#hidden messages trailer

[artpo]

Slot Machine:

Phiang Waichai (เพียงไว้ใจ) | Free Fall

Kinn | Porsche

KPAnniversary Week8 - Music

[kinnporsche]

MILE PHAKPHUM & APO NATTAWIN as Kinn and Porsche in KinnPorsche: The Hidden Messages (2021)

[alex-goes-brrr]

Day 1&2: colors, kinnporsche (red/blue) | @mau-month

I made this a while ago and when I saw the prompt list for mau month I realized that it fit perfectly for day 1 and 2.

Therefor, I decided to finally post it :D

[rainbowcolored7]

1/? Hidden Messages edits for personal fic purposes. Feel free to use with credit. 💖

[thefantastician]

guys I figured out the teaser trailer’s hidden message

Ian jr masterpost

[kathaelipwse]

Set Me Off || J.Wooyoung

Pairing: Wooyoung (ATEEZ) x Actress.Idol!Reader

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 7242 words : Reading Time: 26-ish mins

Trope: Idol x Actress | Slow Burn to Lovers | Hidden Relationship | He Falls First and Harder

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of hate comments, slow-burn tension, eventual mild intimacy (towards the end)

Synopsis: Everyone knows you as the queen of K-dramas, always cast in sweet romance roles. But your gritty new action film flips the script—and catches the attention of ATEEZ’s Wooyoung, who’s instantly obsessed. What starts as admiration turns into something deeper as secret messages, live chemistry, and late-night confessions unfold. Fame might complicate things… but love? That’s the real headline.

Author’s Note: This is my love letter to powerful women, supportive men, and the chaos that comes when celebrity crushes turn mutual. Expect flirty tension, viral moments, soft love, and a lot of heart.

Request are open <3

The award show pulsed with manufactured euphoria. Sequins shimmered under the relentless assault of camera flashes, a galaxy of idols clustered beneath the stage lights, their attention divided between the ongoing performances and hushed predictions of who would clutch the coveted trophies. It was the usual orchestrated spectacle: saccharine romance trailers that elicited polite applause, glossy cosmetic brand ads promising unattainable perfection, dramatic teasers hinting at future on-screen turmoil. Fluff and glitter, meticulously curated for maximum impact.

Then, the manufactured brilliance fractured.

The house lights bled out, plunging the auditorium into sudden darkness. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, a momentary suspension of the carefully constructed reality.

The colossal screen, which had moments before showcased smiling faces and glistening products, dissolved into an absolute, consuming black.

And then your trailer began.

A cacophony of sound ripped through the silence: the sharp, concussive reports of gunshots, the high-pitched whine of tires fighting for traction, the chillingly distinct shick of a blade being drawn from its sheath. And then, you materialized. Stepping into the frame as if conjured from the shadows, clad in a black leather jacket that seemed to absorb the remaining light. Your eyes, sharp and assessing, cut through the darkness. Your lips, painted a defiant blood red, curved into a dangerous smile, a flicker of untamed fire dancing in their depths.

"Target acquired," a voice, low and husky – hers – drawled from the screen. The camera shifted, revealing her perched on a rain-slicked rooftop, a silhouette against the artificial twilight. Black leather molded to her form, a gun holstered with lethal grace against her thigh. Her eyes, lined with a stark precision, mirrored your own intensity. Her lips, too, were curved in a knowing smirk.

The entire auditorium held its breath. The low hum of conversation had vanished, replaced by a profound, almost reverent silence. The collective memory of your previous roles – the sweet ingenue clutching a notebook, the girl blushing over a tentative first kiss – seemed to evaporate into the charged atmosphere.

The images on screen shifted with brutal efficiency. You, a whirlwind of controlled violence, flipping a man twice your size with effortless ease, sending him crashing through a pristine marble table. You, a figure of fierce determination, shooting your way out of a towering high-rise as lightning split the stormy sky. You, smirking, a smear of blood a stark crimson against your flawless cheekbone, your beauty amplified by the raw power you exuded. You were terrifying. And undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Tell heaven I sent you," she murmured, her voice a silken threat before the deafening roar of an explosion ripped through the sound system. A car erupted in a fiery inferno behind her as she turned and walked away, her silhouette unwavering against the blaze. And then – another explosion, closer this time, the screen erupting in a blinding, white-hot flash. “Blood Petals” – A Netflix Original. Coming Soon.

Silence hung heavy in the air for a beat, two beats, an eternity.

Then, the dam broke.

A collective gasp swept through the auditorium, a wave of pure shock rippling through the assembled stars. A smattering of hesitant cheers broke out, quickly swallowed by the dominant sense of stunned disbelief.

ATEEZ? Their usual boisterous energy seemed to have been momentarily suspended. They sat frozen, eyes glued to the now-blank screen.

Wooyoung? He was a statue carved from disbelief. Utterly silent, his eyes blinked slowly, as if trying to process a reality that had just violently overwritten his expectations. It was as if his entire definition of an ideal had just materialized on screen, holding a grenade and a vendetta.

“Bro,” San whispered, nudging his arm gently. “Was that… her?”

“She just killed five guys and licked blood off her thumb,” Mingi muttered, his eyes wide and unfocused. “I didn’t know I was into that, but apparently, I am.”

Wooyoung remained unresponsive, his brain seemingly undergoing a complete system reboot. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he breathed, “She’s so hot I think I blacked out for a second.”

And then – your cue.

Blinding spotlights flooded the stage, cutting through the residual darkness. You stepped into the incandescent glow, a vision ripped straight from the aesthetic of your trailer. Your gown, the color of deep red wine, clung to your figure like liquid night, sculpted to every curve and angle. The gloves reached past your elbows, adding an air of dangerous elegance, while the slit in the skirt climbed high enough to steal the breath from every lung in the room. Your hair was slicked back, revealing the sharp angles of your face, your expression a study in cool, lethal grace.

Every single eye in the auditorium was fixed on you.

Including his.

Wooyoung watched, his mouth slightly agape, as if you had indeed descended from the ceiling on a wire, a real-life embodiment of a Mission: Impossible fantasy.

You smiled – a cool, collected curve of your lips that somehow managed to convey both power and amusement – and your voice, smooth and confident, filled the stunned silence. “Best Performance Group: ATEEZ.”

A ripple of movement went through their section. They rose, a wave of applause finally breaking the spell. But Wooyoung? He moved as if through water, a dazed expression still clouding his features.

As Hongjoong stepped up to the microphone to accept the award, the unforgiving eye of the camera captured everything. The genuine gratitude on Hongjoong’s face, the supportive smiles of the other members – and Wooyoung. Wooyoung, who couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. His eyes followed the line of your dress, the sharpness of your jawline, the knowing glint in your eyes, the subtle curve of your smirk. Your entire aura seemed to have him ensnared.

And then, as you gracefully handed over the gleaming trophy to Hongjoong, your eyes flickered in his direction. Just a fleeting glance. Just one subtle, almost imperceptible smirk.

It was over.

He was done.

Dead.

Buried under a mountain of newfound fascination.

Twitter exploded within minutes.

🎥 “wooyoung folded like a lawn chair watching her walk out I CANNOT.” 📸 “she smirked. he malfunctioned. we all saw it.”

Later that night, back in the familiar chaos of their dorms, the boys were starting to unwind, the adrenaline of the award show slowly dissipating. Everyone, that is, except for Wooyoung.

He was curled up in his bed, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his head, the glow of his phone illuminating his face as he watched your trailer on repeat.

Click.

You walked out of the inferno, the flickering flames casting dramatic shadows across your face, a gun held loosely in one hand, the sharp snap of your heel against the imaginary concrete echoing in his ears.

“Target acquired.”

He exhaled, a long, shaky breath, as if he had indeed glimpsed something divine.

Yeosang cautiously peeked his head around the doorframe. “Are you… okay?”

“She blew up a car. In HEELS.”

“That didn’t exactly answer the question.”

“She’s so cool, guys,” Wooyoung continued, his voice a hushed reverence. “She used to be in all those fluffy romcoms, and now she’s killing people and being sarcastic and walking in slow motion away from explosions. I didn’t know I had a thing for powerful women who could destroy me.”

“Ah,” Seonghwa said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You’ve fallen. Hard.”

Mingi punctuated the statement by throwing a soft pillow at Wooyoung’s head. “Confess already.”

“I can’t even breathe,” Wooyoung whispered into his blanket, his voice muffled. “She smirked at me. I think I transcended.”

--

Soon enough The Premiere night descended upon the city like an electric storm, the air crackling with anticipation. Paparazzi, an organized frenzy, lined the velvet ropes like a high-powered firing squad, their flashes a relentless barrage of light. Fans, a roaring wave of adoration, pressed against the barriers, their screams a fervent symphony of excitement. The rapid-fire click of camera shutters punctuated the night, a relentless soundtrack to the unfolding spectacle.

And then, the sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its tinted windows a final veil of mystery. The collective breath of the crowd hitched. The door swung open, and you emerged.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The carefully orchestrated chaos outside the theater erupted into pandemonium. Shouts of your name ripped through the air, drowning out everything else.

You were a vision sculpted from darkness and fire. Custom black silk, impossibly fluid, cascaded around you, embroidered with intricate gold threads that seemed to writhe and shimmer like molten lava. The dress, a masterpiece of design, clung to your form as if painted on, a second skin crafted by mythical beings. A dramatic slit revealed a tantalizing glimpse of leg with every step, while the low back hinted at a hidden strength. Your hair, swept up into a sleek, architectural style, framed your sharp features. Gleaming gold ear cuffs, like miniature sculptures, caught the red carpet lights, adding a touch of fierce elegance.

And your expression? Imperturbable. Powerful. The same captivatingly dark femme fatale aura that had sent shockwaves through the internet after the trailer’s release now radiated in person, amplified tenfold. You were a living, breathing myth, a fire-walking siren who had stepped out of the screen and into reality.

Even as you moved, the digital world was reacting in real-time. Edits began to coalesce on social media, capturing your every step, every glance. Tweets poured in, breathless and awestruck.

💬 “This isn’t a premiere. This is a coronation.” 💬 “She didn’t come to slay. She came to rule.” 💬 “Y/N is literally a Bond villainess and the Bond girl at the same time. My brain can’t comprehend.”

But it wasn't just your otherworldly glamour that held the crowd captive. It was the unexpected glimpses of the person beneath the formidable facade.

As you posed for the relentless cameras, a young female staffer behind you stumbled, her simple blouse slipping awkwardly off one shoulder. In a seamless movement, without a flicker of hesitation, you shifted your position, subtly placing yourself between her and the unforgiving lenses. Your head dipped slightly, and those who were close enough saw your lips move, a whispered word of comfort as the flustered staffer quickly adjusted her top, her face flushing with gratitude.

Moments later, as you made your way towards the theater entrance, a small gasp rippled through the nearby fans. A little girl, her bright pink frock a little too long, had tripped, her face crumpling in distress. Without a second thought, you knelt down in your breathtakingly expensive gown, your movements graceful and unhurried. Your long fingers gently smoothed the ruffled fabric of her skirt, and you carefully adjusted the tiny strap of her heel, offering a warm, genuine smile that melted away her tears.

Halfway up the grand staircase leading into the theater, you paused, your sharp eyes catching a minor imperfection. Your co-star, a usually impeccably dressed actor, had a crooked tie. With a playful shake of your head and a soft laugh that carried in the sudden lull of noise, you reached out and straightened it, your touch light but precise. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, making him look endearingly like a teenager caught off guard.

The internet, already teetering on the brink of collapse, finally shattered.

🎥 “She’s gorgeous, graceful, and kind? This woman’s a SIMULATION. There’s no way she’s real.” 🎥 Fan art, vibrant and immediate, flooded Twitter. TikTok edits set to soaring symphonic music, captioned with the simple, powerful words ‘Queen Energy,’ dominated FYPs. 🎥 # Y/NsEra surged to the # 1 trending spot worldwide, a testament to the captivating force you had unleashed.

And somewhere across the sprawling city, within the familiar, slightly chaotic haven of the ATEEZ dorms, Wooyoung was staring at his phone screen as if it had personally delivered a devastating blow.

She was perfect.

She was unreal.

And she had just posted a picture from the premiere – the black and gold dress shimmering under the intense lights, her gaze direct and magnetic, captioned with two stark emojis:

“🖤⚔️ Blood Petals, now streaming.”

He didn’t pause to consider the implications. He didn’t overthink. His fingers moved with a speed born of pure impulse. He just hit ‘follow.’

And three seconds later, in the small, interconnected universe of social media, the world seemed to tilt again.

💬 “WOOYOUNG FOLLOWED Y/N???” 💬 “We have contact. I repeat. We HAVE CONTACT.” 💬 “Not Wooyoung folding on MAIN like this. I’m deceased.”

Even his own group chat, usually a steady stream of memes and inside jokes, erupted into a flurry of panicked messages.

Mingi: BRO San: no way you just followed her like that Hongjoong: bold. very bold. Yeosang: should’ve made a finsta first lmfao Jongho: you’re so obvious it’s painful Wooyoung: leave me alone Seonghwa: she was really pretty though. and nice. and cool. Wooyoung: I KNOW. I KNOW SHE WAS AND SHE IS.

The next morning, the news broke with the quiet confidence of undeniable success. Netflix officially announced that "Blood Petals" had soared to the # 1 movie spot globally. It had cracked the Top 10 in over eighty countries within the first twelve hours of its release. Critics, who had once pigeonholed you, now lauded your performance, praising the stunning cinematography, the visceral choreography, and your terrifyingly captivating grace. Audiences were spellbound by the transformation, the seamless shift from the soft-spoken sweetheart of romantic comedies to the high-heeled harbinger of doom.

Wooyoung became a dedicated disciple of "Blood Petals." He watched it again and again, dissecting every scene, every nuance of your performance.

But it wasn’t just the movie that consumed him.

He delved into the archives of your public appearances, binging interviews where your witty, sarcastic answers were delivered with a playful smirk that sent a shiver of something he couldn’t quite name down his spine. He watched behind-the-scenes footage, charmed by your easy camaraderie with the stunt team, your genuine laughter at your own bloopers.

And then there were the fan edits. Oh, the fan edits. Compilations of your most striking moments – you in slow motion, flipping gleaming knives with deadly precision, a knowing smirk thrown over your shoulder as you walked away from fiery explosions, all set to a soundtrack of haunting melodies or pulse-pounding club beats.

He was whipped.

Fully.

Entirely.

Completely.

Even the sharp-eyed fans, masters of observation and deduction, sensed the shift in the cosmic balance.

💬 “They haven’t even breathed the same air publicly but I just KNOW he’s head over heels in love.” 💬 “He’s fighting for his life in that dorm right now, trying to play it cool but failing spectacularly.”

And they were right. Because even without a single shared glance captured by the cameras, without a single public interaction…

The ship, fueled by a shared smirk and a single, fateful click of a ‘follow’ button, had already irrevocably set sail.

--

A month had passed since the explosive premiere of "Blood Petals." Your face was plastered across magazine covers, your interviews were dissected frame by frame, and your social media notifications pinged with the relentless energy of a thousand buzzing bees. Your movie reigned supreme, a global phenomenon that solidified your transformation from rom-com darling to action icon. You were booked solid with appearances, endorsements, and talk show circuits.

But through the whirlwind of newfound fame, nothing – and absolutely no one – had managed to truly ruffle your carefully constructed composure. You were a seasoned professional, adept at navigating the chaotic landscape of celebrity.

Until today.

Stepping onto the brightly lit set of a reality show felt different. The studio lights blazed with an almost aggressive intensity, the screams of the live audience were a physical force, and a knot of pure, unadulterated nerves tightened in your stomach, pulling it taut like a drawn bow.

Because today, you were filming with Wooyoung.

Yes. That Wooyoung.

The one who had casually followed you on Instagram weeks ago, triggering an internet meltdown of epic proportions. The one whose award show fancam, capturing his utterly besotted gaze as you presented ATEEZ with their trophy, had inexplicably garnered four million views in a mere seventy-two hours. The one you had, in the quiet corners of your mind, secretly, foolishly, undeniably been crushing on since his debut days.

You’d handled the online frenzy with your usual cool detachment, offering a wry comment here and there, expertly deflecting any direct questions. On the outside, you were the epitome of unbothered grace.

But seeing him in person, sitting across from you at the brightly lit panel table, his fox-like smile radiating genuine warmth, the silver rings on his fingers catching the studio lights, his dark hair artfully messy in a way that somehow only looked perfect on him?

Yeah. Game over. All your carefully constructed walls crumbled like ancient ruins.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a smooth, slightly breathless murmur as you finally settled into your seat. His eyes held a spark of something… intriguing.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice betraying none of the internal chaos, maintaining your signature cool even as your heart rate decided to stage its own private rave.

He leaned in ever so slightly, a conspiratorial air about him. “You look… dangerous.” His gaze flickered over your outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit that hinted at the lethal grace you portrayed on screen.

A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s kind of the brand now, isn’t it?” You met his eyes, holding his gaze for a beat longer than strictly necessary.

The show kicked off, a whirlwind of bright lights and enthusiastic energy. Games were played with varying degrees of success, laughter echoed through the studio, and the usual delightful madness of variety television unfolded. You found yourself surprisingly at ease, bantering with the other guests, your sharp wit on full display.

And then, the host, a seasoned entertainer with a mischievous glint in his eye, turned to you mid-segment, a wide grin spreading across his face. He thrived on creating memorable moments, and the palpable energy between you and Wooyoung hadn’t escaped his notice.

“So, Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with playful curiosity, “people were absolutely obsessed with your bike scenes in Blood Petals. The way you handled that motorcycle in those incredible heels… Do you think you could still ride in heels in real life?”

Without missing a beat, you smoothly crossed your long legs, the movement drawing attention to the very heels in question – a pair of impossibly high stilettos. You casually flicked a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, your gaze steady. “Of course. I could ride in stilettos if I had to. Though I might prefer a slightly more… aerodynamic model than what I usually wear to premieres.”

The audience erupted in cheers and whistles, thoroughly enjoying your confident response.

But the host wasn’t finished stirring the pot. He clapped his hands together dramatically, his eyes twinkling. “Amazing! Absolutely amazing! Well, we have a bike right here on set for our next segment… Anyone here wanna volunteer to ride behind our action queen and, you know, test out her skills?” He punctuated the question with a wink at the camera, clearly intending it as a lighthearted joke. The cast members chuckled, anticipating the usual playful refusals.

Except for one person.

“Yes.”

Wooyoung’s voice cut through the laughter, clear and unwavering. He didn’t even blink, his expression utterly serious, calm, and brimming with a quiet confidence that sent a fresh wave of unexpected butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The entire room seemed to freeze mid-breath. The camera zoomed in on the audience, capturing their collective gasp of shock and burgeoning excitement. Screams started to bubble up from the fans, a sound that was rapidly escalating into something bordering on feral. The other cast members exchanged bewildered glances, some wheezing with suppressed laughter, the staff members behind the cameras cackling with glee at the unexpected turn of events.

And you?

You turned your head slowly, deliberately, to look directly at him. His gaze was intense, a playful fire dancing in his dark eyes. He was smiling at you like the damn devil himself, an irresistible invitation in his expression.

So, of course, you said, your voice a low, challenging purr, “Let’s ride.”

The live segment instantly became legend.

A sleek, black motorcycle was wheeled onto the stage, gleaming under the studio lights. You swung your leg over it with an effortless grace that suggested you had indeed been born on two wheels, the sharp click of your stilettos against the pedals echoing in the sudden hush. Wooyoung hesitated for a split second – just enough to play it off as a moment of playful apprehension – before swinging his own leg over and sliding in behind you, his movements surprisingly fluid.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air behind you, a palpable tension radiating from him.

“Is it okay if I—?” he started, his voice a hesitant murmur.

“Yes,” you said, cutting him off before he could even finish the question, a hint of amusement lacing your tone.

His hands settled on your waist, lightly at first, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your jumpsuit. Then, as the camera zoomed in for a close-up, his grip tightened subtly, a silent acknowledgment of the close proximity. His breath warmed the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low rumble.

“You sure you’re good?”

“You’ve asked me ten times,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. “You nervous?”

“Just trying not to pass out,” he muttered, the words barely audible.

You pretended not to hear the slightly flustered admission, but the knowing smirk playing on your lips said otherwise.

The internet, predictably, imploded. Again.

💬 “The chemistry is NOT just acting. I refuse to believe this is just for the show.” 💬 “They’re touching like it’s a first date AND their third date at the same time. The awkwardness is endearing and the underlying tension is… palpable.” 💬 “Someone check on Wooyoung’s blood pressure. I think it just spiked into the stratosphere.”

After the exhilarating chaos of the live broadcast, as you finally had a moment to yourself, you opened Instagram. Your fingers hovered over his profile for a fleeting second before you made the decision.

And finally – finally – you tapped the ‘follow’ button.

Within mere seconds, the eagle-eyed fans noticed the digital acknowledgment. The news spread like wildfire.

💬 “Y/N FOLLOWED HIM BACK. WE’RE WITNESSING HISTORY UNFOLD BEFORE OUR VERY EYES.” 💬 “This isn’t just a ship anymore. It’s a luxury yacht sailing through international waters.” 💬 “They’re gonna get married and I can FEEL IT in my bones. Save the date!”

Meanwhile, back at the ATEEZ dorm, the atmosphere was one of bewildered amusement.

Mingi burst into the living room with theatrical flair, phone clutched dramatically in his hand. “YOU SAID YES ON LIVE TV?! TO RIDING BEHIND HER?! ON A MOTORCYCLE?!”

Yunho followed, shaking his head in disbelief, a wide, slightly incredulous grin on his face. “You looked like you were about to propose on that bike, hyung.”

Wooyoung simply shrugged, a goofy, lovesick grin plastered across his face – the grin of a man who was clearly, irrevocably, way too far gone. “I meant it.”

Mingi and Yunho groaned in perfect unison, collapsing onto the nearby couch.

“You’re down bad,” Mingi declared with mock solemnity.

“Embarrassing,” Yunho added, though the teasing tone lacked any real bite.

Wooyoung just flopped back onto the cushions, his phone already displaying a rapidly growing collection of fan edits from the show – snippets of your confident smile, his awestruck gaze, the charged moment on the motorcycle.

And he smiled, a soft, genuine expression that reached his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet contentment. “I know.”

It starts the night after the variety show.

Your phone buzzes at 1:12 a.m. with a DM request.

Wooyoung.

You open it without hesitation.

@ wooyoung_official Hey… I hope this isn’t weird or too much but I just wanted to say I had so much fun filming today. I meant what I said about the bike thing, by the way. You were incredible. If I came off too strong, I’m sorry—I was just really nervous and trying not to make it obvious I’ve been a fan of yours forever lol. You’re insanely talented. And hilarious. And kind. I don’t usually DM people like this but… I didn’t want the day to end without saying thank you. Hope I wasn’t too much.

You stare at the screen, heart thudding. Not just because it’s sweet. But because it's real.

You reply faster than you probably should.

@ you That wasn’t too much at all. I had a great time too :) I’m glad it was you behind me on that bike. And if you were nervous, you hid it well. We should do that again sometime. (Maybe without the cameras.)

There’s a pause. Then another ping.

@ wooyoung_official …wait was that flirting Are we flirting now Because I’m ready

You laugh, then send your number as he had sent his.

--

From that moment, it takes off.

Texting every day. Morning check-ins. Late-night venting. Voice notes filled with sleepy laughter and dramatic reenactments of chaotic schedules.

You send each other memes, inside jokes forming faster than you can keep track.

He tells you about the stress of comeback season, the pressure to stay sharp, the ache in his bones from back-to-back rehearsals.

You talk about the constant need to be “on,” the way you sometimes feel like a product instead of a person, the weight of comments that cut deeper than they should.

And through it all, Wooyoung listens. Never tries to fix you. Just sees you.

And hypes you—loudly.

When you land another guesting on a show with him, fans immediately clock the shift.

The way he looks at you when you speak. The inside jokes mid-interview. The not-so-subtle way his hand brushes yours during games.

Clips go viral.

💬 “They’re literally in their own world.” 💬 “Why does Wooyoung look at her like that 😭😭” 💬 “Not him fixing her mic like a boyfriend.” 💬 “HE SAID SHE DESERVES TEN OSCARS??? GET HIM A RING.”

It gets worse (or better?) when he starts defending you online.

Any hate comment?

Deleted.

Any fan shading your acting?

He’s replying with full essays about your talent and work ethic.

He comments under your posts with things like:

💬 Queen behavior. 💬 She acts, she slays, she saves lives. 💬 Where’s your award? No seriously. 💬 No one’s touching her. I mean that.

And when you text him—

💬 you You really don’t have to defend me like that all the time, you know. 💬 wooyoung Yes, I do. You deserve someone who shows up for you. Always. I want to be that.

--

One night, after a long shoot, you break a little.

You text: “Some days I feel like I’ll never be enough no matter how hard I work.”

His reply comes thirty seconds later.

You don’t have to earn the right to rest. You’re enough just as you are. And I know this world is loud and cruel sometimes. But when you need quiet? I’ll be your quiet. When you need noise? I’ll be your loudest.

You cry.

And when he sends a sleepy voice note later saying:

“Just wanted you to hear my voice. In case it helps.”

—you fall asleep smiling.

-

One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of whispered messages that painted the dawn, late-night phone calls that chased away the shadows, stolen secret coffee runs in disguise, the comforting rhythm of shared playlists weaving through your days, matching hoodies bought on a whim and worn in the privacy of your own spaces, a silent testament to a connection only you two understood.

You and Wooyoung had cultivated a world just for yourselves, a sanctuary built on stolen moments and shared laughter. It wasn't about hiding from the relentless glare of the public eye, though that was a necessary byproduct. It was about cherishing something precious, something untouched by the often-brutal scrutiny of public opinion. It was yours, and his, and belonged to no one else.

He had become your unwavering safe place, the calm in your often-turbulent storm. You, in turn, had become his soft landing, the quiet reassurance in the demanding world he navigated. You had shared everything – your fears, your triumphs, your silliest jokes, your deepest vulnerabilities.

Except for this.

Your next movie. A project shrouded in secrecy, filmed during snatched moments over the past six months. A bold, breathtaking action-romance that promised to redefine your range, where you played the lead opposite a talented rising actor. And yes – there were intimate scenes. A handful. Tastefully shot, with a closed set and an intimacy coordinator ensuring everyone felt safe and respected. Carefully choreographed, like any other dance sequence.

Necessary for the story, your director had emphasized, his artistic vision unwavering. And executed with professionalism and respect, you knew. You believed in the script, in the message it conveyed. You loved the complexity of your character. You just hadn’t… told him.

You had envisioned it as a surprise, a new facet of your artistry to share when the time was right, perhaps at the official trailer drop. But when the first press article landed, its headline screaming the word “intimate” in bold, accusatory letters… it wasn’t the carefully curated reveal you had planned.

Your phone began to vibrate incessantly, a relentless buzzing that echoed the growing unease within you. Notifications flooded your screen – concerned messages from your team, speculative comments from fans, and then, his name flashed across the display.

💬 Wooyoung: Can we meet? Just us. Please.

The café was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street in the familiar bustle of Mapo-gu. The early afternoon crowd was sparse, mostly locals lost in their own conversations. No one paid you a second glance as you slipped inside. He was already there, seated in your usual corner booth, the familiar soft grey of his hoodie pulled low, the brim of his black cap shadowing his usually bright eyes.

As you slid into the booth opposite him, he looked up, and a sharp pang of something akin to guilt and worry twisted in your chest. He wasn't angry, not outwardly. But an almost palpable anxiety clung to him, a restless energy that made him seem smaller, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him. It was as if something was crawling under his skin, an invisible itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice a gentle anchor in the tense atmosphere.

"Hey." He offered you a tight, strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he exhaled sharply, the sound filled with a nervous energy. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you out like this, I just… I couldn't keep it in. Not for another second."

Without a word, you reached across the small table, your hand finding his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, his grip surprisingly tight, as if he needed the physical connection to ground him. He took another shaky breath before the words finally tumbled out, quick, nervous, raw with vulnerability.

"I trust you. You know that, right? God, you have to know that. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met. But when I saw those articles, the way they were talking about it, the… the emphasis on those scenes… I—I just panicked. My head went somewhere I didn't want it to go. I know it's acting. I know it's your job, your art. But I couldn't stop imagining it, replaying scenarios in my head. I hate that I felt this wave of… of jealousy. It's so stupid. I hate that my brain spiraled like that. I just—God."

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing small, agitated circles on your skin.

"I think… I think I love you so much it scares me sometimes. It makes me… irrational. I don't ever want to be the guy who tells you what to do, what roles to take, what not to film. That's not who I am. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't make this awful knot form in my stomach, like I was losing you. Or worse… that I didn't deserve you, that someone else… someone else would see that side of you, that intimacy, and… and that I wouldn't be enough."

Your own chest tightened, a wave of empathy washing over you. You understood his vulnerability, the quiet insecurities that even his bright stage presence couldn’t always mask.

Without a word, you slid out of your seat, moved around the small table, and knelt down in front of him, your knees pressing gently against the worn wooden floor. You reached up, your hands framing his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones.

"Wooyoung," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "You're allowed to feel all of that. Every single bit of it. You're not wrong for being scared, for letting your mind wander. It just proves how much you care. But you're not losing me. You've never even come close."

His dark eyes darted across your face, searching, questioning, glassy with unshed tears that made his eyelashes look impossibly long. “I just… it’s just that the way they wrote about it…”

"I love you." You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the contact a silent reassurance. "I love you. Jung Wooyoung. Not anyone else. Not any character I play. Not any co-star I share a scene with. Just you. Always you."

He blinked slowly, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down his cheek. “You… you do?” The question was barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of disbelief and a fragile hope.

"I have for a long time," you confessed, your voice soft but firm.

Then you kissed him.

It was a tender kiss, slow and deliberate, a silent language of reassurance and unwavering affection. It deepened gradually, becoming a heartfelt expression of everything you had ever wanted to say, everything that words often failed to capture. His hands, which had been gripping yours so tightly, now moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his own lips finally responding with a fervor that spoke volumes of the restraint he had been holding onto.

You broke apart just enough to breathe, your lips still brushing against his.

"The scenes in the movie?" you said gently, your gaze unwavering. "They're choreography, Wooyoung. They're storytelling. They're a performance. Not emotion. That has never, and will never, be a part of what I feel for you."

You pressed a soft kiss against his jawline, feeling the slight tremor beneath your lips.

"My heart doesn't perform for a camera. It beats for you, and only you."

You stood, taking his hand, your fingers lacing together as if they were meant to be intertwined. You left the quiet café hand in hand, two figures melting into the anonymity of the afternoon shadows, a shared smile gracing your lips – the quiet, knowing smile of two people who had just reaffirmed something precious and unbreakable.

And maybe you had stolen something from the universe. The unwavering certainty of each other's love, a bond forged in vulnerability and trust. And that, you knew, was a treasure beyond measure.

--

Two years. Seven hundred and thirty sunrises witnessed through sleepy eyes, countless whispered "goodnights" across continents, an immeasurable tapestry woven from secret smiles exchanged across crowded rooms, stolen moments tucked away from prying eyes, phone calls that stretched into the velvet depths of midnight, sharing the quiet anxieties and exhilarating triumphs that came with navigating your extraordinary lives. It was about fiercely protecting something real, something fragile and precious, in a world that seemed determined to twist every genuine connection into a sensational headline.

But love, as it often did, bloomed in the quiet spaces, making you both a little braver, a little more willing to step out of the carefully constructed shadows.

So there was no dramatic announcement, no carefully worded statement released through official channels. No grand, orchestrated gesture, no notes app apology for… well, for simply finding happiness. Instead, you both eased into the public acknowledgment of your relationship with the same gentle tenderness that defined your private world—slowly, softly, like the first blush of dawn.

A seemingly innocuous selfie, posted amidst a flurry of solo shots, where a familiar black jacket was just-so-casually draped over your shoulders. A behind-the-scenes video from a shoot where a distinct, joyful laugh echoed in the background, a laugh that sharp-eared fans instantly recognized. A fleeting glimpse of a hand, undeniably his, resting near yours in a group photo.

The fans, those astute observers of every pixel and every shared glance, already knew. They had suspected, theorized, and meticulously documented every potential clue for months. Edits set to romantic ballads, intricate timelines of your subtle interactions, and countless “I swear they’re secretly dating” comments had flooded every corner of the internet you both inhabited.

So when it finally became “official”—just a casual, almost offhand, "yes, we’re together, and we’re really happy" during a lighthearted interview about your recent projects—the internet didn't explode in scandal. Instead, it melted with an outpouring of genuine joy and heartfelt congratulations. It wasn't a shocking revelation; it was a confirmation of something beautiful that they had already sensed. It was a celebration of a connection that felt real, honest, and earned.

And Wooyoung? He never stopped being your biggest fan, his unwavering support now blossoming into something even more profound. Every post you shared, no matter how trivial, received his immediate like, a digital affirmation that always brought a small smile to your face. Every press junket, every interview you gave, he watched with an almost reverent pride. Every stray negative comment, every whisper of doubt from the darker corners of the internet, he seemed to drown out with an even louder, more radiant display of his affection.

You weren’t just a fleeting “celebrity crush” in his eyes anymore. You were his. His partner, his confidante, his equal. His favorite person in a world filled with dazzling lights and fleeting connections.

And he was yours. The steady anchor in your often-turbulent sea, the warm hand that always found yours in a crowded room, the comforting voice that whispered reassurances in the quiet hours.

The premiere night of your latest film was, as always, a dazzling spectacle. The relentless flash of cameras, the chorus of voices calling your name, the crimson carpet stretching out like a runway leading into the starlit sky. You stood tall, radiating confidence in a gown of rich crimson velvet that seemed to absorb and reflect the light, your poise a silent testament to the journey you had navigated.

Wooyoung didn't walk beside you, his arm linked with yours for the cameras. That wasn't your story. But he was there, a steadfast presence tucked away in the guest section, the hood of his jacket pulled up, the brim of his baseball cap low, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you feel like you held the very moon in your hands.

Every time your eyes met his across the crowded theater, a fleeting, private moment amidst the public frenzy, your smile softened, a genuine warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the flashing lights.

Later, as the buzz of the after-party began to fade, the air thick with congratulations and champagne bubbles, the two of you slipped away unnoticed, seeking the quiet solitude of a rooftop overlooking the sprawling cityscape.

The city hummed below, a symphony of distant traffic lights flickering like fallen stars, the faint wail of sirens a melancholic counterpoint to the gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You leaned against the cool metal railing, the vastness of the night sky stretching above you. He stepped up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close until your back rested against his chest, his chin finding the curve of your shoulder.

"You killed it tonight," he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned in his embrace, your hands finding his. “You always say that.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine curve of his lips that you knew so well. "Because it’s always true. You shine so brightly, you know that?"

A comfortable silence settled between you, the city lights twinkling like a silent audience. The air tasted like something sacred, a shared moment of quiet intimacy amidst the surrounding chaos.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability of the past two years momentarily surfacing.

His grip tightened gently on your hands. “You won’t,” he replied, his voice firm, filled with a quiet conviction. “Not if we keep choosing each other, every single day. Not if we keep protecting this, our own little world.”

You nodded, a small, understanding smile gracing your lips. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, the familiar scent of his cologne a comforting balm.

And in that quiet space, between the distant hum of the city and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, you both silently reaffirmed the promise you had made to each other long ago – to never let the relentless demands of the world, the intrusive glare of fame, the insidious tendrils of fear and doubt, or the deafening noise of public opinion come between the fragile, beautiful thing you had built.

The next morning, as the world began to stir, a blurry, zoomed-in shot surfaced on Twitter, quickly going viral. It was an imperfect capture of a perfect moment. You were laughing, your hand playfully covering your mouth, your head tilted towards Wooyoung, who stood close beside you, his hand gently, possessively, holding yours. The background was indistinct, the focus soft, but the emotion captured in that single frame was undeniable.

The caption, simple and heartfelt, resonated with millions:

“When your celeb crush becomes your person.”

And just like that, the world kept spinning, the endless cycle of news and gossip continuing its relentless churn. But for once, it felt like the universe was tilting ever so slightly in your favor, bathing your quiet, hard-won happiness in a warm, gentle light.

-- THE END

[rye-bread-soda-iceberg]

I saw some light discourse going around hsrtwt about Ratio being bad/good/morally ambiguous

I'm not gonna comment on that too much cause I wanna talk about smth else but clearly he's a good person, probably one of the nicest people we meet compared to the war criminals and murderers. his major crime is that he's blunt, mean and makes his students cry (which is something about him I don't particularly enjoy for personal reasons, but still)

what I like, something that i feel like people tend to forget, is that he's very openly kind and caring

of course there's the basic stuff, like the fact that he pours his whole heart into making the universe a better place, has eradicated a whole illness called 'the king of illnesses' (so, supposedly, very deadly) and the entire not getting into the genius society because he cares about humanity too much. but also, you know

first of all, he has canonically made various statues depicting himself making a heart with his hands while smiling warmly. I've always found it endearing how he mildly prides himself on 'keeping the world at bay' and just being generally mean while also doing this so casually. I mean, it's a clear message: 'I love you' that's what he's saying, and he's saying it in a silly way

something a bit more hidden is these quotes from hoyolab's post. we all know the 'ignorance is an ailment' quote is directly taken from his character stories, making it canon. that subsequently makes the other two just as canon. obviously it's an official post, but I sometimes see people doubting the validity of these silly little snippets into the hsr universe

I don't particularly know if he is saying those last two quotes in general or to someone/a group of people in particular, but it's like... one of the sweetest (and corniest) things ever, and it makes me giggle a little bit. it almost felt out of character to me the first time I've seen these, but if you think about it, it's always been there

this one is from the valentines day ""event"" on twitter from earlier this year. I like his reaction to the gift for he still has some of his usual, you know, 'I cannot bear to hear such foolish questions'. he's being nice in his own way here, his demeanor is just barely reserved but the sentiment behind his words remains a positive one

another quick thing, though I don't have more examples for this one. he's always going on about how you should always consider whether the question you're about to ask already has an answer (so encouraging you to think for yourself) but he's still Always offering to help. in this and, if I remember correctly, in the mail description you get when you used to receive him for free he's making it clear that he's willing to help you discuss things for you to understand them better and will answer any question as long as it's not a 'stupid' one. he is a teacher, after all. the biggest thing about him is that he wants people to do better. other than this, despite his slight reluctance to help others himself, he does say in his character trailer that sometimes a little encouragement is required

and he does encourage people openly when they do good! no 'I suppose this is acceptable' nor 'I guess you did good'. when someone or something impresses him, he genuinely expresses it. I like to point this out because I see so many people say he's self absorbed or puts himself above others, when that is simply not true. which, I mean, can also be seen in his small little interactions with Herta, Ruan Mei and Screwllum (he literally praises them)

then he also says this a couple times. I don't exactly know what he considers courtesy or discourtesy, but it's clear that at least not all his blunt or mean words are meant to offend. this is something I'd love to look further into, but for now simply want to put here with the rest cause it's an interesting thing about him. he is already described as elegant, which implies a certain level of basic courtesy and politeness when interacting with others, though this just slightly crashes with his 'rude' demeanor

supposedly, you could make the argument that while he canonically realizes how non-endearing he can be (knows his own shortcomings, one of the exact traits he praises) perhaps he actively struggles with coming off as nice. and seeing all I've pointed out so far, maybe all those instances of him being nice are how he'd prefer to come off as (some times). that is unless I missed some bits of canon dialogue where it's implied otherwise

this isn't that detailed or well made of a post, nor the first time someone has pointed out this stuff. in fact I reblogged an incredibly good, lengthy post some time ago that talks more in depth about how nice/kind of a person Veritas Ratio really is

I simply cannot stand when he is described as cold, uncaring, selfish, self-centered or someone incapable of being gentle and loving. and it's not nearly as subtle as people seem to think it is

[andorappreciation]

There have been times where the struggle seemed impossible... Together, unrested, daunted by the lack of news or trailer, we have waited…and waited…

But the day has finally come when all these edits and drawings, these metas and fics…will help the Andor fandom countdown to the Season 2 premiere!

Sunday, April 6th to Thursday, 17th (ahead of all the Star Wars Celebration excitement) @andorappreciation will be hosting 12 Days of Andor: a fandom-wide event celebrating our resilient, creative, talented community and the long-anticipated return of our favorite rebellious show.

Prompts

April 6th, Day One: Networks Either Change or Die Dive into the interconnectedness of this complex narrative. Find the ties that bind characters, factions, and plots. Parallels, theses, and themes… obvious or unhinged, make your case!  Alternate Prompts: Symbolism || Elements

April 7th, Day Two: Everyone Has Their Own Rebellion Themes, politics, messaging--there were many reasons for Andor’s success, but chief among them was what the show had to say, both about our world and the world of Star Wars. Examine Nemik’s Manifesto, or offer your own treatise on Luthen’s methodology, but whatever you do, don’t lose your nerve! Alternate Prompts: Underrated Quotes/Dialogue || Sacrifice

April 8th, Day Three: I Show You the Stone in My Hand, You'll Miss the Knife at Your Throat Mon Mothma was speaking for more than just herself here– dualities and split identities are a throughline in Andor. Whether it’s Vel Sartha playing as the spoiled rich girl or Lonnie Jung literally posing as a double agent within the ISB, explore the world of deception and the webs of lies that hold the Rebellion and the Empire together. Alternate Prompts: Underrated Scenes || Ambiguity

April 9th, Day Four: Kill Me, Or Take Me In The last words of the first season, uttered by the show’s protagonist. With this ominous bargain, we were all left to speculate wildly about the upcoming second and final season. Here’s your chance to share those theories and predictions, from the most sound hypothesis to the crackiest wish fulfillment!  Alternate Prompts: Penultimate Moments || Death

April 10th, Day Five: They Don't Even Think About Us But we bet you do right? Everyone has their own rebellion, yes, but everyone also has their very own Glup Shitto. Are you a Time Grappler Stan? A Blue Noodle boy? Show your love for your Andor Shittos!  Alternate Prompts: Underrated Side Characters || Nature

April 11th, Day Six: That's Just Love...Nothing You Can Do About That Just like with every good story, the relationships among the characters are what draw us in and keep us hooked. Whether it’s a fraught love story or a complex connection between mother and son, Andor is rife with intricate interpersonal relations and, ultimately, a hell of a lot of love. Share your feelings about the relationships you find most compelling!  Alternate Prompts: Doomed by the Narrative || Echoes

April 12th, Day Seven: We Are Healthcare Providers Are you fascinated by the crushing bureaucracy of the ISB? The ponderous gears of the Imperial war machine? Do you simply love Dedra Meero and think she's neat? Share your thoughts about the Empire and the unique way that Andor explores the banality of evil! Alternate Prompts: Character Arcs || Morality

April 13th, Day Eight: "Pilgrim" Are you the biggest Nicolas Britell fan ever? Have you memorized every interview with Denise Gough? Have you watched everything Diego Luna is in? Show your appreciation for the incredible cast and crew that make this show come to life!  Alternate Prompts: Favorite Quotes about the show || Behind the Scenes

April 14th, Day Nine: Pockets, Piping, Some Light… Tailoring From the rich costumes to the lavish sets, Andor gave us some truly sumptuous designs to sink our teeth into. Explore the details of costumes, sets or both!  Alternate Prompt: Hidden Details || Colors

April 15th, Day Ten: Peezos… The Greenie Green Ones Run up to Arkie’s and pick up some shit posts! Just make sure you don’t look like ‘you’re a part of it’. Alternate Prompts: Favorites (episodes, characters, etc) || Humor

April 16th, Day Eleven: You’re My Ideal Reader Have a fic that you just love? A gifset that you stare at until your eyes water? A manifesto with not enough circulation (in your opinion)? Spread the love and recommend your favorite metas, edits, fan art, podcasts, gif sets, fics, whatever you’d like!  Alternate Prompt: Alternate Universe || Time

April 17th, Day Twelve: ONE WAY OUT!  You’re free! Hopefully you can swim! AKA: Dealer's choice || Free Day

How It Works

We have included multiple prompts for each day to provide optimal opportunities for fan work creators of all kinds. Pick a prompt and create to your heart’s content! When the day arrives, post your work!

Feel free to tag us @andorappreciation! We will also be tracking #12DaysofAndor2025

Do’s & Don’t’s

DO

Have fun, be creative and follow us for all the glorious content!

Please reblog!

Pop some peezos. The greenie green ones!

DON’T

Repost work that is not yours or work without credit

Post work without proper tagging/warnings

Post offensive material including non-con or bigotry

Any questions, concerns, or clarifications can be submitted via ask.

Sincerely,

@andorappreciation

ALL CREDIT FOR THE INCREDIBLE CASSIAN BANNER AND B2 DIVIDERS GOES TO LOVELY MOD @ninsletamain

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! reader, what if they're in a secret relationship, they've been together quite some time now, and they haven't told anyone bc of the rude ppl, but what if Gareth had to go to Eddie's to help him with a homework or something and when he walks in (maybe he knew where Eddie left his key or something) he goes to Eddie's bedroom and he sees Reader on top of Eddie kissing him, and he's like WTH and they get scared bc of that, but Gareth tells them that he's not gonna tell anyone about it. But, he always teases Eddie about his relationship with Reader.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Secrets out

Eddie lived in a dream he hoped he wouldn't wake up from. He somehow snagged the girl of his dreams and he hoped he wouldn't mess it up. He took every precaution, including keeping it a secret from his friends.

Eddie knew once the school found out, their paradise together would crash and burn. They were good at keeping their distance at school, no one expected a thing.

Which is why Gareth refused to believe what he saw.

Gareth arrived at Eddie's to help him study for a test. Being Eddie's best friend, Gareth knew where the spare key was hidden. As he always did, Gareth welcomed himself into the trailer. The trailer was quiet, but music came from Eddie's room. Gareth took that as a sign of where Eddie would be. He dropped his backpack on the couch and walked to Eddie's room.

"Yo, I'm H-" Gareth stopped, taking in the scene before him.

"OH MY GOD!" Y/N screamed as she jumped off Eddie's body. She grabbed her shirt from the floor and hid behind the bed as she threw it on. She clenched her eyes and tried to disappear.

Eddie sat up and threw back on his shirt, his eyes panicked.

"Dude!" Eddie scolded, getting off the bed as he pushed Gareth back out the door. Eddie closed the door behind them, allowing Y/N to move from her hiding spot.

"Dude me? Dude you! You were tongue-deep in Y/F/N, the hottest cheerleader in school." Gareth exclaimed as he pointed at the door. Gareth could not believe this was reality. Eddie was his best friend and he had no clue he was sneaking around with Y/N. In a way he was hurt, but very jealous.

"I know! But listen, you can't tell anyone." Eddie said, his tone serious, placing his hand on Gareth's shoulder.

"I won't, I swear. But on one condition." Gareth said, crossing his arms.

Eddie got nervous but nodded.

"I need every detail," Gareth smirked as Eddie blushed.

~~~

It took a few hours to calm Y/N down about Gareth knowing. But in a way, it was a little relieving that someone finally knew.

Eddie loved that Gareth knew because now he had someone to talk to about his relationship. He finally got to talk about his girlfriend.

But Gareth also was a pain in Eddie's ass.

~

"Hellfire will start an hour later, so be on time!" Eddie declared as he got up from the lunch table.

"Wait why?" Mike asked as he grabbed his tray.

"I got to do something." Eddie shrugged, Gareth caught the subtle look towards Y/N and smirked.

"Gee, Eddie. I hope whatever it is, it doesn't take too long." Gareth teased, Eddie caught his message and glared.

~

"Thought you guys were a secret," Gareth mumbled. The loud hallway covered his words.

"We are," Eddie stated confused.

"Then why do you keep staring, lover boy." Gareth laughed at the joke but was answered with a punch in the shoulder from Eddie.

~

Gareth walked into the trailer for another night of studying, but this time more aware of closed doors.

He heard the music and walked over to Eddie's room. He knocked a few times and announced his arrival.

"It's safe Gareth." Eddie laughed, Gareth opened the door and looked in. Eddie was working on homework as Y/N flipped through a magazine.

"You boys have fun," Y/N said, standing up from the bed. She gave Eddie a kiss goodbye and then walked out.

"You are so gone for her," Gareth laughed as he sat next to Eddie.

"I know," Eddie said with a dreamy smile on his face.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger

[d-targaryenshoe]

Stolen Moments - Luke Thompson

Summary: Love is a beautiful thing, yet it can be painful when one must hide it.

Word count: 1410

It had all started in the dim, enchanted light of a theater, where youfirst saw Luke on stage.

You weren’t expecting your life to be turned upside down that evening, certainly not by a pair of intense, thoughtful eyes and an understated smile that had a magnetic pull, even from your seat in the audience.

Luke was mesmerizing, his performance was raw and real. He’d commanded the stage, every movement filled with grace and purpose.

You found yourself captivated by him, and, as the final curtain fell, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just begun.

By pure serendipity, you'd been introduced to him after the show through a friend.

The spark between you was undeniable. A connection that seemed impossible to ignore blossomed over a quick chat that felt much too short, an electric exchange of glances and smiles.

By the end of the night, you were already slipping your number into his hand, a quiet thrill passing between you both.

What started as secret messages and midnight phone calls soon turned into stolen weekends and hidden coffee dates.

You both understood the need for secrecy. Luke was filming the much-anticipated fourth season of Bridgerton, and anything about his personal life could easily become tabloid fodder.

You both cherished what you had too much to risk it with unnecessary exposure.

He was a rising star with millions of eyes on him, and you knew the importance of keeping your relationship in the shadows—for now.

But neither of you had expected it would become this hard.

Being near each other, feeling the warmth of your bond but keeping it under wraps—sometimes it was a thrilling game, other times an agonizing test of patience.

You shared the smallest, most discreet of touches in public, a graze of fingers under the table, the brief press of your hand on his back as you slipped by him in a crowd.

It was a quiet intimacy, a private romance that pulsed just beneath the surface, just beyond anyone else’s sight.

Your lives continued like this, parallel but private, until one day on set, the tension reached its breaking point.

You had visited Luke once before, slipping onto the lot where Bridgerton was filmed and sneaking into his trailer for a few stolen minutes.

Today, however, your visit was unexpected, a risky move, but you hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and you knew he’d be thrilled by the surprise.

There was a thrill in sneaking around, knowing that, for now, you belonged only to each other.

As you made your way to his trailer, you felt your heartbeat quicken. The afternoon air was warm, and you kept a low profile, slipping in through the back, hoping none of the crew would notice.

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the handle of the trailer door, your pulse thudding with excitement.

You didn’t know how he would react, only that you wanted to be close to him.

Needed to feel his touch.

The door opened quietly, and you stepped inside, closing it softly behind you.

The trailer was dim, lit only by the small window on the side, casting a warm glow over the modest space.

Luke was sitting on the small couch, script in hand, eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated.

When he heard you enter, he looked up, and the surprise on his face melted instantly into a smile.

A beautiful, slightly mischievous smile that made your heart flutter.

“Y/n,” he breathed, standing up. “What are you doing here?”

You took a step forward, grinning. “Surprise visit.”

He laughed, closing the space between you both and pulling you into his arms.

You felt the strength in his embrace, his fingers gentle as they ran through your hair, cradling your head as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss was slow and soft, but you could feel the restrained heat beneath it.

You'd keep yourself hidden, held back so much, that every kiss felt new, every touch electric.

“Do you know how hard it’s been not seeing you?” he whispered, his voice low, his hands trailing down your arms, holding you close.

“I might have an idea,” you murmured, pressing your lips against his neck, feeling him tense slightly.

You could feel his heartbeat under your hand, a reminder of the urgency you both felt, the desire that had been simmering between you since that very first night.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes locked, and you felt your breath hitch at the way he was looking at you.

His eyes held a mixture of tenderness and passion, a rawness that you knew was reserved for you alone.

You both knew there was no time for subtlety today.

Without breaking eye contact, Luke reached down, pulling you gently to the couch.

You settled there, your fingers tracing gentle patterns along his jaw as you kissed him again, your touches slow and deliberate.

The outside world faded, replaced by your shared warmth, the feel of his skin under your hands, and the way he murmured your name with such reverence it made your heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

His fingers traced your cheek, his gaze softening, and you felt an ache in your chest at the gentleness of his touch, as though he was afraid you might disappear.

“You know we’re both going to get in trouble if we get caught,” you teased softly, even as your hand slipped down to his, intertwining your fingers, feeling the heat radiate between you.

He smirked, eyes glinting with a playful defiance. “For you? Worth every risk.” His words sent a thrill through you, an unspoken promise that this was something he was willing to fight for.

Your quiet laughter faded into another kiss, one that deepened quickly, your hands exploring, memorizing.

The air between you thickened, charged with the promise of something sacred.

You could feel his heartbeat against you, steady and strong, grounding you in this moment, in the small sanctuary of the trailer.

As you moved, your bodies attuned to each other, you felt the intensity of your shared passion.

You'd been patient, respecting the boundaries you had set, but here, now, there was no one else.

Just the two of you, wrapped in each other, lost in a world that felt like it was made just for you.

Your movements were unhurried, every touch meaningful as if you were savoring each other, wordlessly committing each sensation to memory.

You explored one another with a softness that belied the urgency you both felt, lingering on every touch, every whispered word.

And when you finally came together, it was with a quiet intensity, a communion that felt like a promise, a declaration of something more than words could express.

When you lay entwined afterward, the world outside seemed a distant concern.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling his arm wrap around you, holding you close.

There was something beautiful about these stolen moments, something that made your love feel even more precious.

You knew you couldn’t stay like this forever, that soon he’d have to go back to set, and you'd have to sneak out as quietly as you had come in.

But for now, time seemed to stand still, and you allowed yourself to bask in the warmth of your secret love.

“I don’t know how long I can keep this a secret,” he murmured, his voice soft against your hair.

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his cheek. “Soon, very soon… we won’t have to. But for now, let’s keep this ours.”

He nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “As long as I get to have you here, like this, I’ll wait as long as you need.”

You lay together in silence for a little while longer, each of you savoring the warmth of each other, the knowledge that, for now, this was your private world.

And when it was finally time for you to leave, you did so with a lingering kiss, one last, soft touch of his hand on your cheek before you slipped out of the trailer and back into the world.

Luke watched you go, a soft smile on his face, already counting the moments until he could hold you again.

[winchesterwild78]

Peanut Butter and Chocolate

Master List

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: None just a fluffy birthday piece

A/N: In honor of Jensen’s 47th Birthday I wanted to write a quick story about him.

Written and edited fast. Please overlook any errors

The hum of the generator on the "Countdown" set was a familiar lullaby by now. I'd spent enough stolen moments lurking around the edges, watching Jensen work his magic, to recognize every creak and whir. Today, though, the hum was a nervous tremor in my ears. It was Jensen's birthday, a fact he’d tried to downplay, but I wasn't about to let it slide.

We'd been dating, secretly, for six months. Six glorious, complicated, exhilarating months since his divorce. The weight of keeping our relationship hidden was sometimes suffocating, but the stolen kisses and whispered "I miss you" texts made it worthwhile. Especially when "worthwhile" looked like Jensen, all broad shoulders and focused intensity, currently filming a tense interrogation scene.

My plan was simple: a surprise birthday cake, delivered under the guise of an "anonymous fan." I’d baked it myself, a decadent chocolate fudge with his favorite peanut butter frosting. A simple, personal touch.

I'd enlisted the help of Clif, Jensen’s bodyguard, who was sworn to secrecy. He’d agreed to deliver the cake, along with a card signed "Your Secret Admirer," during Jensen’s lunch break.

The scene wrapped, and Jensen, looking a little weary but still impossibly handsome, headed towards his trailer. My heart pounded against my ribs as I watched Clif approach him, a large, suspiciously cake-shaped box in his hands.

Jensen's eyebrows shot up as Clif presented the box. He glanced around, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"Someone sent you a cake, Jensen," Clif said, his voice loud enough for a few crew members to hear. "Anonymous. Said it was a big fan."

Jensen opened the box, his expression softening as he saw the cake. He ran a finger through the frosting, then tasted it. His eyes widened slightly.

"Peanut butter," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. He picked up the card, his gaze scanning the handwritten message.

"Who sent this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Wouldn't say," Clif replied, winking. "Just said they know you have good taste."

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. He looked genuinely touched. I watched from my hidden vantage point behind a lighting rig, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling inside me.

The rest of the day crawled by. I stayed away, not wanting to risk anything. As the sun began to set, the crew started to wrap. I waited until Jensen's trailer door closed, then slipped inside, using the spare key he’d given me.

He was sitting on the couch, the cake box open on the coffee table, a single slice missing. He looked up as I entered, his eyes searching mine.

"You," he said, his voice a low rumble. "It was you, wasn't it?"

I nodded, a nervous smile spreading across my face.

He stood up, crossing the small space between us in two long strides. He pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my hair.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This… this means so much."

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "I know we have to keep this quiet," he said, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. "But sometimes… sometimes it’s so hard."

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks.

"You know," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "I've been wanting to say this for a while now."

He paused, his eyes locking with mine.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with a raw honesty that made my heart soar.

The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both long overdue and utterly perfect. I leaned into him, my own heart overflowing with love.

"I love you too, Jensen," I whispered, finally free to say the words aloud. “Happy Birthday.”

He pulled me close again, wrapping his arms around me as if he never wanted to let go. And in that moment, in the quiet solitude of his trailer, surrounded by the echoes of the day's work, it felt like the whole world had stopped spinning. We were just two people, in love, finally allowed a moment of peace and sharing a slice of birthday cake.

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[brellafaun]

anyways coming out of my cave to complain about s4 again.

i've said it before (and will continue to say it) but s4 could've stuck the landing on the concept of tua as a story about generational trauma so well but refused to. we had claire, we had gracie and the twins, and we had harlan in the prior seasons. having the kids be present actors in the story that actually impact it could've been some heartrending action, but instead the writers went the wrong fuckin direction on this one and ignored them until it was to drag out the LOOK! THEY'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! THIS IS UNAVOIDABLE!

harlan is honestly what i wanted in the kids, in a way. he was forever marked by viktor intervening and saving his life, given powers he never asked for nor could control properly, and most importantly, an almost perfect mirror for viktor's own struggle with himself. they could've used the same concept with the other kids to make the season carry on the original message-- they're all little mirrors of their parents, forcing them to reckon with all of the unresolved sharp edges hidden behind the curtain. give them powers, and it'd be even worse.

claire picks up her mother's habit of getting whatever she wants by just... rumoring it into being. harlan continues to be out of control and self isolates even when it's the farthest thing from what he needs. gracie either mimics the powers of those around her for her own gain or inherits the headstrong nature of both of her parents (have fun with that) and the twins are wildcards.

brought it up before but my original thought was that having reginald's "first inaugural class of the umbrella academy" line included in the trailers along with gracie and claire meant that there'd be a second class. i thought he was going to steal the kids and force them through the same hell their parents grew up in, leaving the brellies to save them and prevent the cycle repeating. in a perfect world, that's what i'd want from s4. add in harlan and sissy being able to come back somehow, and it'd hammer it in even further. god knows if i'll ever do a proper rewrite in my vision, but i may start yapping more about what could have been

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

My Fav (Fic) Things

Thank you to @jolapeno for putting this toot together and asking us to toot ourselves properly. Also, thank you to @schnarfer who I copied and pasted the list from because it's perfect. I'm also keeping the u's in because viva Britain! --- 🌟 Favourite P boy to write: Joel Miller, obviously. (With Dieter Bravo a very close second.) I think specifically non-outbreak Joel just does something to me. Thinking of him living a happy and normal life with Sarah. Also, baseball Joel, because I'm definitely working through the end of my favorite baseball player's career.

🌟 Favourite smut: I really love the smut in Tenacity. Something about Joel Miller breaking furniture. @ohheypedrito and I talked about a gif and then I made the gif into just very hot smut, if I do say so myself. Close second is Suburban Sparks. Please muffle me with that green shirt Javi. (Legit, like please tell me what smut you like from me if you're reading this. You can message me privately or post publicly... I am very interested to know what my readers like.)

🌟 Favourite series: Foxglove Downs is the most world building and planning I've ever put into a fic and I feel like it's paying off as the story goes. Some lovely friends have complimented me on the world I've created, and it means a lot. Close second is Golden Girl because it means @devineconjuring and I just scream at each other.

🌟 Favourite writing to resolve emotional trauma: TW: Pet death. Back in early June, my beloved dog of almost fifteen years tragically passed away. He got sick in mid May and then only two weeks later, after trying to save him we had to say goodbye. It was shocking and just shattered my heart into a million pieces. Then, the Gladiator II trailer was released and... for the first time in over a month I felt the need to write a story--and smut. So, I did what any sane person would do, I wrote a threesome fic with two characters I had very little idea about. That's how Legionary happened. After that, I was able to move on and continue writing. So, thanks Roman dicks.

🌟 Favourite fic that came from an ask: Technically, this has only happened once... and it JUST happened. Joel teaching Ellie how to play guitar. Please take this as an invite to journey over to my inbox so I can write/make you something.

🌟 Most surprising fic: Fifteen Minutes started as a thought in my head while talking to @ohheypedrito during the day of May 4th, and by bedtime I had a fully written fic that now has turned into a whole story.

🌟 Favourite challenge: @punkshort's AU challenge brought me Golden Girl which is now a full series because I fell in love with the characters. (Also, my least favorite thing about challenges is how I was assigned two right before my dog grief journey and I never got around to finishing them and I still feel guilty about not finishing them!)

🌟 Favourite line: I come back a lot to the final lines from Domestica. "In the early morning he wakes up sweaty and panicked, panting for air terrified from his nightmare. You turn over, and grab the hand on his chest, soothing him back to sleep with your sweet voice and soft body against his reassuring him he hasn’t lost anything."

🌟 Favourite hidden treasure: Sweet Sweet Girl. I can't believe I wrote Max Lord and people found it hot.

[atamascolily]

Some fun screenshots from Homura Akemi's Magia Record game transformations, with commentary:

This shot (left) is not in the series or recap movie (right). Holy shit, they really took this scene and made it even more emotionally devastating.

Homura's silhouette, upside down and dancing. I sense a theme here, lol, one we're probably going to see a lot more of in Walpurgis no Kaiten. Also she's surrounded by a circle of twelve points, presumably representing a clock.

Circles/shields overlapping with beautiful moire patterns like raindrops in a pond.

Moemura (braids) falling backwards, another motif we've already seen from the WnK trailer. There's also a time stop because of course there is.

A seedling on a table shrinks down as time reverses and a shattered container comes together. Runes say "PUELLA MAGI AKEMI HOMURA".

Homura's shield explodes as she falls, an interesting look at its component pieces.

Madoka runs away from her into danger, featuring the same salamanders border from the beginning of the Eternal movie, also with a frame, lace curtains and cogs, all of which are recurring motifs for her. (Also presumably to show this is a memory??)

As she continues falling, her countdown signs from the Eternal movie play, followed by static with hidden messages from the original series that were in this movie and the first WnK trailer.

Homura turns to glass, which shatters into shards; these are the "sparkles" that surround her at the end, oof (the symbolism, tho!)

The Magia Record game is not necessarily "canon" for the main series, but I think it's interesting to examine, partially to see how it builds on the existing visual motifs and also for the hints of what might be coming next.... Also I just love magical girl transformations in general.

[nintendo-killed-atari]

Yes, it's me again. Post this!

I just found a QR code hidden in the trailer at 1:20 (when the title for Plaything shows up). It lead to this App Store app page for something called "TCK96". The available screenshots and description are — interesting to say the least. HERE:https://apps.apple.com/us/app/tck96/id6529524046?mt=8

BRO DO WE REALLY NEED TO SOLVE AN ARG I SWEAR TO GOD-

Alright Alright

Here's a summary of what the description says:

Overview

TCK96 is an experimental software from 1996.

Originally leaked in the mid-late 2000s on a fan forum but was quickly taken down.

A forum mod’s laptop (purchased at a fire sale) contained a local copy.

Content of TCK96 Disc

Mostly company paperwork.

Includes a password-protected copy of unreleased software.

Advanced AI for its era—shocking it was never released.

Restoration Efforts

Currently working on bundling it with an emulator.

Also includes a 2007 interview discussing the leak.

Needs stabilization before listing all features.

Speculation and Leaks

Disc was likely a high-level executive's high-priority backup.

Includes cancellation memos, some redacted.

Questions why someone would redact their own backup—implies something significant.

Search for Additional Material

Seeking local copies of a related documentary, R. Retrospective.

Owns a degraded VHS copy, with only a few clips salvaged.

Asking users to post clips on Reddit if they have them.

About GR0NTH

GR0NTH is an anonymous burner account dedicated to archival and restoration of digital history.

GR0NTH is apparently a reappearing character as one of the messages at the bottom says "GR0NTH strikes again"

Bro it's 1AM I do not have the time for this along with work RARRRRRRRRRR, but if someone has the time mess around with the photos, brightness and contrast that bitch, there's some symbols and languages of text on the sides in the screenshots, if there's a way to decode that later hopefully. Go on the medias they mention such as reddit find GR0NTH or something

Ok I seriously need to go to bed y'all can ask me later.

[obscured-everything]

​​OBSCURA trailer analysis & theories

The OBSCURA trailer is very pretty (watch it if you haven’t already <3) and is also full of interesting symbolism and snippets of Latin. In this post I’m going to be manually translating and providing notes on the Latin, as well as discussing what the numbers mean and giving my own plot speculations. SPOILERS for OBSCURA’s Chapter 1 with every love interest. 

I’m going to be working with the theory that the numbers correspond to the Major Arcana in a Rider–Waite–Smith tarot deck. I’ll be pulling tarot card information from A.E. Waite’s 1910 book ‘The Pictorial Key to the Tarot’, where he discusses the symbolism of the images in the cards and provides divinatory meanings. 

Shoutout to @/starlitmanta and @/mostlygayrage for posting their own analyses before me! I got inspired by both of them to both write down my thoughts and then actually finish the post after leaving it for months lol. @/mostlygayrage has some interesting stuff on the imagery and also delved into the Latin! Although he took it as one sentence which I won’t be doing – I’m going to take the double forward slashes as an indication of a break. 

Disclaimer that I haven’t formally studied Latin in years so if there are any errors feel free to point it out in the notes! 

Cirrus

18. Presbyter // Ecclesiae lunaris XVII: The Moon. Priest // Lunar churches 

18. Obsequium // ducit ad caelum Obedience // he leads to heaven TL notes N/A Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “The moon is increasing on what is called the side of mercy… the path between the towers is the issue into the unknown. The dog and wolf are the fears of the natural mind in the presence of that place of exit, when there is only reflected light to guide it…the message is: Peace, be still; and it may be that there shall come a calm upon the animal nature...” 

Upright: Hidden enemies, danger, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, lesser degrees of deception and error. Speculation I think we can all agree that Cirrus is not trustworthy, hence danger, deception, occult forces etc. Nevertheless, Vesper (if you’ve got a good ending, at least) puts great degrees of trust in him. ‘A calm upon the animal nature’ calls to mind his odd ability to influence Vesper’s choices and force them into saying ‘yes’, but I also thought it might reference something about Vesper putting aside their instinctive reservations about Cirrus’ suspicious character to follow him into an unknown future. 

Leading to heaven is, to me, a bit double-edged; it could mean death or paradise. Very fitting, I think. 

Keir

20. Keir // Cavillatur fur XX: Judgement. Keir // Mocking thief 

20. Fatum // vestrum vel extraneus [Destiny / (calamitous) death] // yours or a stranger TL notes I’m inclined to believe that Keir’s name being his plain name rather than an epithet is probably just part of his blunt kind of character, and ‘mocking thief’ is probably related to his personality too. Also, there is another piece of Latin on that first screen – ‘cultellus’, which means ‘dagger’ and points downwards towards where his dagger is held. Also, ‘fatum’ is a very interesting word in that it carries an intriguing potential double meaning. Tarot meaning Upright: Change of position, renewal, outcome. Reversed: Weakness, pusillanimity, simplicity; also deliberation, decision, sentence. Speculation Waite’s initial discussion of Judgement is very Biblical which I doubt has much to do with OBSCURA’s use of it. I do think the divinatory meanings are very interesting – I think that at a good/best end of Keir’s route, he’ll be able to come out on top and secure a good and/or stable future for himself and/or Mouse Hole. 

My current theory is that, since we have had mentions of Keir and Oleander in each others’ routes, that they have direct effects on each others’ fates. This fits with ‘yours or a stranger’ of course, but also the double-edged ‘destiny or (calamitous) death’ – I’ll speculate more in Oleander’s route, but I think he and potentially most of Mouse Hole will not fare well if Vesper picks Oleander. 

I’m interested in why his dagger was explicitly pointed out and labelled. I’m kind of shooting in the dark here but I think it’ll be significant in the future – either as a symbol of his history (specifically with Oleander, perhaps?) or as a plot device of some sort. 

Oleander

11. Nerii // Periculosum scurra XI: Justice. Of oleander // Dangerous clown 

11. Patiuntur // sicut habes They are suffering // just like you are TL notes More technically, ‘nerii’ is the genitive of ‘nerium’, which means oleander. This makes sense to me when I think about how he’s had a history of changing names – he’s moreso embodying the qualities of oleander (a pretty but dangerous plant) rather than taking it as a definitive name. 

‘Patiuntur’ is in the plural, and suffering might be a strong word depending on how you look at it – the original word is like enduring through something difficult or unpleasant. Tarot meaning Waite basically says that the card has ‘obvious meanings’ so I don’t think I need to look too closely into it. 

Upright: Equity, rightness, probity, executive; triumph of the deserving side in law. Reversed: Law in all its departments, legal complications, bigotry, bias, excessive severity Speculation The second half of the second piece of Latin, ‘sicut habes’, is in the second-person and I’m assuming that this is meant to address Vesper/MC. Maybe Oleander is also looking for something that he can’t find or afford, although the plural throws me off a bit if that’s the case. Maybe it’s referencing Oleander’s previous Vigils (since Vesper is currently holding that position, ‘just like’ they have) or something…? 

Now, here is my plot theory which may or may not be insane. We know that Oleander has committed murder, and was very blasé about it; presumably he’s done this sort of thing before. We know that in his route, Keir has been alluded to, Griff has shown up and Keir is presumably going to show up at some point. I think that Oleander’s involvement with Keir is going to end very poorly for Keir, even leading to the calamity insinuated in Judgement. Specifically, I think that Oleander and Keir are going to be caught up in a serious crime and Keir is going to take the fall, leading to a permanent end for him (death, probably) and the following collapse of Mouse Hole. Oleander will get off lightly or scot-free (Justice’s ‘triumph of the deserving side in law’, ‘deserving’ as opposed to Keir who is indisputably a criminal and receives ‘excessive severity’). 

This could be from Keir and his group failing the burglary since Vesper isn’t there to cover for the injured lookout, or it could be something else that brings in the dagger which was pointed out in Keir's portion of the trailer. I’m thinking murder, honestly. 

Francesco

10. Franciscum // innocentes nobiles X: Wheel of Fortune. Francisco // innocent nobles 

10. Tempus // decurrit Time // runs out TL notes Grammatically, ‘Franciscum’ is in the accusative (the case used to mark the ‘object’ on which a verb acts). This could be a stylistic thing or it could allude to how he’s being ‘acted upon’ by whatever power/influence his family have. 

‘Decurrit’ is literally ‘runs down’ which fits with the hourglass imagery, but I imagine that the spirit of the phrase is ‘runs out’ especially since his route already alludes to that. Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “the symbolic picture stands for the perpetual motion of a fluidic universe and for the flux of human life … the essential idea of stability amidst movement. Behind the general notion expressed in the symbol there lies the denial of chance and the fatality which is implied therein.” 

Upright: destiny, fortune, elevation, luck, felicity. Reversed: increase, abundance, superfluity. Speculation I think that at some point within Francesco’s route, his family is going to be further involved. I assume that these are the ‘innocent nobles’, which makes me think that whatever state or situation that they find Francesco in won’t be very innocent at all. Alternatively, it could be that his family is more innocent/harmless than they present themselves as – depending on circumstance, this could be a big win for Vesper or a big loss because they don’t have the family backing that they thought they did. 

The Wheel of Fortune carries connotations of luck and change in fortune. I assume that Vesper provides Francesco with some degree of ‘stability amidst movement’ and that any ‘denial of chance’ involves Francesco leaving the marketplace and returning to the very clearly mapped out future that his family has for him, thus leading to a bad end. ——————————

Thanks for reading to the end!