#i like changing things for the sake of fun

[ghsface]

Hi k have a kinda specific request that I thought would make a good fic! I was thinking that maybe we see the BAU and y/n and Spencer the morning after Yk… the girls figure out that y/n just got layes and they do the whole bonding girl gossip thing. Derek sees Spencer wearing a scarf and makes a joke about it, only to realize that he was right. Penelope tells Derek and then without y/n or Spencer realizing like everyone knows. They also figure out why Reid is the only one with hikeys 🫢 and yeah…. Thanks queen! I hope this makes sense

New Message ✮⋆˙

Hey gorgeous, I love this idea so much, it was very fun to write I hope you like 🎀 🩷

our secret, not so secret - Spencer Reid

Sumary: You and Spencer try to hide your relationship, but it's hard when you have hickeys on your neck.

Warnings: fluff, jokes, hickeys, the bau being chaotic, I think that's all, this is pure fluff,

A/n: I'm sorry if there is something wrong or not understood, my first language is not English.

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It was a chaotic morning for you. You woke up a little late and the mess was evident in Spencer's bathroom mirror, with those little reminders on your neck that not even the concealer could completely hide. You were aware that you were trying a desperate maneuver, but well, Spencer had already warned you that the makeup would not last the entire day. Still, you were determined not to leave any evidence, you applied the last layer of foundation before leaving his apartment, determined not to give any clues about what happened the night before.

For Spencer, the situation was not much different. She decided to cover the marks with a scarf, trying to act normal as they prepared to face another day of work at the BAU, as if everything was perfectly under control. The two of you looked at each other knowingly before leaving, in an attempt to keep your relationship a secret... again.

Arriving at the office, you said good morning as if nothing had happened. But it wasn’t long before Emily and JJ, who seemed to have a radar for these matters, caught you in their line of sight. They looked you up and down with a mischievous grin, and without missing a beat, JJ raised an eyebrow and fired the first bullet: “And that face, Y/N? Long night?”

You tried to shake your head with a nervous laugh, avoiding looking at the two too much, but Emily stepped closer, lowering her tone so as not to draw too much attention. “Oh, come on, babe. There’s a sparkle in your eyes… and, from what I see, on your neck too.”

With your heart in your throat, you quickly glanced at your reflection in a nearby frame and noticed that the base had already begun to fade, leaving a faint purple mark showing. Emily and JJ glanced at each other, and then Penelope, who appeared out of nowhere as if she had smelled the drama, also joined the small circle. “Please let me guess… was anyone busy last night?”

Between laughs and accusations, you tried to defend yourself without much success. You knew they were trying to provoke you and that, at this rate, the secret wasn't going to last long. Emily and JJ's laughter soon attracted Derek, who approached with a mocking smile. “What's up, girls? Something I'm missing?”

Emily gave him a knowing look and pointed towards the entrance, where Spencer had just appeared with a very inconspicuous scarf. Derek narrowed his eyes and laughed. “Since when does Spencer wear scarves? It's spring, for God's sake.”

They all looked at each other, hiding their laughter, as Derek approached Spencer. With an attitude that only Derek could adopt, he patted him on the back and gave him a knowing smile. “Pretty boy… do you need some advice on how to handle the weather?”

Spencer froze for a second, trying not to lose his cool. He knew he had been caught. He tried to respond with a vague excuse about “changing his style” and “protecting his throat,” but Derek simply held up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Sure, sure, I imagine the weather was intense last night, right?”

Meanwhile, you were trying not to burst out laughing at Spencer's obvious blush and despair. But Derek, who had caught on to the whole situation, turned around to join Emily, JJ, and Penelope again, winking at the girls. “See what I'm saying? Our genius boy is growing up.”

Before Spencer could respond, Hotch walked past the group, observing the laughter and commotion with his usual seriousness. But something in his expression betrayed that he fully understood what the conversation was about.

“Anything you want to share?” he asked, without losing his composure.

Derek shook his head with a smile, but took the opportunity to continue provoking. “Nothing, Hotch. It just seems that some of your colleagues have… interesting extracurricular activities.”

Hotch cast a quick glance at you, who were trying to make yourself small at your desk, and then at Spencer, with her suspicious scarf. For the first time, a barely perceptible smile crossed his face.

“I guess ‘activities’ require a little more discretion next time, too, huh?” Hotch said, before continuing on his way.

As the team laughed and threw around comments, Rossi walked over with a cup of coffee, assessing the scene like the veteran he was. “Ah, youth… that energy and lack of subtlety. There’s nothing like first love at work.”

By then, the rumor had already spread throughout the office.

Hours later, as you tried to continue with your work, Penelope approached with a whisper. “Honey, we all know. You two don’t have to hide anything.” Your surprised expression was enough to make her laugh. “Did you really think you could keep it a secret? Come on, we’re profilers. Wait not me but thay do. Plus… you’ve never come to the office so… happy.”

You decided to give in and accept it, and just as you were about to approach Spencer to tell him, he appeared at your side, still wearing the scarf. When you turned to look at him, he already had that resigned expression on his face that made you laugh. “How much did you hear?” he asked with a sigh, looking around and catching everyone’s smiles.

“Everything?” you said with a mocking smile.

Finally, Derek, with an air of triumph, approached the two of you and announced loudly, “And that’s how it’s done, ladies and gentlemen! Our boy has become quite the man.” The office was filled with laughter and jokes as you and Spencer exchanged glances that were somewhere between nervous and amused.

Emily approached you and, not missing the opportunity, added, “So… how long did you think you were going to last without us finding out? A day, maybe two?”

You bit your lip, embarrassed, and looked at Spencer, who didn’t know whether to laugh or faint. In the end, there wasn’t much else to say.

JJ laughed, giving you a gentle shove. “Relax, Y/N. We knew before you guys realized it. We were just waiting to see how long it would take you to admit it.”

You and Spencer exchanged a resigned look. Maybe their “secret” hadn’t been so secret after all.

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your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

[slaaverin]

Jimin and the Devil perspective

I just wanted to expand some of my thoughts on Jimin and the way he may perceive his relationship with Jungkook in the lense of the Devil card that showed up in their last BMP relationship reading.

It's gonna be all over the place sorry in advance.

I always take readings with a grain of salt of course, not at face value, but it's interesting to try and analyze stuff with this potential perspective in mind.

If Jimin truly sees their relationship in the lense of the Devil, if explains a lot of fucking things about his behaviour in general these last few years. It actually makes a lot of sense.

Like why he has been holding back so much.

I don't want to make two cents psychology on Jimin, I don't pretend to be in his head, I don't pretend to know the truth, it's only my opinion and intuition and I might be completely wrong about all of this 🤡 So take of it what you will.

But guys it actually truly saddens me to say this, but I think a part of why he might see the relationship as the Devil is because Jimin still can't truly believe Jungkook is in love with him. He knows he does, but like there is a deep insecurity underneath all of it that makes it, improbable? Surprising? To him still.

That's why everytime Jungkook says something incredibly romantic or cheesy or grandiose (like "until we are 50") Jimin first reaction is disbelief ("This guy..?"). Yes of course it's also because they are in public. But in fact both factors are linked in the Devil perspective.

Jimin has always put everyone above himself, has always been the caretaker of the group, but also the caretaker for Jungkook when he was growing up. Even if the dynamic changed these days, in his mind he still needs to take care of Jungkook, it's still his job even if JK is an adult now ("as long as you are happy" "all for your happiness").

Who offered to make the AYS first trip? Jimin. And why did he do so? Probably because he saw how utterly miserable Jungkook was, he saw that Jungkook needed this, needed to spend time away from schedule but also together with him. So he catered to his needs.

I'm not saying Jimin didn't need it.

Jimin deeply loves Jungkook, he has loved him almost immediately after they met, Jungkook is the man he's wanted since day one, of course he needs him.

He loves the attention he has from Jungkook. He loves that Jungkook is his. He loves having his name on JK's chest. But Jimin has such a big heart he puts Jungkook first because he still feels he needs to be the caretaker, and that's why he needs to be the responsible one, the reasonable one, the cautious one. And they need to be careful, not for his own sake, but for Jungkook's sake.

He's so used to put others above himself that it seems he doesn't even know how to take a compliment properly. He avoids it. And he's honored to have JK's food, it's an honor to him for JK to do nice things for him. When something is an honor, it's because you place the other person in high standard right?

Did you have fun? It's all that matters. All for YOUR happiness. Jimin doesn't even think about himself for one second. This isn't even about him.

We know how much hate Jimin has been receiving online for years now. That's why he has been away from socmed and that's why he doesn't share any truly personal stuff with us anymore. We can assume he read the hate, he knows the hate, and the hate hurt him in a way for him to pull back this much.

So that's why he can be so careful at times, and that's why he's the worrier of the two, because he experienced directly what hate can do to someone and he doesn't want this for Jungkook. He wants to protects Jungkook from it.

Jungkook doesn't care of course. Jungkook is free. Jungkook lives his life as he pleases, and I'm sure he's not as concerned as Jimin, but still he makes the effort not to simply blurt out "Jimin is my boyfriend" only because he cares what Jimin thinks and if Jimin doesn't feel safe then Jungkook wants to do the right thing by him too.

But all of it guys, the worrying, the not believing completely Jungkook loves him, the caretaker role Jimin has taken upon himself and placing others above, it all comes from an internal imbalance. A false perception.

Jimin has a deep rooted insecurity somewhere. Jimin has pretty much always downplayed his own accomplishements, and in a way his own worth? Which might have been completely due to environnemental influence who knows.

So that's the reason he might see their relationship as the Devil. That's why he thinks it's an hinderance not even for himself but for Jungkook.

It comes from fear. Fear of the outside world, but also fear of not being good enough (which is like the insecurity of 90% of the population of the planet? So yeah not very surprising there)

You can put people above yourself as an act of service, but when it becomes to your own detriment it shows a lack of self-esteem and self-love. You can give to others but you also need to give to yourself, and does Jimin really does this??? I don't know.

Jungkook does not have this issue to that extent because he has that self-love (which Jimin amongst other people also helped him build).

I won't begin to speculate where this comes from or why, there might be many factors at play and it doesn't really matter.

What I believe is that Jungkook being so forward with his feelings for Jimin might help Jimin being more assured in this relationship.

But as long as he doesn't have that internal shift, where he stops buying into this false perception of himself, and whatever role he "should" take or not, it can't really evolve from the Devil.

Because the Devil is pure illusion to begin with, literally. As long as Jimin will stay in this illusion there will be imbalance in the relationship.

But if he can reconnect to himself and to his heart, which I hope the time in military will allow him to do, he can come back to a more balanced state and it will be smooth sailing from there.

I wonder if he will be able to do it at some point, I truly hope so, even if I'm quite sure Jungkook will be there to support him trhough it.

I'm not even 100% sure it's in the conscious mind of Jimin. Maybe it's an underlying thing lurking in the subconscious.

Idk man.

(All of it is only speculation and my own intuition, I am not throwing hate at Jimin in fact there is no judgement in any of these statements, merely me trying to make sense of things.)

Feel free to send me your thoughts (politely) if you have any

I have no conclusion to this 🫡 sorry for my rambling

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Four)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of blood

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Summary: More sessions pass and while you learn more about the Joker, the pull you feel towards him grows stronger. Yet this time, it feels like everything is starting to change...

Previous part: Part 3

Notes: We back, and things are really picking up this time. Hope this distracts everyone who might be going through a tough time right now. <3 Things really pick up in this one, and I'm already excited to drop the next part lol. Have fun with this one!

With every session your infatuation for the Joker only grows.

At first, you tell yourself it comes from your want (well, need) for him to progress, both for the sake of actually seeing him healed and for the sake of your survival. Then eventually, you think it comes from the fact that his mind truly is incomprehensible, and you want to know what’s going on inside of it, want to crack open his skull and see every gear. But now, you’re not even sure what it is exactly that keeps you feeling empty anytime you’re not in a session with the Joker. You don’t know what you’re chasing anymore. Everything is just one big mind fuck.

Slowly, the Joker becomes more and more human to you. Where others still see some kind of raving, homicidal madman, you see a person. 

As your sessions carry on, you tell him more things about you, and you learn more things about him. He likes junk food. He is skilled with almost every gun known to man. He owns over thirty blades. His sleep schedule is so all over the place that he doesn’t even know what day it is ever. He prefers nights over mornings. He drinks his coffee with lots of creamer. Every fact you’ve tucked away in your mind and you’re not sure for what.

You like it when he tells you something personal about himself, but he likes when you do it even more. “I was a gymnast for a long time,” you told him once, much to his surprise. Even you hadn’t expected to get into that part of your life. “I had to stop once I started going to school, just got too busy, but I was real good at it.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” He said, grinning, and you figured he must be imagining you, usually so rigid, flying through the air. It sounded like a joke. You were surprised he wasn’t laughing. “So, you’re pretty, ah, light on your feet?”

You smiled to yourself, thinking of all the memories. It had felt so nice to throw yourself into all that hard work. When you were flipping in the air, you felt free. “Guess you could say that. Certainly hasn’t come in handy though, in my line of work.”

“It may come in handy with mine. You’d probably make a good fighter, Doctor l/n.”

The thought of you fighting anyone made you laugh out loud. Have you thought about fighting people before? Of course. All your life people have hurt you and you wanted to hurt them back. But in the end, you had decided that wouldn’t do any good. Now, however, as you kept imagining it, the Joker appeared at your side, and you were winning this fight, him laughing maniacally beside you. It sent a sort of thrill through you. You didn’t like it. “Luckily, I’m not in your line of work.”

He had winked. “You can always change your mind.”

Alongside learning bits of things about him, he also taught you a few new skills, probably antsy to test them out considering he’s strapped to a bed most of the time. He (as best as he could still cuffed to a table) tried to teach you to pick a lock, how to get a perfect shot with a gun, how to rig up TNT. It was nothing you needed to know, nor anything you thought he should be thinking about, but you went along anyway because it was best he knew you were there to support his interests. As dark as they were…. You’d work on that. 

After your last session, you decided to bring something up to Mr. Dale.

“Doctor y/n, your progress has been very minimal,” he had commented as you walked up to him, before you could even open your mouth.

You frowned. “It’s the Joker, sir. It’s not going to move very fast-“

“Well, I am tired of waiting. The longer he sits in that cell I fear the worse he’ll get, and then what? He snaps and tries to kill us all?” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. You wanted to smack him. “Is there any way you could hurry up the process?”

Don’t rush me, was what you wanted to scream, but that wasn’t going to get you anywhere but kicked to the curb. “I do think I have an idea,” you said, trying to direct him to why you came up to him in the first place. “You need to let me bring in his makeup.”

Mr. Dale’s eyebrows shot up. And, of course, he began to laugh. If it weren’t for growing used to the Joker doing it so often, it would really piss you off. “You want to turn him back into a clown? Miss l/n, I fear that would only encourage him.”

“First off, it’s Doctor l/n,” you point out sternly. You’ve had enough of him treating you like less. If there’s another thing the Joker has taught you, it’s to not take shit from others. “And second, I want him to embrace himself. If he can be this clown persona he sees him as, we can take this persona and shape it so that it’s less… violent. Then, the makeup will no longer be something he associates with villainy. Please, Mr. Dale, I know what I’m talking about.”

You smiled wide as Mr. Dale’s face fell, absolutely shattered by your words. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Alright, Doctor l/n, I will allow it however if it ends badly-“

“It wont.” 

“You’re getting too comfortable. It’s his fault, I’m sure. I was right, he breaks people.”

You wish you could grab him by the collar and pull him close, but instead you settle on a deadly glare, looking him right in the eye. “I’m not broken. J isn’t broken.”

“Well, you’ve changed.”

You scoffed and turned away. “See you later, Mr. Dale.”

You have changed. You’re not sure if it’s for the better or not.

—————————

For your session, you walk in with a gentle smile, the tubes of makeup in your bag clinking together. You’re going to keep it a surprise, for later in the season. You’re not really sure why you feel giddy, but you do. It sort of outweighs your exhaustion, you’d run to the store late that night to pick up the same paints the Joker was said to have used. And when the guards finally let you in through the door, your smile grows even wider at the sight of the Joker, who is already smiling back at you. Not just because of the scars, it’s an actual smile. At first, his smiles had been menacing, but now you feel they’re actually kind of… nice. “Well, hello, doll face. So lovely to see you again.”

“Hiya, Mr. J,” you respond, taking your seat. “How are you doing today?”

“You know me, Doctor l/n, your presence puts me in a much better mood.” He props his chin up on his fist. “You look beautiful today.”

The past few sessions, Joker has certainly grown more flirty. It’s not something you’re a stranger to, the other patients have tried their hand at it, usually to try and get on your good side, but it’s different coming from Joker. You know he likes to rile you up, but you can’t help but feel the words are mostly genuine. “I look like this everyday,” you point out, not wanting to show him how his words affect you. 

“And you are, ah, beautiful everyday, doll.”

“Mr. J, refrain from flattery, please.”

He bows his head, pretending to be upset like a kicked puppy. “Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Dr. l/n. You know I like to tease ya.”

“Some of the guards told me you’re allowed to roam around your cell now,” you say, trying to switch the subject before he can completely throw you off course. He’s good at that. “How are you liking that?”

“Hmmmm, well, I, ah, went from being stuck permanently standing in a small cell and now I can walk around the cell. Once you’ve walked it once you’ve, ah, seen it all.” He looks to one side of the room. “A wall there.” His head swerves to the other. “Oh, and one there too! What a surprise!” He chuckles to himself. Nothing makes Joker laugh more than his own nonsense. 

“So, not much better?”

Joker shakes his head. “Nah ah ah, not one bit. Can barely even make a ruckus too, the doors conceal all my banging and kicking and laughing. The guards can’t even get annoyed with me.”

You bite your cheek. “You really like being a nuisance, huh?”

“I do like to make people tick.” He wets his lips. “Especially pretty psychiatrists with sharp minds.”

Already, you can feel your cheeks warming. Embarrassment, that’s all it is. You, once again, try and take the conversation back to what you actually need to be in there for. “How about we get started, huh?”

Joker nods, smacking his lips together. Despite how much he licks them, they’re always chapped, the skin cracking. “What am I in for today? I feel we’ve talked about everything we possibly can.”

“And yet you’re no closer to getting out of here, are you?” You smirk at him as you bring out your clipboard. “I feel like I’ve been keeping it too light these past few sessions. I’ve learned a lot about you but you still won’t let me reach past the barrier.”

“What barrier?”

“The barrier between you and whoever you were before you became the Joker.”

His lips twist into a frown. Again, his past touches a nerve. “Dolly,” he warns, “I’ve told you, whatever came before doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the Joker. You won’t find anything past that.”

Once again, Joker is being a stubborn ass. As much as you enjoy talking with him, he also drives you nuts. “You’re saying your life started once Batman came to the scene?”

“He gave me purpose. What’s a joke without the punchline? Batman is the punchline.” 

“You were a child once, Joker.”

“Like most people, yes.”

“And how was your childhood?”

He ignores your question, grumbling as he stares at his cuffed wrists, rotating them as you sit there expectantly. You realize he’s not going to answer you and groan. So, he doesn’t want to dive into the past. You’re not going to force him. Prying was never the best way to go about things. You’d leave it alone again… for now. “Okay, sorry, Mr. J, we can move on. Is there anything that you’d like to talk about?”

Joker raises an eyebrow, not confused but suspicious. “You’re just gonna turn it into some kind of analysis moment, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. “Well, that is my job. But no. Just, talk to me.” You hold your hands together, resting your chin on them. “About anything.”

“Hmmmm.” He looks like he’s having trouble thinking of something. “I’ve been thinking about Batman.”

“B-Man.” Of course. “What have you been thinking about him?”

“Those last moments I saw him, his expression. He looked so shattered.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, and you’re sure your face betrays this but he goes on anyway. “Oh, I’d live for a moment like that again. Seeing Batman react to my schemes, it’s so pleasing.”

“Do you consider your vendetta against Batman more for yourself or on behalf of the people of Gotham?”

He points at you. “There’s the analysis question. You can calm down there, Doc.” Joker coughs. “Behalf makes me sound like mister tall, dark, and dorky,” he snorts. “I’m trying to pull back everyone’s mask, but especially the Bat’s. I mean I, ah, already broke down Harvey Dent.”

That makes you go still. You hadn’t thought much on Harvey Dent, or how what Joker did may have affected him. You’re not sure if broken is the right word. Maybe scarred. Figures.  “The explosion. Right.”

“Poor, poor Harvey Dent. Gotham’s White Knight broke right in half. All because of me!”

You frown. “Harvey Dent died a noble man, Joker. Batman killed him all because Harvey was trying to do good.”

Joker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Harvey Dent is dead? And Batsy killed him?”

Oh, fuck. You clap a hand over your mouth, shaking your head. You weren’t supposed to say anything. It was an accident, you hadn’t meant to let it slip. “I… no, I mean, yes but-“ you stumble to try and cover it up but there’s no going back. Joker knows. And, honestly, who cares? He was going to figure it all out eventually. You take a deep breath. “Yes. Harvey Dent is dead. Batman killed him and five other people. And then Batman… he disappeared.”

Joker shoots up from his chair, and it takes you aback, causing you to squeal. You instinctively push your back into the chair while Joker looms over you. You’re not sure what he’s feeling, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils fuming. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he hisses.

“I… my bosses didn’t want me to. They were scared of what you’d do. That this would inspire you…”

You wait for him to yell, to react violently, but instead he laughs. This time though, it isn’t a creepy giggle or a small chuckle, it’s a full body laugh, the kind that contorts his body. It sounds like it hurts. “Batsy killing people?” he chokes out. “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it-tah one bit.” He clutches his stomach. “Batman is a very hard person to break, believe me.”

“You… you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He would’ve killed me too, he had me in the perfect place to do it, multiple times. No no no, something’s wrong about this…”

Slowly, you loosen your posture, moving back closer to the table. You’ve never even thought that any of that mess could have been something made up. “I’m confused,” you admit. 

“Doll, do you know how hard I tried to get Batman to kill me? He won’t do it! He just won’t. He’s got his, ah, one rule, his precious little moral code. He had me in the perfect position to kill me so many times yet he didn’t take any of those chances. Yet now he says he’s killed off five people including Gotham’s little savior? Puh-lease. There’s more to this story than they’re letting up.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. Well, probably because you had no reason to. Joker knew more about Batman than any Gothamite did. You didn’t know much about him other than his attempts at stopping crime. Who were you to know Batman supposedly didn’t kill? You admit, it was strange that he had a streak of getting rid of criminals in ways that didn’t involve killing, then suddenly turned and killed a few people? “Are you sure you didn’t… break him?”

“No, if I did I’d know it. I’d feel it. The Bat is about as stubborn as me, doll. And now he’s in hiding?” He sniggers, a hand gently touching his lips. “Sounds like some kind of, ah, twisted joke. The Bat is hiding something.”

“I’m sure he’s hiding lots of things.”

“Whatever this is though I’m curious about it.”

Of course. You just ignited a flame in him. Idiot. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing they got nine lives.” 

The more you think about it, the more intrigued you are. Batman has always been shrouded in mystery for you. Was he good? Was he bad? And now it turns out his story is all over the place, that it doesn’t make sense? You kind of wanted to know now too. “Do you think it has to do with Harvey?”

“Only one way to, ah, find out.”

“Which is?”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Drive the Bat out of hiding, of course.”

There it is. Mr. Dale was right. You shouldn’t have told him. He was going to find out eventually but now was not the time. Shit. “J, you can’t-“

He cuts you off. “You don’t like the Bat, do you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then don’t you wanna know what his little secret is? It must be somethin’ real special if he’s, ah, abandoned Gotham. Doesn’t sound very heroic to me. Sounds rather dull.” 

You know Joker’s dead set on getting back Batman for his own amusement, but what of you? What reason would you want to go find him for other than to expose him? He locked up Joker and left him here to rot. He killed five people plus Harvey Dent. He gets to hide away while people still root for him, safe from consequences. Everyone else suffers. Maybe Joker has a point. “I’m just a psychiatrist working Arkham asylum, Mr. J, trying to seek out the Batman is far above my pay grade,” you finally say, snorting, trying to get the idea out of your head. “B-Man can’t hide forever.”

“You’re right. Because we’ll drive him out.”

“We?”

“Well, you like to do good, don’t you? Little miss Mother Teresa, over here. You’ve already offered me friendship. So come on, help me, help Gotham, help us all!” He shows you his yellowing teeth. “Or, are you not as good as you think you are?” He reaches out with his hands suddenly, moving towards you. They only reach about halfway across the table, stopped by his cuffs, but you still jump. “What’s behind that mask, dear? Tell me what you really want. Let. It. Slip. Every dirty detail.” 

You’re trembling now. Like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I… I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are, dolly. I can see it! I, ah, can sense the darkness looking beneath your white coat.”

What the hell was Joker going on about? That you were as rotten as he was? You weren’t. You had dark thoughts sometimes, yes, but you weren’t crazy. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t. You weren’t bad you- “I don’t know what you want from me,” you whisper.

As your voice gets quieter, Joker gets louder. “Is that it? You feel all fine and dandy in this shitty life of yours, locked up with me in this madhouse? The people out there don’t care about you, they don’t care about any of us. But you’re fine with it, huh? Like a little pet pooch nipping at their heels. You’re just being optimistic!”

“Joker-“

“Tell me,” he demands, “what you really want! I want to break Batman! I want to strip all of Gotham down to its rotting core! And you want to keep yourself beneath their boots? Dolly, please, you’re much much more than that.”

Heart thumping, you can’t take his words anymore. You stand up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table. “Fine! You wanna know what I want? I want to hurt every single person around here who has done me wrong! Every single person who ignored me or disregarded me, everyday I wish I could just rip them apart. I- I hate everyone. I hate this stupid fucking place because everyone treats me like shit and at first I was only trying so hard at this because I can harldy survive and they told me that if your sanity improved then I’d get a raise!” What is with you today? You clap your hands over your mouth, hands shaking. Fuck, Joker was going to be pissed. Oh, goddammit. “J… I- I didn’t…” You struggle to find the words, trying to keep looking him in the eyes. They give nothing away. He is silent. “Mr. J-“

Then, out of nowhere, he cackles. He throws his head back, neck exposed, and laughs into the air, the howls of his laughter echoing throughout the room. Immediately, you’re caught off guard. You can’t tell if he’s laughing because it amuses him or because he’s angry. Even when he calms down enough to look at you and smile, you still can’t tell, and you continue to shake. “Doll,” he begins through his laughs, “that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He doubles over with howling laughter again and you’re not sure if you should be scared or confused. “This whole time you just wanted a raise! So you took on little old me?”

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow it down. “I didn’t have much of a choice but yes… it was that or be fired. But I did really want to help you, Mr. J. Are- are you mad?”

“Mad? No! I am, ah, lovin’ this side of you. It’s so cruel.”

That certainly took a weight off your shoulders, and you finally took a long breath in. Fucking hell, Joker was confusing. Guilt still gnawed at you. “You’re right, I’m just as selfish as you say people are,” you mumble.

“Exactly,” he hisses. “But it takes guts to admit it, especially to someone who, ah, doesn’t exactly handle things very nicely.”

“I’m so sorry, J.”

“Don’t apologize. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Then I don’t know what to do now. You’re set on getting Batman out of hiding, I’m going fucking crazy right now, everything feels so weird.”

Joker seems to find the utmost pleasure in your unraveling. “Doll, what’s in the bag?”

The question takes you off guard. “What?”

“When you came in, you were all giddy, and I could hear something moving in your bag I haven’t heard before. What is it?”

Ever so perceptive. “Oh… uh,” you fumble through your bag, bringing out the three tins of paint. “Your paint. They… they let me bring it for you.”

Joker’s smile falters a bit, yet he doesn’t look upset, just surprised. “My paint… You really brought it for me?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

His voice dips low. “Put it on me then.”

Now that takes you by surprise. More than anything else that’s happened to you today.

The Joker is so guarded off, yet he’s inviting you in, allowing you to not just touch his face but apply his makeup. It feels sacred. This is a part of him that makes him not just recognizable, but feared. And here you are, being asked to put it on him. It’s so wrong it feels… right? It scares you.

“Are you sure you-?”

“Put it on me, y/n.”

If this is a test, you’re not exactly sure how to pass. But his look is unnerving and so you stand up, pulling yourself onto the table between you, a lump in your throat. You feel frazzled as you move close to him, bending your legs to the side of you as you settle on your thighs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can see every line of his scars, every wrinkle and crease on his face. “Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You grab the white paint to the side of you, screwing off the lid and taking a large glob of the substance.

You loom close to him, your fingers wet with white paint, waiting for a sign that he’s okay with this. You don’t dare breathe, scared that any movement, any sound, will shut him down. But to your surprise, he doesn’t back away, he nods. Keep going. Your fingers finally land on his cheek, right beneath his eye, and you gasp at how warm his skin is. Joker shows nothing on his face to reveal how he feels except for the way his eye twitches slightly at your touch, his cheek twitching along with it. As you start to paint around his face, everywhere but his scars and lips, you wonder if his reaction stems from a disdain of being touched or from not having been touched so gently in so long. 

“Mr. J,” you whisper, and you can feel your hands start to shake again but you quickly steady them. Once his face is fully white, you dig into the black paint. He notices this and closes his eyes, letting you rub the dark paint in circles until each of his eyes look like they’ve settled into two, painted voids. When he opens his eyes again, they’re still trained right on you. “What am I doing?” you ask to no one in particular.

Joker doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have one for you anyways other than the obvious. “The red now, doll.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Quickly, you grab the red paint and stick your fingers in, moving them towards Joker’s lips but stopping. Putting the makeup on his face had been intimate enough but… his scars? That was a whole different kind of territory. “J…”

“Do it,” he murmurs, and it’s so quick you still wait, your hand just in front of his mouth shaking. This had to be a test. Some kind of sick joke. “Doll, can you, ah, hear me? I said ‘do it’.” 

You want to protest, but for what? He made it clear what he wants. So, you begin to smear the red across his lips, moving first to the scar on his right, your entire body shuddering as your fingers touch the sunken in skin where the carvings were made, the mangled flesh around it, every bump and curve. You don’t understand why anyone would ever find these scars ugly. To you, the way they healed, the way they are a part of him, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about it.

Godammit, J is beautiful.

As you continue to smear the red paint, he looms closer. “Do you wanna know,” he whispers, “how I got these scars?”

“I…” Of course you do. Everyday since you’ve met him, you go home and you can’t help but see his smile. See those scars. And you can’t help but wonder how they got there. You imagine a blade ripping across his mouth, drawing so much blood it drips down his chin. You’ve imagined him screaming in pain. You’ve imagined him uttering not a peep as the blade pierces his skin. So many possibilities. This was the barrier you’d been hoping to jump. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“I can, ah, never get the story straight. It’s like a black hole, doll. A black hole in my mind. There’s so many ways I could’ve gottem, so many ways I think I gottem. What’s real? What’s not? Who the fuck cares?” Even with a furious growl in his voice, he laughs. “I can’t remember what it really was that did it. There was a horrible father. A wife who I tried so hard for. There was war, and violence, the mob, and so much pain. I’ve seen a lot. Maybe they’re all real memories, maybe they’re not, doesn’t matter! I hated the scars at first, I really did, but now? I embrace them because there is just so much to smile for. I’ve got so much left to do in this city. So much fun left to have. But there’s something I’ve been missing.”

You rub your thumb over his right scar, drawing in a shaky breath. “What is that?”

“I have all these plans, all these ideas and feelings over what I do and yet I’ve never thought anyone good enough to share them with. People, ah, will only be good to you for a while before runnin’ off with your secrets, it’s just human nature. I didn’t feel a kinship to anyone until you came along, Doctor l/n.” When he smiles, you feel the movement beneath your finger. “Look at you. So lonely. Letting everyone spit on you. Yet here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sure you imagined I could’ve killed you for keeping me along for a stupid paycheck, but you admitted it to me anyways. You are pulling back your own mask, right in front of me. You know you couldn’t fix me, right?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes at his words, guilt gnawing at you. “I wanted to try at first. But now… I- I don’t want to fix you. I like what you are.”

“That,” he growls, “is exactly why I’m so drawn to you. I know, doll, that you crave something more than what you have now, this world kicking you down over and over and over again. I know the feeling. You’ve got nothing and everything to lose. Yet you manage to smile amidst the darkness. You smile in the face of pure chaos.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumble. 

“I want what’s best for both of us, doll face. You were right. I do need someone by my side. As I was saying, what I’ve been missing this whole time, was you.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Me?”

He nods. “You stuck with me this long. Even for a paycheck, that’s somethin’ no one else would do. And yet the big Arkham bosses are out there now, laughing at the both of us. Ain’t that unfair?”

“Yes.”

“Doll, stick by my side, and we’ll let them all know just how corrupt they truly are.”

Your arms break out in goosebumps. Every word the Joker utters is dripping with venom, an edge to each syllable. You’ve tried to ignore him, the way he crawls into your rib cage, into your mind, finding your weaknesses, your dark desires and whims you push away. Yet here he is, getting you to reveal them, and trying to get you to go along with him. It’s working. “Let’s show them, then.”

You look down at your fingers, covered in red, and it almost looks like blood. 

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” With a curl of his finger, he gestures for you to move closer. You do, and he cranes his neck towards your ear. “If you really wanna help me,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, “then tomorrow is the day you get me out of this place.” Every t is pronounced as sharp as a blade. “You’re smart, doll, I know you can think of something.”

Breaking Joker. Out of Arkham. A few weeks ago, you might have grabbed your remote and hit the red button but now? You think you might just take him up on that. You move back to look him in the eye. “You won’t help me think of something?”

“I’m sure you’ve got something in that, ah, pretty mind of yours.”

You huff. “J, I’m serious. This is Arkham. It’s constantly guarded and protected. And I’m just me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You’re you, sweets. No one’s gonna suspect you.”

Oh fuck. He’s right. No one gave a shit about you. You’d fly right under the radar. That part was easy. But everything else? This wasn’t exactly your forte. You didn’t know what to do. “I’ll try my best,” was all you could offer.

He reaches his hand out, and at first you think he’s trying to grab you, but instead he goes after one of the paint tins. The red paint. Agonizingly slow, he removes the cap, getting his fingers wet with paint. “Doll, you and I are gonna make something special. I always knew you had it in ya. C’mere.” You tilt your face towards him, and Joker smears the red across your lips, a mirror of his own striking smile. “Don’t forget to smile,” he says.

“Never.”

_______________

Later in the night, Joker stares at himself in the reflection of the small, grimy window of his cell door. His face is painted exactly the way he likes it, maybe just a bit different, but he could care less. This, this person he’s looking at, is the person he is, the person you have given back to him. He touches his face and he can still feel your phantom touch, the way you had run your finger over his face, his eyelids, his scars. You hadn’t backed off, or avoided them, you had touched them so softly. Soft. You were soft. 

You made Joker feel soft and he hated it.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom getting rid of you. It would be easy, definitely. If things actually went well tomorrow and you managed to get him out of Arkham, he could easily kill you off. No one would look for you. And even if they did, helping him break out of Arkham would mark you a criminal, and Gotham would curse your name forever. But Joker doesn’t want to do that. Even the thought of your death makes him angry. He is used to wanting to hurt people, yet when he comes across you now, he feels… protective. He knows how the world hates him, yet somehow you showed him sympathy. No, even better, you were showing him loyalty by offering to help break him out. And if you really went and did it? God, he almost breaks into chills.

When he looks at you, he notices his body reacting strangely. His heart speeds up, his hands feel sweatier, his mind feels like it’s going to split right in half. This isn’t the kind of insanity Joker usually basks in, this is something worse. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. You were so good, and yet when you let your mask slip, Joker couldn’t help but feel pulled in even more. What lies beneath you is dark and spiteful, and Joker wants to see all of it.

You won’t let him down tomorrow, Joker is sure of it. 

A voice on the intercom comes through the crack under the door, crackling through the speakers placed along the hall outside. “Shutting lights off. Everybody get to bed.”

Joker grunts, moving to plant himself down on his metal “bed”. He’s not going to sleep though, how could he? Chaos was coming, and you were bringing it straight towards him.

________________________________________________

When you get home, you stumble into the bathroom, quickly turning on the sink faucet and drenching your face in water. You let the ice cold water drip down your face, crying out as you try and get a grip on things. Your fingers are still covered in Joker’s face paint, the water hardly washing any of it off. It’s like he’s on you forever.

Why, for fucks sake, do you almost want it to never wash off?

You look at yourself in the mirror now, the makeup that Joker spread smeared down your chin. This is you now. Mr. Dale was right, you have changed. But fuck it, it was for the best. This change, this thing radiating beneath your skin, it’s something dangerous yet powerful. It moves you. You’re not crazy, you’re insane. 

You can’t tell what this feeling is towards Joker. It almost feels like… love.

Love for the Joker.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker-

He was right. He was always right. People were going to walk over you all your life. You were tired of it. Nothing was going to change if you didn’t change it first. You couldn’t stand around and watch these people, with their pockets fat and their reputations swell, walk around with such pride when you knew they were all phonies. This city, your city, you’re going to unveil it. No longer will it crush you. You’re going to crush it. 

You were going to be Joker’s partner in crime. And you loved it.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year <> first meetings - maknae line

word count: 2.1k TW: a bit of swearing, cyana is sad for some reason italics are in english and bolded words are in Mandarin this is a continuation from the hyung line fic, so please read that for continuity's sake!

౨ৎ ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ─── ─── ──౨ৎ

MINGHAO:

Although he had been all but ready to make fun of Jun when he was nervous and shy, Minghao found himself suffering just the same as Cyana approached him. Being the final member to meet her officially, he had the gruelling process of waiting as she slowly made her way through members before finally reaching him. "Hi. Nice to meet you, I'm Xu Minghao." He opted for a hug rather than a handshake, smiling when Cyana wrapped her arms comfortably around his waist. Parting, Cyana shot him a bright smile. "I'm so glad you and Jun speak Mandarin. I haven't met anyone besides my parents who knew the language." Minghao was glad to have brought her a sense of comfort. "We're just as happy. It's always nice to meet someone connected to home. Where in China are you from?" "My parents lived in Shenzhen before moving to Vancouver." Minghao's eyes widened and he glanced at Jun, who was lazily stretching, warming up for practice. "Jun's from Shenzhen too." Cyana followed his gaze, frowning when she saw the boy. "He's very quiet." She gathered. Minghao nodded, chuckling. "He's shy around strangers. He'll warm up, don't worry. He was quiet around me too, when we first met." He turned to look at her, studying her before continuing. "You're quiet too though, a little bit." Cyana flushed. "I don't really speak much, yeah. Prefer to listen most times." Honestly, Minghao didn't mind. He enjoyed the peaceful nature that seemed to radiate off her even within the short time they'd met. It was a change from the usual chaotic energy SEVENTEEN oozed of that Minghao accepted gratefully. "If it ever gets too much, Wonwoo and I are usually quieter company. We don't like doing too much outside of work." He didn't miss the way her face soured when he brought up Wonwoo's name. Cyana took his advice and invitation gratefully, promising to tell him if things ever got too much and to come find him whenever necessary. He savoured the look on her face, one of pure innocence and blissful unawareness of the tumultuous waves idol life could be. He distinctly remembered entering Korea with the same wide-eyed look on his own face and made a quiet promise he'd help keep that glow in Cyana's face as long as possible.

DK:

"Hi hi~" DK bounced up to Cyana, shaking her hand vigorously. He had heard Seungcheol's warning in the beginning -- to be calm and not to overwhelm the girl -- but he just had so much excitement to share! This was a day of celebration, having a new member join them, and it irked him a bit that the others were not treating it as such. "I'm Dokyeom, nice to meet you!" He sang, smile widening when Cyana moved to match his energy. "Hi, Dokyeom~" Cyana giggled at the boy's actions, unconsciously matching both his tone delivery and his movements, hands in his as they both jumped with excitement. She found it endearing, how energy seemed to spill out of him uncontrollably. "I wanted it to be a big celebration," He explained, pausing for Joshua to quickly translate. "I was going to order a cake, put up decorations, maybe some gifts-" Cyana protested profusely. "No, no- that's too much work." Deterred from his original train of thought by her sudden Korean, DK cooed, shaking her as he died at how cute it was. "Ah~ so cute!" Cyana blushed, unsure of what to do with the amount of attention DK was giving her. She was also hyperaware of the fact that he was still clutching her hands from before. Noticing how stiff her posture had gotten all of a sudden, DK immediately took a step back, unlatching himself from her and apologizing. Cyana shook her head. "No, no, it's okay. Just caught me off-guard." She sent him a warm smile. "This is nice." She admitted after a pause, enjoying how comfortable she was around him. She felt as if she had known Dokyeom for ages. DK sent back a blazing smile of his own. "Yes." He agreed happily, "So nice. So amazing. So unbelie-bubble." Cyana let out a loud laugh, startling everyone, including herself. It had been the loudest sound she'd made since entering the room. DK grinned, proud. Her laugh was really pretty, he realized. It made him want to make her laugh again just to hear it, to bathe in the warmth of it. Hell, he'd bottle it up if he could.

MINGYU:

Mingyu knew Wonwoo was hiding behind him. A coward, he mused, as he watched Cyana make her way slowly towards them. He couldn't understand why so many of them were nervous to meet her, Cyana was just a girl like so many others they had met before. "Hello~ I'm Mingyu." He opened his arms tentatively for a hug and felt both pride and relief when she had accepted. Okay, maybe he was a little nervous. He was scared she'd find him intimidating because of his sheer height and size. "You're- so tiny." He said, gesturing with his hand how short she was compared to him. Cyana gave him a look. "We've only just met and you're making fun of my height?" Mingyu spluttered, backtracking. "I- um." He pointed wordlessly at a cackling Vernon. "He teach me- to say." Vernon had insisted the line would be a good icebreaker. Now she seemed more amused then offended. "Ah~ I see. It's okay, I was only joking. You are very tall." He nodded, agreeing. "Yes. The most tall." He thought she seemed quite impressed by it all. "Your English is good!" She complimented, happy that they were able to carry a decent conversation on their own. He grinned. "Practice." He pointed at Vernon again. "Vernon." Cyana smiled. He liked making her smile, it brightened her face and the hint of sadness within her eyes disappeared when she did. Mingyu wondered what on earth could have made her so sad so early in the morning, but figured they were not close enough to directly ask. He didn't really know how to say all that in English anyways.

SEUNGKWAN:

Seungkwan found it both a bit endearing and amusing, the way Cyana was following behind him as they toured SEVENTEEN's floor. He likened her to a confused and intrigued cat, running her hands across the wall as he led her down the hallway towards the main lobby. Her eyes shone, and she was listening with full attentiveness at whatever he was saying. "This is- uh, recording studio, three recording studio, here." He pointed to the hallway to the left of them. "And here-" he paused, doing his best to recall the English word for 주방. "Here is kitchen. Eating~" He mimed eating food as Cyana nodded. He'd noticed that Cyana was very quiet and only ever talked if it was to answer a question. He didn't mind of course, many members had been like that too when they'd first met, but it confused him why a child actor would be so shy. "You are actor?" He asked, stopping in the lobby to get her response. He could almost feel the shift in the atmosphere the moment he asked the question. Cyana's shoulders tensed and she nodded. "In LA, yes." "That's cool." He offered lamely, not really knowing what else to say. Getting the sense that she didn't want to talk about the topic, Seungkwan gestured over to the large screen that overtook one of the lobby walls, currently displaying scenes from SEVENTEEN's music videos. "Seventeen." He said, still at a loss of words. It was rare for him not to know what to say, he prided himself in being good at filling silences, but this particular silence felt heavy and sad. He glanced at Cyana, who had her neck craned up as she watched the bright screen flash. The lights reflected against her irises and Seungkwan could swear she was holding back tears. Perhaps it was the homesickness, he deduced, scolding himself for bringing up her acting career. She had probably found it hard to leave everything behind. She turned to him and the heavy silence was gone. "These are all you guys?" She asked, pointing at the screen. Seungkwan nodded. "You guys are amazing." She marvelled. "So synchronized and captivating." "You." He pointed at the screen, having only understood the first compliment. "Soon." She smiled ruefully. "Hopefully. I wouldn't want to let you guys down." He wanted to let her know that he was sure the company had told her that everything was on her shoulders and that their success depended solely on her but the members wouldn't think that way. They'd all been there before, moments before debut and wondering if they'd somehow fail and disappoint the others. He wanted to tell her not to think like that. That she should be performing and working hard for herself and not because she had to. If he could say it in Korean and have her understand, he would have.

VERNON:

"Wassup, I'm Vernon." He shook Cyana's hand, confused when the girl seemed to be fixated on his face. "Is there something on my face?" He asked, reaching up to pat it. Cyana blinked out of her stupor. "Sorry. No, it's just-" She pointed at his sunglasses. "Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?" "Oh." He took them off sheepishly. "I don't really know." Cyana let out a tiny laugh, gesturing for him to put them back on. "Keep them on, I didn't mean it in a judgemental way." Vernon placed them back on and Cyana couldn't help but laugh at how he seemed to just listen to her without thinking. Maybe it was the tie-dye tshirt or the terribly ripped jeans as well, but Vernon just seemed like a walking meme to Cyana and she found it incredibly funny. "Well, now I just feel like you're laughing at me." Vernon complained, although he was sporting a similar grin. Cyana shook her head, still laughing. "No, no, I swear I'm not." "Don't lie~ You so are." Vernon found that he liked the easy banter that seemed to flow seamlessly between them, realizing just how fast they seemed to click. "No, I'm laughing with you, not at you." "Right. You're going to tell me you actually enjoyed watching Birdbox next." Cyana's jaw dropped. "I actually really hate Birdbox." Vernon's eyes lit up. He'd tried using that line once on Joshua before, but the older boy hadn't understood what Vernon was getting at. "No fucking way." Vernon couldn't contain his excitement. "No one ever gets that reference." "You watch movies too then?" She asked, smiling when he said yes. If Seungcheol hadn't called everyone in for a group huddle before practice, Vernon would've whipped out his letterboxd to compare with hers right then and there. As if having a new member couldn't get any better.

DINO

Dino thrummed with anticipation as he patiently waited for his turn to speak with Cyana. She was really pretty, Dino observed, and she was really shy too. She seemed to interact with most of his hyungs with a sort of apprehension, as if secretly a little bit terrified. Dino couldn't blame her. He supposed they probably did look a little terrifying, all 13 of them when there was just 1 of her. "Hello~" He said, nervous when she approached him. "I'm Dino. And Chan. We're same, uh- old? age. Same age." His ears turned pink at his little stumble. Thankfully, Cyana didn't react to his mistake. "Really?" She said instead, lighting up. "I didn't know that. I've always wanted a friend my age." He thought for a little bit before replying. "Me too." He gave her a bright smile, praying that it'd make up for his poor English. Something about the fact that they were both the same age seemed to have soothed Cyana, as she took a step closer to Dino and held at her phone. "I- um, could you," She flushed as she tried to explain. "do you have the wifi?" Dino's shoulders relaxed, thankful it was a question he could answer. Taking the phone, he recognized her wallpaper to be a view of the Han River. Upon pointing it out, Cyana explained that she had passed by it on her way here and had fallen in love with how peaceful the waters were. He could understand what she meant. He often visited the Han River just to watch the current when he was a trainee. It served as a way to both relax and clear his mind. Handing the phone back, now connected to wifi, he mustered up the courage to ask her something before she could leave to say hi to someone else. "I- Han River. We can go, uh- together?" Cyana smiled and nodded. "Of course."

author's note: thank you so much for reading! thank you for all the love you've given this series and i'll be updating as much as possible. i've fallen in love with this universe and cyana lol.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[writer-room]

I don’t think I’ve ever seen any type of media so clearly portray how my writing changed before and after I realized I was queer like Nimona. ND Stevenson’s work is just so familiar it pains me in an absolutely incredible way.

Plenty of people point out the differences made between the comic and the movie (and loving both regardless, of course). Most of them mention how the movie has a happier ending, its portrayal of its messages has shifted slightly, and its way more obviously a queer (especially trans) metaphor. I don’t know if any other writers had this happen, but if I had to describe how my writing changed from tiny little twelve-year-old me to the current day, I’d just point in the direction of how Nimona changed from the comics to the movie. It’s alarmingly similar.

Its all just...dripping with coming to terms with ones queerness. Not just from the plot, but from its very existence as a film. Its an evolution of growing up queer. The end goal, the base message, remains the same, even if the methods getting there are different. Because what someone made when they were twelve and had no idea what they were going to turn into and what they made as an adult with so much that changed, and so much left to change, are going to have so many different methods.

How Nimona was born the way she is, how the story changes from a corrupted core with no happy ending to being about ending that corruption and coming out okay, how Ballister’s grudges and issues with Ambrosius changed, all of it is just so indicative of changes made throughout ones life where these tiny little details are tweaked into something new, but still fundamentally the same story at its heart.

Even if this is just a me thing, I didn’t realize how excited I could be at seeing so much familiarity in a film. Good lord, I need to watch this movie again.

[le-velo-pour-dru]

I HATE REMINDING OTHER PEOPLE OF MY BOUNDARIES RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH

[thecoolerbrother]

i think something moonage daydream was really good at doing was capturing a vibe

[the-cat-at-the-theatre-door]

Semi negative below the cut - 

Here's the thing like...fundamentally, what the majority of the US Tour 6 indicating that they believe "the wrong cat died" really shows to me is that the understanding of the show has been somewhat lost over the years.

This is no disrespect towards any of them, and I believe that joking about this subject is absolutely within an area of general fun and lightheartedness (we do it literally all the time), but at the end of the day it misses the point.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Clawing at the walls I hate that I don't have enough time to keep up with all the QSMP and Purgatory POVs / lore I'm interested in, I JUST WANNA KNOW WHATS HAPPENING!!!! I WANNA SEE IT ALL!!!!!!

[psalmsofpsychosis]

yeah so i dont get the "wasn't that some fucked up shit? anyway i'm Rod Sterling" mentality some people have towards different narrative reads. It's all sweet and cool to want to explore all the different variations of a fucked up scenario, but i'm gonna need the reasons for it. I need the "why"; why are we exploring this thing? Why is it important to explore this story? what am i getting out of it? and no it's not about morality.

I dont need a story to teach me "good" life lessons, though that'd be lovely. I dont need it to be an exceptional and exemplary narrative even, but i need my discoveries to be purposeful and meaningful. Sometimes the aim for an exploration of say, a very tragic story, is to simply experiences the different flavours and nuances and complexities of a deeply held personal emotion; sometimes it helps us find the mirroring and connection and relatedness that we need to feel seen and heard and understood. Sometimes it helps you parse out your own bullshit by taking it out of your head and putting it in front of you– i dont care what the reason is, but there's a reason. There's a purpose for every single endeavour you take on, even if you haven't discovered the reason yet. "i just want to experience a fucked up shit" lazy superficial thinking, dig deeper. I hate superficial and purposeless shit; and no i'm not gonna explore the 863796373th trending trauma porn piece of the day because "wouldn't that be fucked up?" nah. I dont care, it's got no use to me. I will absolutely respect the endeavour and make space for it if someone tells me something as simple as "it is relevant to me and my interests and experiences and my mental preoccupations, and helps me refine my humanity and my understanding of humanity in general", that is a lovely and true statement. But if someone keeps churning out worst possible fucked up sad scenarios one after another under the "wouldn't that be fucked up?" flag, i'm out, i dont give a fuck. take your sad shit somewhere else, i have absolutely zero space for purposeless horrible narratives that positively add nothing to my life and dont help me navigate it in any meaningful way.

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

on one hand I wanna write my fic ideas wherein my marvel oc gets sent to the alternate universe of Gotham and hijinks ensue whilst she tries to survive and get back and the batfam and such slowly learn more info abt her world and how it's being threatened atm and she needs to go back and help and whatnot.

But on the other hand, the readers wouldn't know the marvel related backstory of this OC and would have. No context for her going in

But ALSO then the readers would know abt as much abt this mysterious figure as the batcrew do, and get to learn via flash backs and her slowly revealing info to them as safety allows

Then there's also just a general. Idk if there's any sort of oc etiquette when it comes to writing oc centered fics? My brain goes so hogwild when I read anything that I usually avoid oc fics other people write just bc I usually read and enjoy fics at face value but I also go "now what would happen if this OC was here?" And that gets real complicated when other people's ocs are involved

[letsplayballet]

so uh. this post didn't get a whole lot of attention but it did get just enough for me to start trying to write some other scenes. this piece is pretty different vibe-wise, and i'm pretty sure it's not done, but i'm tired of looking at it so!!

~*~

“Have I told you that my father was a cop?”

Akira stops, losing his mental grip on the rest of the sentence he’d been writing for his literature assignment for Kawakami. Glancing up from the paper, he sees Makoto sitting tense as a coiled spring on his perpetually dusty couch, knuckles white on her pen, staring through the textbook in front of her as if she could see into the café below their feet. If it weren’t for Morgana’s perked ears from where he’d been half asleep on the table, Akira could almost believe that she hadn’t said anything at all.

It had been a little strange, when Makoto had shown up hours early for their planned infiltration of Futaba’s palace. She’s his teammate, and he trusts her implicitly, is willing to put his life in her hands- if she’d shown up that morning asking him to go backpacking across China with her, he would only have asked if it could wait until after they’d dealt with Medjed. But despite all this, they haven’t had a lot of time to spend together individually, and Akira gets the sense that there’s still a lot he doesn’t know about her as Makoto, as opposed to Queen.

And she hadn’t asked to do anything drastic. Hadn’t asked anything at all, actually. Just stood in the entrance to Leblanc silently, exactly 15 minutes after opening, until Akira (remembering all I am is a burden to her, remembering the faintest gleam of guilty relief in her eyes when telling them I haven’t seen my sister in days) finishes brewing coffee for the both of them and just as silently brings her upstairs to his room.

They’ve been working on their summer homework for nearly an hour, quiet but not uncomfortably so. This is the first either of them has broken the silence, and it’s pretty clear that whatever is on Makoto’s mind has been weighing on her for a while.

Realizing she’s still sitting there, tense and unmoving, Akira clears his throat a little. “Once, I think? You said he’d worked the beat in Shinjuku.”

Makoto lets out a long, measured breath through her nose, and her jaw unclenches ever so slightly. It’s another few moments before she speaks again.

“He was. He was actually a really instrumental part of the Shinjuku Cleanup Operation.”

She stops again. Bites her lip. Her pen shifts slightly in her grasp.

“I… Growing up, I thought of him as a hero, you know? Idolized him, even. I didn’t know much about his job, not really, but between the few things he shared and what I would always see on shows, I definitely had this golden, untouchable image of what he did. Hunting down criminals, bringing justice to the world… I wanted so badly to be just like him.”

There’s a faint, fond wistfulness to her tone that makes Akira intensely grateful for her still-distant gaze, forcing his breathing to remain calm and even as he gently sets his own pen down and hides his shaking hands in his lap. For a moment he’s overwhelmed –

that dark, ugly fury rising up in him, blinding, screaming see, you can’t trust anyone, as if anyone would give a fuck about you when you’re nothing –

the sense memories of hands too-tight grabbing pulling and concrete hard and cold against his face –

until his battle instincts kick in and he’s able to bring his mind back to his body in the (conditional, relative) safety of his attic room. This is Makoto. She’s not an idiot, and she’s not frivolous with her words, still learning she can say more than the bare minimum she absolutely needs to. If she’s saying all this, to him of all people, then there’s something important in there.

Thankfully, Makoto has lapsed into silence again, too lost in organizing her thoughts to notice his slip. He can feel Morgana’s eyes on him, though, and makes a mental note to block out his evening for that conversation just as Makoto continues.

“When he-” she pauses once more, swallows. “When he died on the job, a few years ago, I only became more motivated to follow in his footsteps. I was… so convinced that there was some nigh-unstoppable tide of evil out in the world, that the police were gallant figures holding the line, and if I joined the police I could…”

“You wanted to help people,” Akira says quietly, filling in as Makoto trails off. Like you needed to be helped, he doesn’t continue, because maybe he’s projecting, though the resonance of his bond with her makes him think he probably isn’t.

Makoto gives a little self-deprecating scoff, turning to look at him for the first time. “I’m sure I sound like some naive idiot, don’t I? I even-” she barrels forward, frustration entering her voice, before Akira can even think to say anything in response, “- I would see stories of corrupt officers, mistreatment, false convictions, and every time I would write it off, or come up with excuses. But then I met you, and none of my excuses sat right even before I tried to blackmail you about dealing with Kaneshiro, and when his men grabbed me off the street the cops at the corner just watched as they forced me into the car and -”

The pen in Makoto’s hand snaps loudly, causing all three of them to jump as shards of plastic clatter across the table.

There is a long, frozen moment where everyone stares at her still-clenched fist and the crooked end of the pen barely kept in place by her grip. It’s broken only when Makoto lets out a loud, shuddering breath and drops the ruined remains of the pen to the table. Morgana makes a quiet noise and stands, crossing the table and sliding into her lap as Makoto presses her own hands to her face in an attempt to compose herself.

Akira gives her a minute, gathering and tossing the pen in the trash and wiping up the few stray drops of splattered ink before sitting next to her on the sofa. He leaves a little space, just in case – but it’s quickly closed, Makoto pressing her shoulder against his, Morgana’s purrs loud and soothing between them.

[hannibalussy]

watching the new season of bee and puppycat and I just realised the whole show feels off because they switched the focus of the show from the magical missions to a slice of life type thing and made almost every side character act even weirder but mellowed out Bee's autistic swag, thereby forcing her to play the straight man in the background which definitely dims the charm of the show ALSO WHERE'S MY BOYYYY DECKARD MY BOYYYYY

[skrunksthatwunk]

not rascal's deadbeat owner coming around when im not home and telling my roommate she's taking him for a week (our break is 4 weeks or so, implying he's gonna be back here even though That's Her Cat Not Ours) and then just picking up the new toys i bought for him and taking them with her without even asking. hey. hi. those are mine

[floorpancakes]