#it's a fortuitous coincidence

[wearethewinx]

Melody is extremely iron-rich and (historically) volcanically active, which means it also has an OUTRAGEOUSLY strong magnetic field. The planet is famous throughout the magic dimension for its beauty, resources, and strangeness.

Huge mountain ranges follow the planets latitudes, cut through with rivers and floating islands. Auroras are so intense, huge, and frequent that they are the primary power source near the planets poles. A skinny ring of iron circles the planet, and it brilliantly reflects light.

At the south pole there is an especially huge floating island, dish-shaped, suspended over the sea. Small bits of iron are frequently ejected from the edges of the island, and depending on the size and conditions, they might become incredibly dangerous slag missiles, OR natural fireworks as they liquify in the atmosphere! The lost mass is replaced by material being pushed up from the sea underneath, but not all of that material makes it to the island- much of it finds stasis underneath, suspended delicately in the air or water.

The magnetic field in this sea is so intense that it causes hallucinations, particularly flashes of light. Because the safe outskirts of the island have frequent auroras and fireworks, this is an especially dangerous illusion that can lead sailors deeper into the field. The floating debris is in tenuous balance, so bumping into it can cause it to accelerate and run into other debris- again, extremely dangerous.

Melodites are more resilient to electromagnetism than any other ethnicity in the magic dimension, but even they avoid the center under the island. Offworld visitors are strictly forbidden from navigating the sea for their own safety- even as passengers, they pose a risk to themselves and the crew. High-profile research expeditions are the only exception.

These conditions mean Melody is famous for its architecture, which boasts some of the most outstanding masonry and carpentry in the known realms, and for its fireworks

[queerlyvictorian]

Just realized The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One is taking its hiatus just in time for my current other favorite piece of media — Young Royals — to come back for its third and final season

[jumpscaregoose]

happy 1 year of actually fic writing to me

[burinazar]

I saw the post that lead to The Slur Song and the notes appear to be full of people who think the audio and text of the song are from the actual training module in the anecdote and they're amazed so and so word is on there. I think the creator of the song was pretty clear on that post in saying they were just "inspired by" hearing about it, which means the actual list of slurs in the song was made by them and is not from a workplace.

I guess this statement is missable and it's easy to at first assume it's made using the actual workplace training audio from the anecdote. But once you notice the presence of fairly esoteric terms in there, and also question whether someone would be able to go off and acquire an audio file from a training they had once for a job they no longer have ("when i worked for"...), i think one should be able to realize this, so. small piss on the poor moment there idk, not worth fussing over, but anyway yeah PSA the slur song isn't made with an actual workplace training audio, and the creator did not claim otherwise

[son-of-drogo]

Lotho: (looking for Frodo) Where is he? Where's the witch?

Lobelia: don't call him a witch, you'll get another boil on your butt!

[2boldlyqueer]

this morning i was thinking "i'm so tired i want to cry"

then i got in my car and my favorite radio station was running a themed hour all about crying

[cannibalisticskittles]

man, i have got to learn how to draw

who else is going to draw amity's dilf dad but me

[evilvillain123456789]

Be sure to stop by the lair for the Evil Villain Seasonal Celebration this 4/20, when Easter and Passover will be fortuitously coinciding! Bring your kids to hunt for the matzoh (which will be encased in a festive "egg" of 85% THC wax concentrate), or just enjoy some charoset sprinkled with chocolate chunks and charas. The first 102 guests will be conscripted into our passion-play and the next 318 will be recruited as plague reenactors- we have real diseased livestock this year- so don't be late! Remember to bring your lighter, rolling papers, and firstborn... especially if they were immaculately conceived ;)

[aspiringsophrosyne]

The Mighty Nein: Weird Coincidences.

I've been compiling these here and there when I've had time, but there was a particular reason I wanted to get this post out of the way now. And it's this.

There's been some nervousness surrounding this, and I'm of two minds about it. On the one hand, people overstate just how hard the Nein's story would be to adapt and how much it would need to be changed for another medium. Can it be one-to-one with the original? Absolutely not. (Just as TLOVM couldn't be one-to-one either.) But the main issue is editing; the content is fine on its own.

And if this is the CRew themselves thinking the same thing, that's a little troubling, because it makes it sound like they might be changing more than they need to out of that unfounded fear.

On the other hand, all they might be talking about here is hindsight. The Mighty Nein's Campaign had a lot of strange coincidences, fortuitous thematic consistencies, and one-of-a-kind moments. The CRew is poised to reap the benefits of having these in mind ahead of time. This allows for some remarkable set-up and payoff if those involved are up to the challenge. Which, in the end, could be all they might be augmenting the story to do.

So maybe it's a good time to get into those weird coincidences, huh?

(Spoilers for basically all of Campaign 2 below the cut.)

Names

Veth Brenatto, her alias Bren, and Caleb’s original name: Bren. (This may have been inspired by the German word "Brennen",  which means “to burn”. Thanks Liam.)

Fjord Stone. Cad’s families: Clay, Dust and Stone. How the Wild Mother fits the story of an orphaned sailor like a glove. And how Cad, his family history, and likely the Wild Mother herself never would’ve entered the story if Molly hadn’t died.

A Mollymawk (spelled with a w instead of a u) is a type of albatross. Albatrosses are supposed to be unlucky, but only if you kill one. Per the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, everything goes to shit after a sailor kills an albatross. Molly’s death is just as unlucky, as it paves the way for Lucien's and Cognouza’s return. (In a meta sense, it’s also unfortunate for Matt and Taliesin, as it derails whatever plans they might have had for the character.)

Nine

Whelp.

Nine. Lots and lots of nines. And while Nein doesn’t mean nine in German/Zemnian (it means no), the wordplay works.

Nine schools of magic.

Nine people killed in Obann’s attack on the Cobalt Soul in Zadash.

The three titans (Uk’otoa, Quajath, and Desirat) collectively have nine eyes and nine crystals to unlock them and set them all free.

Nine hells.

Nine betrayer gods as of Vecna’s ascension.

Nine eye tattoos on Molly, each a mark of the Somnovem, the sleeping nine.

And of course, eventually, nine members of the Mighty Nein.

(Just for fun, Tharizdun’s sacred number in its premier in Greyhawk was 333. [3+3+3=?].)

Nein and its actual meaning work thematically as well. The Nein repeatedly clashes with forces and entities that want to mold them against their will into vessels they can use for their own purposes. And the group repeatedly says “Nein!” to that.

Tarot Readings

Molly deliberately pulls specific cards for his readings. Taliesin makes that explicit. However, some folks have pointed out that you can interpret his original reading for Jester where he tells her “You’ve already found what you’re looking for,” to be true in a few different ways. (She’s already found the people who will help her find her father. She’s discovered the company she sought that she only ever had with her Mamma and the Traveler prior, etc.)

But once we get to Jester’s readings, things really pop off. (Pop-pop off?)

Fjord's Reading

In episode 110, Jester draws two cards for Fjord: one for his present and one for his future. His present card is the Eye, which has two hands holding an eye above a restless sea.

There’s no need to elaborate on how that relates to Fjord’s then-present.

His future card is the Home And Traveler. This card could work for all the Nein if you interpret it as someone who will find or reach their home after some travel. But it hits especially hard for Fjord, who finds a home with Jester, the devotee of the Traveler, on a ship that travels up and down the coast.

And then...

Lucien's Reading

The three cards Jester pulls for Lucien are his past, present, and future. Even at the time, they seem pretty fitting.

His past: History and a Dream, which Taliesin clarifies as depicting the Calamity. This fits perfectly with the Tomb Takers’ previous job for DeRogna and their coming into the Somnovem’s patronage.

His present: the Tyrant. We don’t know either Lucien or his goals too well at this point, but we do know he and his troupe kill indiscriminately and he holds an unnatural sway over the other Tomb Takers.

His future: the Death Card. You can attribute that to the upcoming fight between him and the Nein.

But in hindsight...whoo boy. In hindsight, not only do we know of Lucien’s plans to dispatch the Somnovem and become the Tyrant king of Cognouza and all its lost, broken souls, but we know of his fall. More specifically, who he falls to.

Jester, sitting across from him, pulls his last card and tells him “Facing you is Death.”

And then it’s Miss Lavorre who ends him for good.

Divine Intervention

Generally, a Divine Intervention is a Hail Mary. You roll a d100 (or an equivalent combination of dice) and only if you roll a number below your level do you trigger it. Logically, this gets easier the higher your level gets, but you can’t rely on it until level 20.

Taliesin rolls three of these for Cad in the last quarter of the Campaign. And that’s cool enough. But what’s even better is the Wild Mother’s Grave Cleric rolls successfully for Divine Intervention every time he makes a request (knowingly or not) relating to Cognouza. The city that's coming to swallow Melora's Exandria whole.

The first successful roll comes when Cad seeks info about Vokodo, the pseudo-god of the island of Rumblecusp. Vokodo, it turns out, punched a hole through the Astral Plane to escape the hunger of the lost ward of Aeor. And upon its death, it gives a vision that sets the Nein on Lucien’s trail.

The second success comes when the Nein is attempting to uncover the Tomb Takers' secret entrance to Aeor so that they can use it to set a trap. Cad’s success tells them exactly where they need to go. This allows them to get Zoran, Otis, and Tyffial out of the way early, even if it doesn’t stop Cree and Lucien from continuing towards the city.

As for the third, well...we all know what the third does. That it prevails after Critical Role’s first Resurrection Ritual failure, (due to a natural 1 no less!) is just the icing on the cake.

Caduceus even makes the point that Cognouza had functionally become a corpse that was unable to die and that he was uniquely called upon, given his family’s business, to put it down for good.

Odds and Ends

Nott distracts a Manticore from killing Fjord by killing its baby. Her own child ends up in need of a resurrection later on in the story, during their trip to the Fire Plane. Speaking of which, a painting of said Plane can be observed in Trent's house. You know, the one he would end up chasing the Nein to?

Fjord loses his chance to break the first seal to Avantika; he lands the first attack on her Revenant incarnation when the Nein catches up to her after she escapes with his orb, and he gets the final blow on her there, recovering said orb as he does.

Yasha and Caleb are the most susceptible to the Succubus/Incubus mind control. In the former's case, this could be chalked up to her low Wisdom score...but it also serves as some neat accidental foreshadowing for her time with Obann. And for Caleb, it can be a callback to his time learning under Trent.

The Circus Kids' stories sync up perfectly. Both of their bodies end up puppeteered by someone from their respective pasts. Both of them are used to try to end the world. And, probably once Matt noticed this synchronicity himself, both are revealed to have fallen under the sway of the Chained Oblivion. And their stories didn't have to go this way. Molly didn't have to die, and Matt revealed that Yasha could've theoretically made that wisdom save against Obann's control in the King's Cage. But that's not how things turned out.

Accidental foreshadowing:

Episode 19, Molly and Yasha, after acquiring an item from an Orc hermit living somewhat off the side of the road:

Molly: We made a friend. Jester: Did you kill someone for that? Molly: Yes. Yasha: He’s dead. Molly: He’s very dead. And then he rose up from the grave again and we had to kill him again. Twice. Same man.

Also, in episode 23, after meeting the Syphilis Bandits again and leaving one of them out cold:

Jester: What if we put some flowers in his hair; so when he wakes up, he looks really pretty? Beau: That’s good. Let’s do that. Molly: There’s nothing better than waking up in the morning with no pants and flowers in your hair.

In episode 48, Yussa and Caleb have a conversation:

Caleb: Sometimes I follow my friends places I shouldn’t. Yussa: That might someday get you killed. Or may one day get you what you seek.

Following a certain Tiefling up to Eiselcross got him both.

Nott also asks Caleb in this episode if he has an eye on his forehead. This is probably a callback/joke about Scanlan’s blessing from Ioun, but it foreshadows what happens to Veth much later.

Episode 49, about Ludinus Da’leth and in particular, Vess DeRogna:

Fjord: Then we kill the two elves. Jester: Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Maybe we go up into their room at night or something and just, you know... Stabby stab.

Episode 70:

Jester (to Essek): Maybe you’ll like us so much you’ll just hang out.

Dramatic Irony:

Everything the Nein say about Molly after his death and at his grave is, in hindsight, an awful twist of the knife, as his body's former life is far from finished with him.

Episode 41. The Nein learns Orly can make magic tattoos. Beau talks about getting an eye tattoo on her back to mirror Molly’s:

Jester: I mean, I don’t know, maybe it was really sacred to him and he would be really super offended by it. Beau: Oh, yeah, maybe it would, like I stole it from him? Jester: But it’s fine, I’m sure. Beau: Yeah, you know, he’s dead, so, what’s he going to do?

Almost a hundred episodes later, Beau's new tattoo gets a little addition...

Episode 65

Jester: Are you nervous? Yasha: Yeah. Yeah, I’m nervous. I just don’t know what we’re walking into, you know? Jester: Yeah. We’ve got your back though. That guy isn’t going to do anything bad to you.

Episode 91

Veth asks Essek at dinner if he’s heard of a Nonagon, or someone named Lucien. Essek says he hasn’t. This won't be the case for long.

Episode 95

Jester, talking about Cad and the Wild Mother:

Jester: Yeah. So like, when he asks her questions, you know what she does? Artagan: “Nothing?” Jester: She blows the wind. Exactly, she does shit. So and he’s like, “I sensed, you know, I understand what she’s saying.” She’s not doing anything, but he thinks she is.

This commentary is particularly delicious, considering which Cleric's Divine Interventions end up working.

And there's probably some I've missed! These are just the little bits and pieces I jotted down during a rewatch. It wouldn't surprise me if there's more.

But that's to say, just what we've got here is a monumental amount of things to build off of and play with. The Mighty Nein's animated series has the potential to be something extraordinary if the CRew can make use of all these little gifts deftly and with subtlety. There's power and potential here, and I am nervous as hell about whether or not they can tap into it successfully.

[shalomniscient]

OKAY so confession. all the feixiao stuff dredged up some of my old yukong thoughts so i'd like to ramble abt them here, actually (also partially inspired by my own hsr sona concepts! though i have not yet done the newest tb quests so please feel free to add any thoughts relating to them <3)

said thoughts being about the simple domesticity of being yukong's retainer. sure, a retired pilot and the damn helm master of the luofu may not have any particular need for protection (she's very much capable of defending herself, no doubt), but perhaps it's less of the protection and more of the company that drew the both of you together. aside from being well-versed in combat—easily leaping into the fray at the first sign of trouble, the diligent guard that you are—you also look after yukong in and out of the office, which is where you find yourself spending most of your time.

bringing tea to yukong's desk, gentle reminders to the foxian to take breaks despite knowing yukong rarely complies—perhaps yukong didn't take too well to you at first, a denial of her desire for a more steadfast companion that isn't just the rest of those she leaves tasks to. perhaps your fortuitous appearance is more than just coincidence, too? (and may have to do with a certain foxian daughter...)

either way, the longer you spend at yukong's side, offering a helping hand that at times even extends to paperwork, she finds herself growing oddly fond of you and your presence. even in the silence, knowing that there's someone to share the space becomes something precious to the grandma helm master: a reminder to take things slow.

long walks, tea times, reminiscing, even the occasional family dinner that you've come to be a part of, with qingni doling out tease after tease that you've since become less of a retainer and more of a wife—just the little things that make every moment worth living for. just a little more.

(p.s. absolutely agreeing with yukong being more on the lovemaking side. <3 as a bonus, stress relief is definitely something you'd help yukong out with, in more ways than just a massage... :3c)

“so, i hear you’ve made a new… friend, shall we say?”

yukong’s tail flicks sharply at the tone of feixiao’s voice, lilting and light and teasing. she can feel the other foxian’s eyes boring into the side of her head as she takes a long, slow sip of tea from her cup, before setting it down on the table with a clink.

“i have recently hired a retainer, yes,” she confirms, and those teal eyes sitting across from her glitter with interest. feixiao has her chin resting on her fist, while her other hand curls around her own cup.

“you make it sound so formal,” the general remarks with a chuckle. “a little kit describes it as a much more domestic arrangement to me.”

“qingni,” yukong mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. her tail swishes again, harder this time, with an edge of embarassment and irritation. feixiao laughs quietly at that, swirling her tea around in the tiny cup.

“relax, she means well. it is good to hear you are, hm… happy?”

feixiao’s tone leaves the question open ended, and yukong pauses. it’s an opportunity, she knows—to refute that statement, to insist on a veneer of professionalism. but then she thinks of you, of your softspoken words, of warm tea on her desk, of late night walks and late night talks, and of companionship; and she finds that she can’t deny it at all.

“yes,” she agrees softly, the corner of her lips tugging upwards in a fond smile. “i am happy.”

for the longest time, the ground never felt right under her feet. she was born for the skies, to soar and pierce through the clouds like a shooting star. to be grounded felt like to be imprisoned. but with you—with you, she feels light again. like the earth is now made of downy clouds, and the weight on her shoulders has dissipated like mist. her heart no longer knows the difference between the wind in her hair and your hand running through it in the night.

with you, she is happy.

(feixiao, of course, teases her relentlessly about this confession. it’s only when yukong threatens to expose every ridiculous thing the other foxian has done while blackout drunk to their partner that feixiao shuts up.)

[aperrywilliams]

It Was Horrible Until It Wasn't (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

------------------ 

Author Masterlist

------------------

Part 1: If Anything I Find It Educative

Part 2: It Was Horrible Until It Wasn’t

Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

------------------

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader comes up to her apartment after Spencer walks her home from the diner, where they spend the last couple of hours. She is still processing the night and wonders if they will meet again. Another fortuitous event makes that happen. In which terms they will part ways again?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Mention of guns (tests to carry a gun). Mention to Reader's ex. Some strong words? IDK what else. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I got very excited after your reactions and comments to "If Anything, I Find it Educative." So this is kind of part two, from Reader's perspective. I'm not convinced about a series yet, even if I have some ideas. What would you like to see if it happens?

-----

Reader's POV

-----

As I open the door, a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered on the floor greets me. That reminds me that I haven't unpacked all my things yet.

I've only been living here for two weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that this is my new home. 

It doesn't feel like it yet. 

But the boxes will be a problem for tomorrow. Now, I only want to take off these high heels and this fancy dress and call it a night - a pretty eventful night.

Not only did I have to confront my ex with his new girlfriend, but I also had to pretend I was okay with it. But how did I expect to do that? Did I genuinely think two months would be enough to be outside again to prove I got myself up? 

How naive of me.

I make a beeline to my bedroom, not even bothering to look at the rest of the apartment.

Again, it's tomorrow's problem.

Retreating my phone from my purse, I plug it to charge over my bedside table as I strip from my clothes and go to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.

The entire time, my mind doesn't stop wandering. At some point, it settles on the girl I helped from choking. It was a total coincidence for me to be there. I only approached the bar for another drink when I heard that man rambling. I don't know why my ear perked up, but it did. When I look to find the voice's source, my eyes land on the man and the girl by his side.

He was talking as if the world would end if he didn't, and the girl only eyed him from head to toe, clearly not giving a damn what he was saying. I kept subtly listening to them while sipping my drink. The guy's voice had something enchanting. I would have heard him talk for hours if it were from me. It was a bad thing his interlocutor wasn't so receptive, and when she occasionally said something, it was a flirting remark that only made him uncomfortable. 

What a shame.

When I noticed her fighting to breathe, swatting her hands in desperation, and the poor guy froze on the spot, I knew I needed to do something.

I didn't think much of it and wrapped my arms around her torso to help her. It worked. The oyster she choked with flew into the air, and she could breathe again.

But the next thing I knew, her palm connected to the man's cheek.

The poor guy seemed so confused, and the people talking around didn't help either. What a shitty situation. And as the good citizen I am, I tried to do something about it, only to get lashed out by the same woman I just saved from choking.

Fuck it. 

Seeing the people's attention returned to them, I walked away. That wasn't my fight in the first place.

Returning from the bathroom, I hear my phone ding. It's a text from my friend Andie.

Andie: How did the gala turn out? Did you see him? He was with her, right?

Andie had insisted on me not going to the gala, although I repeated to her several times that it was okay, that nothing would happen, and that I couldn't hide forever.

Me: You were right. I wasn't ready.

It's a defeat I must recognize. I wasn't prepared to see them.

Andie: My girl, I'm so sorry. It must have been awful for you.

It was, but it doesn't mean the night was a disaster.

Me: It was horrible until it wasn't. I can tell you more tomorrow. Now, I only want to go to bed.

Andie: You have me a bit confused here, but okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight; I love you.

I return my phone to the charger and slip under the covers.

It was horrible until it wasn't.

I keep thinking about that. And a smile tugs the corner of my lips. Since Spencer - the guy who got slapped by the oyster-choked girl - approached me at the terrace, the night wasn't that awful anymore.

Who would have thought I would end my night in a diner, dressed to the nines and spouting details of my messy life to a stranger?

-

Monday morning comes faster than I wanted. 

I spent my Sunday mostly unpacking boxes and tidying my apartment, and now, with a coffee in hand, I cross the hall to my office on the third floor of the FBI building in Quantico.

Some colleagues greet me as I pass by. I return them with a polite smile. I saw a couple of them at the gala on Saturday. I only hope they didn't notice the wreck I was that night.

On my desk, a pile of hundreds of manila folders are waiting for me.

This Monday will be a blast.

Dutifully, I reach for the first folder to start my work, as my ear perks up to two colleagues' conversation about the gala.

"Did you see them? Those hot chicks from Counterterrorism?" a male colleague says to another.

"Yeah. I heard one of them was hitting on Reid from the BAU. What a waste!" The other adds.

"And the lucky bastard wasn't able to take her home. His nerdy charm didn't even help him with that."

The mention of the BAU brings Spencer to my mind again. And I realize I don't even know his last name. 

I don't think I need to know, but I can't stop my fingers from typing 'Spencer FBI BAU' on my computer.

My findings make the conversation between my colleagues intriguing. They were precisely talking about Spencer, Spencer Reid, and the girl with him at the gala. Clearly, the incident did not go unnoticed.

I don't like the tone they refer to him, either. I do not know the guy well, but I'm sure he's way better than any of the men at the venue that night.

Are you hearing yourself (Y/N)? That kind of blind trust put you in this situation with your ex in the first place.

I shouldn't grant credibility so fast, but honestly? Spencer seems to be everything but a threat. The things he said, the way he spoke. Anyway, I should stop thinking about that if I want to finish some work. Yeah, that's what I need to do.

Drowning out the noise, I return to the opened folder and continue working.

Some would ask how a task as monotonous as the one I'm doing now could be appealing to someone. The appeal for me comes from how everything fits in the right places and serves a purpose. That's enough for me, even if some people don't understand it.

My ex didn't. And as him, many others.

I'm still fighting to ease the effects their judgments had on me.

Around lunchtime, stopping the papers review, I pick up my phone to check my messages. Yesterday, I promised Andie I would have lunch with her today, so I'm checking for her confirmation and a place to meet.

Just in time, a text comes. She is free right now and suggests a restaurant just outside the building.

"Hey, girl! I'm glad you made it," she greets me as I spot her on one of the tables.

"Of course. I promised I would."

Lunchtime is only one hour, so we order quickly and go straight to the matter.

"I can't believe the son of the bitch decided to go and show off his new conquest," Andie huffs.

"Not that new, considering she has been sleeping with him in what used to be my bed at least a month before I discovered it," I correct with an annoyed look.

It's good to say these things without crying my eyes out anymore.

I tell Andie more details about how it went to share a space packed with mutuals around us and try to stay composed.

"But at some point, I just couldn't. So I retracted to the bar. I only wanted to grab a drink and be alone."

Andie nods in understanding.

"I don't blame you. So you were at the bar when you crossed to the girl to whom you did Heimlich?"

Yesterday, by phone, I told Andie the main facts regarding that, and after laughing for a solid five minutes about the whole ordeal, she made me promise to reveal more details in our lunch meeting.

That's why I'm describing what happened piece by piece.

"She slapped the guy? And she yelled at you? What a bitch! But I don't understand why he apologized on her behalf."

"Honestly? I didn't understand it, but it made sense after talking with him. The guy felt responsible, even if it wasn't related to him. It was the fact that someone had to do the right thing," I explain, with my eyes fixed on my water glass, recalling Spencer's words from that night. 

I can't help but feel some fondness for his genuine worry. Andie raises an eyebrow and hums.

"The guy made a good impression on you, I see."

Andie's tone is teasing, and I know exactly where she is heading.

"Come on, don't start with that," I warn her. I'm not thoroughly annoyed, but I'm not in the mood for teasing. Andie scoffs.

"I'm just saying it's good to know there are men out there that give hopes up. That's all!"

"Sure," I mumble, not very convinced by her explanation.

The rest of our lunch follows a similar tone. When I finish telling Andie about Spencer walking me home, I know she is biting her tongue to say something to taunt me, but she holds back and opts for a question.

"Do you think you'll see him again?"

I ponder my answer. I don't know, although I remember Spencer asking, 'See you around?'

That doesn't mean we agreed to see each other again, even if I said, 'Sure, why not?' 

Did Spencer mean that? Did he want to see me again?

"I don't know. Maybe. We both work in this building, so there are chances, I guess," I shrug. Andie narrows her eyes.

"But do you want to?"

That's a question I don't know how to answer, so I take some seconds to think about it.

"Let's say I'm not opposed to the idea."

A reply that could be an understatement. But not I'm telling Andie that.

She doesn't press on the matter, though. And I'm grateful she doesn't.

Now it's time to go back to work. We walk out of the restaurant to our building and separate ways at the elevator. Andie continues to the eighth floor when I hop off on the third.

Returning to my desk, I continue checking the folders piled on my desk, and my mind only focuses on that, knowing if I don't, there is no chance of getting this stack finished.

----

A good thing about the week progressing is nobody talking anymore about the damn gala. It's been a nightmare since Monday when everyone had to mention something about it. That included comments about me facing my ex there. 

Of course, it was public knowledge I was dating an agent of the Criminal Investigative Division. Also, it became public knowledge he cheated on me with his current girlfriend from Counterterrorism.

But finally, it is Thursday, and everything seems to have returned to normal, so much so that the amount of work has increased exponentially. That's why I'm still at the office at seven pm.

I only assume it's time to go home when my boss pokes out of his office and calls for Andrew, one of our coworkers who distributes files and memos to the other departments.

I turn around, and it's only me at this hour. My boss notices the vacant office and is now talking to me.

"I guess I have to ask you to do this. Can you go to the sixth and drop this to Aaron Hotchner's office? I would have waited until tomorrow for Andrew, but this must be at his desk today."

I don't think I have a choice, so I pick the folder, promising to drop it before going home.

With my coat and purse, I grab the folder and stroll to the elevator.

I have been working here for four years and know every financial detail of each Quantico department, but I still need to recognize all department locations in this facility. So, floors are just floors, except the eight where Andie works.

Arriving at my destination, I walk into a bullpen, where I can see a lot of desks and offices. And just like my floor, it is almost empty. Anyway, I see one of the offices with lights on. My instinct tells me that's the place I'm looking for, and the plaque at the door confirms my suspicions: SSA Aaron Hotchner.

"Come in," a voice comes from the office when I knock.

Peeking inside, a stern-looking man is glancing in my direction. "Can I help you?" he asks with a slight frown.

"Yes, sir. I'm with the Finance Division, and my boss asked me to bring this to you," I explain as I reach out to hand him the folder. When he grabs it, realization washes over the man.

"Of course. Thank you very much-" Agent Hotchner trails off.

"(Y/L/N)," I supply, knowing he wants my last name.

"Thank you very much, Agent (Y/L/N)."

Weird. 

Everyone in the finance and administrative department refers to each other only by last name. We use the 'agent' thing mainly with those who do the fieldwork, and we are used to that.

"You're welcome, Agent Hotchner," I smile politely, ready to leave the man's office. He nods approvingly.

"Hotch, sorry for interrupting you, but I'm ready with my report. I thought you wanted it-"

A man talks, entering abruptly at the office. He stops in his tracks when he sees Agent Hotchner isn't alone.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. I can come back later," he apologizes.

Wait. I know that voice. 

I turn, and I see Spencer standing there. His eyes meet mine, and I feel my cheeks burn. He doesn't say anything but doesn't tear his eyes from mine.

I don't know how many seconds pass, but it's enough for Agent Hotchner to intervene.

"Reid?" he calls Spencer's attention.

"Uh?"

"The report. It's okay; you can give it to me," he tells Spencer, not without subtly bouncing his gaze between us.

"Oh. Okay." Spencer approaches Hotchner's desk, but he still directs glances at me. I want to say hi to him properly, but it doesn't feel okay knowing the man in front of us is undoubtedly his boss. I don't want him to feel uncomfortable. So, I take that as my cue to leave.

"If you excuse me," I tell Agent Hotchner, signaling my departure. Spencer looks at me, and I give him a subtle smile.

"Of course. Thank you again, Agent (Y/L/N)."

"To you, sir. Have a good evening."

I walk down the stairs to the open bullpen and toward the elevator.

Before I can push the go-down button, a voice calls my name. It's Spencer's.

"(Y/N), wait!"

I turn and see him trotting towards me.

"Hi!" he says once we are face to face.

Now I feel bad. Spencer comes here to say hi, and I didn't greet him properly just two minutes ago. 

"Spencer, hi. I'm sorry, I should have said something there, but I didn't know if you wanted him to know- I mean, I supposed he was your boss, and I-"

What's wrong with me? 

Why can't I explain myself without stumbling with my words?

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's okay. I should have told you something, too. But I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither. My boss sent me here instead of one of my coworkers, who left early. I didn't know this was the BAU floor. What a coincidence, uh?" I play cool, shifting my weight from one foot to another. Spencer nods in agreement.

"Totally. It's good to see you, though. I hoped we could cross paths again."

Isn't it weird that his words have produced a funny tingle in my stomach right now?

"Is that so?" I half-breath, noticing his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"Yes. I mean, I truly enjoyed talking to you that night," he sheepishly admits.

I more than enjoyed it, Spencer.

"Yeah, me too."

Silence sets between us. And it's time to make a decision. I could say I go home and leave him with a lukewarm 'See you around,' or say I'm leaving, but before doing so, give Spencer my number so we can talk soon. Or...

"Are you busy right now? I'm heading home now, but if you can and want, we can go for a coffee."

Wow (Y/N). Very smooth. I like you smooth.

Spencer's eyes widened, and I wondered for a second if my offer was too straightforward.

"If you have plans, it's okay. We don't have to," I relent.

"Oh, no. I don't. And I would love to go for a coffee with you," Spencer hastens to say. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Yeah?"

"Sure! If you wait for me just a second, I'll pick my things from my desk, and we can go."

----

This time, it's my turn to pick the place.

It's a small coffee shop in the middle of Virginia, just mid-way between Quantico and my apartment.

As we get on the train, I ask Spencer about Agent Hotchner.

"Hotch? Well, he has been at the unit for twelve years now. Gideon, a former agent, told me once he didn't expect Hotch to last long in the BAU. But he proved him wrong. Indeed, Gideon left, and Hotch stayed. Honestly, I can't picture the BAU with another unit chief."

There is a fondness when Spencer talks about Hotchner. I can tell he sees him more than as a superior.

"What about yours?"

Now is my turn to talk about my boss.

"Agent Williams? He is a bureaucrat from head to toe. He had just transferred from another administrative department when I joined the financial division four years ago. At that time, he had ten years working with the FBI. The guy is a genius but lacks social skills. I'm not judging him; I'm a bit like him. But in his position, he needs to make politics, which involves talking and convincing people."

The conversation with Spencer flows so well and easily that I'm as impressed as I was the night of the gala. 

When we reach the coffee shop, we sit facing each other. After ordering our coffee, we start talking about our coworkers.

"So Garcia is our technical analyst. I have to say she is like the team's heart. Besides her outstanding skills, her compassion and care are something out of this world," Spencer admits, and again, I feel the fondness in his voice.

"She seems very special," I add. Spencer nods.

"Very. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, but if I had one, I would have liked someone like her.

So he doesn't have a sister. Does he have brothers, though? We have yet to talk about our families, so this is the first piece of information I get about it.

"What about the guy who came to check what was happening with your girl at the gala?" I ask, and Spencer scoff.

"First of all, Ashley isn't my girl. I think she made it pretty clear that night. And secondly, the guy in question is Morgan, the culprit of why I was with Ashley in the first place."

That's interesting. I want to know more about that.

"How is that?" I ask, sipping my coffee.

Spencer tells me how Morgan insisted they talk to the girls - Ashley and her friends - and how he reluctantly followed him.

I'm about to make a not-so-kind remark when Spencer gets ahead of me.

"I know it may seem like he is a thoughtless person, but he truly means well. I can't entirely agree with his tactics most of the time, but he's right when he tells me I should enjoy more and work less."

"It's safe to say you weren't 'enjoying' that much there," I quip, air-quoting the word 'enjoying.' Spencer chuckles.

"Yeah. Honestly? I have more fun when Morgan kicks doors down in our field chases than when he tries to play wingman for me."

What? Kick doors down?

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that the FBI had to spend thousands of dollars in repairs for third parties last year because of him?"

I know I'm being dramatic. It's impossible that just one agent destroyed that amount of dollars by kicking doors. But still.

Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No! I mean, yes. He does that, but thousands of dollars? Last time I checked, doors are not that expensive."

I roll my eyes. That's not the point.

"Okay. I know it's not only Agent Morgan's doing, but did you know the buro's budget had increased by 4% last year due to refunds for field operations? And did you know 70% of that increase refers to agents shattering private property?"

Now, I sound like my boss. Great. I became what I swore to destroy.

Spencer looks at me with amusement. I narrow my eyes to him. "What?"

He clears his throat. "Oh. No, nothing. It's just - well, it's fascinating to hear you talking about - uh - numbers."

I can't help but snort. "Come on, how fascinating that can be?"

Spencer grins. "If anything, I find it educative," he parrots my words from that night, and we fall into a fit of laughs.

"Yeah?" I muse after the laughter subsides. Spencer nods, still a smile gracing his face.

Gosh, that smile.

"Well, I can talk about numbers all day. But I'm sure you don't want me to 'fascinate' you that much."

Spencer hums, faking be pondering his options.

"Don't tempt me. I like to know and talk about everything. But before returning to numbers, I want to ask about your coworkers. I already talked much about mine."

Even if there is not much to say, indulging him with an answer is only fair.

"What can I say? In my area, there are three: Anthony, Leah, and me. We were four then, but Andie was promoted to the eighth floor a year ago. Anthony is a good guy, a little inexperienced, but very eager to learn. We don't have a very close relationship, but he's my protegee at work. Leah is very clever and has enough experience, but sometimes she is not present, making things a little tense between us. Andie is rightfully my friend. We got to the bureau simultaneously, and although she doesn't work with us anymore, we are very close."

Spencer is looking at me with full attention. It's odd to talk about this kind of thing with someone. I don't like to talk about my bonds in general. It makes me feel vulnerable. But for a reason that I still don't get, with Spencer, it feels right.

It's night already, and we are in our third coffee.

"Do you usually drink this amount of coffee daily at this hour? I try to cut off my dosis after lunch, but sometimes I just can't," I point as I stir the spoon on my coffee. Spencer hums.

"I drink a lot of it at any time of the day, every day. It's worse when we are on cases because that shitty coffee at the precincts should not even be called coffee," he scoffs, pouring half of the sugar pot into his cup.

I have already noticed the amount of sugar Spencer has used in his two previous coffees; this third is not the exception.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," I say as my eyes dart to his sweet liquid. He follows my line of sight and chuckles.

"I love coffee, but I don't like its bitterness. I know it doesn't make sense, but for me it does."

"Fair enough."

After that, our conversation stumbles to lousy sleep habits.

"Ray hated it. Even once, he told me I purposely got up in the middle of the night to annoy him."

Spencer's brow furrows.

"Ray is your ex?"

Shit. I don't realize I'm talking about him.

Why do I have to mention him? I hate how ingrained he is still in my life.

"Yeah, Raymond. No wonder why things didn't work out between us," I try to joke because I don't want to cry about it anymore.

"An example of a man," Spencer follows my lead, and I'm grateful he doesn't look at me like people usually do when I talk about it. There is no pity. There is no that look saying, 'Oh, poor girl who got cheated on.' It's like a whole understanding. It doesn't make me feel like a failure. And that's a change—a good one.

I chuckle. "Hell, he is."

It's getting late, and it's time to part ways, even if I don't want it. Hours pass quickly with such good company.

"We should get going. It's late," I point as I glance at my phone. Spencer nods in acknowledgment, signaling the waitress to get the check. He is about to fish his wallet when I stop him.

"No. Don't do that. I invited you."

Spencer scoffs, opening his wallet nonetheless. 

"No way. You invited me the other night. You can do it next time."

Next time, uh? I want to say something teasing, but the waitress returns with our check.

We are outside the coffee shop now. I adjust my coat as Spencer does the same with his suit jacket. The night is chilly, and the contrast with the warmth of the coffee shop is evident.

"Can I walk you home?" He offers. I have my doubts about that. It's not that I don't like the idea; I just don't want to use more of his time.

"You don't have to. Really," I shake my head.

"Please? You already said it. It's pretty late," he insists, looking at me with dog puppy eyes. 

Why is he doing that? He is testing my resolve.

"You know I can take care of myself, right? I'm a certificated FBI agent. I can't carry a gun, but sure I could manage," I argue in a teasing tone. Spencer chuckles.

"I know you are. And I'm sure you could. Even though, why no to prolong our evening for fifteen minutes long?" I raise an eyebrow.

"So you really like my company, uh?" 

I'm sure I see a blush creeping his cheeks, and it's endearing.

"I like your company. I thought I made it pretty clear the other night?" he probes. And I don't know how to respond to that.

The truth is quite curious. Teasing Spencer seems so natural sometimes, but now I don't know what to say.

I decide not to say anything and nod, motioning for us to start walking.

Spencer follows me, and we walk in silence for the first block. Then, I feel the need to continue our conversation. I want these fifteen minutes to be as good as the previous two hours.

"Did you know that I used to carry a gun? Although it took me three failed tests to do so."

Spencer looks at me, surprised. I take that as my cue to tell that story.

Once I tell him how I finally managed to pass my shooting test, he starts telling me how he also failed his test a couple of times.

"So you saved your boss life shooting an unsub?" Spencer nods.

"But I really aimed to his leg, not his head," he adds, and we burst into a fit of laughter.

Without realizing it, we are already in front of my building. The laughter subsides when we notice where we are.

I clear my throat. "Well. Uh-thank you. Again," I say, referring to him walking me home.

"No need," Spencer says. "I had a good time today," he adds, smiling. 

I can't help but feel my cheeks burn. Spencer casts his eyes to the ground.

"Me too," I admit, biting my bottom lip. "I - uh."

Why am I so nervous right now? Just say what you want to say!

"I - uh. I'd really like to do this again. I mean, you know, maybe next time could be something planned?"

Spencer's eyes flick to mine. I would say he didn't expect me to say that.

"I would love that," he says, keeping eye contact. And for a moment, I think the breath leaves my lungs. Those eyes are something I didn't see in my life before. I can't describe it, but it's enough to make me speechless.

"I guess it's here when I ask for your number?" Spencer's voice is the one that brings me out of the trance.

I chuckle, mid-embarrassed by my absorption moment. I gesture for him to give me the phone. Spencer does it, and I advert his piercing gaze to focus on typing my number. Once done, I return the device with a playful smile. Jeez, I feel like a damn teenager.

A snort leaves Spencer's lips when he sees the name I used for my contact.

"Really?" He asks. I nod, chuckling.

"It's safe to say you won't forget who I am," I confirm.

"Bet I won't."

"Good. Now I'm going to come up," I gesture to the building. "Good night, Spencer."

"Good night, (Y/N)."

I turn to enter the building, and although I can't see him, I feel him standing there in the cold night until I disappear into the elevator.

Once I cross the threshold of my apartment, a ding comes from my phone. Frowning, I pick it up.

Unknown number: Are you free on Saturday at midday? We could go to lunch. Let me know. Good night. SR.

I bit my lower lip. And after typing a reply, I start my night routine before bed.

Oh, boy. What are you getting into (Y/N)? 

Whatever it is, it feels so good.

-------------

Next -> Part 3: Douchebag Falls Short in This Case

-------------

A/N 2: As always, I'm excited to know your thoughts about this one!

-------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[onebedtorulethemall]

Bonus material from my Dramione short story Probabilities

Long before it was a fic, Probabilities was a 1000-word scene written for a writing group critique. I liked it but was busy with other things, so it sat in a folder for about a year until I finally adapted it into the short story I always envisioned.

Here's the original scene, and you can read the fic it became on A03. (36k, Explicit, now complete!)

*** The first time Draco Malfoy was inside Hermione Granger, they were in an alley adjacent to Wand & Cork, wizarding London’s hottest new ticket. Having arrived separately in celebration of its grand opening—guests of proprietors Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom, respectively—they soon found themselves intertwined in a sticky heap while the first toast of the evening spilled from the open doorway around the corner.

“Merlin’s saggy ballsack,” he moaned. 

Hermione hit the ground, panting hard. “You were just—”

“I think I’m dying.”

“—inside my—”

“Hnnnnnnnnnnnngh.”

Hermione looked down at her ruined clothing and the evidence of his intrusion, and grew pale. “St Mungo’s, now!” 

The question of whether Draco had recovered from the shock of finding his left foot inside Hermione’s abdomen was not resolved, at least in Hermione’s mind, until she awoke in a hospital bed six hours later following a delicate operation to extract the shoelace knotted around her ribcage. 

The specialists didn’t attempt to disguise their glee. Visions of peer-reviewed scientific studies danced around her bedside. 

“We did the calculations. The odds are roughly one in twenty-three trillion, seven hundred billion!”

“Lucky me,” Hermione muttered. “Any advice on not repeating this fortuitous event?”

They chortled their way from the room. Spontaneous Apparitional Overlap had been a thought exercise until approximately nine o’clock the previous evening. The odds of it happening twice, and to the same person—well, numbers didn’t go up that high, as far as they knew.

“He’s fine, if you were worried,” Harry told her later, valiantly fighting a persistent lip twitch. “He lost a toenail, but your surgeons fished it out.”

“This isn’t funny. I could’ve died.”

“When they wheeled him away, he was crying about”—a small giggle escaped—“dragonhide oxfords.”

Hermione went home the new owner of a vat of pain potion, a tin of scar ointment, and a burgeoning phobia of Apparition. She memorised the bus schedule and spent a month practising small bursts up and down the length of her flat, where statistically improbable coincidence might not result in pointy men putting their pointy body parts inside any of hers.

“I’ll go,” she told Ginny, once she felt able. “But that walking bombarda had better not be there.”

“I think he’s in France,” Ginny replied, squeezing her hand. “And good. I can’t keep popping by with pinot just to see you. Your recycling bin tells a tragic story.” 

That Saturday, she spent an hour lecturing the mirror with increasing severity. “One in twenty-three trillion, seven hundred billion,” she finally snapped. “Now fucking do it.”

A half second later, she appeared beneath glittering lights in the quietest corner of Diagon Alley with the satisfied feeling of having accomplished something nearly impossible. 

And, in a sense, she had.

“I thought you were in France!”

“Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh.”

This time, it was Draco who required the urgent attention of the overjoyed Accidents and Catastrophes surgical team. They’d offer her bracelet back, they informed her, but they’d had to cut it from around his femur.

A letter arrived two days later. 

I have an appointment at Gringotts on Wednesday. Three p.m. sharp. Since your existence apparently threatens mine, please advise that you will be elsewhere. On the other side of the country, preferably.

Cooped up and irritable, Hermione weighed the benefits of introducing her elbow to his chest cavity. She wrote:

Have you ever ridden a bicycle? It’s excellent exercise, and I’d finally be safe from your erratic Apparitional whims. As a bonus, I think it’d be hilarious to see you try.

The owl returned shortly.

Please, Granger. I coughed up a hairball. 

Wednesday came and went, and Hermione stayed safely home. 

It wasn’t a durable strategy, however. Following her second “accident”—the specialists, still deep in their calculations, had offered only an exultant shrug—Harry and Ginny had intuited that she was likely to either introduce sweeping Apparition safety legislation that they’d be obligated to publicly support, or become a shut-in. Neither option appealed.

Therefore, Hermione had a date for that weekend. 

Non-reschedulable.

“It’s nearby,” Ginny told her firmly. “You can walk.”

The Magical Trade Regulation Specialist was a flavourless fellow whose mousy brown hair topped an uninspiring list of distinguishing characteristics, but he had never splinched their bodies together—twice—so she agreed.

An hour in, she was sucking down her third Paloma as she lugged them through yet another unsuccessful discussion topic. She’d just given up on shared hobbies and was navigating a directional change toward her latest interest—“Are you familiar with quantum entanglement, Marvin?”—when, from behind:

“How dare you leave your house without informing me! Unsafe behaviour!” 

Hermione spun on her barstool to find Draco gripping a sweating pint glass and glaring like she’d just kicked his favourite peacock.

“Forgive me,” she said, blinking at him. “I had to go back a decade to recall the last time I saw you when you weren’t crying.”

“Your fingers,” he hissed, “were inside my groin.”

Marvin coughed.

“Perhaps if you’d aimed better—”

“Perhaps if you didn’t insist on knowing everything—”

“What does that have to do with it? I didn’t know you’d be Apparating at the exact same moment, in the exact same place, twice!”

“I don’t trust you,” he announced. “I need to know your whereabouts at all times. Give me your schedule.”

A damp cocktail napkin was thrust into her hand. She took up her wand like a quill and pretended to write.

“8 p.m., date, currently interrupted. And I walked here, so if anything, you're endangering me.”

“This,” he scoffed, snatching the napkin back, “is not a date.”

“Actually—” began Marvin.

“Where are you going after this?” he demanded. “His or yours?”

“We—” Marvin started.

“Mine, you shit! Alone.”

He swept a calculating gaze over Hermione and the date she’d almost succeeded in forgetting. Then, settling onto the stool beside hers with a motion like a conductor setting a moderato, he gestured for her to continue. 

“I’ll wait.” His teeth glinted. “In the interest of safety.” 

Read the fic

[ambiguouslady42]

Court

Nanami x Fem! Reader.

You are at your first-ever tennis match. Nanami Kento is also at this match. A chance encounter becomes one to remember.

Tags: Smut. Some choking.

Word Count: 2.5K

This is my first try at writing smut. It was inspired by attending the National Bank Open.

Minors DNI. I will block you.

You have never been to a tennis match in your life. You are very familiar with tournaments such as Wimbledon or the French Open. You have caught glimpses of the sport through television, but you are not that familiar with the rules. You are familiar with the unofficial dress code. People are dressed in crisp linens, khakis, dresses, skirts, and sweaters. It seems like you’re going to a garden party versus being a spectator. Due to the humid weather, you have opted for a form-fitting dress that accentuates your waist, your hips, and the firm ass of yours. Although, those are not the only assets that you possess. If people are talking to you, you must double-check that they are looking at your face and not below the neck. 

You carry an allure to yourself. Your perfume smells of sparkling fruit; it’s not overpowering, but it leaves a trail as you enter the venue. Further away from you is a VIP area. Those with the means to enjoy the comfort of watching the game indoors. Marble tables and chairs with cushions are placed everywhere. Visitors can enjoy the buffet. Kento Nanami doesn’t particularly feel interested in this. He feels a hunger for something else. Dressed in his notable khaki suit, blue shirt, and leopard-printed tie. It was appropriate for today’s activities. He was supposed to be accompanied to this event, but unfortunately, his date did not come. He was by himself enjoying an old-fashioned at the bar. 

Fortuitously, you decided to enter the VIP area to explore. You had free tickets to access the VIP area, plus the ability to sit courtside. You approach the bar and notice the gentleman standing next to you. However, you wait before you can start a conversation. You flag the bartender, and order your drink:  “whiskey sour, please.”

You notice that Nanami’s scent is that of lemon, rosemary, and bergamot. It was lovely. You feel a sudden attraction to this. However, you do not want to make the first interaction. You slowly sip your drip and look at your phone. He notices your scent. It’s alluring to him and he catches a glimpse of your outfit for today’s occasion. He can notice your assets and wonders if you’re alone. You catch him looking as you use your peripheral vision. At this point, this almost feels like a game of cat and mouse.

“Can I help you?” you ask. 

Nanami is surprised that you were quickly able to notice his glance. He maintains his composure. “Not at all, I apologize if I startled you. ” 

Noticing that you have embarrassed him slightly you relax and approach him. “I apologize. I’m alone and I wasn’t expecting to be spoken to today”. 

“Oh, why is that?”

“Well, I was supposed to be here with a friend, but she wasn’t able to come. I didn’t want to waste these tickets. I suppose I can stay indoors and watch the game from here, but that would be ridiculous.”

“Where are you supposed to be seated?”

“Courtside” you respond.

“That’s a coincidence. I’m also going to be seated courtside. I was supposed to have a companion today, but I was stood up.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Based on your appearance, I find it hard for you to ever be stood up.”

“What about my appearance?”

You begin to blush slightly. “Well, you look rather dashing in your suit. I must say that your scent is also quite alluring, so even if you do not have a date, I doubt that you’ll have a challenging time meeting someone today.”

Nanami is taken aback by how forward you are. He is intrigued, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “Are you alone?”

“For today, I am. I wouldn’t mind some company.” 

“My name is Y/N L/N. What is yours?”

“Nanami Kento. It’s a pleasure” He grasps your hand for a firm handshake. You like the grip of his hand. However, you are the first to let go. 

You both finish your drink in silence. “Would you care for another?” he asks. 

You give him a coy smile. “Are you buying?”

“I could if you’d like.”

“No thank you. I think I will suffice with just one. I’d like to walk around the VIP area if that’s alright.”

“That’s perfectly okay.” He offers you his arm. You gladly take it. 

As you begin to walk around the venue, he glances at your face. He notices the red lipstick that’s around your plump lips. He wonders what it would be like to kiss lips like yours. You look up to him and just smile at him. You look away immediately. His ears turn slightly pink, but you don’t notice. You do begin to feel a warmth on your face, but you maintain your composure. You notice a booth. It’s to enter the Grand Open in Monte Carlo next year.

“Would you like to sign-up?” Nanami asks. 

“Maybe. I’ve dreamt of going to the Italian southside. I’ve always wanted to go on a boat in the Italian waters. Have you ever been?”

“I have not. I’ve been to Malaysia. Beautiful beaches. The water feels amazing too.” 

“I’d never been to the beaches. I guess i’ll just have to see someday.” 

“Let’s both sign-up. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Sure why not. And what will you do if you win?” 

“There’s a lovely individual that i just met. I would hope that she would be my date. How about you? What will you do if you win?”

“I’ll be going with a dashing individual. He seems like the perfect gentleman.”

Nanami gives you a reassuring wink. You both sign-up for the open. 

“If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.” you reassure him.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You take his arm back as you now realize it’s time to get to your courtside seats for the match. As you are making your way to the stadium, he allows you to get ahead of him in the narrow staircase up to the stands. As you’re making your way, you begin to feel self-conscious about the choice of outfit. However, he cannot help to take a glance at the view that he’s able to take. He clears his throat as you both approach the level. You pass a nearby elevator and notice that no one is there.

“Is there something the matter?” he asks.

“Oh no. Not at all.” You take his arm and continue to walk towards your seats.

Coincidentally, both of you are seated right next to each other. Your knees are able to touch, but you make sure to remain calm and collected. Nanami proceeds to cross his legs. You place your arms on your lap. The sun is shining and you put on your sunglasses. You are able to catch a glance of at his stoic figure. You imagine what it would be like to run your hands through his carefully combed hair. He turns to look at you and you just proceed to just smile at him. He smiles back. He’s beginning to imagine what it would be like to kiss you. He can smell your perfume now that you’re sitting very closely to each other. 

“I’m pretty interested to see today’s match. This is my first time being at a game.”

“Oh I agree. I heard the American player is a force to be reckoned with.”

“I’ve heard she’s won her titles. She’s already made a name for herself. I’m sure her competitor will be fierce competition.” 

“Agreed. The match is about to start.” Nanami says as he faces forward.

Without thinking too much about it, Nanami’s hand grazes your knee. He’s about to move it as he notices that you take a deep breath, but you gently place your hand on top of his. You interlace your fingers with his. 

You begin to feel excited. You just met this man, but you feel prepared to do just about anything. The match begins. There are three sets of a total of 6 matches that need to be won. The first set began, but the competition got intense midway through. You begin to brush your thumb on his hand. You felt tense as you were rooting for the American to win. She was already world-recongized and you wanted her to win. However, you did not want to get too boastful next to the perfect gentleman. 

“Excited much?” he asked. “Don’t worry, it’s actually cute.”

“Just cute?” You ask.

“No. However, i don’t think this is the time or the place to discuss this.” he whispers into your ear. You begin to feel aroused by his voice. You don’t respond. At this point, you began remembering about the elevator that was nearby. You keep your eyes on the match.

Nanami begins to focus on the match as well. He starts to notice the grunting of both players playing. He starts to caress your knee just a little more, and slowly lifts the dress slightly above your knee. You slow him down and whisper to him “I don’t think this is the place to be sneaking around. Although, I know of a place where we can.” 

He leans closer to you. You can feel his breath on your neck. “And where might that be?”

“Meet me by the elevator in the next 5 minutes.” you whisper back. You slowly make your way up and straighten your dress. Nanami takes one final look as you walk away. He glances at his watch. He begins to time himself. He straightens up his tie and combs back his hair with his hands. He takes a mint before he makes his way to the elevator.

You are glancing at your watch. You notice how particularly quiet this area is. However, you do notice that there are people just walking by. You see Nanami approaching. You heart begins to race. Once he approaches you, you feel like your heart is going to burst. Without speaking a word.Nanami takes your hand and you push the button to the elevator. It opens. You turn around to make sure nobody is nearby. The elevator closes. You press it to level 3. Nanami is quick to press the emergency stop button.

He suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck. He places a soft kiss upon your lips. You immediately laugh. “You just got lipstick on yourself.” 

“Who cares”. 

He notices that you took your glasses off. He loves the colour of your eyes. You also notice that he took off his glasses. You love his brown, hazel eyes. They were beautiful to look at.

He proceeds to deepen his kiss. You moan as you feel him. You proceed to run your fingers through his hair. You begin to feel his tongue. You begin to gently bite his lower lip. He begins to moan. His hands are no longer on your waist. He begins to travel them towards your ass. He squeezes it as you begin to fall into the trance of his kiss. You begin to pull his tie towards you and he proceeds to kiss your neck. It starts with small, tender kisses, but moves to gentle love bites. He takes off his jacket and you begin to feel his biceps. You feel further aroused as you feel his muscles. 

Wasting no time, he begins to lift up your dress. He continues to move his hands towards your ass. He starts to caress his fingers to feel your skin. He slowly begins to slide your panties off. You begin to losen his tie and unbutton a few of his buttons. You press small gentle kisses on his chest. 

With gasps in between “I’ve wanted you all afternoon…” you whisper in his ear.

“I knew i wanted you the moment we were at the bar.” He begins to slide his fingers into your sex. You begin to moan, but he proceeds to kiss you. “Shhhh, you don’t want anyone to hear us…” 

“I guess i’ll need a way to make me shut up.”

Nanami proceeds to kiss you. You moan as he deepens his kiss. His fingers are beginning to slide between your pussy and your clit. You can’t tell which part feels amazing, but as you’re moaning, he keeps silencing it with a stolen kiss. 

“I…need you now…” you whisper to him.

“I know sweetheart. I can tell that you’re ready for me. Your pussy is so wet for me.”

“Yes…Nanami”. 

“It’s Kento” as he whispers and proceeds to bite your ear. 

You unbuckle his belt and his pants. He quickly slides his pants and underwear. You see his cock exposed. You proceed to grab his cock and slowly massage it. 

“Do…you…want me?” you whisper into his ear.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m ready to make you mine” 

He lifts you up and he slides his cock inside of you. As he notices that you grab on to his arms, he begins to give you another kiss as you moan. Each thrust, he can feel your moans getting harder to suppress with every kiss that he shares with you. 

“Ken…fuck me…harder” you whisper.

He slams you harder against the elevator wall. As you wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek and his neck, you further lock your legs around him. He begins to thrust harder and faster. 

“Will you fuck me like this…in Monte Carlo?” you ask him

“Sweetheart, I’ll fuck you when I take you out to dinner.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night. I know a place.” 

As your next moan is approaching, he steals another kiss. “Mmm, it’s a date…Ken”.

Nanami begins to softly choke you as he is thrusting. You suddenly begin to hear someone outside of the elevator “i think it’s broken…hmm?”

“Oh…fuck…Ken…people are outside.”

“Shh…sweetie.” He begins to choke you just a little harder; you release one final moan and Nanami begins to cum. He takes one final kiss as your releasing your final orgasm. You can an feel him cumming inside of you. In this moment, you are his, and he is yours. 

With one final kiss, he slowly sets you down. You straighten your dress and he begins to buckle his pants.

“You have lipstick all over you.” as you approach to turn off the emergency stop. 

Nanami grabs his handkerchief to remove the lipstick smeared all over him. “At least i’ll have the memory of this.” 

As the elevator approaches the third floor. “I’ll meet you downstairs. This elevator seems to be broken, eh?” 

“Yes, i’m sure your companion must be wondering where his lovely date went.” 

“He won’t mind. He promised me to take me on another date tomorrow.”

Nanami feels enthralled by you. He knows that he will wine and dine you tomorrow. Later, he will make love to you before he fucks you. He hopes that he can do the same in Monte Carlo the following year.

[woradat]

Dear, memories #3

<- back — PT3 (here) — next ->

Tarn had always been the patient one. Patient to a fault, some might say. Even back in the good old days—if by “good” we mean “a flaming dumpster fire of verbal abuse and unchecked ego”—he kept his composure. You, meanwhile, were busy running your mouth like you were auditioning for “World’s Most Punchable Face” But now? Now Tarn doesn’t even get angry. He just… laughs

Because really, it’s hilarious how small you look from where he’s standing now—so far above the mess you’re still wading through

It’s funny how power changes the taste of old insults. Once upon a time, your words might’ve stung. Now they’re just noise. Background static. Like a mosquito trying to heckle a dragon. He knows what he’s capable of. He knows who he is. And unlike you, he’s not desperately clinging to a persona built on sarcasm and secondhand bravado. He doesn’t have to try anymore, he simply is the superior force in the room

Is this what you used to feel like? That smug sense of control, the power to bend the game to your will? If so, congrats. Tarn gets it now. And honestly? It’s intoxicating. Knowing he could end you right here and now—at the bar, no less, poetic as hell—and nobody would lift a finger. Maybe they’d even applaud. But no, that’d be too easy. Too quick. And Tarn? He’s not in the business of easy

No, he’s thinking long-term. Strategic. Because if he’s going to settle the score, he’s going to do it with flair. He’s going to make it art. Besides, the hit list has been thinning out lately—an occupational lull, really—so what better way to kill time than to toy with the past?

And look who stumbled back into his life like fate’s idea of a joke. You. At the perfect moment. The stars must really like him this week

How fortuitous - How gloriously convenient

They say revenge is a dish best served cold—but Tarn prefers his with garnish. Something theatrical. A little extra seasoning. After all, why just win when you can humiliate?

Now, he’s not saying he’s been lying in wait all this time like some cartoon villain with a tragic backstory and a monologue problem. He’s not that petty (Okay, maybe a little petty)

But still—just because this is coincidence doesn’t mean he’s not going to wring every drop of satisfaction out of it. You’ve practically handed him the opportunity on a silver platter, and it would be rude not to accept. Tarn's not just going to take advantage of this—he's going to enjoy it

Maybe a bit too much

Just imagining your expression when he makes his move—when you finally realize how much the tables have turned—makes him nearly giddy. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. That would ruin the mystique. And if there’s one thing Tarn values more than revenge, it’s looking cool while exacting it

“Tarn! Are you even listening to me?”

“Hm? Sorry, Nickel. Mind repeating that?"

“Never mind. You wouldn’t do what I tell you anyway. You’re good to go”

“Much appreciated”

And with that, he strode out of the infirmary, unaware that he’d been spacing out. That kind of lapse was rare for him. He was usually razor-focused, disciplined, cold

But maybe—just maybe—he was looking forward to this little reunion more than he cared to admit

Can you blame him?

So many possibilities. So many delightful, calculated ways to turn the tables. Tarn liked to say he never took things personally when it came to work. But the truth? He was a masterclass in professional hypocrisy

Still, it’s like they always say: love what you do, or you’ll go mad

And Tarn? He’s thrilled

.

.

It had been hours since that loud, messy night at the bar — long enough for the artificial buzz to wear off and reality to hit you square in the face. And reality, in this case, meant dragging yourself back to the ship before your teammates found you and decided to haul your shiny ass back up themselves. The last thing you needed was to scratch the fresh coat of paint — the seventh this week — courtesy of their oh-so-gentle method of transportation

“Hey! One second later and we would've left without you, you know that?”

“Chill out. I was totally gonna hitch a ride on some random ship parked out back. You think I was gonna beg you? Please”

“Now that everyone’s here, can we not start a fight? Pack up. We're heading out soon”

Supreme Red’s calm voice cut through the snark like a soothing AI meditation loop. He was, without question, the most mature out of the three of you. No one really said it out loud, but you all silently accepted him as the unofficial captain — because, let’s face it, he had the emotional range of a functioning adult and the leadership skills of someone who'd survived multiple near-death space fiascos without screaming

Then there was Hardwire…

A walking headache with a mouth that could probably violate intergalactic decency laws. Half the time you couldn’t tell if she was quoting some ancient Earth drama or making it up just to sound cool. (Probably both.) Still, she was like the sibling you never asked for and definitely didn’t order, but somehow ended up stuck with. The universe had tossed you three together in its usual chaotic style, and weirdly enough, it worked

Hardwire had been pushing you to grow up from the moment you met her — mostly by being the most immature person you’d ever encountered. Her chaos taught you patience. Supreme Red, on the other hand, passed down actual knowledge — survival tips, repair hacks, and that unshakable cool in a crisis. He was kind of a legend, in your book. Not that you’d say that out loud. But yeah, you respected the guy. Which, for you, was saying a lot

Three bots. No backup. No reinforcements

But somehow, nothing felt missing. This was perfect

“The board’s actually fixed? I thought the whole thing got fried”

“Are your optics working or are you just pretending again? I fixed it. I’m a genius, in case you forgot”

“Oh wow, look at you. So smart, very humble” you rolled your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was the usual dynamic — biting remarks, endless teasing, and enough banter to confuse anyone who didn’t know better. Outsiders might think you two hated each other. In truth, you were just… siblings in denial

“Too bad your frame didn’t grow to match your ego”

You added the jab with a smirk

“HEY!”

Supreme Red didn’t intervene this time. He just watched the exchange with a quiet smile, a glint of amusement in his optics. Maybe, just maybe, if this moment could last forever – it wouldn’t be such a bad thing

.

.

Fate operates in silence, cloaked in secrets no mind can predict

Five hours ago, the ship buzzed with life, laughter, casual banter, the soft humming of circuits and camaraderie. Now, it lies shattered and smoking on the surface of a nameless planet, twisted like a carcass devoured by unseen jaws

You were lucky to remain conscious. Or maybe that’s the curse. Disoriented and bleeding coolant, you dragged yourself through the mangled corridors, ducking under collapsed beams and searing sparks, eyes scanning through the black smoke for any signs of the other two bots. Maybe they were still alive. Maybe…

Then a scream

Not just any scream. Supreme Red. His voice - mechanical yet painfully tears through the wreckage like a razor across steel

You ran. Without thinking. Without breathing. Hope screamed louder in your mind than the fires did in your receivers

You turned a corner

— and the world stopped

It wasn’t silence. The fire still crackled. His scream still played. But time itself seemed to freeze, trapping you in the moment of horror that refused to pass

His optic just one hung loose from its socket, swinging slightly as if it, too, had tried to escape. The rest of his face had melted into the wall, metal fused with metal in a grotesque sculpture of agony. The scent hit you then — scorched alloy, burning insulation, and something else. Something organic. Sickly sweet and wrong. Your systems lurched; you nearly purged on the spot

energon: thick, bright, and slick – coated the floor in erratic patterns, sprayed from what was once his arm, now torn from the socket and left twitching, sparking weakly. And then the scream… that endless, awful scream kept going. Even as you stared into the hollow cavity where his throat should’ve been

It was a recording

His voice module had been torn open, left to loop the final cry. A cruel echo embedded in the ruin of your teammate’s body, still active, still screaming even though he was long past pain

Torn wires hung like veins from his chest. Shattered plates bent inward like broken ribs. Everything about the scene felt wrong, obscene — like you’d stepped into someone nightmare and couldn’t wake up

This wasn’t just an accident

Something.. someone did this

Your steps faltered, retreating instinctively in a futile attempt to distance yourself from the tragic spectacle before you, only to be met with a wall of presence as your back collided with someone standing behind. You must have been too consumed by the gravity of the moment to notice the silent approach of the enigmatic figure. Judging by the hand that now settled upon your shoulder - broad and firm enough to nearly envelop it entirely, they were clearly much larger than you

“Quite the sight, isn’t it? We’ve invested considerable effort in tracking him down. Remarkable, really… how fortuitous this moment is”

"I afraid I must ask you to accompany me aboard the ship, Y/N, for questioning regarding your involvement with and support of the former Decepticon, Supreme Red. He has forfeited his right to speak – but you still have the chance to prove your innocence. I urge you to cooperate for your own sake" His voice was soft, his words carefully chosen—elegant and melodious. Yet this bot wielded them in the worst possible moment. To mock? To assert dominance? Perhaps both

And to refuse…

would be to invite death

Or worse—something far more unforgiving than death could ever be

[primordialsoundmeditation]

GooD LUCK

Magical Meanings

~ There’s a change for the better.

~ Lucky energy surrounds you right now.

~ Grab opportunities with both hands.

~ A black cat signals a lucrative win.

Magical Guidance

Having faced hardship and misfortune, a little bit of luck will be a welcome relief for you. By stepping away from a negative outlook, you’ve invited in a magical force that supports the fortuity you wish for. So look out for synchronicity and meaningful coincidences that negate your bad periods and that usher in a change of fortune. Think black cats, horseshoes and four-leaf clovers to ensure that luck is most certainly on your side. Now is your chance to grab a fortuitous opportunity and take advantage of this prosperous energy of lucky charms, for you’re blessed with a lucky streak.

Readings 🔮 - Website - https://www.zara-energy.com/

Your 2025 Astro Blueprint: Full Moons, Retrogrades & Manifesting Rituals: ✨✨ 🔮

https://zara-energy.com/product-category/guide

#tarot #tarotreading #tarotreadersofinstragram #tarotcommunity #tarotcards #tarotcardoftheday #tarotreader #thirdeye #tarotreadings #tarottribe #spiritualgrowth #spiritualguidance #spirituality #messagefromspirit #messagefromtheuniverse #messagefromhigherself #divinefeminineenergy #divinefeminine #divinetiming #divineguidance #messagefromangels #oraclecardreading #fullmoon

Zara Energy

[os-eclipses-tamen-son-yuri]

I'm new to Alien Stage, so don't pay too much attention if I say smth dumb; but I really love how the use of shadows and lights have almost a life of their own throughout the story.

While watching the MVs for the first time, I couldn't stop thinking that, in many ways the core of the story is all about light and the absence of it.

Stars against the dark universe, lights in a stage, gods to humans. The celestial motif is everpresent throughout the story not just throught text but throught visuals as well.

You have this ensemble of characters who are all, in a way, chasing a light of their own; how the Alien Stage program forces not just the creation of (super)stars but also fosters the environment that surrounds them.

The characters form a cosmos.

Sua being a blinding star, a Sun ; Luka being a moon, a satellite that orbits other celestial bodies, reflecting the light from other stars but never projecting one of his own (he is often framed in a backlight or reflecting all the lights from his environment; he eclipses); Hyuna is a rogue planet, lacking an orbit or set course; Ivan is the unexplored void of space, a monotone empty canvas hungry to grow and feel; Till is life, chaos and rebellion against the monotony of non-existence.

And finally, to me, Mizi is the Earth. And innocent and fortuitous coincidence that has been given against all odds the chance to exist, to survive.