won’t let it.

The seat next to you shifts slightly, and you glance over to see Spencer settling beside you.

He doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t ask if you’re okay, because he already knows you’re not.

Doesn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances.

He just sits.

And somehow, that’s reassurance enough.

Sleep comes a little easier after that.

[alighted-willow]

(Just slotting these tag here, because they're correct.)

At a previous job I had a coworker who was one of those spiritual tourism types, and one day she started going in about how the “[U]niverse gifts some people” with intelligence, skill, health, etcetera, and that those things can't be taught. She'd been referring most specifically to her impressive singing capabilities, and she was a very beautiful and artfully adorned person, meaning she believe ‘the universe’ made her special.

I pointed out to her that what she was saying had some very obvious economic, social, and ableist implications and asked if she thought ‘the universe’ decides which children get sent to choir versus to their grandparents, to which she doubled down. Realizing that my example hedged as an ad hominem, I switched gears to mention how ‘the universe’ was a direct swap for ‘god’ (specifically the Christian god) and that everything she'd said is the same stuff that's been said by Christian political organizations since this country's founding.

Apparently, insinuating someone to be religious is an insult worse than implying that someone's deteriorating health was deserved.

it does still make me insane specifically how many queer people lovingly embrace astrology. I went to a poetry workshop yesterday that was genuinely quite good but also included an option to disclose astrology designations during introductions and so many people broke out some variation of "I'm a [x] sum but I have a [y] placement and it SHOWS" girl no it doesn't. that's meaningless correlation you completely invented the causation

[mingi-s-dimples]

Accidentally Roommates - Yunho

~"Best friend's brother with yunho × reader- where reader has intense crush on her besties brother. She's so flustered whenever around him but never dreams of making it obvious, it would be mortifying. Especially because she's insecure about her appearance and thinks he's way out of her league. You could say shes the nerdy type while hes the this popular, attractive athlete. Not cliche in any way, slow, gut wrenching build. I want just the right amount of angst especially because she sees him with other girls a lot. And then it dips into fluff and sweet smut. Plot twist he ends up living with them for a few months which complicates things and her feelings as she tries to avoid him and not make her crush obvious."

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

genre, 18+, college au

summary: your roommate ends up being no one but your absolutely handsome crush.. and this switch is caused by your bestie, which does you good in the end.

wc: 4.6k

warnings: college au, sweet smut, making love, slight bulge kink, slight size kink, a lot of kissing and making out, reader is kinda insecure about herself, athlete x need typa shit, protected (we cheer in unison), forced proximity, friends to lovers, sweet love, lots of praising, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: heyy sooo this came oit sweeter than expected wusjsujs but my reader wanted it to be sweet smut so I guess it works 🤞🏻 i've never been this gentle in my fics ngl 💀😂 but hey it's a fresh breath of air (an absolute menace and filthy fic with jongho coming next week stay tuned), i hope you like it ml! 💖💖💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way!

You knew moving into the dorms for your second year of university would be an adjustment. What you didn’t expect was walking into your new room, suitcase in hand, only to find Yunho standing there, shirtless, with a towel slung over his shoulder.

Your best friend’s brother.

Your secret crush since forever.

And, apparently, your new roommate.

“Oh, hey,” Yunho grinned, running a hand through his damp hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough.”

You just stood there, staring, struggling to breathe, your brain short-circuiting at the sight of him in your shared space. “W-What are you doing here?” you finally managed to stammer.

Yunho cocked his head, amused. “You mean in my room?”

His room?

Your stomach dropped. There had to be a mistake.

But before you could process, your phone buzzed.

**[Bestie]: Okay, don’t freak out.

[Bestie]: Sooo... I *might* have switched rooms with you.

[Bestie]: I really wanted to live with Alex [her bf] aaaand Yunho didn’t care so—surprise… I guess?**

Surprise.

You wanted to scream.

Your best friend had traded you like a deck of playing cards, leaving you to share a room with her ridiculously hot, athletic, popular older brother—the same one who made your heart race every time he looked at you.

You could barely function around Yunho in casual group settings. How the hell were you supposed to live with him?

“Oh,” you mumbled, still gripping your phone, voice embarrassingly small. “I—uh. I didn’t know.”

Yunho just smiled, so effortlessly relaxed. “Yeah, I figured. She was too scared to tell you in person.”

Of course she was.

He nodded toward your suitcase. “Well, since you’re here, might as well unpack. I don’t bite.”

That was debatable.

Because being near Yunho always felt like standing too close to a flame.

And now, there was no escape.

—

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly fell into a routine. Yunho was surprisingly easy to live with—clean, respectful, easygoing.

But the problem wasn’t Yunho.

The problem was you.

Because you were hopelessly in love with him.

And every single day in this room was pure torture.

You’d sit at your desk, desperately pretending to study, while Yunho lounged on his bed, scrolling through his phone or tossing a baseball between his hands, his stupidly muscular forearms on full display.

Some nights, he’d come back from practice, sweaty and breathless, shaking his damp hair out before stripping off his hoodie like it was nothing.

Like he wasn’t ruining your life.

And then there were the girls.

Because, of course, girls flocked to Yunho.

And why wouldn’t they? He was tall, insanely attractive, the star athlete everyone adored.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

But it still stung.

Every time you overheard a flirtatious giggle over the phone. Every time you saw him talking to some gorgeous girl in the cafeteria. Every time he left the dorm late at night and came back with his hair messy, lips bitten.

You hated it.

You hated how much you cared.

And worst of all? Yunho noticed.

Yunho wasn’t stupid.

He noticed everything.

How your fingers tensed when he stood too close. How you bit your lip whenever he walked around shirtless after practice. How you refused to meet his gaze whenever another girl’s name popped up on his phone screen.

And Yunho, being Yunho, decided to have fun with it.

"You’re bad at hiding things, you know," he mused one evening, leaning lazily against your desk while you pretended to focus on your laptop.

Your fingers froze on the keyboard. “Hiding what?”

He tilted his head, grinning like he knew a secret.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed, refusing to take the bait. “Go away, Yunho.”

“Why?” he asked, all mock innocence. “Am I distracting you?”

Yes. Painfully.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

So, instead, you rolled your eyes, keeping your attention firmly on your screen. “I have an exam.”

“Right, right,” Yunho nodded, before casually hooking a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath hitched.

His eyes burned into yours,

amusement flickering beneath something darker.

“Then why do you always get so nervous when I’m near?” he murmured.

You opened your mouth—nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?*

Yunho let out a low chuckle, thumb barely grazing your skin before he pulled away, pleased with himself.

“See?” he smirked, walking off like it was nothing.

Like he hadn’t just set your entire body on fire.

And that’s when you knew.

He wasn’t just teasing you.

He was waiting.

Waiting for you to finally break.

—

It started as a normal evening.

You sat at your desk, typing away, lost in your usual routine. Glasses perched on your nose, a silk blouse draped over your frame, tiny silk shorts barely covering your thighs. Hair tied in a messy bun.

You didn’t think much of it.

But Yunho did.

Because when you glanced up, you caught him staring.

Not his usual teasing glance.

A real, lingering, dark stare.

Something in his expression shifted.

“Yunho?” you asked cautiously.

He blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Huh?”

“You’re staring.”

His lips curled into something wicked.

“Can you blame me?” he murmured, voice lower, rougher.

Your breath hitched.

“What?”

Yunho leaned forward, resting his hands on your desk, invading your space.

“You look good,” he said, tone slow, deliberate.

Your stomach flipped.

His eyes dragged over your frame, slowly, like he was committing every inch to memory.

“I—uh—” You swallowed hard, completely losing your train of thought.

Yunho exhaled sharply, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fuck it,” he muttered.

And then—he kissed you.

Not a hesitant, testing-the-waters kiss.

A deep, slow, searing kiss.

Like he’d been holding back for too damn long.

Your mind short-circuited. Your body froze before melting into him, his lips coaxing yours apart, the warmth of his hands branding your skin.

Every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every bottled-up longing between you—

It all unraveled at once.

And you were helpless to stop it.

The moment Yunho kissed you, the world seemed to tilt.

His lips crashed into yours, warm and desperate, like he had been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. His hands found your waist first, fingers pressing into the silk of your blouse like he wanted to memorize the shape of you. Then, his palms roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your hip, pulling you flush against him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You gasped.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, groaning softly into your mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, gripping your bare thigh.

You shivered.

It was too much.

Too good.

Your heart pounded so violently it hurt. His scent—clean, warm, intoxicating—filled your senses, making your mind foggy as his lips moved against yours, slow but needy, like he was savoring every second.

Like he was starving for you.

But then—the doubt crept in.

Why you?

He could have any girl he wanted. He did have any girl he wanted.

And yet, here he was. With you.

It didn’t make sense.

What if this was just another conquest for him?

What if you were just another girl he’d grow bored of the next morning?

Panic surged through you, and suddenly, you were pulling away.

"Yunho, wait," you gasped, pushing against his chest.

He stilled instantly, panting, eyes dark and glazed over with something deep—but he let you go.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, voice hoarse.

You swallowed hard, hating yourself for what you were about to say.

“This—” You gestured between you two, still breathless. “I just… I don’t know if this is—if I’m—”

Yunho’s brows furrowed. "If you’re what?"

You took a deep breath, looking anywhere but his face.

"I don’t want to be just some girl to you."

Silence.

Yunho’s jaw tensed.

“You think that’s all you are?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, wrapping your arms around yourself.

"Come on, Yunho. Look at me." You motioned to yourself—small, shy, nothing like the girls that usually clung to him. "And then look at you."

His lips parted slightly, as if in disbelief.

"You’re…" You hesitated, then sighed. "You’re too handsome. Too popular. Too out of my league."

A muscle in Yunho’s jaw ticked.

He hated that.

Hated that you thought so little of yourself.

Hated that you saw him as something unreachable, when all he had ever wanted was you.

"That’s bullshit." His voice was lower now, tinged with something raw, something that made your stomach twist.

Your breath caught when he stepped closer, his fingers brushing along your jaw, gentle but firm.

“You think I want just anyone?” he murmured. “You think I’d do this with just anyone?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

His thumb traced your cheek, eyes locked onto yours with something so deep, so intense that your knees almost gave out.

“You don’t even realize how fucking beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was soft, yet aching.

Your stomach flipped.

“Yunho—”

He cut you off, tilting your chin up, kissing you again.

And this time, you didn’t resist.

Because you believed him.

Because maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you all along.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Yunho’s fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. His eyes burned with something deep, something that made your chest feel too tight.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice was softer now, but still rough with restraint.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"You think you’re out of my league?" He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "God, if only you knew."

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his touch delicate, reverent.

"I’ve spent so long trying to keep my distance," he admitted. "Telling myself you were off-limits. That I had no right to want you the way I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "But it didn’t matter. I still wanted you."

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper.

"I still want you."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"You don’t even see yourself, do you?" Yunho’s fingers slid into your hair, cupping the back of your head. "You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Every damn time you look at me, I feel like I’m coming apart."

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck.

"Every guy on campus watches you, you know that?" His grip on you tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "But they don’t get to have you. They never will. Because I’m the one who’s going to have you."

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t want anyone else, sweetheart." His lips brushed against yours, not quite a kiss, but almost. "I only want you."

And this time, when he kissed you, you didn’t pull away.

Because how could you?

The kiss deepened, and this time, you met him with just as much eagerness, fingers threading through his hair as you pressed yourself closer, needing more. His lips molded to yours with a gentle hunger, the kind that made your heart race and your body tremble.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, and there was a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes were dark, filled with longing, and for the first time, you could feel it—how deeply he desired you.

"God," Yunho murmured, his voice hushed and thick with emotion. "You’re so beautiful… I can’t even begin to describe how much you’ve been driving me crazy." His hands moved to your waist, holding you close, eyes roving over your face, drinking you in.

He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin, before he spoke again, voice low and sincere. "I…I want to make love to you," he said, his gaze searching for yours, his words carrying an intensity that made your breath catch. "But not just because of how you look… it’s because I want to show you how much I love everything about you. Your heart, your mind, your body…"

You felt your cheeks flush, heart beating wildly in your chest. Was he serious? Did he really want that with you?

Yunho smiled softly when he saw the nervousness in your eyes, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently, almost reverently. "I’ve loved your personality from the very first moment I met you," he continued, voice tinged with admiration and something deeper, more possessive. "But when I saw you tonight, with your glasses on, hair in that bun, and wearing that silk set… I swear I’ve never wanted anything more." He ran his thumb along your lip, his touch like fire. "You were so sexy, so… effortlessly beautiful. It’s been driving me wild, wondering if you even realized how incredible you are."

You swallowed hard, the mix of his words and touch leaving you dizzy, your shyness making you hesitant but the desire inside you growing stronger with every second. You knew how vulnerable you were right now, but with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t help but feel desirable in ways you never had before.

"Yes," you whispered shyly, voice barely audible but full of desire, a blush creeping across your cheeks. "I want you, Yunho."

His eyes softened, and a low, appreciative hum left him as he leaned in again, kissing you with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. When he pulled back, he slowly reached up and took the glasses off your face, his gaze lingering on you as though he were savoring every detail.

With a quiet, almost reverent smile, Yunho gently lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

He paused for a moment, forehead resting against yours as he breathed deeply. "You’re mine now," he whispered softly, his hands trailing down your back. "And I’m going to show you just how much I need you."

The soft smile on his lips was gentle but possessive, the way he held you close spoke volumes, and you melted against him, unable to resist. Yunho was everything you had imagined and more—strong, protective, tender—and now, he was yours.

Yunho’s patience had been tested enough. The second he closed the door behind him, he knew he was done. No more restraint. No more slow, teasing build-up. His control was shattered—he wanted you. Now.

He pulled you onto the bed with a swift motion, his hands grasping your waist and lifting you gently, his lips pressing against your neck, murmuring low praises. But as soon as he stood up, his gaze was unwavering as he looked at you, consuming you with his eyes.

You felt small, almost overwhelmed under his intense stare, the hunger in his eyes so palpable that it made your chest tighten. Yunho was towering over you, all power and confidence. His shirt was the first thing to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor as his muscular chest was revealed in the dim golden light of the bedroom.

You were breathless. His presence was intoxicating—his eyes never leaving yours as he took in your every detail. You felt so vulnerable, yet so incredibly desired. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you, almost like he was taking his time, savoring the moment before he finally spoke.

"Can I continue?" Yunho’s voice was a low, husky growl, the kind that made your legs weak and your pulse quicken.

"Y-Yes," you whispered, the simple word barely escaping your lips as you stared up at him, feeling smaller under his gaze.

His smile was feral. "I can’t hold back anymore."

With that, his hands moved with unrestrained urgency, undoing the buttons of your blouse. He pulled the fabric off you, exposing your smooth, glowing skin to him under the dim light. His eyes darkened as they traced every curve of your body, mesmerized by the sight of you.

You shivered at the intensity of his stare, feeling completely exposed in front of him. Yunho leaned down slightly, brushing his lips over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "You’re so fucking beautiful," he murmured, cursing under his breath as he took in the sight of you.

The silk blouse was discarded, leaving you in nothing but your delicate silk shorts. Yunho’s eyes locked on your lower half, and with a low growl, he removed the shorts, his hands trembling slightly as he pulled them off your legs, revealing your bare skin.

His gaze flicked back to your face, his breath hitching as he took in how vulnerable and perfect you looked, completely at his mercy. His chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took, fighting to maintain control, but it was clear he was already losing the battle.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath. "You’re killing me."

Yunho quickly discarded his pants, and as he stood there, you saw the bulge in his briefs, straining and growing more impatient by the second. You swallowed hard, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You knew what was coming, and the anticipation made your heart race.

He took a step closer, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in the bed, his dark eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said softly, his voice oddly tender despite the urgency in the air, "it’s okay. I’ll take care of you."

And you knew, deep down, that he meant it. Yunho was here to make you feel everything. And more. He wasn’t going to let you go until he had shown you just how much he wanted you.

He climbed over you in the bed and his lips trailed down your neck again, each kiss deliberate, deep, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hands moved with purpose, exploring your skin with a tenderness that contrasted the desperate hunger in his touch. As he kissed you, his hands slid from your waist to your thighs, drawing slow circles that made you gasp softly.

The praise he had showered on you earlier filled your mind, emboldening you, making you feel seen, making you feel wanted. It was a new sensation, the weight of his words settling into your chest, making you feel lighter yet more grounded at the same time. Slowly, your hand moved from his hair to the smooth expanse of his back. The muscles beneath your fingers rippled with each shift he made, making your heart race.

His body felt so close, so perfect against yours, and with newfound boldness, your other hand drifted down, feeling the tautness of his abs as they contracted beneath your touch. Your fingers hovered near his waistband, just over the bulge that was still pressed tightly against the fabric of his briefs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and before you even realized it, your fingers brushed over his hard cock.

Yunho’s breath hitched slightly, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze. “Mh?” he murmured, curiosity and desire mixed in his voice.

You hesitated for only a moment, but the way he looked at you, with all that intensity, made you forget your doubts. You felt a momentary surge of confidence. Slowly, you moved your hand away and met his gaze, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest as you realized the effect you had on him.

Yunho chuckled softly, a knowing smile curving his lips as he looked down at the way your hand lingered. His fingers moved to your waistband, gently peeling your panties away, his touch reverent. His hands were steady, each movement laced with affection and desire.

Then, with equal care, you slid his briefs off, your breath catching as you glimpsed him fully for the first time. The sight made your pulse race, but his touch was always gentle, always considerate. He reached out, his hand brushing your hair away from your face, a soft smile on his lips as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

Every word felt like a balm to your soul, washing away any doubts, any insecurities. The connection between you both was undeniable, and the tenderness in his voice only made it feel deeper. Yunho leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing as he exhaled softly.

“I want to take care of you, to show you just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his voice low, thick with emotion.

You smiled softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you nodded, feeling his love surrounding you in ways words could never fully express. He kissed you again, slow and sweet, savoring the moment as if he never wanted it to end.

Yunho’s hands traced the curve of your hips, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire body. His lips brushed against yours, soft and lingering, as if he were memorizing the feel of you. When he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice rough yet tender, “if you want this as much as I do.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

The word seemed to unravel something in him. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, and he pressed his forehead to yours again, his breath mingling with yours. He murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll always cherish you.”

With deliberate care, Yunho shifted and took a condom out of his private nightstand. Your eyes widened at the sight of the unopened box of condoms, making you think he'd gotten them just for you. His body aligned with yours right afger he slid it on. His hands guided you gently, his touch reverent as he positioned his cock right between your wet folds. The first brush of contact drew a soft, involuntary moan from your lips, the sound escaping like a secret you hadn’t meant to share. His eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze locking onto yours as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “So perfect.”

The air between you was electric, charged with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. Yunho’s movements were deliberate, each touch designed to make you feel cherished, adored. He thrusted in slowly, his hands steady and reassuring, as if he were handling something infinitely precious.

Yunho’s movements began with a slow rhythm, each thrust measured and tender, as if he were savoring every second of this connection. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, before settling on your hips to guide you gently against him. Your own hands explored the expanse of his back, fingers skimming over the taut muscles that flexed with every movement. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer until his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

His breath grew ragged, his voice roughening with each passing moment. “You feel… incredible,” he murmured against your lips, his words breaking into a low groan as he deepened the kiss. The sound of his voice, coarse and filled with need, sent a shiver through you, your body responding with a surge of warmth that made your breath catch.

Your whines escaped in soft, breathy gasps, rising from your chest as the pleasure built within you. Each thrust of his hips sent sparks coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment overwhelming yet perfect. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, and he answered with a kiss, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips.

The rhythm between you grew more urgent, yet Yunho never lost that tenderness, his movements still filled with reverence. You could feel the tension coiling within you, your body trembling as you neared the edge. “Yunho,” you whispered shyly, your voice trembling, “I’m… I’m close.”

He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against yours as he nodded. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice strained but gentle. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

His words were all the encouragement you needed. The pleasure crested, crashing over you in waves as your body shuddered beneath his. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a low, guttural curse from his lips. He stilled for a moment, his breath hitching as he fought to hold on, but the sensation was too much. With a final, shuddering thrust, he followed you over the edge, his body trembling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep down your cunt.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the shared rhythm of your breathing. Yunho’s hands gently caressed your back, his touch soothing as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice still rough but filled with warmth. “So amazing.”

Yunho stayed close, his body still draped over yours as his breathing slowly steadied. His hands moved gently, brushing strands of hair from your face before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice warm and tender, his eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his shoulder. “That was… perfect.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and content, before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. His touch was soothing, his fingers trailing lightly up and down your back as he held you close. “You’re perfect,” he corrected, his voice filled with affection. “I’m just lucky to be here with you.”

You nestled into his chest, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The world felt quiet, peaceful, as if nothing else mattered but the two of you in this moment. But then, the sharp buzz of your phone on the nightstand shattered the silence.

You groaned, reluctantly reaching for it. “Who could that be?” you muttered, squinting at the screen. It was a text from your best friend, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh my god, what does she want now?”

Yunho raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Your bestie?” he asked, his tone teasing. “Or whatever she is, she did the best thing by moving in with her boyfriend.”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Because now I finally get to show you how much I love you without any interruptions.” His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “And trust me, I plan on doing that a lot.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you set your phone back down. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, though the warmth in your chest betrayed how much his words meant to you.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’m yours.”

You sighed contentedly, resting your head against his chest once more. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was the man holding you, the love in his touch, and the promise of countless moments like this to come.

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✮ ˖° ⸜ masterlist ꕤ ･

╭₊˚๑  ૮꒰˶˃  ᵕ  ˂˶꒱ა  ♡  in  this  pick-a-card  reading,  we’ll  explore  random  things  about  your  future  spouse. their  hobbies,  interests,  habits,  sense  of  humor,  or  little  details  about  their  life.  keep  in  mind  that  this  is  a  general  reading! take  what  resonates  and  let  go  of  the  rest.

pick  the  picture  or  pile  that  calls  to  you,  and  let  the  magic  begin!  ✧˖°.₊  ♡  ✩˚  ༘

☁️₊˚੭

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE ONE ﹑ ﹒

✩ they  might  be  a  lover  of  books,  always  eager  to  expand  their  mind  with  philosophy,  psychology,  or  history

✩ they  have  a  strong  artistic  side,  whether  it’s  painting,  producing  music,  photography,  or  some  other  creative  pursuit

✩ they  are  extremely  expressive  and  don’t  hold  back,  whether  it’s  their  emotions,  opinions,  or  excitement  over  something  they  love.  they  might  have  a  naturally  animated  way  of  speaking  or  a  strong  presence  in  conversations

✩ they  love  learning  new  skills  and  thrive  in  environments  that  challenge  them,  especially  in  collaborative  settings  where  they  can  bounce  ideas  off  others  or  show  off  what  they’ve  mastered.  they  might  enjoy  competitive  activities

✩ they  like  to  yap  a  lot,  always  up  for  debates  or  long,  winding  conversations  about  everything  and  anything.  they  could  have  strong  opinions  and  enjoy  playing  devil’s  advocate

✩ deep  late-night  talks  are  something  they  enjoy,  whether  it’s  about  life,  the  universe,  or  personal  experiences.  they  find  these  moments  meaningful  and  might  open  up  the  most  when  the  world  is  quiet  and  distractions  are  gone

✩ they  could  be  from  a  different  cultural  background  or  have  a  deep  appreciation  for  exploring  different  cultures.  they  might  love  traveling,  learning  new  languages,  or  immersing  themselves  in  traditions  different  from  their  own  

✩ they  question  everything  and  rarely  take  things  at  face  value.  they  might  analyze  social  norms,  challenge  beliefs,  or  constantly  seek  to  understand  the  deeper  meaning  behind  things  rather  than  just  accepting  them  as  they  are  

✩ your  future  spouse  might  be  a  romantic  at  heart,  even  if  they  don’t  show  it  in  an  obvious  way.  they  may  present  themselves  as  detached  or  cool  on  the  surface

✩ relationships  and  chemistry  are  really  important  to  them

✩ they  are  direct  and  value  honesty  above  all.  they  don’t  like  sugarcoating  things  and  might  prefer  blunt  conversations  over  passive-aggressive  behavior.  they  respect  people  who  say  things  as  they  are,  even  if  the  truth  isn’t  always  pretty

✩ they  may  enjoy  dry  humor,  sarcasm,  or  simply  observing  people.  they  could  have  a  sharp  wit,  make  side  comments  under  their  breath,  or  find  humor  in  the  way  people  interact  and  behave

✩ they  also  have  a  goofy,  innocent  kind  of  humor.  they  might  love  wordplay

✩ they  are  flirty  as  hell  and  love  to  flirt  a  lot.  whether  through  teasing,  charming  words,  or  playful  banter

✩ they  might  be  a  pet  lover  too,  the  type  to  spoil  animals  or  treat  their  pets  like  family.  they  could  find  comfort  in  their  presence  and  may  even  prefer  animals  over  people  at  times  

✩  they  express  emotions  through  words.  whether  it’s  sweet  messages,  deep  conversations,  or  even  writing

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE TWO ﹑ ﹒

✩ your  future  spouse  is  someone  strategic,  always  thinking  ahead  and  making  calculated  moves.  they  rarely  act  on  impulse  and  prefer  to  plan  things  out

✩ they  might  be  into  video  games,  coding,  or  chess

✩ they  could  have  an  interest  in  investing,  whether  it's  stocks,  crypto,  or  business  ventures.  they  might  have  a  natural  talent  for  spotting  opportunities

✩ they  might  be  fascinated  by  the  paranormal  and  esoteric  topics.  they’re  open  to  exploring  the  unknown,  whether  it’s  astrology,  tarot,  or  conspiracy  theories

✩ they  could  love  watching  crime  documentaries  or  reading  about  unsolved  mysteries

✩ they  enjoy  moving  to  new  places,  embracing  change  and  fresh  starts.  they  don’t  like  feeling  stuck  in  one  place  for  too  long

✩ their  imagination  is  rich,  making  them  naturally  creative  and  capable  of  thinking  outside  the  box.  they  might  daydream  a  lot  or  come  up  with  unique  ideas  that  surprise  people

✩ they  might  love  road  trips,  preferring  the  excitement  of  spontaneous  adventures  over  structured  plans.  they  enjoy  the  feeling  of  freedom  that  comes  with  being  on  the  road

✩ they  likely  hate  overcrowded  places,  avoiding  them  whenever  possible.

✩ they  could  be  rich  as  hell,  either  through  their  own  ambition  and  hard  work  or  by  making  smart  investments

✩ your  future  spouse  doesn’t  reveal  everything  about  themselves  easily.  they  have  layers  to  them  and  only  open  up  to  people  they  truly  trust

✩ they  are  private  and  prefer  to  keep  their  life  lowkey.  they  don’t  like  too  much  attention  on  them  and  may  avoid  oversharing

✩ they  are  smart,  calculated,  and  always  thinking  a  few  steps  ahead.  they  don’t  make  reckless  decisions  and  prefer  to  analyze  situations  carefully  before  acting

✩ they  are  sneaky,  not  necessarily  in  a  bad  way,  but  in  how  they  operate.  they  move  in  silence  and  don’t  like  people  knowing  their  next  steps  until  they’ve  already  made  them

✩ they  likely  overthink  a  lot,  constantly  analyzing  situations,  conversations,  and  decisions.  their  mind  is  always  running,  and  they  might  struggle  to  shut  it  off

✩ they  have  strong  emotions  but  also  deep  trust  issues.  they  feel  things  intensely  but  might  have  trouble  fully  letting  their  guard  down  with  others

✩ they  might  have  left  behind  a  difficult  past,  carrying  experiences  that  shaped  them  into  the  person  they  are  today

✩ they  are  extremely  loyal  to  the  people  they  love,  willing  to  stand  by  them  no  matter  what.  once  they  let  someone  in,  they  are  deeply  devoted

✩ they  don’t  like  people  prying  into  their  business  and  will  shut  down  if  someone  tries  to  dig  too  deep  into  their  personal  life

✩ they  have  a  deep  and  quiet  devotion,  showing  their  love  in  ways  that  aren’t  always  obvious.  they  might  not  be  overly  expressive,  but  their  actions  speak  louder  than  words

✩ they  are  funny  but  brutally  honest.  they  say  things  as  they  are  and  don’t  sugarcoat  the  truth,  even  if  it’s  uncomfortable

✩ they  might  enjoy  dark  humor,  finding  amusement  in  things  that  others  might  consider  too  edgy  or  inappropriate

✩ they  could  use  humor  as  a  coping  mechanism,  making  jokes  about  their  pain  as  a  way  to  deal  with  it  rather  than  letting  it  weigh  them  down

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE THREE ﹑ ﹒

✩ your  future  spouse  is  the  curious  type,  always  eager  to  learn  and  discover  new  things

✩ they  love  researching  new  topics,  often  getting  lost  in  deep  dives  about  whatever  interests  them  at  the  moment

✩ i  do  get  gemini/virgo  vibes  from  them

✩ they  might  always  have  a  random  fact  to  share,  surprising  people  with  their  knowledge  of  the  most  unexpected  things

✩ they  may  be  interested  in  subjects  like  law  or  politics,  drawn  to  debates,  justice,  and  understanding  how  society  functions

✩ they  enjoy  things  that  remind  them  of  the  past,  feeling  a  deep  connection  to  history,  nostalgia,  and  tradition

✩ they  might  love  old  music,  classic  movies,  or  even  vintage  cars,  appreciating  the  timeless  quality  of  things  from  past  eras

✩ they  take  on  a  lot  of  responsibility,  often  feeling  like  they  need  to  be  the  one  holding  everything  together

✩ they  might  be  into  working  out,  using  fitness  as  a  way  to  stay  disciplined  and  clear  their  mind

✩ they  analyze  situations  deeply,  never  taking  things  at  face  value  and  always  searching  for  the  bigger  picture

✩ they  rely  on  logic  and  facts  to  make  decisions,  preferring  to  think  things  through  rather  than  acting  on  emotions  alone

✩ they  might  be  someone  who  always  feels  the  need  to  take  care  of  others,  naturally  stepping  into  a  protector  or  provider  role

✩ they  have  strong  emotional  ties  to  their  past,  holding  onto  memories,  people,  or  experiences  that  shaped  them

✩ they  are  always  questioning  things,  rarely  accepting  anything  without  digging  deeper  and  figuring  it  out  for  themselves

✩ they  dislike  dishonesty  and  can  see  through  people  who  try  to  manipulate  or  deceive  them

✩ their  humor  is  quick-witted,  sharp,  and  often  unexpected,  making  people  laugh  with  their  clever  comebacks

✩ they  don’t  always  laugh  at  obvious  jokes,  but  they  appreciate  clever  wordplay,  irony,  or  dark  humor

✩ they  may  humorously  exaggerate  how  overwhelming  life  can  be,  playfully  making  self-deprecating  remarks  about  their  workload  or  the  stress  they  endure

✩ they  stand  up  for  what  they  believe  in,  never  backing  down

✩ they  could  be  the  eldest  sibling,  carrying  the  weight  of  responsibility  and  leadership  from  a  young  age

✩ they  feel  deeply  nostalgic  about  certain  places  or  traditions,  finding  comfort  in  things  that  remind  them  of  home  or  childhood

﹒ ﹢ ♡. PILE FOUR ﹑ ﹒

✩ your  future  spouse  might  be  into  cooking,  gardening,  or  fashion

✩ they’re  good  at  managing  money,  knowing  how  to  save  while  still  enjoying  life’s  pleasures  

✩ they  might  be  the  type  who  balances  multiple  jobs  or  responsibilities

✩ they  enjoy  activities  like  hiking  or  picnics,  appreciating  the  simplicity  of  being  outdoors  

✩ they  might  start  many  things  but  take  time  to  fully  commit,  needing  to  explore  their  options  before  settling  on  one  path  

✩ they  are  skilled  at  handling  multiple  aspects  of  life  without  getting  overwhelmed 

✩ they  are  deeply  loving,  protective,  and  affectionate,  but  they  show  it  in  subtle,  consistent  ways  

✩ they  don’t  rush  things,  preferring  to  take  their  time  and  make  thoughtful  choices  

✩ they  struggle  with  making  decisions,  especially  when  faced  with  two  good  options,  overanalyzing  every  possible  outcome  

✩ they  may  have  a  habit  of  overthinking  before  acting,  weighing  all  the  pros  and  cons  in  their  mind  

✩ they  have  a  fun,  easy-going  humour,  making  people  laugh  with  their  relaxed  and  effortless  charm  

✩ they  might  poke  fun  at  life’s  contradictions,  pointing  out  irony  in  a  way  that’s  both  funny  and  insightful  

✩ they  might  like  to  tease,  but  they  also  know  how  to  give  the  right  compliments  at  the  right  time  

✩ they  aren’t  impulsive

✩ they’ve  been  patient  in  life,  understanding  that  good  things  take  time  to  build  

✩ they  love  nature,  animals,  or  anything  visually  appealing,  finding  beauty  in  small  details  

✩ they  like  cozy  places,  appreciating  warm,  inviting  spaces  that  feel  like  home  

✩ they  are  careful  about  expressing  their  true  emotions,  taking  time  before  fully  opening  up  

✩ they  might  take  a  while  before  fully  letting  their  guard  down,  needing  to  feel  truly  safe  before  revealing  their  deepest  thoughts  

✩ they  sometimes  use  sarcasm

✩ they  might  have  a  natural  ability  to  comfort  others,  making  people  feel  safe  and  understood  

✩ they  don’t  mind  waiting  for  results  if  the  process  is  rewarding,  knowing  that  patience  leads  to  the  best  outcomes  

✩ they  enjoy  making  things  beautiful,  whether  it’s  their  home,  their  appearance,  or  the  small  moments  in  life

[generalpenguinangel]

For my money, the most (only?) interesting thing about Frank Harkness is seeing where River Cartwright gets his crazy streak from.

River spent most of his childhood and youth raised by his grandparents, in what I can only imagine was a mostly pleasant stereotypically repressed British upbringing. His hometown is wealthy and picturesque. He probably went to a nice university and did mostly normal university things there. And yet he is, canonically, a maniac, who is ready to commit violence at any given moment. My two favourite examples:

s1: beats his erstwhile friend unconscious

s2: chokes a random cab driver (and then tells him "I'm one of the good ones". Lol, okay honey bunny)

And he also has the other side of the coin, which is that he's unruffled by the prospect of enduring physical violence himself.

And Frank sees this in him, instinctually.

When Frank tells Taverner that River is a poor fit for MI-5 and that's why he's mouldering in Slough House - ask yourself, where is the lie? River is constitutionally ill-suited for life in a modern bureaucratic institution, even if that institution does spy stuff.

He would never join Frank's operation because unlike Frank, he has good in him, or at least he wants to do good. But ooh, he also wants to be good at what he's doing. He wants to feel good in the way you feel good when you're doing something that comes naturally to you.

The most best thing about the scene between Frank and River at the bar in season 4 is when Frank gives him a few crumbs of praise and River just fucking eats it up, despite himself. Because actually he IS good at the kinetic stuff. But what drives that side of him is also what gets him continually shit on by the Service. And it must feel amazingly good to have someone recognize and validate that potential in him, even if it's coming from his nutcase absent father.

Lamb sees River's potential, of course, but he never shows it or overtly encourages him because Lamb understands him and knows that he's already got a big head and no impulse control and that he needs to learn to get over himself and calm the fuck down. He doesn't need the OB filling his head with Rudyard Kipling nonsense or Frank Harkness selling him American-style on the glamour of being a mercenary. He needs someone who can show him how the world, in all its ugliness, really works. That's what's going to keep him alive and possibly intact in some sense.

I think this is all pretty obvious but I've been trying and failing to plot a River Harkness AU so here are some thoughts that arose on father/son dynamics.

[dragqueenstarscream]

hey, its me again, back with more Starscream thoughts, so you just know things are about to get uncomfortably real and introspective! Again, prefacing by saying that a lot of my analysis is based on my own eerily similar experiences to Starscream, so I'm not 100% sure how much of this actually rings true and what is just me projecting.

I have entirely fallen down the StarOp rabbit hole thanks to you, at a speed I never could have expected. When I first finished TFP and started browsing the tags, I'd see the occasional StarOp post and at best be like "alright, sure" and at worst a little confused on where it was coming from, given the infrequency of interactions between the two after like, early season 1. But since I sent that first ask in it just clicked and like.

Before, I was always of the opinion that Starscream joining the autobots was something that could never really work from a character perspective, not just because of his dependency on Megatron like I talked about last time, but like, even if Megatron was completely out of the picture I never felt like the full on redemption and becoming a functioning member of post-war society that becoming an Autobot would entail would particularly be desirable to Starscream (if even possible for reasons both in and out of his control.)

I sorta felt like any good ending for Starscream would have to entail him moreso escaping the narrative than anything else, given the extent to which he's stuck in this cycle almost on a cosmic level, with how he's unable to escape it in any universe, any continuity, which of course ties into wider thoughts on how this franchise seems uninterested in letting Starscream ever escape that cycle. A sort of El Camino style ending, where leaving behind everything you know and running away to Alaska is considered a good ending, all things considered. That naturally led to me shipping him with Knockout, given their chemistry and the fact that they were this close to running away together, it just felt like the most compelling option, narratively speaking.

But now that I've caught onto the StarOp agenda, I've sorta cracked the code and realized that you can make a compelling and believable path to Starscream becoming an Autobot by having him getting together with Optimus initially be on a subconscious level an outlet to recreate the cycle he was in with Megatron purely because he's used to it and doesn't know how to live without it.

Outside of the obvious ideological and moral differences, Optimus and Megatron have a lot in common, especially from the perspective of Starscream. They're both big, strong, masculine figures, and natural-born leaders that effortlessly compel those around them to fight for their respective causes. They both radiate power in a way that I imagine you can almost feel when around them (and in a way I know it, because that's often how it felt being around my personal Megatron, it's why it was so easy to fall back into his arms over and over.)

All this to say, when Starscream gets with Optimus, he's not escaping the cycle, he's changing his target. If he became an autobot he would instantly become the most dedicated autobot, not out of any ideological reasoning or particular desire to be good, but out of an intense loyalty he effortlessly placed in Optimus. But of course, the loyalty phase is only half of this cycle.

This next part I'm heavily basing on what I've realized about my own experiences, so bear with me for a second, (I also doesn't think it exactly applies to TFP as much as it does some other continuities, G1 maybe but I haven't seen much of G1 so idk for sure) but I feel like sometimes Starscream almost tests Megatron in a way when he feels like Megatron's priorities are drifting away from him, (since remember, he needs to be the most important bot in his life, Starscream is desperate for Megatron to be as obsessed with him as he is with Megatron.) so Starscream will sort of do something stupid, maybe he comes up with some harebrained scheme that's probably not gonna work, or he makes some tactical or administrative decision entirely based on what he's feeling on an emotional level, to see "will Megatron back me on this?"

because Megatron does stuff like that all the time, he's far from being a better tactician than Starscream, (notice how the moment Starscream leaves in season 1, the decepticons stop winning like, at all until he comes back?) and he makes rash decisions out of anger all the time, and Starscream goes along with all of it, every single time, so it's only fair that Megatron lets him get away with doing something kinda stupid this once. and when Megatron inevitably doesn't, either because it would work against the Decepticons own goals, or purely because he doesn't want Starscream to think he has power over him, (and despite how good he is at hiding it, Starscream does have power over him in a lot of ways, I might talk about that some other time.) Starscream lashes out, betrays Megatron, and leaves, because once again all the loyalty he gave to Megatron got him nothing in return.

and let's be clear, Starscream doing this is toxic as fuck, but at the same time of course it is, it's almost impossible not to become toxic in an environment like this. And that really comes back to bite you when you get out of that environment, but on a base level still have these habits and base level impulses that might have helped you survive back then but are terrible for the actually decent people you've surrounded yourself with now.

With that, we cut to today, where Starscream is an autobot and he tries to pull one of these "tests" on Optimus because the honeymoon phase is over and Starscream is instinctually ready for things to start getting worse, maybe they had like, one minor argument and Starscream instantly assumed the worst. and I imagine Optimus "fails" the test, says "no, I'm not backing you on this, I'm not gonna let you do that", but unlike Megatron who does so while prioritizing his own ends and his control over Starscream, Optimus is saying no for moral reasons. And I imagine he tries to explain that to Starscream, but that answer isn't hitting him properly because again, Starscream's only thinking in loyalty.

Everything Optimus thought was progress on Starscream's part in living up to autobot ideals was really just newfound intense loyalty to Optimus, his growth was really just him doing what he thinks Optimus would want him to do and what he thinks would gain him Optimus's loyalty in return. and, from Starscream's perspective, it didn't work, so he's thinking "obviously Optimus doesn't care about me at all, fuck him, I'm out of here." so he makes this big display of betraying the autobots and running away.

and from there, it's the question of if Optimus sees through what this is really about. The other autobots are probably no help in that regard, they all probably fall into one of two groups, the "At no point in time was I not 100% sure that this inevitably was going to happen" group, and the "I mean, I had hope for him, and it seemed like he was doing good, but I'm still not that surprised" group.

But of course, Optimus isn't Megatron, he does care about Starscream and wants him to know that, so I imagine he actually tries tracking down Starscream to have an actual conversation with him to try and figure out where his mind has really been at these past few months, and if he catches on to even a little bit of the subtext of what I've been saying here, he's gonna be like "oh shit, there is a lot more we need to work on than I thought."

and yeah, Megatron fucked up Starscream in ways that its gonna take years to properly unpack, so Starscream is lucky to have found quite possibly the best person to help him through it in Optimus. It's gonna be a rocky road, but Optimus is in for the ride.

and I do think this relationship could eventually become healthy, and I like reading fics where they've managed to make it healthy, but I do think at first it really wouldn't be, and as someone with the autism that makes you obsessed with themes and motifs and subtext, the process of seeing it become better, of seeing Starscream have to unlearn these old harmful defense mechanisms, THAT is really what makes my brain vibrate, especially because I've had to go through that same process myself after finally getting away from my personal Megatron for what I'm thankfully certain now is the final time.

also kinda realizing a lot of this kinda sounds like borderline personality disorder, which. that might be something I have to look into in regards to myself, damn. anyways, yeah, thanks for letting me kill the vibe again, appreciate it! I'll probably try and keep these shorter in the future, I imagine it's kind of a lot to suddenly have 1500 words of deep character analysis with hints of traumadumping suddenly thrown in your askbox lol. If this actually was a bit too much then I'm sorry, you can tell me to dial it down a little if you want.

and this, right here, is why starop is my favorite transformers ship.

you really hit the nail on the head with this one. when done well, it's not only cute and fun to explore, but it's also a deep dive into starscream as a character and what could possibly lead to a redemption arc. sure, you don't need starscream to fall in love with optimus to redeem him, but how that would actually play out is so fascinating.

sure, i love aus where starscream is an autobot spy the whole time. yes, i love aus where they were in love in the past and got separated. but the idea of starscream replacing megatron with optimus in his mind fits him so well, because, as an abuse victim myself, it's easy to find yourself drawn to people who remind you of your abuser.

and that's where optimus' kindness sets him apart, because when starscream pushes back on him, optimus doesn't do what starscream expects. he doesn't lash out or hit him or verbally berate him. he responds with honest concern, trying to figure out what's wrong.

and that kindness, that sincerity, is something starscream doesn't even realize he's been missing the entire time.

i do believe they have the potential to be healthy, but the fight towards them actually becoming healthy and helping starscream get out of his toxic mindset is part of what makes these two so damn compelling.

always happy to have another starop fan.

(also you don't have to worry about toning it down lmao, gods know i ramble like a maniac about my favorite things. i'm not gonna be the one to judge)

[bluejayadler]

Is Desire a "friend" of Charles

Got another NGL. Apologies for the delay. This one is only partially my fault. The app didn't initially tell me I had this message, so I didn't see it for 3 days. The other 2-3 days are cause I'm slow. Anyhow, here's the prompt:

And my long rambling 1 am response is below the read more. (No editing, no reviewing, we sending this like the Night Nurse sent herself. Enjoy!

It seem taken for granted that Charles is a friend of Desire's. Why?

I actually don't know. I don't think he is a friend of Desire. I can see the narrative play here. Desire and Despair in the Sandman universe are twins and its regularly mentioned that Desire and Despair are connected, one leading to the other. We taste despair when we desire things we cannot have or things we lose. At the same time, despair can make us desire things - things that would spare us from that despair. So Despair and Desire are very tightly linked and often seen together. And since the boys are inseparable, I think people are drawn to the fun narrative options there. A lot of what I've seen when Charles is tied to Desire is actually Desire seeking Charles out. I haven't read all the Sandman comics in a long while, so I am rusty on things. Still, I do know that Desire is pretty involved in humans lives. Not for the human's benefit but for Desire's entertainment. So I've seen a few fics and headcanons that are essentially, Desire sees that Despair has a plaything in Edwin and so decides to claim the other one in the pair for themself. Which I think can be pretty fitting for Desire's character. I don't really find that as much fun to explore for Charles's character though - for me personally.

I think one reason I struggle to tie Desire to Charles is because so much of the discourse I see is around intimate desire (romantic or sexual) - mostly the idea that Charles is in love with Edwin and desires Edwin but is consciously or subconsciously denying that desire. And I admit, I personally struggle with reading romantic/sexual coding outside very formulaic tropes. I do love payneland as a ship and think that it's endgame for the show. I love the friendship and partnership the boys have. I agree they have "married for 30 years" vibes. I think Charles needs to have his own arc before he realizes that and he needs to learn what love is, given his own abuse history and how that would impact his perception of what love means and if he's capable or willing to give it in that way. At the same time, a LOT of the scenes the fandom points at as proof of Charles's romantic feelings towards Edwin, I don't see that way. I don't read them that way. This might be due to my being very ace/aro or my particular brand of neurodivergent, as I struggle in real life to read a lot of social cues around romantic/intimate relationships. That "they were roommates" joke...yeah, I've done that...to friends who were dating prior to moving in together and only realized they were dating when they announced they were engaged. Not kidding or exaggerating. So yeah, I struggle with reading Charles as madly in love with Edwin romantically in season 1. And I don't associate him with Desire in that regard.

But I do think there's a fun (for me) way to explore Charles being associated with Desire from how I view the season's events. I don't think its as a "friend" though, even in the way that Despair claims Edwin as a friend. First of all, I don't think Charles is as much fun to play with. Charles does have a lot of desire, and there's the obvious relationship with Edwin, be it romantic/platonic/whatever. But for the most part, Charles sets his own desires aside for others. He is the people pleaser and will put his own desires down to put others first. So I think he'd be hard to hold in Desire's realm/power. Not because he doesn't have wants and desires but because he is someone who has gotten very good at setting them aside. He's essentially built up a little resistance, I think. But there is one major desire I think would draw Desire's attention that Charles couldn't protect against.

One desire that Charles held throughout his life that even carried over into his afterlife - to be enough.

Charles wants to be enough. His breakdown at the cliff is all about that. His breakdown in episode 5 is an extension of that. Even in episode 1, we see his reaction to being called out as not appearing to be the brawn. Its played for laughs, yeah, but he gets defensive. He doesn't brush it off or ignore it or even laugh it off. The brawn is his job and he needs to do it, to be good enough at it to protect Edwin and this afterlife they've made together. In ep 3, he starts to touch on the abuse he experienced. "No matter how good I was". Because however good he was at whatever he did, it wasn't good enough. No strong enough. Not fast enough. Not good enough at sports. Not good enough in school. Not good enough when he was alive. In ep 4, he says he's not good enough to help Edwin or Crystal, to save the Devlin girls. Even in death, even as a ghost helping so many others, he's not good enough. He helped save Crystal and Niko. He helped the WW1 ghost move on. He's helped dozens probably hundreds over the years, but its not enough. He's not enough. Not enough to stop his dad hurting him. Not enough for his friends to care for. Not enough for his school to tell the truth. Not enough for Edwin to admit what's going on with the Cat King. Not enough.

Charles just wants to be enough. He has always wanted to be enough. Its the one desire he never sets aside. Its the one desire he holds so tightly to himself that its the first true desire we see burst out of him when he lets the mask of a smile slip away.

And I think this would be an interesting angle to have Desire come in from. Because Charles doesn't know he desires Edwin. He says he doesn't know how he feels but he, they, have forever to figure it out. Imagine Desire showing up and Charles having that confusion - because he hasn't been running from his love of Edwin, he just doesn't know what it looks like yet. But then Desire points out that "desire" isn't just intimacy or sex or pleasure. "Desire" can be a lot of things, like wanted to be enough.

I know I'm a bit biased, as I don't often connect with romantic/intimate plotlines. I love found family and yeah, payneland is a ship I really get behind because its foundation isn't just romantic/intimate like many ships I've seen in tv/media. But I would love to see Desire come in in a different way and explore the different desires characters can have, not just for an intimate relationship, but other things (also not for things like greed or wealth or power as that's already been played out). I think Charles's desire "to be enough" is such an amazing thing to explore as so many viewers would relate to it as well. 

[siryouarebeingmocked]

That list.

This just sounds like a dude who's kinda feminine. I've noticed that a lot of people seem to think being gender-non-confirming is the same as being enby.

Which seems kinda sexist, actually.

Given how most of these are from non-European cultures, gotta wonder if this particular thing is related to the revived Noble Savage idea.

...Ancient Greek Mythology? Really?

This just sounds like extremist Christianity. Like conversion therapy.

Ironic that the list Tena linked to included a Christian sect.

Assigned gender at birth = bad, assigned gender at some indeterminate later point = good?

I'm sorry, isn't this what pro-trans people are supposed to be against?

If you're claiming all of those identities are valid, then you're also endorsing multiple contradicting religious beliefs. And saying mutilating people's bodies in the name of the belief their bodies are inherently wrong is inherently okay.

You're endorsing Christians so extreme they make the actual Puritans look like National Baptists.

This is not logically consistent. In fact, it's awfully close to certain stereotypes of trans supporters.

When those total strangers want society, law, and government to validate their self-identity, it becomes everyone’s business.

And those are, naturally, very important to trans people. Explicitly, for many of them. 

For obvious reasons!*

Also, I love how this is coming from someone with an entirely ideological objection to Trump’s actions, who can’t explain how this will allegedly actually affect people.

Seriously, she threw her toys out of the pram.

renardtrickster tried (archive), and he had to use someone else’s line-by-line analysis, which is clearly not the one line point Tenafly made.

And that’s putting it generously.

Tena was implying that believing in only two genders and not non-binaries is the same as being anti-trans. Which it isn't.

A detailed analysis of Trump's Executive Order is trying to motte-and-bailey the argument. And Tena's own childish tantrums.

This is not the way to make an actual argument if you want to convince people.

Irony is, it's this exact same sort of disconnect from what normal people believe - maybe even normal liberals and progressives - that helped the Dems lose.

I also like how Renard's tags imply he's "arguing with pigs", when this whole thread was started by someone who was angry and confrontational and kept engaging with blatant bait and did nothing constructive.

The meanings of words are determined by usage. And  everyone I've seen who claims gender and sex are two different things is a pro-trans progressive person. And I'm not sure it's a majority belief even among that group.

Which suggests that they formed this belief out of ideological convenience, not working from first principles.

At the very least you can't act like it's a universally accepted fact.

*This is not the first time I’ve seen people imply that LGBT stuff should just be ignored, even though there’s a great deal of effort being spent by LGBT advocates on making it part of international, everyday discourse.

Same with a lot of Diversity™ stuff. They don’t want to address the criticism, so they say you’re wrong for even caring in the first place, even though that also applies to the supporters.

Though these folks are rarely so silly as to talk about apparent anti-LGBT discrimination at the highest level of American government and then insist LGBT stuff is a private matter. 

Which makes it extra ironic when Renard’s goalpost-moving defense includes talking about lack of government support for trans people as a negative.

[wisteria-lodge]

can i ask for advice i really want to start writing fics(never done this) but i don't know what to do or how to start it? also in hp universe, how do you bring in the wizarding lore or remember all the the details like the spells what they do, the locations and a bunch of stuff

In terms of the lore, you don't want the fanwiki, you want Reddit. Sorry fanwiki, but you are often wrong, misleading, or difficult to search. Or, bring in info from the video games without making that clear. Keeping all the spells straight is a big one, so he's an alphabetical list of every spell Harry ever casts, and what it does:

And here is a list of every spell Hermione eve casts:

Thank you very much, reddit user HHrPie.

Also, I would be lost with out my trusty master pdf.

Download that. It's searchable, and Control + F (on a PC) and Command + F (on a Mac) is your friend.

I would also go to the Harry Potter Lexicon over the wiki if you want details on specifically things like locations. It's much easier to navigate, although it isn't as complete as it could be in some places, and runs into it's own problems with editorializing (but on the whole, there's not *as much* editorializing as on the wiki.) It also leans a lot harder on the quotes, and makes its sources more obvious.

In terms of what to write... I'd say focus on one or two characters to start. You'll get the most bang for buck by figuring out the different ways they speak, and making sure they speak differently.

Write a missing scene, or a existing scene going a different way. My first HP fanfics were alternate epilogues, and the best one was an outsider perspective on Harry bringing 11 year old Teddy to Platform 9 3/4. You probably have an idea, or scene, or image in your head. Start there.

Also, I have always enjoyed fandom spaces. Lots of people enjoy beta-ing fics, or just generally showing off their lore knowledge (and by people, I do mean myself.) If you have a specific question, just throw it out there as an ask like you're doing, to a blog that tends to write about that sort of stuff.

[weatherwhim]

It's not just an ease of analysis thing, the real answer is they're perceived as consonants when they're not in the nucleus of the syllable, and vowels when they are. For instance words starting with /j/ and /w/ take the indefinite article 'a', but words starting with /i/ or /u/ take 'an'. So the internal grammar of native speakers respects the distinction. This kind of thing happens across a whole buncha languages.

It is definitely possible to fudge the analysis the other way though. Any continuant consonant (consonants that can be drawn out like /l/, /r/, /s/, /m/, /n/) can be moved into the nucleus just fine. Linguists analyse high vowels as 'syllabic consonants' in certain languages for paradigmatic reasons, especially if the language already has other syllabic consonants (for instance, this is part of how you get the claims that Proto-Indo-European and Mandarin have only two phonemic vowels each). Basically the thing where speakers perceive semivowels and vowels as different types of sound is not universally true, and when a language does certain types of shit, it becomes saner to treat them as the same sound.

But also if you study any of the edge cases for more than five minutes it becomes obvious there really is just multiple possible analyses. People argue about Mandarin's phoneme inventory all the time. In General American English, whether your dictionary's analysis transcribes 'Earth' /əɹθ/ or /ɚθ/ is a total crapshoot, and /ɹ̩θ/ is also a valid transcription (though not one used in most phonemic analyses of English). Words like 'Earth' still take 'an' as their article as if they start with a vowel, but you can notate it as one vowel, one syllabic consonant, or a vowel followed by a consonant.

i dont know why voiced approximants aren't considered vowels. W is a vowel in "Cwm", i dunno any similar words for R or L but you can phonetically read "Clm" and "Crm"

[magic-shop-stories]

HEY WORK BESTIE!! ✨ Saw your blog during my break and screamed (silently) you’re amazing, and our boss is a b*tch. Proud of you for doing this!! Now, as your #1 work hype-person, I demand Jungkook fluff to cure my stress

Imagine: Reader works at a tiny bakery Jungkook visits every Sunday. One rainy day, they slip on a flour spill, he catches them and notices their stress. Jungkook secretly learns to bake their favorite pastry to surprise them. Maybe he is adorably clumsy and hides flour in his hair.

See you tomorrow 💜

💌 Reply:

HI WORK BESTIE!! THANK YOU for saving my nerves every week and for the most adorable request?!!! Jungkook with flour in his hair? Clumsy baking attempts? Secretly learning to make your favourite pastry? I’m already soft 🥺

Here’s your fluffy dose of serotonin – hope it cures your stress. Let me know if you want a part 2 (because let’s be real, Jungkook would absolutely burn down the kitchen trying to make macarons next).

P.S. You’re the real MVP for surviving corporate life.

REQUEST NAME:

Whisked Hearts & Sugar Sparks

↳ Jungkook x Baker!Reader; Fluff Imagine

Rank: G (Tooth-achingly Sweet)

Warnings: None! Just oven mitts, giggles, and a guaranteed craving for croissants.

The bell above the bakery door jingles every Sunday at 3:07 PM. Not 3:00, not 3:15—3:07, like clockwork.

You’d recognize him anywhere, even with his black bucket hat pulled low and his mask hiding that boyish smile. Jeon Jungkook. He’s been a mystery since he first wandered into your tiny shop six months ago, drawn by the cinnamon-sugar scent wafting onto Seoul’s bustling streets. He always orders the same thing: a black coffee, no sugar, and a pain au chocolat. Always sits at the corner table by the window, scribbling in a worn sketchbook. Always leaves a tip tucked beneath his saucer, folded into a tiny origami star.

But today, the sky is weeping. Rain pelts the cobblestones outside, and Jungkook arrives earlier—2:43 PM, hair damp, shoulders dusted with droplets. He hesitates in the doorway, eyes scanning the empty shop before landing on you.

“Hi,” he says, voice softer than the dough you’d kneaded that morning. His mask slips down just enough to reveal a shy grin. “Can I, uh… wait here? Until it lets up?”

You nod, heart stuttering. Casual. Be casual. “Of course. Coffee?”

“Please.”

---

The universe hates you.

One moment, you’re refilling the sugar jars, mind racing about rent, supplier fees, and Mom’s doctor’s appointment—the next, your foot slides through a patch of flour spilt near the counter.

“Oh shi—!”

Time blurs. The floor rushes up—but then arms catch you, strong and sure, pulling you against a chest that smells like rain and vanilla extract.

“Got you,” Jungkook murmurs, voice trembling with adrenaline.

Your face burns. His hands grip your waist, steadying you, and you’re close enough to see the flour speckled in his hair, the nervous bob of his throat as he swallows. “Th-thank you,” you stammer, scrambling back.

But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. His gaze flicks to the dark circles under your eyes, the way your hands shake as you smooth your apron. “You’re… really tired,” he says quietly. Not a question.

You laugh weakly. “Is it that obvious?”

His brows furrow. “I notice things.”

---

Jungkook stops coming on Sundays.

Instead, he starts appearing on Thursdays—early mornings, when the shop is still closed. At first, you think he’s confused.

“Can I… help?” he asks one day, peering through the door you’d cracked open to accept a flour delivery. His sleeves are rolled up, tattoos curling over his forearm, and there’s a smudge of what looks like charcoal on his cheek. “I’m a fast learner.”

You blink. “With… baking?”

He nods, earnest. “I want to make something. For… a friend.”

And so it begins.

Jungkook in your kitchen is a disaster. A beautiful, endearing disaster. He cracks eggs with the intensity of a soldier disarming a bomb, yet somehow gets shell fragments in the batter. He forgets the oven mitts and yelps when a tray singes his fingertips. Once, he accidentally dumps a cup of salt instead of sugar into the mixing bowl and stares at the dough like it’s betrayed him.

“Hyung would laugh at me,” he mutters, pouting at his lumpy croissant attempt. You don’t ask which hyung. You’re too busy memorizing the way his nose scrunches when he’s frustrated.

But he doesn’t quit. He arrives every Thursday, determined, flour dusting his hair like snow. Slowly, he learns—how to temper chocolate, how to braid pastry dough, how to pipe rosettes on cupcakes without them looking like… well, blobs.

---

One Sunday, he returns.

It’s raining again, but this time, he carries a small box tied with a lavender ribbon. His hair is a mess, his hoodie splattered with dried batter, but his smile is brighter than the oven light.

“For you,” he says, shoving the box into your hands. Inside rests a single almond croissant—your favourite, the one you’d once mentioned craving during a lunch break. It’s lopsided, slightly over-browned, but…

“You… made this?” you whisper.

He rubs his neck, sheepish. “I wanted to give you something that… that makes you as happy as your pastries make me.”

Tears prickle your eyes. “Jungkook, I…”

“Wait—” He flips the box over. Scrawled on the bottom in his messy handwriting:

“P.S. I didn’t burn down the kitchen. Mostly.”

You laugh, wet and wobbly, and he beams like he’s won a Grammy.

Later, when you bite into the croissant surprisingly perfect, flaky and buttery, you find a folded origami star hidden inside. Unfolding it reveals a sketch of you—flour on your cheeks, laughing mid-slip, with a speech bubble: “Still the best catch.”

[thestarfishface]

Sketchbook pages from the last few weeks. Lapis campaign has been eventful. Summary is here if ye desire context

Also: Bonus Verity. I've been itching to draw her with the glitter markers for aaaaaagessssss

[stray-tim]

Stray’s extended Character sheet[Character-sheet made by- @thanathecreator ]

•Basic Information•

🔴Name- Tim Kyle (former Timothy Jackson Drake)/Stray

🔴Age- 19

🔴Sexuality- Bisexual

🔴Gender- Male

🔴Species- Human/turned into a cat-boy through a magic Anon

🔴Nicknames- TimTam, Kitten, Timmy, Pequeno sol

🔴Reason for nicknames- TimTam ← just an obvious choice | Kitten ← his Mom gave him that nickname shortly before he became Stray | Timmy ← again obvious | Pequeno sol ← Bitey gave him that nickname because of his sunny smile

🔴From a Fandom?- DC/Batman

🔴Zodiac sign- Cancer

•Physical appearance and traits •

🟠Hair color- Black

🟠Hair type and length- fine (I think??? I don’t know how hair types work v.v) and middle length on top + undercut

🟠Eye color- Blue

🟠Skin tone- White

🟠Scars- Some small scars on his body from his rooftop climbing before his time as Stray, some bigger ones scattered around from various fights/escape manoeuvrers

🟠Predominant features- His cat ears & tail

🟠Height- 5’6 ft.

🟠Dominant hand- Ambidextrous

🟠Jewelry/ Accessories- He carries around the amulet that transported him into this universe, but he does not wear it

🟠Are they healthy or not? Reason why- He is, as long as he got enough sleep/isn’t consuming copious amounts of caffeine and is taking his Modafinil for his narcolepsy.

🟠Allergies- None

🟠Glasses?- No

🟠What do they wear when they are home alone?- Sweats and Hoodies

🟠Tattoos- No

•Mannerisms•

🟡Speech Style- A mix of Bristol lingo and flirting purr

🟡Quirks- Tends to bite his lips while thinking or his boyfriend if he is in reach

🟡Positive traits- He always tries to help his family and the people he considers friends

🟡Negative traits- He will go to extreme length to archive his goals, not limited to stalking who he deems important or of interest

🟡Drives/Motivation- He wants to get back home to his boyfriend and Mom, but without leaving the people behind he has grown close to in this universe

🟡Sense of Humor- Mostly Banter

🟡Private or Public?- As Tim Kyle he is a private person, as Stray he sometimes likes to get a bit more attention if needed

🟡Leader or Follower?- He likes to be in control, but can step back if someone is better suited for the job

🟡Daredevil or cautious?- He wants to be cautious, but he often rushes into things if he doesn’t have the time to think much about it

🟡Optimistic/ Pessimistic/ realistic?- Realistic

🟡Speaker or Listener?- Listener

🟡Accent- faint Bristol accent

🟡Voice Claims- Tim Drake

🟡Theme Song(s)- Phantom Thieves Peter and Jenny

🟡Temperament- Level headed

🟡Talents- Stalking, lock-picking, stealth, Bo-Staff, Grapple gun, hacking, Contingencies

🟡Flaws- Distrustful, needs many naps if he isn’t on a caffeine high, paranoid

🟡Loud or quiet?- Quiet

🟡messy or organized?- Messy

🟡solo or team player?- Team

🟡introvert or extrovert?- Introvert

🟡relaxed or serious?- Relaxed

🟡What will always make them cry?- Thinking about losing someone dear to him

🟡Do they celebrate their birthday?- Yes

🟡What will make them Smile?- Cats, his boyfriend, pranks

•Background•

🟢Hometown- Gotham

🟢Social Class- upper middle class

🟢Education- public school ← He was forced to finish it

🟢First memory- Being yanked away from a playground when he was around 3 by his father.

🟢Worst memory- His parents telling him that they will never consider him a Drake anymore after today.

🟢Best memory- The first kiss with Bernard

🟢Most important childhood event,why?- The day he met Catwoman for the first time, because otherwise she would have never become his Mom and he would never have started being Stray

🟢Most influenced by- His parents: Janet & Jack Drake, Selina Kyle and Bitey

🟢Role models- Catwoman, Nightwing and Bitey

🟢Where does the character live? And with who if they live with someone- In his dimension Tim lived with his Mom (Selina Kyle) in Park Row or stayed at his boyfriends place (Bernard Dowd), now in this dimension he hops between staying at Other-Selinas home and in the abandoned office building with Bitey and Alexander in Crime Alley.

🟢Do they want to move and where?- He would like to move somewhere more comfortable with Bitey, mostly because of the Baby and the lack of privacy, but he has yet to mention that.

🟢Type of childhood- he was severely neglected and verbally abused until he was 9 ½, but his childhood improved significantly after Selina adopted him, he still wasn’t the safest child, since his Aunt’s/Uncle’s belong into the rogue category and he himself is the sidekick of a rogue

🟢Upbringing- It is a Mix of very latch-key/stiff upbringing and a more loving home.

🟢Best Qualification- He always has another back up plan

🟢Most important person in their life and why?- Bernard, since he is the only person he feels like he can be himself with

🟢House environment- at the moment a single room in an abandoned office building, that has far to many rooms that aren’t safe to enter, that room is stocked with most thing he needs.

🟢Childhood crush- Superboy (Kon, that was before he got together with Bernard)

•Family•

🔵Mother- Janet Drake (alive but estranged) | Selina Kyle

🔵Father- Jack Drake (alive but estranged) | Bitey ( @bite-anon )

🔵Siblings- Tiny Tim (younger version of himself, who became @batkid-from-another-father ), Jacyn ( @jacynkaplanbrake ), Duke ( @irl-batsignal ) and Alexander.

🔵Relationship with family?- He has a good relationship with most of the, even though he is on edge around Jacyn. He mostly just wants for everybody to be happy and has a hard time archiving that goal.

🔵Any children? Do they want any?- No children, he is open to the idea, if Bernard would ask, but only after he made copious amounts of contingencies. Update: Thomas ( @toddlerofgotham ) might count in this or the siblings category.

🔵Pets- He has 3 cats back home, that are solely his. Luna, Tigger and BB.

🔵Extended Family- He is unsure if he can count the Batfam as extended family, but he certainly counts Harleen Quinnzel, Edward Nygma and Pamela Isley as his Aunts/Uncle (when it is convenient he also includes Oswald Cobblepot in that list)

🔵Close to family?- He is very close to his choosen family.

🔵Are they related to anyone in their ancestry that was cool/ important?- No

•Favorites and Least Favorites•

🟣Favorite Movie- Princess Mononoke

🟣Least Favorite Movie- The cats musical

🟣Favorite Book- Lord of the Rings

🟣Least Favorite Book- Whatever Jason is currently quoting

🟣Favorite Holiday- Halloween

🟣Least Favorite Holiday- Easter

🟣Favorite Mythological creature- Demons + Fae

🟣Least Favorite Mythological creature- Vampires

•Abilities and Bias’•

⚪️Affiliation- Catwoman, Batfam, Harley Quinn, Riddler, Poison Ivy, Penguin

⚪️Powers- none

⚪️Powers limitations- /

⚪️Weaknesses- Catnip, sleep depravation

⚪️Allies- Catwoman, sometimes Spoiler, Harley, Ivy, Ridder, sometimes Penguin

⚪️How well known are they?- In his universe he is pretty well known in Gotham, but in this new one he isn’t as prominent

⚪️Costume- Black leather costume, with a wide black half-jacket and cat shaped earphones, that have been reworked recently to hide and protect his new ears.

⚪️Do they have a voice changer?- No

⚪️Alias- Stray

⚪️Weapons- Bo-Staff, Whip, an array of Toxins (from Ivy, Scarecrow etc.) and some acid.

⚪️ Gadgets/ tech- Grapple gun, glass cutter, lock-pick, Domino with thermal vision, Headphones to filter out noises.

⚪️Physical Weaknesses- His tail and cat ears are rather sensitive, so he tries to shield them.

⚪️Fears- Rejection, weirdly empty and lifeless spaces (liminal spaces, see liminal Arc), angry sreaming direct at him from people close to him

⚪️Motivations- Money and Fun

⚪️Why do they do what they do?- He wants to help is Mom, to repay her for everything she has done for him, he also like the chaos he can bring with his actions.

⚪️Mental/Emotional weaknesses- His family, bringing up anything from his old home life

⚪️Rivals- Robin (Damian), since both of them want to take all the stray cats home.

⚪️Romantic interest? Who if yes- Bernard Dowd ( @basically-bernard )

⚪️Do they have a known quote?- No

•Miscellaneous•

⚫️If I could put them in a different universe or Fandom, which one?- Stardew Valley

⚫️What was there first kiss like? Have they have it yet?- He had his first kiss with Stephanie Brown, when he was 15 and she was Robin at that point, it was good until Batman walked in on them.

⚫️Have they ever lost somebody they loved and who was it? How did it impact them?- Theoretically he lost his parents, since they don’t see him as their son anymore, he was (is) devastated because of this and held out hope for a year, until he gave up and changed his name, to distance himself from his old life.

⚫️What would happen if they were granted 3 wishes?- He would get a stable way to travel between his own and this universe, Batman and Catwoman would finally resolve the tension and talk about their relationship, he would get @jacynkaplanbrake the help he needs

⚫️There stranded on in island with________ and they have 4 items,who and what do they bring?- Bernard, a hunting knife, a water-filter straw, a pot, a signal gun.

⚫️what quote do they feel portrays them?- You wanna get home? Put it all on the line

⚫️Most prizes possession and why is it prized?- The first picture he took of Batman and Robin – his start as a baby stalker

⚫️Have they ever stolen anything? We’re they caught? Do they feel guilty or prideful?- So much and he always felt good about it, even when Batman and co sometimes caught him.

⚫️What textures do they absolutely hate to feel?- Silk, it reminds him of the bedsheets of his old home.

⚫️How long can they go without showering? When do they feel dirty?- At most 48 hours, but after 36 hours the feeling of being dirty sets on.

⚫️Where do they put their clothes when they are dirty?- Mostly on the floor right next to the hamper (he throws them in the general direction)

⚫️Do they sleep with the bedroom door open or closed and why?- Closed, he likes to keep his room as dark as possible.

⚫️If they woke up with animalistic features such as ears and a tail( that were different from the ones they already had if they had any at all)how would they react?- That did happen and he was/is ecstatic about it, even if it makes it harder to hide his own emotions.

⚫️if they could only eat one thing for 20 days, what would they eat?- Pasta with tomato sauce and cheese

⚫️do they re read books they already have?- Only a few

⚫️if they had the option to know when they would die, exact date, would they want to know or would they want to stay oblivious to it?- He would want to know, so that he could prepare everything, so that he could spare as much grief as possible to everyone involved, but also to maybe find a way to prevent it.

⚫️What song would they listen to on repeat?- Stalemate from the Death Note musical

⚫️Do they believe in a form of a afterlife?- Yes

⚫️Do they crack there joints?- Far to often

⚫️Spicy, Savory, Sweet, Bitter, or Sour?- Spicy and sweet

⚫️Do they adopt stray animals?- Any stray cat is fair game

⚫️Do they procrastinate or do they get it done asap?- Depends, schoolwork he procrastinated so much that he sometimes asked one of the Robins for help, but anything that has to do with the job will be done as fast and good as possible

⚫️What is the temperature when they shower? Above 40°C, the longer he is in the shower, the higher the temperature climbs, he starts at ~38-40°C

⚫️Do they daydream?- Yes

⚫️ do they work best in messy or clean environment?- Messy

⚫️ do they keep personal photos? Why?- Yes, he hides them away out of habit, but he loves taking and keeping photos of personal moments.

⚫️Do they indulge in anything?- Energy drinks (in concerning amounts), if he is highly stressed and without supervision.

⚫️ would they do the exact opposite that someone says to them just to spite them?- If the consequences do not outweigh, yes

⚫️ if they’re alone and they hear a noise would they go check it out or would they hide? Why?- He would absolutely check, because he has the skill to handle himself and it’s most likely one of his not-siblings trying to play a prank.

⚫️ if they’re lost what is the first thing they do?- Climb high and find an identifying landmark

⚫️ what is a dream they had that was terrifying and made no sense too them? Anything that came after the Liminal Arc, granted nothing in that world made much sense to him to begin with.

⚫️ what is the stupidest thing they have ever done because someone said not to do it?- Eating a California Reaper, even though Bernard told him not to do it.

⚫️ are they stoic or melodramatic about being injured?- He acts like nothing is amiss, when he can get away with it, otherwise he will whine, because it isn’t that big of a deal and he can take care of everything himself (he can not)

————————————————————

Brief run down of an important moment for the character, can be anything-

0-9 ½ - lived with the Drakes.

7-8 ½ - stalked Batman and Dick-Robin.

8 - ran into Catwoman on a roof in a cold Gotham night, this occurrence repeated until she offered to train him, so that he could keep himself safe.

8 ½ - he becomes Stray.

9 ½ - Selina adopts him, after his parents didn't respond to her or her lawyers e-mails about his well being, his parents only came back for the custody battle, once Bruce paid for a better lawyer for Selina.

10 ½ - he changes his name from Timothy Jackson Drake to Tim Kyle, in hope of distancing himself emotionally from his parents and so that the press would have a harder time finding him.

19 - he lands in a different dimension.————————————————————Short run down of their storyline-

- He tries to find a way home

- He crashes in Other-Selinas apartment

- He adopts several siblings

- He and Signal get kidnapped by DreamCorps.

- He gets cat-ified

- He gets adopted by a deer demon named Bitey (who is a cannibal)

- He acts like his Mother to snap Tiny Tim out of possession and does not stop when he should have

- He starts therapy with Harley again (He has a therapist back home since he was adopted, League vetted)

- Jacyn and a JJ-Tim put an electric collar on him (one of Lucifer's underlings help him get rid of it)

- He and Bernard get back into contact through Tumblr

- He is trying to help Dan with the GIW

- Bernard is visiting him in this dimension through the help of Jamie

- There is now a stable way for him to travel home and back.

- DreamCorps is back and is threatening his family, specifically the children.

Character Info:

Stray is 19 year old Tim Kyle - formerly known as Timothy Jackson Drake - who was adopted by Selina Kyle/Catwoman as a almost 10-year-old. The inccident in Ethiopia didn't end with anyone dead, which is why he never became a Robin. He is in a relationship with his universes Bernard ( @basically-bernard ).

He was thrown into this Dimension via cursed Amulet and has found his way back home, via a stable portal that he and others now use to switch between these two universes.

He sees Jacyn ( @jacynkaplanbrake ) as a brother, even tho things aren't too healthy between the two.

Batkid ( @batkid-from-another-father ) is a younger Tim, that he also sees as his little brother.

Duke ( @irl-batsignal ) is also a brother and good friend for him.

Thomas ( @toddlerofgotham ) has started to grow on him and has also become something like a little brother to him (or more likely like his own kid).

He also got adopted by Bitey ( @bite-anon ) somehow. Sometimes he lives with him and other times with the Selina from this universe ( @selinakyl-ee )

The Harley ( @harleenquinntime ) of this universe also got the Aunt title, which in return makes her daughter ( @luluquinn ) his little cousin.

Another close friend is Liminals ( @l1m1n4ls ), who have helped him and Duke once before to escape from DreamCorps ( @dreamcorpsinc ) who are now back, bringing trouble once more.

I'll add to this as the story progresses and I'm sorry for the late introduction and all the tags ^^"

Credit: @/cosmicpoutine here on Tumblr for the lovely art!

[gerandor]

Nandor babygirl you were so unhinged for this

gifs by the ever awesome @deliciousnecks

[gaywario420]

bet this fucker absolutely KILLS IT on the grill ngl