#logical reasoning questions have broken my brain

[haven-of-dusk]

The PJO cast all have curly hair. Josh has curly hair. Therefore Josh will join the PJO cast.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: spencer takes care of you after a serious accident.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: hospital, rehabilitation, neck and brain injury, nud1ty

𝐚/𝐧: this is one of the potential endings of my fanfiction "with the light off" which officialy remains open up to your own interpretation. this version written to comfort all the hearts i've broken <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 11k

Spencer felt embarrassed by how, just an hour after leaving the apartment, he already wanted to call her.

She had already occupied a near-constant presence in the back of his mind, slipping in like a shadow—elusive and playful—darting between his thoughts, flitting from one corner to another whenever he tried, even briefly, to forget about her. But now? After that night they had spent together?

Spencer knew a lot about obsession. He understood the weight of the word and was acutely aware of its gravity. Yet he couldn’t deny it—he was obsessed with her. Physical contact had always been a sensitive yet profoundly significant subject for him. He didn’t allow many people that close. 

For him, touch was the ultimate proof of closeness and trust. Intimacy bred attachment. This wasn’t about desire in its rawest form—it was something else… though he wasn’t entirely sure what. He couldn’t define the bond they shared.

He felt bored, detached from the world when she wasn’t in it, and the only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of normality was the thought—the imagining—that at this very moment, they were breathing the same air.

He was starting to think he might be losing his mind.

He held off on calling her precisely to avoid coming across as a lunatic in her eyes. He managed to restrain himself only once he was at work, where the seriousness of his profession demanded it. In a way, though, he felt lighter. Throughout the day, he was buoyed by the thought of their upcoming meeting, the excitement it brought—and the nerves. That mixture of emotions was enough to make the entire team glance at him with curiosity.

Garcia was handing out case files, her hair recently dyed a vibrant shade of red. Rossi, instead of opening his folder like everyone else, was watching Spencer from across the table, leaning on his elbow.

“Did you win the lottery or something?” he asked, so unexpectedly that Spencer glanced around at the others, unsure who the question was meant for.

When he realized the question was directed at him, he swallowed hard. Morgan’s raised eyebrow seemed to challenge him to a duel.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

“Because you’re practically glowing, sweetheart,” Penelope chimed in with a sly smile. “Don’t think you’re getting away without telling me everything later. I’ll get it out of you, don’t you worry. But for now, let’s get started…”

They immersed themselves in the case, but a few hours later, during a brief moment of downtime, he realized he was looking for an excuse to call her. Was a simple desire to ask what she was up to reason enough?

He wondered if she was still at his apartment. He hoped she was. He knew she’d eventually have to leave to prepare for the shift she was starting later that afternoon, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him about the whole situation with her roommate’s ex-boyfriend.

Realizing he’d been staring at his phone for far too long and that he’d soon need to get back to work, he made a snap decision and called.

But no one answered.

Logically, he reasoned that mornings were probably her time to sleep. Afterward, he tried sending a text message. But by late evening, when he finally returned to his apartment, he was starting to feel genuinely worried.

The question nagged at him: could it have been about the previous night? Maybe he’d done or said something wrong, something that had put her off completely?

Slowly, he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway as his eyes landed on the perfectly made bed. It definitely hadn’t looked like that when he left it.

Then his gaze fell on the slightly ajar safe, and he froze. The combination was incredibly complicated, so he must have left it open when he took out his gun and badge. Besides those items, there was one more thing inside.

He had once again fallen into the trap of keeping Dilaudid close, even though he wasn’t using it. Was it possible she found it, and that’s why she hadn’t reached out?

It wasn’t that he had lied to her about being clean. She had seen how much effort it took for him to talk about it, so she approached the subject with incredible subtlety, never asking directly, but watching him closely, carefully, yet without pressing.

If she had really found it in his safe, she might have felt betrayed. Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to get involved with someone who had such a problem. Perhaps she had seen the whole previous night as one big mistake and then decided to throw him out of her life. Spencer, though it pained him, couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it.

He sat on the bed, crushed by his own thoughts. Something didn’t sit right with the version of events he had imagined. First and foremost, she wasn’t the type of person who would turn him away because of this. Her heart ached to help others; she couldn’t ignore someone else’s troubles. Even if he had hurt her, her immense capacity for understanding would have remained intact. Empathy was imprinted on her, like a deep, unshakable mark.

Driven by a hunch, he reached for his phone to call her again. That’s when he noticed two missed calls from an unknown number, just fifteen minutes ago.

He pressed the phone to his ear, his brow furrowing in confusion as he heard the first sound on the other end… a sob?

The sound went on and on, and Spencer was too confused to utter a single word.

“Who am I talking to?” he finally asked. Unable to stop himself, he stood up. He didn’t even know what was going on or who he was talking to, but he sprang to his feet anyway. His body compelled him, his insides twisting with unpleasant spasms.

It could just as well have been some stupid prank. The problem was, it wasn’t.

“H-hey, it’s J-Jude,” a voice came from the other end. Female, shaky, and choked with sobs so severe that if he didn’t already know her name, he would never have guessed he was speaking to her roommate. He stopped pacing the room. “I-it was me…I called earlier. S-she doesn’t have any…any family, and I didn’t know…I didn’t know who to inform…I can’t handle this on my own…they just took her away again…”

It wasn’t as if the world suddenly came to a halt. It simply became both sharper and blurrier at the same time. Spencer could see that single, bright strand of hair on the pillow with perfect clarity, yet his own legs seemed out of reach. When he looked down, all he saw was darkness stretching below him. Somehow, he was still breathing.

“What are you talking about?” he asked. Later, he couldn’t explain how his voice—those first words—had sounded so composed. “W-who took her… where… and why…?

“I have no fucking idea!” she shouted, followed by a long silence during which Jude took a desperate gasp of air. “I mean, I do, I do know! They just brought her in, but... but suddenly they took her back because there was some kind of…bleeding…”

“...ding?” he blurted out, the first syllable swallowed entirely by his panic.

“No, I don’t want anything to calm me down, I am calm, can’t you tell?” Her voice grew distant, as if she’d pulled the phone away from her mouth. Then it came back, clear and pleading. “Please, come here…”

She hung up. The phone slipped from his hand as if it burned him. In a frenzy, he bent down to grab it, only to drop it again. Finally, he fell to his knees, managing at last to pick it up. As he stood, he felt as though some substance was spreading through his brain—black, toxic, and utterly destructive. Its effects left him barely tethered to reality. He could hear and see, but everything was overlaid with Jude’s words, looping in his mind like printed text on a screen.

The next thirty minutes were a blur.

How could it be logically explained that, in a state of complete detachment from the outside world, he somehow managed to figure out, based on the map of the area imprinted in his memory, which specific hospital she was in? How did his panicked, trembling hands manage to cover that distance by car without causing an accident?

The only thing he knew was that he ended up at the nearest hospital, wearing just a shirt with no outer layer. It was shocking that he even had shoes on. 

He should have been looking for the woman who had called him, demanding every bit of information she had. But somehow, instinctively, his eyes searched for someone else—a familiar face. He prayed it was all some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe he was fooling himself, hoping to spot her among the people passing by. A part of him simply refused to accept the possibility that anything could have happened to her.

Nothing had happened.

She was fine.

Her blue eyes were soaking in the surroundings, their gaze carrying that faint sparkle that always appeared at night. Maybe there was even a smile on her lips. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to imagine what might have happened to her. It felt as though the universe itself should be ashamed for ever entertaining the thought of harming her.

"Are you family?" the man at reception asked. Spencer nodded. "I'm sorry, but I can't provide you with any information,"

"Just tell me, is she alive?"

"I can't…"

"Just fucking tell me…"

"They’re operating on her right now," a voice spoke from behind him. Spencer turned and blinked. Only then did he realize he was in a hospital. Before, he’d only had a goal—an urgent need to get there. The surroundings were just beginning to take shape in his mind. He had never seen this woman before, but he guessed it had to be Jude. Her face was swollen from crying, but she seemed less shaken than during their call. She had probably accepted the sedatives. "Again. First, they spent almost four hours working on her neck… they said she was stable, asleep, but then suddenly there was that bleeding… I watched them take her out of the room right in front of me…"

“Did you see her?”

Unexpectedly, she hid her face in her hands.

“I didn’t know who to call. She mentioned you a few times, and I had your number, and I didn’t know what to do…” she began explaining chaotically, as if it mattered at all. “It’s my fault, you know, all of this is my fucking fault…”

They were standing right in front of the receptionist, blocking his access to others who needed help. Spencer snapped back to the moment, pulling her a few steps aside.

“W-what did you say? That they operated on her for four hours?”

“Yes, the first time…”

So, she had been there for at least four hours. Longer, considering the time needed after surgery before visiting a patient. Pain spread across his chest. While he was wondering why she hadn’t answered his calls, coming to various conclusions, she had been fighting for her life?

He... had been at work, moving around, talking to others, living, while all of this was happening? He felt as if... as if he had betrayed her. It was absurd, even he knew that. Despite the state he was in—tragic, to be precise—he understood just how absurd that thought was. But he couldn’t stop the guilt and shame that washed over him every time he tried to imagine her on the operating table while he had been completely unaware of her condition.

“I need to sit down," Jude muttered, and after a moment, they found themselves on narrow chairs lined along the hospital walls. Spencer barely managed to force his knees to bend, his body to settle into the seat.

He was only beginning to adjust to the foreign gravity that was pressing down on him.

In his head, there was only one thought, one resolution, one desire. The only thing that could save him from losing his mind in this waiting room.

"I need to see her."

"We have to wait," Jude replied, pressing her hand to her forehead. More tears appeared in her eyes. She wasn’t just terrified, she was completely falling apart. "We... we once gave each other permission to access information about our health. You know, in case of an accident. The doctors told me everything. A neck sprain. A concussion. Two broken ribs and a broken forearm." Although her speech had been unclear earlier, when she listed the injuries, she sounded like a movie announcer.

Spencer quickly realized that these words must have been echoing in her head since they were first told to her. The same thing had been happening to him. Each word was like a blow delivered with full force, and his extensive medical knowledge wasn’t helping him avoid panic. He was too aware of the danger and too aware of the suffering her poor body must have endured.

They both squeezed their eyes shut tightly. Spencer felt as though his temples might explode. Waiting. Was there anything worse in the world than waiting? Being stuck in ignorance, teetering between uncertainty, relief, and utter despair? Feeling all of it at once?

"How did this even happen?" he asked the woman sitting next to him.

He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. She didn’t even need to say it. It was enough to see how she dropped her gaze, heavy with pain, and how tightly her jaw clenched.

“She... fell down the stairs.”

Spencer wanted to scoff at the understatement. The real version of events couldn’t pass Jude’s lips, but in some way, he considered that a blessing. If Jude had openly admitted that she had been pushed, he might have crumbled under the weight of the fury flooding him. But for now, his anger didn’t matter. Only the passing time did.

He felt as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since leaving his apartment. Leaning his head back in his seat, he endured what felt like two whole days, then glanced at his watch only to realize that exactly forty-seven seconds had passed.

Time—a relative concept. In physics and in human perception. Einstein had proven it, and so had that particular moment.

He started to fear that he might never leave the waiting room. Memories and emotions began to blur together. He formed a theory: that he had been trapped there for quite some time—weeks, perhaps. Back when another loved one had been on the operating table, and he’d been losing his mind in much the same way.

Could it be that, under the strain of this torturous waiting, he’d lost his sanity? That his brain, desperate for relief, had simply imagined everything that followed? The trip to the library that night, finding himself at her door, the string lights on the Christmas tree, the Venus flytrap, the bar, opening the door that night and seeing her on the stairwell—at once flushed from a night spent at the club and chilled from the December air?

And now that illusion had simply shattered, like a fragment of broken glass. He was back in the waiting room again, waiting, hurting too much—and yet feeling as though he had no right to. His pain was nothing compared to what she was going through. He should be doing something, anything, to make himself useful, to not succumb to the weight of his own helplessness.

When the doctor finally approached them, Spencer almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand. The doctor, however, focused solely on Jude as he delivered the update, leaving Spencer questioning whether he even existed.

“We managed to stop the bleeding. That’s the good news,” he began, his dark eyes unreadable—at once cool and concerned, with the practiced composure characteristic of people in his profession.

“Thank God,” Jude whispered, rubbing her chest as if trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart.

Spencer, on the other hand, felt no relief. Not even a sliver.

"‘That’s good news,’" he repeated the doctor’s words, drawing the man’s gaze to him. ‘But… but is there something bad?’

That brief moment before the doctor answered felt longer than nearly the past two hours of waiting.

“Due to suspected brain swelling, we had to induce a coma.’

“What?’ Jude mouthed silently. “How… how could she be in a coma? Why? Was that necessary?’

“They needed to reduce the intracranial pressure,’ Spencer replied, the words spilling from his mouth without him even realizing he was speaking. ‘The coma prevents further damage and minimizes the brain’s oxygen consumption. But will she… how long will she…?’

“Only for a few days,’ the doctor assured him, understanding the question he couldn’t quite form. “As long as there are no further complications or additional bleeding. But I can reassure you for now: there’s no indication of that. Her condition seems stable. She was… incredibly lucky. It was a serious accident—a miracle, a sheer miracle—that she didn’t break her spine.’"

For a moment, he couldn’t utter a single word, his throat still tight, and the relief never came. He knew he wouldn’t feel it until he saw her, fully conscious and awake. Until that happened, he would grimace every time he heard the word miracle. 

"When will I be able to see her?" he asked, surprisingly calm and composed. The question was so important to him that his voice didn’t tremble even once. In fact, it was the only thing that mattered right now.

"You’ll need to wait a few hours before visiting. We have to make sure there’s no risk of a sudden deterioration in her condition. Also, only authorized individuals can visit her."

The last part of the doctor’s statement felt almost like a slap in the face.

"How many hours?" he pressed, impatience creeping into his voice. "Two? Four? Six?"

"Please, calm down," the doctor asked, making a gesture with his hand.

“Eight?”

His voice grew increasingly sharp, desperately demanding an answer. The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Jude interrupted with a question.

"As an authorized person, can I, on behalf of the patient, allow him to visit?" she asked, catching Spencer’s gaze for a brief moment before quickly turning away. "She would want this, I know it."

The doctor shook his head in refusal, providing them with a few more details about the surgery before turning to leave. Spencer watched him leave, something in him wavering between a sigh and a snort. So they wouldn’t even let him visit her? He understood the hospital procedures and rules perfectly well, but when it came to his own case, he hated them with all his heart. They wouldn’t allow him to see someone who meant so much to him, simply because they weren’t bound by blood or a ring on his finger. A ring on his finger… maybe he should lie and say they were engaged?  Although, would it really make any difference in the eyes of the hospital staff?

Before the loose fragments in his mind began to form a plan, he noticed that Jude was staring at him. She had sat down again, pressing her back tightly against the chair's backrest. She hadn’t cried for a while now; a certain relief had settled on her face when she heard the surgery had been successful, but then the old devastation returned, stronger than ever before.

"I won’t be able to visit her," she said, her voice hollow. "Not even while she’s unconscious. And when she wakes up, look her in the eyes. Tell me, how could I do that after everything? After all of this was my fault?"

Spencer turned away and walked off.

He knew that if he didn’t, something inside him would break. He couldn’t stop the anger he felt toward Jude. From what he knew, she had repeatedly refused to report her ex-boyfriend to the police, perhaps more or less aware of the danger he posed. She had the right to do so, theoretically. But that didn’t change the fact that someone else had suffered because of her foolish decision.

In his eyes she deserved the guilt she felt.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he found a place far from her, far from anyone, where he spent the next few hours, hardly moving. Sometimes he observed the relatives of other patients in the hospital, also broken, but he had some selfish feeling that even they wouldn’t understand what he felt. He placed himself on some distant, elite orbit of suffering and felt almost embarrassed by it. 

Pain always makes sure that a person feels as lonely and misunderstood as possible in it. That is when it has the most power over them.

He kept away from the windows, the darkness outside, slowly losing its intensity, putting him into a state of shock and contemplation. Maybe time was a relative concept, but that didn’t change the fact that it existed. Somewhere far away, there was light beyond this waiting room.

For some time now, he had been occupied with a certain task. He was aware of the hours passing and how, with them, his desperation grew. He felt he would go mad if he didn’t see her. The designated time during which the patient should be ensured complete rest after surgery had ended, yet he knew they wouldn’t let him in to see her. But he had a brain for a reason, right?"

He found the room where everything that mattered to him at that moment was. A young doctor was just leaving.

"Excuse me, ma'am,” he approached her politely, trying to appear calm, though his appearance and trembling hands clearly suggested otherwise. “I need to visit this patient.”

“Are you a relative?”

“No, actually…” He knew this was a desperate move and resorting to a lie, but he didn’t care. What was morality in his situation? Just a word. He reached for the badge he had with him and cleared his throat. “I’m with the FBI. I’ve been assigned to see this particular patient; it’s a matter that cannot be delayed."

Believe it or not, but people often lost their minds at the mere mention of the FBI. Spencer suspected that such a young doctor might have some gaps in experience and not know what procedures were in place in such a situation.

The surprised woman took a half step back.

“But she’s in a coma…” she said uncertainly, turning toward the room. “Are you sure it’s this patient?”

“Absolutely. And as I said, there’s no time to waste.”

He didn’t put his badge away, still holding it raised, with a serious expression on his face, as if he were interrogating someone. It was clear she was torn with doubt, but fortunately for him, she decided to give in without consulting the decision.

Spencer almost ran into the room, unable to hold back his impatience any longer. At first, he felt as if in a dream, one where you achieve your greatest goal. However, it quickly turned into a nightmare, all because of what he saw.

Whatever he had imagined, he was not prepared for this sight. 

Especially because before he even noticed her face, the face he was so desperate to see, he first noticed everything else surrounding it. The hospital equipment, the machines and devices monitoring her vital signs. The wide orthopedic collar tight around her neck. The sterile whiteness of it all, obscuring her and making her almost disappear against its backdrop. It wasn’t until he approached the bed, his legs weak and unsteady, that he started to look at her, but again, not specifically at her, but at the injuries. The sight of swollen temples, the sunken eyes, pale and dry lips, skin like a sheet of paper. Every injury on her body caused him unimaginable pain, so intense it almost stopped him from breathing. He felt so much anger and injustice that she had to go through this that he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize to her, beg for forgiveness. For what? He couldn’t decide. It wasn’t a need driven by logic, it was something deep inside him.

And that’s what he did, even though there was a place beside the bed where he could sit. He slowly knelt down, his hands touching the edge of the bed, but not her body. After all, he wasn’t about to risk causing her any pain due to his lack of control. But he had such an overwhelming desire to take her hand, the one whose fingers shyly peeked out from under the cast.

"I should have gone with you," he said, after about five minutes spent in complete silence, undisturbed even by his breath, which he was holding back. "I should have. Walked you to the door and made sure you got inside safely. I’m sorry…"

He felt that with his pitiful apologies, he was disturbing her peace. She needed it to fully rest. So, he fell silent again, alternating between looking at her with furrowed brows in tender concern and resting his forehead against the edge of the bed whenever the sight became too painful. While before, time seemed to crawl at the slowest possible pace, now it was racing forward wildly.

In his perception, barely a minute had passed when someone’s presence appeared behind him. He turned over his shoulder, noticing the young nurse who had let him in, and it took him a long time before he even realized it. After all, he had lied to her, saying it was some professional matter, yet she had found him kneeling by the hospital bed.

He quickly got to his feet, nervously rubbing his face.

“For the patient’s well-being, no visits should last longer than twenty minutes,” the woman said surprisingly gently, leaning slightly against the door with her shoulder. An unidentified expression lingered in her eyes, making them seem...warm.

He didn’t answer, just nodded. He no longer felt the need to play that little charade that had helped him get inside. He allowed himself one last long moment, looking at her face, peaceful in sleep. He passed the doctor in the doorway, feeling her eyes turn to him, and he did the same, out of curiosity. She smiled, sadly and with compassion.

"This had nothing to do with any FBI assignment, right?”

Her understanding seemed almost touching. However, Spencer, caught in the moment, quickly withdrew, once again making his way down the hospital corridors, now completely unsure of what to do with himself. He leaned against one of the walls, slowly feeling the fatigue from the entire night spent waiting to see her. He found his phone in his pocket, realized it was already morning, and that… Hotch had called him.

It was a quick collision with the outside world. He called back, as nothing else came to mind that he could focus on.

"Reid," the serious voice of his boss came through on the other end. "Why aren’t you at work, and why aren’t you answering?"

He needed to take a breath before he could respond.

"Sorry, Hotch," he said, trying not to sound weak, but that’s exactly how he sounded. Weak, a little pitiful, and on the verge of exhaustion. "Something... something really important happened, and... I... I won’t be able to come in today..."

Spencer realized he had no idea how to explain himself in this situation.

"I can’t remember the last day you were even late. What happened?" He didn’t answer. "Where are you?" Silence. "Spencer."

"It’s... a personal matter."

There was a brief silence from his boss, and Spencer could almost imagine how he furrowed his dark brows in confusion.

"I understand." His voice was tense, but not with disapproval, which surprised Spencer. More with... concern. Had he managed to read the seriousness of the situation just from his voice? Probably, after all, he was the best profiler Spencer knew. "You’ll need to explain later, but for now... take care of yourself. Do you need any help?”

He assured him insincerely that everything was fine and found an empty chair to sit in, hunched over. A strong pressure formed in his head, amplified by the helplessness and uncertainty about what he should do next. She was in a coma, and according to the doctor, she would be in it for the next few days. And what was he supposed to do during that time? He felt that physically, he could spend another hundred hours on that specific chair. Occasionally stretching his legs. It was his plan, one that seemed more real with every passing minute. At least, until a figure cast its shadow over him.

"Reid," a familiar voice spoke.

He looked up, surprised, at Morgan. His mouth was slightly open in confusion, his forehead deeply furrowed.

"What are you doing here?"

"How... how did you know where I was?" That was the first thing that came to his mind.

"Penelope. How she knew, I have no idea, but I’m starting to suspect that her joke about having us all chipped wasn’t really a joke. But anyway, what’s going on? Hotch told me you called, and you sounded... unsettling."

His friend was watching him closely. His wrinkled clothes, his tired face.

"So... Hotch sent you to find me?"

"Reid, you’re our friend. Did you really think we wouldn’t be worried about you?"

Spencer lowered his head, listening to his words. Derek was silent for a moment, his hands resting on his hips, his tense face scanning the surroundings. After a while, he focused his gaze back on him.

"Who is the person you’re visiting?"

He hesitated before answering, not because he didn’t want to share the information, but because he wasn’t sure how to refer to her. What should he call her? After all, it wasn’t like they were in an official relationship, and the word friend seemed to leave something unsaid.

“Someone... someone very important to me. She had an accident. She has... a cervical spine injury, and the doctors, suspecting brain swelling, decided to put her into a coma for a while.”

Morgan's eyes widened.

“Damn, Reid. I’m so... I’m so sorry.”

He sat down on the empty chair beside him, his face still showing shock. Exhausted, Spencer simply rested his head on his knees, no longer able to keep his posture straight. He felt drained, yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to leave—couldn’t leave her…

Morgan’s hand fell onto his back, and finally, then sighed.

“Come here, man.”

With a firm pull, he drew him into an embrace.

Spencer found it hard to admit, even to himself, how much he needed this. No words left their mouths for a long while; only that brotherly, supportive embrace remained between them.

“Have you seen her?” Morgan asked after a while.

He confirmed, but didn’t reveal the circumstances. His friend paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“Okay, listen to me. You need to get back to yourself.”

Spencer scoffed and shook his head, ready to argue.

“Let me finish. I know you don’t want to leave her right now, but with all due respect, you look like death. You need to eat and get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Spencer replied firmly.

“You’re going to collapse soon. You said she’ll be in a coma for a few days. You won’t make it sitting here, think realistically. No one’s asking you to go back to work, you just need to rest.” He looked at him seriously, knowing how hard it would be to convince him. Finally, he sighed once more. “Do it for her, alright? Do you really think she’d want you to wear yourself out like this?”

He had no ready answer for that. Well, he did, but it sounded like no, she wouldn’t want that.

“I’ll take you home. For God’s sake, you came here without even a coat?”

It's a strange feeling to let someone take care of you. Completely. Derek not only drove him to his apartment but also came inside with him. There was no emotional discussion between them, which he found to be a relief. Silent support, he thought.

His relationship with the other team members had been tested after Emily's death—or at least, that's what he had thought up until now. He had begun isolating himself, not wanting to intrude on their grief or burden them with his own problems. But in reality—something he hadn’t seen until now—it had been the opposite. It strengthened their bond.

The next few days revolved mainly around hospital visits. Somehow, he had managed to gain visiting rights, and the time spent by her side filled him with a certain sense of calm. He could see how stable her vital signs were, and he clung to the doctors’ reassurances that she would regain consciousness in just a few days.

He once read a series of articles and interviews with people who had been in comas. Their accounts sometimes contradicted medical facts and often included embellishments, but a significant number of them mentioned remembering the voices of loved ones and certain sounds.

He didn’t want her to remember only the sounds of medical equipment from this period. But he also wasn’t sure what he could talk to her about. Would she want to hear about the overly salted carbonara that Garcia had forced an entire pot of on him? Or about the abstract mural being painted across from his apartment—something he was sure she would have liked?

In the end, he decided to read to her, though choosing what to read proved challenging. Sleeping Beauty seemed too ironic, even though she would probably laugh about it later. She had once told him Girl, Interrupted was her favorite book, but its hospital setting made him suspect she might prefer something that let her escape this place, even if only in her imagination. The Silence of the Lambs referenced one of their past conversations, but if a doctor overheard him reading it to her, he would surely be banned from visiting altogether.

“All right,” he began one day, sitting down in the chair by her bed. “I know you’re not a big fan of fantasy. And yes, you’ll have every right to call me out on this when you wake up. But still, I hope you’ll like it.”

Arabian Nights was a collection of tales and stories originating from the Middle East, India, and Persia. Somehow, he assumed that the mysterious, often nocturnal atmosphere might resonate with her, even soothe her. After all, night had always been her favorite time of day—the backdrop to so much of her life.

That day, as he was about to leave, he leaned slightly over her bed, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"Tomorrow, I'll read you a romance, how does that sound? But I’ll have to go to the bookstore because, despite your beliefs, I don’t have any in my collection. I wish I’d had more time to get to know your reading preferences better."

During none of his previous visits had he touched her, afraid it might disturb her peace in some negative way. Besides... in the state she was in, she looked so fragile and delicate that he feared even the slightest touch could hurt her. But that time, he simply couldn’t hold back. After a long internal struggle, he placed a very brief kiss on her forehead.

Spencer couldn’t keep his promise. While he did buy a romance novel recommended to him with enthusiasm by a young bookstore clerk, he never had the chance to read it to her.

The next day, he received a message. 

She had woken up. 

*

You didn’t remember much.

Only fragmented scraps. The memories began with a brief moment of complete physical helplessness, a terrible pain in your neck, and a series of flashing lights mingling with raised voices—even shouting. Then came silence, vile and terrifying.

But that wasn’t the end. Something came after the silence.

Softly spoken stories. For some reason, they were comforting. In your mind, only a few blurred images remained—no clear events or words. What you remembered most was that soothing, calm voice. It felt like an embrace, like warm bedding, the first rays of cosmic light piercing through clouds, or the gentle chill of evening air.

It was… beautiful. But it couldn’t last forever. After an indeterminate amount of time, your body decided to reject that comfort and tried to open its eyes. It was an excruciating effort. You sighed with the strain. The first colors and surreal shapes began to appear before you. Slowly, you started to become aware of your existence, yet at the same time, you felt suspended somewhere outside your body and mind—alone and terrified.

The sensations were both faint and overwhelmingly intense, making you want to hide, to somehow cut yourself off from them. Yet you were equally afraid to close your eyes again. You muttered things that made no sense. You remained in this panicked state until two tiny brown points hovered above you, widening with concern. Only then were you able to calm down—at least enough to stop straining your body with attempts to move. Attempts, because your body seemed entirely unwilling to follow your commands.

The fear buried itself deep within you, drilling into your chest. At first, it suffocated you, but eventually, it began to weaken and fade.

This was how the first hours after waking from the coma unfolded.

Weakness, disorientation, mumbling, pain, discomfort, and light sensitivity.

It took a long time before you regained awareness of being in a hospital. Even more time passed before you remembered why. And then, your own condition and state.

You were so incredibly weak that it filled you with disgust, terrified by how much effort even the smallest movement required—like the twitch of a finger or the blink of an eye. Frustrated by it all, you cried, and he cried too. But his tears were born of relief and joy.

Those two specific emotions reached you the latest—only after they transferred you to a different ward, and your thoughts began to clear. Relief and joy. Hand in hand with fear and anxiety. 

It felt so unreal, yet it was real—real like nothing else, and it held you tightly, exactly the way you needed it to.

*

Spencer was aware that her awakening was just another step in a very long journey.

His medical knowledge, modestly speaking, was fairly extensive, and he understood the gravity of the injuries she had sustained. Their first meeting after she had opened her eyes for the first time was nothing like a scene from a movie. She was confused, still drowsy, and as she slowly started to comprehend everything, she was primarily terrified. Her body, after the time spent in the coma, though brief, was extremely weak, and every little movement exhausted her as though she had just run a marathon.

The fear on her face pierced his chest.

He had the impression that none of the words he spoke, almost whispered in an attempt to calm her, were having any effect.

"I... I can't move," she stammered as one of the first things she said. Her eyes intensely focused on his face, searching for safety in it, and he feared he wouldn't be able to provide it for her.

"It's just temporary," he reassured her gently, leaning over her bed and trying to smile, but it came out uncertain, he was too worried about her condition. "The doctors say so, and that's the truth. Your body is just very weak right now."

"Will... will it be like this forever?"

"No, no, it will pass. I promise, it will pass," he nodded fervently. She hesitated and took a breath, as though discovering an entirely new action. But as soon as she did, out of fear, it became fast and irregular. He was terrified that his touch might cause her pain, but he didn't know what else he could do to help her. Gently, as gently as he could, he placed his hand on her cheek, barely grazing it with his thumb. "You'll feel better soon. Really, it won’t be long now. For now... just don’t overexert yourself, please, breathe."

At first, she flinched. He wanted to withdraw his hand as quickly as possible, but then he felt her press her face against it, almost nuzzling into it. A shy tear danced in one of her eyes, barely noticeable.

"It’s good to see you," she said after a brief silence, a soft sigh escaping her lips—almost like a laugh, though it didn’t quite make it. Her breath was still shallow and uneven, but with each passing moment, it seemed to steady as he held her close.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, feeling her presence so close, a smile spread across his face—a smile so genuine, so long-awaited—and with it came the tears he’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

"I feel the same," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much."

*

The orthopedic collar pissed you off like nothing else.

It wasn’t even the discomfort that bothered you, it was just... the collar was such a painful reminder of your condition, a testament to what you had been through. And you were supposed to wear it for another six to eight weeks.

Two weeks after waking from the coma, preparations for leaving the hospital were beginning. The risk of brain swelling had subsided, the injuries were healing, and the concussion still made its presence known, but the pain was no longer as intense. You could even have a normal conversation, which you seized almost immediately, striking up a chat with the teenage girl in the bed next to you, her sad expression tugging at your heart.

Few people visited you; you preferred that the two most important ones could spend as much time with you as possible, rather than inviting coworkers or acquaintances you hadn’t spoken to in months. The two most important people.

Spencer had been with you since the moment you woke up, and as the doctor confessed to you with a small smile, he had also stayed by your side while you were in a coma. You were in shock. Not because he had done it—it made perfect sense, given his caring nature. The shock came from the simple fact that one person could care so deeply about another, about you.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the moments when he visited you became your favorite part of the entire day. And not just because they revolved around checking your condition, tests, and the first, incredibly light rehabilitation exercises. You simply found yourself waiting for the moment he would appear in that doorway again, holding his coat in hand, smiling.

"Hello, handsome stranger," you greeted him one day, the first day you were starting to feel better.

 Spencer stopped at the sound of that term, tilting his head with an even wider smile.

 "How else did I used to call you?" you mused aloud. "Ah, I used to call you Mr. Mysterious. But I suppose that's no longer fitting, you smile too much to seem mysterious."

 "Because I have a reason," he replied, stopping beside your bed and glancing at the flowers placed there, the ones that had greeted you when you woke up that day. "But in that case, 'Handsome stranger' doesn’t fit either, since you know me now."

"But you are handsome. Half of it fits, so I have the right to call you that. Who... who sent me these flowers?"

"Better question would be, who didn’t send you those?" he muttered, referring to their large number. You could only admire them—the beautiful, colorful arrangements—but you hadn’t had the chance to read the notes and messages attached. Spencer glanced at one of them, his smile fading, though not in a bad way... somehow, the expression that appeared on his face was even more pleasing than his smile. "This... this one’s from my team."

You were simply speechless.

 "They... they even know I exist?"

 "Of course they do, how could they not?" Spencer paused for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully. "They... they were with me the whole time you were in a coma. They helped me keep my head together."

 "Don’t exaggerate," you tried to dispel the sudden serious mood. You didn’t want to delude yourself into thinking he had been that worried about you during that time. 

 "It’s not an exaggeration," he replied briefly and seriously, his face almost motionless.

For a moment, you fell silent, your hands resting on the blanket in front of you.

 "Sorry, Spencer. I just realized I’ve never thanked you for this..."

"What?" he asked, surprised, his brows furrowing. "This isn’t something you have to thank me for..."

"But I feel like I have to. This... this isn’t some small, silly favor. You really did so much for me... I still don’t fully understand why..."

 "You don’t understand why?"

"Yeah," you sighed uncertainly, not sure how to put it into words. "Don’t get me wrong... I’m so grateful to you, it’s just... look at it this way. We didn’t know each other that long, we saw each other rarely. We slept together once. It’s not like you were…obligated to help me."

"I didn’t have to be obligated to do it," he said after a moment of hesitation, circling your bed and sitting on the edge, just barely touching it. "And I didn’t have to know you for years. I just wanted to do it because of how much I cared about you. And if that explanation doesn’t convince you... then..." He swallowed hard. "Remember, you were there for me during one of the worst moments of my life."

“It’s not the same...”

 “Oh, but it is. For me, it is. But I don’t want you to think that I was there for you because I felt like I owed you something. Or that I had to... I don’t know... repay you in some way. That’s not it at all.”

You didn’t answer, something tight gripped your throat. You just tilted your head, overwhelmed with emotion, speechless. The only thing you truly wanted to do was stretch out your arms and drape them around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder. Spencer sighed, surprised and tense. It wasn’t until a brief moment passed that his hands gently touched your back.

“How much longer are you going to act like I’m made of glass?” you asked.

You knew his caution was justified, but Jesus. You just really wanted to hug him properly.

“Probably forever,” he replied, to which you rolled your eyes.

He was the one to break the hug, but in compensation, he quickly kissed the top of your head. You leaned back against the bed, feeling a pleasant sensation in your stomach. Spencer returned to the flowers to tell you who had sent them all.

“So these are from my team,” he picked up the lost thread, pointing to the arrangement of white and pink carnations. He chuckled. “And I’m pretty sure Penelope picked them out, not just because her name is listed first. White represents perseverance and strength. Pink stands for admiration and respect.”

“That’s really thoughtful. And beautiful. I’ll have to thank them. And these tulips?”

Spencer took the note attached to the mentioned flowers between his fingers.

“From... Jerry.”

“What? My husband sent me flowers?”

 “What?” He jerked his head up in surprise.

You laughed so hard at the look on his face that it made you wince in your ribs.

 “I’m fucking kidding, you fool,” you replied, clutching your side with a groan. “Jerry is the librarian. You should know him. He once asked me what flowers he should buy for his wife, and I suggested yellow tulips. By the way, it's so nice of him”.

You said it affectionately, but it sounded incredibly weak. Along with the pain in your ribs, a headache joined in, and suddenly all the energy you'd had earlier evaporated.

“What's happening? Should I call a doctor?”

“No,” you shook your head in refusal. “I just need to lie down for a moment. Come here.”

Spencer followed your request and sat beside your bed, his body a little stiff, as if in guilt.

"I'm sorry I made you laugh."

"That's probably the strangest thing you could apologize for," you muttered, lying down in the position that was best for your neck, one you almost hated as much as the orthopedic collar. "Well, I guess I could come up with something stranger. Sorry I left that million dollars in your nightstand. It won't happen again."

"I'm not sure if this kind of chatter is particularly good for your condition."

"It helps me mentally, and that's what matters most. Besides, stop complaining."

"How could I possibly dare?"

He fell silent, simply watching you with quiet concern. You closed your eyes for a moment, unsure if you might accidentally drift off. After spending a week in a coma, your sleep routine had become completely erratic. You slept through the nights, mostly because there was little else to do, and you didn’t want to disturb the other patients in the ward. During the day, Spencer would visit, and you wanted to be as rested as possible when he was around.

When he wasn’t there, you sometimes napped during the day as well. According to the doctors, it was one of the best things you could do for your recovery—sleep and rest as much as your body needed.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

You hesitated for a long moment, because yes, something was weighing heavily on your mind. Had he guessed, or had he read it on your face?

“It’s just…” you began with a sigh. “You know Jude barely visits me? I mean, she shows up every day, but… she’s so tense and distant when she’s here. She doesn’t say much, and she won’t look me in the eyes.”

"She’s blaming herself," Spencer said softly.

“God, that’s so stupid,” you muttered.

You had a strange relationship with the accident. You thought about it as little as possible, keeping it at arm’s length. You knew Richard had been arrested, but you didn’t want to know the details of his sentencing. In no way did you see any of it as Jude’s fault, and it hurt you deeply to think that she did.

You spent a quiet moment together before Spencer leaned over you again, intending to kiss your forehead.

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go now,” he said, to which you nodded in understanding.

But then you shifted your head, pulling back just enough to stop him from brushing his lips against your forehead. He looked at you, puzzled, since you’d never minded it before.

This time, though, you wanted him to kiss you on the lips.

He kissed you slowly. You had almost forgotten how he tasted.

After that, you didn’t bother opening your eyes again. You let yourself imagine that he wasn’t leaving at all, and with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep.

*

Spencer had felt strange since the morning.

 Energized and excited. In the absolute best possible way.

That day, he could finally take her home. Well, to his apartment. She needed someone to take care of her, and he felt honored to be that person.

The day before, he had made a very important, yet difficult decision. He invited JJ over and confessed everything to her—about the past few weeks and his struggles with relapsing into addiction. He needed to rid himself of that burden. Besides, he had promised himself that as long as she was living with him, not even the smallest dose of Dilaudid would find its way inside. Never again.

In his worst moments, he imagined that his friend would react with disgust—pure, painful disgust—and push him away. Instead, her eyes filled with something strange the moment he began to speak about how he had felt after Emily's death. Over and over, she whispered apologies, as though she were the one responsible for it.

He still missed Emily, of course, and he knew he would always miss her. That was just the way of things—people left, and it was up to you to decide whether you would remember them with heartbreaking despair or with a wistful sigh. In fact, these were merely two ends of the same spectrum, and it was very easy to get stuck at the beginning, unable to move forward.

She was surprisingly quiet in the car and seemed depressed. Actually, it was hard not to blame her. She had spent a long time in the hospital, gotten used to that routine, and the change made her feel lost. Sitting in the passenger seat, she kept her gaze fixed ahead, but not on the road. She couldn’t see where they were headed, which made it difficult for Spencer to tell her something… at least important.

 When they stopped, she furrowed her brow in surprise.

 “Why are we here?”

They were parked under his apartment, and she had been under the impression they were heading to her place.

 “Sorry, I should’ve told you earlier, I really apologize,” Spencer blurted out in one breath, chaotically. “I absolutely realize that this is like putting you in a situation you didn’t expect, but… but when you were in the hospital, Jude found herself a new roommate. She didn’t really know how to tell you, but she had to do it because she couldn’t afford the rent on her own.”

For a long moment, she stared at him in silence, her face a mixture of shock, followed by understanding. She took a deep breath.

 “Okay,” she muttered. “I understand her, I just… I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me this herself.”

Their relationship still remained deeply complicated, put to the test by guilt. Spencer couldn’t say much about it. It was something between the two of them, and he hardly knew Jude at all.

 “I’m also sorry for asking you this so late,” he continued after a moment. “But… you can’t live alone, you know that. Someone… someone needs to be with you over the next few weeks and… I’m willing to be that person.”

Her lips remained slightly parted for a moment.

“You want… no, wait, you want me to move in with you?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, because before he could answer, she started shaking her head. “Spencer, I can’t. I can’t be that burden for you.”

“A burden? You’re not…”

“But I will be. In the next few weeks, I definitely will be.”

He took his hands off the steering wheel, placing them loosely on his knees.

“Can you… can you look at me for a moment?” he asked.

It took a moment before she hesitantly met his gaze. Her eyes were filled with embarrassed tears, tears full of unjust shame. Seeing this, pain spread through his chest.

“If the accident hadn’t happened, would you want to live with me?”

 Her lips remained pressed together, and she sighed.

 “It’s a big decision. Aside from the fact that if it weren’t for the accident, I wouldn’t even have to consider this option…”

“I just want to know if you would want to. Don’t think of it as an option, just as… a completely normal, life decision. Do you think you’d be able to handle having me around every day?”

She couldn’t help it, and her lips curled into a slight smile.

“We could try,” she finally replied.

Spencer straightened his arms.

“In that case, let’s go inside.”

 “No, wait, it’s not that simple! My opinion shouldn’t matter; it’s you who needs to think about whether you want this…”

 “I do.”

She snorted, resigned, not knowing what else to say.

“I can’t even tie my own shoes,” she tried one last time.

“I’ll gladly do it for you. What’s more, I know all kinds of knots. Simple, sailor’s, Chinese…”

“Spencer Reid, you’re impossible.”

For the rest of the day, she tried every possible way to talk him out of his decision. But when she finally accepted it, she struggled to accept his help with tasks she couldn’t do on her own.

 It wasn’t until later that he realized how much she had been pretending in the hospital. He had only seen her for a fraction of her day, and she seemed so positive then. But this temporary disability had really taken a toll on her mentally. He could repeat and assure her, completely sincerely, that she wasn’t a burden to him, but deep down, she still believed otherwise.

So, when two days later, she timidly appeared in the bedroom doorway with the question of whether he could help her wash her hair, Spencer felt like he had won the lottery.

“Sure,” he agreed, probably a bit too enthusiastically, jumping to his feet so quickly that he almost tripped.

She pretended not to notice.

In the bathroom, he slowly helped her pull the shirt over her head, careful not to catch it on the collar still around her neck or accidentally cause her any pain. 

“Be careful not to tilt your head too much, okay?” he asked, wetting her hair with the showerhead. She closed her eyes when a few drops of water splashed onto them. “Sorry!”

“For god's sake, Spencer, you're doing it more carefully than I would have done myself.”

It was true; he was acting as if he were performing some task at work that required absolute precision. He shrugged, massaging the strawberry shampoo into her hair. Foam quickly appeared, smelling sweet.

Suddenly, her hands tightened around the front of his shirt.

“Sorry,” she whispered, loosening her grip. “I got a little dizzy.”

Spencer immediately pressed his hands, still covered in shampoo, to her waist, afraid she might fall. He stared at her face for a long moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

And just then, her body suddenly went limp, falling forward.

Terrified, he let out a strangled cry.

“Hold on, please, don’t fall!” he kept repeating, doing everything he could to keep her upright.

Her hands hung limply on his shoulders, the foam and water soaking into his shirt, but he didn’t care at all.

“I’m right here, hold on to me as much as you can. C-c-can you hear me at all?”

He wondered whether it would be better to stand her up or lay her down while he could get to the phone and call an ambulance, when suddenly her weak touch grew stronger, and she let out a soft groan.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologizing. I’m still holding you, can you hear me?”

His heart was pounding incredibly fast as she gently pulled her head away from his chest. He, of course, didn’t let her stand on her own, constantly supporting her body, protecting her from a fall that could be disastrous.

Together, they left the shower cabin, her hair still covered in foam.

“Are you aware that this is how it’s going to look now?” she asked seriously.

Completely unfazed, he wiped the foam from her forehead, which was dangerously close to her eyes.

“I’d rather have you lose consciousness in my bathroom, right next to me, than risk… I don’t know, cracking your head open.”

For a moment, she was silent, the color beginning to return to her pale face, her gaze becoming more alert. He had a strange feeling that she was about to start crying, and since he really didn’t want that, he pulled her close again, in his usual protective gesture. Everything around them smelled of strawberries.

“Do you really have to be this good?”

Spencer snorted.

“I’m afraid it’s just my curse.”

*

“Are these people really arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable?”

Sitting on the couch, you jumped when a voice spoke right behind you. At the last second, you caught your laptop before it slipped off your lap. You had been reading some absurd discussion on an online forum you stumbled upon completely by accident. And yes, these users were indeed arguing about whether a cucumber is a fruit or a vegetable.

“Damn it, Spencer!” you shouted, putting your hand over your heart, which was pounding in an agitated rhythm. You looked at your boyfriend with a scowl. “You almost gave me a heart attack. How is it possible I didn’t hear you come in?”

He shrugged. Leaning his elbows on the back of the couch, the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt revealed the skin of his forearms. In that position, he had a perfect view of the screen on your laptop. He had just returned from work, a rainy July evening, his hair slightly damp.

“I wasn’t sneaking around. You must’ve just been lost in thought. Want to tell me what’s occupying that beautiful mind of yours?” He leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

“Beautiful mind, huh?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Just a few days ago, you told me that if a 19th-century priest heard even one thought from my head, he’d go into anaphylactic shock. Whatever that was supposed to mean.”

"In a big simplification, what I meant is that even though I love you, sometimes your way of thinking scares me."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"By the way, I bought land for Alexander."

Alexander was your new flycatcher, which had grown so much that it completely prevented the other flowers on the windowsill from growing. Due to its conqueror tendencies, you decided to name it after one of them.

"Do you want to repot it into a new pot now...?"

"No. Now you need to come to me."

You set the laptop aside and waited for him to take a seat on the couch. Before fully snuggling into him, you untied and removed the tie from his neck, then unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, just the way you liked.

You sighed almost instantly; his body was more comfortable than a pillow. Warm, with your favorite scent. You rested your head on his chest as his fingers gently combed through your hair.

In the first few weeks after you were discharged from the hospital, you couldn’t even sleep in the same bed. There was a risk that, in his sleep, he might accidentally bump into your neck and cause damage. Spencer enforced that rule strictly, as he did with every precaution related to your health.

Six months had passed since the accident, and for the past four months, you hadn’t worn a neck brace or needed help with daily tasks. But that didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, when you showered together, he would wash your hair just like he used to. Anyway, you were still attending rehabilitation and would need to for a long time, but despite that, you felt like you had fully returned to normal life.

You lifted yourself slightly to look at his face.

"I was walking to the bar today," you began.

You’d been considering going back to work for a while now, and the doctors had assured you there was no reason you couldn’t. You wanted something to occupy your hands and craved the sense of purpose that came with a task. You’d mentioned it to Spencer long ago, so he didn’t seem surprised when you brought it up.

"And? Will they take you back?"

"No. I mean, it’s not that they don’t want to, I just didn’t get there. That’s why I said I was walking and not that I went to a bar. Are you following?"

"I'm trying."

"So, listen to this. I took the subway and got off at that station near the room I used to rent."

The landlord had asked for the keys back shortly after your accident. Your arrangement had been that, in exchange for using the space, you cleaned it daily. Of course, you hadn’t been able to keep up with that anymore.

"...And I don't know, I was overwhelmed by this strange feeling, like I wanted to go back to it. Helping people."

"You help people all the time," Spencer reminded you. "All our neighbors come to you to vent about everything happening in their lives."

"That's true, but I mean, you know, professional help," you said, taking a deeper breath. You couldn't decide whether you were more excited or nervous about the decision. "I've been thinking about going back to uni, Spencer."

He straightened up, almost causing you to slide off his chest. Filled with tension, you watched his reaction closely. You’d spent the entire day wondering what he might say. Would he share your enthusiasm and support your plans, or would he try to talk you out of it, reasoning that you’d dropped out of school once and might not manage it again?

These thoughts were incredibly silly. Spencer—knowledge-obsessed, ever-curious Spencer—would never say something like that.

Instead, he pulled you into a tight embrace, whispering how incredible the idea was. You melted into it completely, feeling more elated than ever and unable to stop thinking about the crazy chain of cause and effect that had led to this specific moment, this particular relationship, and above all, this exact happiness. 

do you accept this overly sweet ending as my apology? :> tagging: @nightfullofparadox @lillaberry @fortheloveofgubler @opheliahotchner @cowboy1ikereid @penelopegarciaismygf

sorry if i forgot about someone!

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

6: A FINE LINE

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

You and Bucky deal with the fallout of the undercover mission.

Word count 2.7k

Warnings: Nightmares, angry girlfriends, Steve and Nat being besties to idiots

You were blissfully oblivious to the world while you slept for the whole quinjet flight, waking only as the small plane touched down the runway outside the compound.

"Sorry," Bucky grimaced as you woke with a gasp.

"Are we home?" 

You turned to look at him. As he nodded, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by the lines of worry across his forehead. He was looking at you with so much apprehension, that you almost reached out to comfort him. Almost. The memories of the previous night came flooding back and sadness filled your heart again.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

You ignored his question in favor of your own. "Did you fly all the way back without stopping?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his chest swelled with pride that you had noticed what he had done for you.

"That was a dangerous thing to do. You're exhausted." Bucky's face fell but you continued to chastise him anyway. "What if something happened? Are you trying to get us both killed?"

The long sleep had done nothing to improve your mood, you felt sluggish and now you were hungry to boot.

Bucky opened and closed his mouth a few times, before the word ‘sorry' came out in a whisper. "I don't want to hurt you."

"But you did."

The uncomfortable silence between you was broken by a crackle on the radio. "Everything okay in there?" Steve's voice sounded over the radio. 

"Yes!" you answered, hitting the button to open the aft exit hatch.

You stood up, the blanket fell off your shoulders and sent a shiver down your spine. You were still only wearing a bikini. Bending down, you picked up the blanket, covering yourself and stalking out of the plane. Bucky followed a few steps behind you. 

Steve took one look at you and knew that things weren't right but he was saved the hassle of finding a polite way of letting you know how rough you looked. 

"You two look like shit!" Nat appeared from behind Steve. "Why did Tony say everything was fine?"

"We got everything we needed but… the getaway was a little bumpy and my stomach didn't do so well," you pouted.

Natasha put her arm around your waist. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," she said, leading you away.

Once you were out of earshot of the boys, she rounded on you. "What happened out there?"

"What?" You are taken aback by the tone of her question.

"Come on, don't give me the innocent act. Something happened between you and Barnes."

You sighed deeply. Bucky's words played in your mind on a loop. You felt deflated. "Do you think I'm a bad friend?"

"Oh sweetie, no one would ever suggest anything of the sort."

"I said something, I knew he wouldn't like it. And he got really mad and said some really awful things."

"What did he say?"

You couldn't bring yourself to repeat his words, even though they were burned into your brain. For some reason, you still felt the urge to protect Bucky. Logically, you knew he didn't deserve it, but your heart, the stupid organ that loved him unconditionally, had more sway over you in that moment. "It doesn't matter."

You were saved from further interrogation as your stomach rumbled loudly.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and fed. You can rest after that."

"Nat, did the intel pan out?"

"Yeah," your friend grinned at you. "You did good."

You felt a smile tug at your lips, at least you had been able to achieve something of use. Even if you had tanked your friendship in the process.

*

Meanwhile, back in the hangar bay, Steve was having a similar conversation with Bucky.

"Well I’m assuming from the way you’re both acting, something happened between you two."

"You’re a punk, you know that." Bucky huffed.

"And you’re a jerk." Steve quipped fondly.

"I was a jerk. I think I’ve ruined everything."

"What happened?"

Bucky was too ashamed of the words he had used. His soul burned with shame at the spite he had felt. He had never understood why people used the phrase ‘a fine line between love and hate’, until now. Because in that moment, for the briefest of milliseconds, Bucky had hated you; for what you’d said to him, but mostly because you didn’t love him back. He wanted to give you the world, and you wouldn’t take it. His heart was broken and you had offered to mend it, only to break it again. He would do anything to quash that feeling, shove it back inside a bottle, put a cork in it and throw it out into the deepest of oceans.

Hatred was the feeling that surrounded him as the Winter Soldier. He was hated by his keepers and hated by the world around him. Now it had crept into his soul and stained his thoughts of you. Worst of all, he hated himself for the things he had said to you.

"I think I’m going to lose her."

"Bucky, just tell her how you feel about her."

"I can’t. Not anymore, not after this."

"Bucky-"

"Would you just drop it, Steve? Why’re you so keen on this? Are you trying to get me to destroy everything so you can have her all to yourself?" Bucky rounded on Steve, unleashing his anger on the only other person who had stuck by him unyieldingly.

Steve just looked back at him, pity filling his eyes. He knew how badly Bucky was hurting. Meeting the person who you love more than anything else in life and not being able to be with them, he had suffered the same pain when he had woken from the ice, knowing that he would never get to dance with Peggy in his lifetime.

Bucky’s anger had flared suddenly and was equally as quick to dissipate, his shoulders sagging from sheer exhaustion. He had been up for almost thirty turbulence filled hours. He needed rest. Steve put a hand on his shoulder, waving away Bucky’s attempts to apologize. He guided him back to his room, requesting that FRIDAY have someone send food to his room. Steve sat on his bed, waiting while Bucky showered. Despite the powerful shower sounds coming from the bathroom, Steve could hear you and Nat talking. He couldn’t make out your words, but he heard the gravity of your tone. 

"Oh Buck," he sighed quietly.

Nat left you just before Bucky came out of the shower. Bucky looked surprised that Steve was still here.

"You need to eat." Steve pointed at the meal that someone had delivered. He started unpacking it for Bucky.

"I’m tired. I should sleep," he said pointedly, indicating that he wanted Steve to leave.

Steve picked up the sandwich and handed it to Bucky. "Eat this and I’ll leave you alone."

Bucky complied. He was good at that. He finished the grilled cheese sandwich without any enjoyment, the bread tasting like sandpaper in his dry mouth. "Happy?" he asked, gruffly.

Steve didn’t answer, leaving Bucky to the solace he sought. Not that Steve’s departure did anything to assuage the guilt that had seeped deep into Bucky’s bones. He grabbed a blanket and pillow from his bed, glancing at the door, almost as though Steve would sneak back in. When no one appeared, he spread the blanket on the floor and lay down on it, closing his eyes on the world that was filled with pain. 

Unfortunately for Bucky, his subconscious offered him no relief. His mind was tired, his emotions ruled the roost and left him susceptible for the nightmares to invade. They seeped in with stealth and gripped him like a vice.

It was midnight when a noise woke you. You startled, breathing heavily as your eyes darted around in the darkness, body immediately on high alert. It always took a few days to let the safety of your environment lull your body into a sense of security. You listened carefully for signs of disruption, but for several moments there was only silence. Just as your heart rate settled, you heard it again, much clearer this time and you knew exactly what it was and where it was coming from.

Without thinking, you shot out of bed and rapped your knuckles against Bucky's bedroom door. He didn't answer, he never did when he was like this. Fortunately, you were an old hat to this routine. You crouched on the floor, calling his name gently until his eyes opened. The moonlight flooded through his uncovered window and you moved to an angle where he could see you. Only when his eyes focused on you, did you touch him, lay a comforting hand on his arm.

Bucky sat up slowly, eyes filled with unshed tears as he gazed at you sorrowfully. The anguish in his face was unbearable and you found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. His arms wormed their way around your waist holding you in a tight embrace, one you never wanted to leave. His warmth, his sturdiness was your strength, your pillar. You needed him just as he needed you. 

You didn't have any plans on moving and Bucky made no move to let you go, but eventually your body protested. You were sitting on your lower legs and the pressure on them reduced the blood flow leading to a painful tingling which started in your toes and was spreading upwards. Maybe a little wiggle would help restore your feeling.

Your movement didn't go unnoticed by Bucky. "Are you okay?" he asked, taking his nose out of your neck. 

"My legs fell asleep," you groaned.

He chuckled in response. "Need to get up?"

You nodded, wobbling to your feet like a baby deer standing for the first time. Once you had recovered your balance and the tingling had ceased to be painful, you jumped up and down a few times for good measure. "Human body wasn't made for this. Come?" You held out your hand for him.

He took it without hesitation. "Where’re we going?" 

"Not far." You led him to the bed. "I thought we'd put a stop to this." You pointed at the floor.

"Sorry," he whispered.

You sighed, jerking your head towards the bed indicating that he should get in. Dubiously he followed your instruction, relieved that you chose to get in beside him rather than running away. He pulled the duvet up to cover your legs and you sank into the pillows beside him. It was so much easier to be close to him physically than emotionally these days.

Bucky was looking at you, you could feel his gaze but you didn't return it, not knowing what to say. He solved your problem by initiating the conversation.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah. But maybe we can discuss your driving skills some time. They need some work."

"I'm sorry for…" he sighed. "For everything."

"Do you really think I'm a slut?"

"No!" His answer came back so fast, there was really no room for doubt. The way his eyes stared into yours, you could feel his regret.

After a few moments of contemplative silence you asked him another question. "Since when do you watch porn, Bucky? I mean, we used to spend all our time together. And it’s not with Steve, I know that much."

"Well sometimes, when Sam, Clint and Tony-"

"Say no more."

"I didn’t think they were realistic, but on the mission, when you started talking like that… it made me wonder if it’s real, and if I’m not doing things right. I mean, what if I’m not good enough, you know? And I was angry. I mean I know it was wrong, I knew it would hurt you. But… you hurt me and … I wanted to hurt you back." Bucky hung his head with the admission.

"I’m sorry about that… I just - it’s just, she makes me feel like I’m not your favorite person anymore and I hate that."

"You’re jealous?"

You shrug. What could you say, of course you were jealous, your insides were withering and dying from the envy that consumed you.

"But you’re never jealous of anything, or anyone!" Bucky carried on, not being able to read your expression in the darkness.

"You have to care enough to be envious of somebody."

"You care about me?" he smiled.

"If you didn’t already know that, you’re dumber than I thought."

Bucky chuckled, but it turned into a sigh. "I’m sorry for calling you a slut."

"I’m sorry for mocking your girlfriend. Just so you know, Priya seems like the kind of person who will let you know if she isn't pleased. Can't imagine she would just lie there and take it."

"Yeah she probably would. I guess you don’t get to her position without being able to speak up for yourself."

"Her position?"

"She just got promoted to head of pediatric surgery. That’s a big deal, right?"

The little green monster inside you growled angrily, amplifying your feelings of inadequacy. "Yeah, that’s pretty impressive," you answered softly. "Congratulations to her."

Bucky curled up beside you, burying his head against your shoulder. "Thanks, Cricket," he muttered, drowsily.

His voice was low and tired and a wave of guilt washed over you. He was trying. You could see how hard he was trying to be a good boyfriend and a good friend. "Go to sleep, Bucky."

"Night." It was surprising how quickly he fell asleep. Even super soldiers needed time to recover.

Once his breathing was shallow and even, you whispered back to him. "Goodnight, Bucky. I love you." You closed your eyes and joined him in slumberland.

*

"Jamie?"

Priya’s voice floated into your ear, waking you.

"Jamie!"

The bed shook as Bucky shot up from his position beside you and you opened your eyes to see a very pissed off looking girlfriend standing at the end of Bucky’s bed.

"Priya!" Bucky exclaimed.

"What’s happening here?" Her voice was quiet, forceful, dripping with anger.

"Look, it’s not what this looks like," Bucky protested.

Priya rounded on you. "Are you sleeping with him?"

"No, Priya. I’m not sleeping- we didn’t have sex," you said emphatically. "We just fell asleep, we were talking and it was two in the morning and..."

Priya’s eyes narrowed and she looked between you and Bucky. "Talking? At two in the morning? Steve said you got home yesterday afternoon."

Bucky jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s not like that, Priya. Cricket was just… I had a nightmare and… well,” he shrugged. “We fell asleep. I haven’t had one in a long time. I know you haven’t seen what it’s like, and I’m grateful for that.”

Priya crossed her arms, clearly not buying it. "And you couldn’t go back to your own room after you woke him up from the bad dream?"

You could see the hurt in Priya’s eyes, and you felt guilty for being the cause of it. She had never been outright unkind to you, in fact she had tried being friendly, tried getting to know you. You were the one who had shut her out.

"For what it’s worth, Bucky is the most trustworthy person I know. He would never do something like that to you. I promise that nothing physical has ever happened between us. I’m not a slut. But, I’m going to go,” you said quietly, “let you guys talk."

Bucky hesitated, looking from you to Priya. His heart sank as he processed the words you had spoken, he knew he had hurt you deeply with his words and his heart ached with regret.

She sighed, her anger softening slightly. "Fine, explain."

Bucky took a deep breath, his eyes pleading with Priya. "I know this looks bad, but Cricket is just a friend, I swear. I would never do anything to hurt you."

Priya looked at him for a long moment before finally nodding. "Okay, I believe you. But don’t let it happen again, Bucky."

Bucky nodded, relief flooding his face. "I won’t, I promise."

You stood up, feeling like an intruder in their moment. "I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sorry for causing any trouble."

Priya gave you a small smile. "It’s okay, Cricket. Thank you for being honest."

As you walked out of the room, you could help but feel another pang of jealousy. Since Priya had come into your life, you were on the outside, always looking in. Would you ever be more than you'd always been?

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[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 8 - Change~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: Fueled by alcohol and emotion, you muster the courage to confront Alastor about his feelings toward you. During a heated discussion, more truths come to light. The rules you’ve lived by for so long begin to change as you learn more about who you are meant to become. This will be a night to remember.

Themes: The usual angst, this part does contain SMUT, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, Lucifer is a cunning shit, slow burn, and of course 18+

3.9k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 (You're on it!) Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

You freeze standing in front of the door to the radio tower. A million questions run through your mind. A million scenarios play out. A million possibilities of what you were to expect in the next few minutes. It was second nature by now to prepare for the worst. You deliver three loud bangs against the wooden door that echo through the hall. Every logical thought screams for you to leave but the liquor rushing through your veins keeps your feet planted.

No response. There’s not even a shuffle on the other side. Should I knock again? Maybe he went to his room? You raise your hand to knock again when you hear the click of the lock and knob turning. 

The figure before you is almost unrecognizable. Of course it was Alastor but his usually clean pressed suit was replaced with wrinkled slacks and a button down, mostly undone. His hair disheveled in every direction and his eyes had black circles underneath. How does he look even worse than earlier?

“Alastor -” you breathe in shock. 

His eye twitches at your voice, “Leave.” he tries to close the door. 

You slam your palm against the door to keep it open, “No!”. I didn’t make it all the way up here just to leave without a fight. A snarl crosses his face. He steps aside to allow you to enter. Walking in you see an unusual mess of paperwork along with the rest of his suit pieces thrown frivolously around the room. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of such a late night visit dear?” he sneers as he locks the door behind him. And just like that, every conversation you planned on the way up suddenly leaves your mind. Wait shit…no no no not the blank brain.

“I’m waiting.” he growls, stepping closer to you, annoyed by your lack of reason to be there. You turn away from him and blurt out the only things your alcohol fuzzed brain allowed, “He wants me to leave here to go stay with him. He promised he would protect me and keep me safe and I don’t know if I want that and his touch feels so wrong and – and - all I wanted was to run to you.” You wince from how horribly jumbled your words came out.

A warmth runs up your back and you feel Alastor on your neck. The smell of liquor taints his breath. You stand quietly, bracing for his retaliation. “Please….say something.”

He places his hands on your shoulders. Every muscle tenses from his touch as he speaks, “He wants you to stay with him? To cage you within his own walls?” 

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him all your little secrets?” he continues with an unsettlingly calm tone. “Y-yes.”

“Did you enjoy his hands on you? His lips against your skin?”

A lump forms in your throat as you shake your head, “N-No.”

Alastor walks around you to stand at his desk, looking out the tower window. “Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t leave the hotel without me?” His voice is smug, exuding his usual radio filter.

Is he stupid?

You scowl, frustrated by his sudden cockiness, “That deal was broken when you decided to be a self-serving, ignorant asshole.” 

“Oh my dear, I don’t know how you’ve managed to climb the ranks like you have. Your emotions make you weak, make you sloppy. I have much to teach you.” He says coolly still facing the window.

Oh, okay so he is stupid.

You choose to ignore his comment. “This was a mistake.” you mutter just loud enough for him to hear. Turning on your heel, you head back to the door and reach for the handle, but black tentacles spring up to stop your exit. What the hell!? "Don't do this Alastor." you warn through gritted teeth.

“Come here, please.” There’s suddenly no static, no ringing. You stand your ground and try to leave again only to be pushed back by his dark appendages. “Please.” He repeats, bleak and emotionless. Rolling your eyes with a sigh, you walk across the room and stand next to him, keeping your gaze out the window as well. A familiar comfort washes over you being this close again, but the ache in your chest outweighed any relief. You stand together in silence. Both looking over the city for a long while.

Hesitantly you speak, barely rising above a whisper, “You’re wrong you know. Sure, there’s sadness, depression, anger, selfishness – those weaken the soul. Break you down more than any fall into Hell.” You feel his eyes turn to you, but you stay locked forward, “I would never expect you to understand, but there are some emotions that can empower even the weakest souls. That is how I’ve climbed.”

Rule #4 T̶̷̸̸̸̸̶̵̴̸̶̴̶̷̴̶̸̸̸̵̷̵̵̡̝̙̰̓̌̈̚u̴̶̴̵̷̵̷̸̴̵̴̶̴̵̴̵̷̷̴̸̸̶̶̬͍̯̓̎̈̑ͅř̴̷̷̷̵̴̶̴̸̶̶̶̸̵̴̴̴̷̵̵̴̴̷̲̼̭̱͛̏͠n̶̸̵̶̷̷̴̷̵̷̴̵̷̵̸̶̷̸̴̶̷̴̴̛͓̝͎̱̈́̆̐ ̶̷̷̸̶̷̸̶̷̶̵̴̸̸̴̸̷̷̴̶̵̴̵̦̥͉͔̎͐̾͆ỳ̷̶̵̸̷̵̶̵̵̸̶̶̷̷̷̶̶̸̵̷̶̸̴̥̜̝͆̈̕͜o̴̸̵̶̵̷̶̸̶̴̵̵̴̸̷̶̴̴̶̵̷̴̷͖̯̥̟̍̾̒͠ú̵̵̷̶̴̴̴̷̴̵̶̸̵̵̴̴̶̴̵̷̷̸̵̳̣͔̳̽͊͌r̸̵̴̶̶̶̴̸̸̷̶̵̶̴̸̶̷̵̴̴̶̷̴̬͚̳̜̔̉̍͝ ̸̵̷̶̵̴̵̸̸̶̶̶̸̶̸̶̸̵̸̷̶̷̸̠͚͓͆̈́͌̕͜ẅ̶̵̶̷̸̷̷̸̸̷̷̵̵̸̶̷̴̸̷̷̶̶̴̛̮͓̖́̏̀͜e̴̷̴̴̷̵̴̸̸̵̶̵̶̴̶̸̴̸̸̸̷̷̴͉̮͉͓͑̏̈̐ą̵̶̸̶̴̶̶̵̴̶̴̵̶̴̵̶̵̵̶̸̷̸̶̮͍̱͗͆̚͝k̵̶̶̸̶̴̵̴̷̵̵̴̸̴̴̷̷̸̶̷̸̵̷̺̻̯̜̅̉͒̈́n̷̶̵̴̸̵̷̴̸̴̷̵̵̵̴̶̴̶̶̸̶̶̴̰̫͔̺͑͂̇̍ȩ̴̴̵̶̸̷̸̷̵̷̶̴̵̴̷̷̷̶̸̵̶̶̶̭̹̙͐́̔͘s̸̷̸̶̶̵̷̶̶̶̷̸̶̷̴̵̸̸̵̸̸̸̷̳͔̦̼̐͂̉͌ş̶̶̷̴̵̷̷̸̸̵̷̴̷̸̸̶̸̸̷̸̷̶̵͚̠̺̉͂̒͝ ̵̵̵̷̵̵̶̷̴̵̵̵̷̵̵̷̸̶̸̴̴̶̵̨̟̬̣̇̓̂͝i̷̸̷̵̶̶̴̵̶̶̵̸̸̸̸̵̶̴̸̵̸̵̸̥̦͈͛̾̂͜͝ṉ̷̶̶̸̶̷̸̶̷̷̷̵̶̶̴̸̴̸̵̵̷̶̴̣͓̳͂̉̿̓ț̴̶̴̴̴̷̸̷̶̴̸̶̴̶̷̸̷̷̷̵̵̸̵̨̪̩̍̒́̐ò̵̵̴̶̷̶̷̷̴̶̶̶̶̶̸̷̶̴̶̷̵̵̴͔̭̙̿̈́͌͜ ̶̶̵̸̶̴̷̷̵̸̸̵̶̴̷̵̸̷̴̵̷̵̷̢̹̖͍̊̄̀̓s̵̴̷̸̸̸̵̴̵̶̴̶̷̵̸̸̷̷̸̷̷̵̷̙̮̭̰̀̽͋̓ẗ̷̵̷̷̷̷̶̵̶̴̸̷̷̵̸̵̸̴̵̴̷̴̸͎̗͉̹́̇͌͝r̷̸̷̶̴̶̴̶̸̵̸̷̶̴̶̴̶̷̶̶̵̸̸̮̭̺̘̀̃̍͆ȩ̷̶̴̵̴̴̴̴̷̸̵̴̷̴̷̴̵̷̵̷̸̴̷̭̤͙͒̂̇̈́n̴̴̶̵̷̵̵̷̵̸̷̴̴̵̶̶̵̴̷̴̶̷̵̢͙̪̩̈́͊̔͘g̵̴̶̴̶̷̷̶̵̴̸̷̶̶̴̴̶̷̶̴̷̵̵̝̘̩̪͒͋̕͝t̶̸̸̷̸̵̷̵̵̷̵̵̶̸̸̴̷̸̴̸̵̴̶̳͚̘̪͐͑͝͝h̵̶̸̷̶̴̷̶̸̵̷̵̸̷̴̴̵̴̷̸̵̴̸̡̭̝̤͂́͆̿

He holds his gaze as another long silence passes. In the past his stare always felt heavy, as if he was trying to find every flaw or insecurity you could possibly have but tonight, he didn’t burn into you. Tonight he was soft and present.

“I think I’m beginning to understand such sentiments.” He mutters. “Look at me.”

You shake your head and look to the floor. “I can’t play this game with you. It was never just about power to me. I need you to realize that.” The last few days you cried so much you didn’t think you could produce any more tears, yet here they are again, stinging just behind your eyes.

“I had every intention of keeping us nothing more than mutual partners, to only feed from the power we could create. I did what was necessary to keep you close.” Alastor gently takes your hand, intertwining your fingers in his, “But I never expected — I - I didn’t think — This is not a game to me.” 

He doesn’t get it. Your hand jerks away from his. “You have a shitty way of making me believe otherwise.”

A frustrated grunt leaves his chest, “I knew the moment Lucifer met you and felt the power you held, he’d try to take you away. His reaction from seeing us together made it all the more obvious. As much as I hate to admit it, that insolent King is far from stupid.”

“You actually think he feels threatened by me? Or you?” You shake your head in disbelief, “It’s Lucifer, THE fallen angel…the fuckin’ devil himself! He doesn’t need anything. Why would he bother being so open, s-so vulnerable? The man practically crumbled to me. He even compared me to…to Lillith.” “How bold of him.” He grumbles unamused, “Do you really think he would say such things to someone he didn’t know could – “

“He kissed me, Alastor. He kissed me like - ” 

“Like he loved you?” he scoffs at the statement. You watch his body grow with rage, “You want to talk about playing games? Are you so blind to not see he’s the one playing you!? You’re weaker than I thought falling so easily to someone like him.”

Hot tears flow down your face, though you can’t decide if it’s out of anger or hurt. “I’m not weak!” 

“Then start acting like it!” His eyes begin to flicker black and red as static floods the air, continuing to grow into his demon form. 

“It’s not weak to want to be wanted by someone who doesn’t have intentions to….just use me!” You find yourself screaming at the demon, flames starting to surround you. Why can’t he see past his own selfishness…

Alastor goes quiet as he comes down from his form. He beams an arrogant smile at your tear-soaked face, “Silly girl, he wishes to keep you in his castle. To keep you as his pet. He might not need your power but if you think he actually wants you without some ulterior motive, you’re naive and foolish.”

“FUCK YOU!” Having had enough berating, you turn away to leave but his large claw catches your arm to pull you back into him. “What Alastor!? What else could you possibly have to say to me!?”

He leans against his desk and pulls your body between his legs, “Do you not remember what I said the first time we made a deal? Together, you and I could become more powerful than the King of Hell himself.” You tilt your head, “Okay and?”

“Use your head for once! What all powerful being would be willing to risk the possibility of being overthrown? Angel or not, he isn’t invincible. He can’t hide his fear of the potential we possess.” 

The lightbulb finally fires in your brain. Of course... 

Rule #1 B̸̶̵̵̷̴̴̷̶̶̶̨͎̈́ę̴̶̸̷̵̷̸̵̸̴̴̜͊̋ ̸̷̴̸̶̷̵̷̴̴̴͔͙̈́͠o̸̸̸̵̸̷̵̷̶̸̸̲̟̐̀p̶̸̸̴̸̴̵̵̵̴̵͍̞̒̂e̵̴̴̵̸̶̸̸̷̵̶̩̊̑ͅň̸̴̸̶̶̵̴̴̴̶̶̥̕͜ ̴̴̸̴̵̷̷̸̷̶̴͇͙̐̎t̸̷̸̴̵̶̷̴̴̴̷̡̝̂͆o̵̵̴̴̴̷̴̶̸̶̸͚͉̍͌ ̵̶̸̷̶̵̵̸̶̷̸̛̱̗͝t̸̵̷̷̸̶̴̴̷̴̸̗͎̎͑r̸̵̴̴̶̶̵̸̴̴̷͙̣̉̑ǘ̵̴̶̸̸̴̸̶̷̷̸̯̦̓s̸̸̶̶̵̸̸̶̵̸̴̩̰̍̿ṯ̷̶̴̶̸̵̷̴̴̴̴̛́ͅ,̸̷̸̶̸̵̵̴̴̶̵̡͍̈͑ ̶̴̷̴̸̷̵̵̴̴̴̣̤̾͝b̸̵̶̵̵̸̵̶̴̴̶̛̜̹̀u̵̵̶̵̷̷̸̶̸̷̵͈͈̎́t̵̸̷̴̶̵̵̶̷̶̵̡̞̔̚ ̴̸̴̷̷̷̶̷̵̷̶̞̯̋̚n̴̶̵̷̴̷̷̴̶̴̶̳̮̎̈ȩ̵̶̴̵̷̴̵̸̶̵̴͍̀̑v̵̷̸̸̸̵̴̵̷̶̴͔͗͝ͅe̴̷̷̵̵̵̵̸̸̵̵̡̤͋̀ř̵̴̸̵̷̵̸̷̵̶̴͈͘ͅ ̴̸̷̶̵̷̶̸̵̶̵͖̟̔̃d̷̷̵̷̴̶̸̷̶̵̵͈̘͐̔o̷̸̵̷̴̵̵̵̶̸̵͕̙͊̌ ̴̴̴̵̷̷̸̶̵̷̴̜̜̅͘s̷̴̴̵̶̵̶̴̵̸̷̬͈̏̍ò̴̵̴̸̸̶̸̶̶̴̶̫̠̀ ̴̴̷̴̶̸̷̴̵̸̶̯̼̃̓b̷̷̴̶̶̷̶̴̶̵̶̘̹̐̈́l̷̵̸̸̵̵̴̸̷̵̴͎̫͂̉i̷̷̸̶̸̶̵̵̶̵̷̤̪͗̾n̶̴̷̷̷̶̵̶̵̸̶͉̺͑̚d̵̶̵̵̵̴̷̷̸̵̴̖̠͐̉l̶̷̸̸̷̸̴̵̴̵̴̖̘͆͌y̶̶̵̷̵̴̴̴̸̸̵͇̆̾͜

You hang your head in embarrassment by the horrible realization. If you could shrink down to the size of an ant, you would. I should have known better… “He wants to keep us apart so we have no way of rising to power…he wants control. He knows what’s possible, doesn’t he?”

Alastor stays silent but his eyes give you all the answers you need.

You bury your face into his chest, furious with yourself for not seeing it sooner. “I’m so stupid. He got me to trust him and…I told him so much…I showed him…shit…he knows.” Alastor wraps his arms around you tightly. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh.

“You’re not stupid. I should have told you the morning of his visit instead of -.”

“No - I allowed my own desires to cloud my voice of reason. I want to help…to protect those who can’t do so for themselves. But fuck, for once it was nice to feel wanted for who I was, not just what I could do…” you admit sheepishly, surprising even yourself with your words.

Alastor’s hands affectionately cradle your face. His thumbs softly wipe the tears that remained on your cheeks, “I want you. My body aches and pulls to you. I want to be powerful with you. I know I’ve made you feel like you were nothing to me when in reality, that couldn’t be farthest from the truth.”

“Then say it.” You say plainly as your eyes dart between his. He cocks his head trying to understand your demand. “Tell me the truth. Look at me, swear on your mother’s soul, and tell me the truth.” You needed to hear it from him. You need the words to leave his mouth.

He lets go of you and stands up straight, “Husker talked with you, didn’t he?” 

Uhg Husk isn’t going to hear the end of this…

Frustration bubbles in your chest, “Don’t pin this on him! You just said -” 

His lips press into yours forcefully and you melt into his arms. You’ve craved this feeling for so long that you didn’t dare reject him. Static begins to pulse through your body like never before. Opening your eyes, you see pink and green light surrounding you both. My power has never radiated like this with him. It only should only happen when — oooh fuck I get it now…  

Rule #2 Ḑ̸̵̵̴̴̴̴̵̷̷̸̴̷̴̸̴̴̷̷̵̷̫̩̼̃͐̃͐͜͝o̵̴̶̷̸̶̶̴̸̶̵̷̴̶̷̸̷̴̷̴̷̞̗̣̟̖͐͂̽̊͐n̴̶̶̷̸̸̴̵̷̵̶̵̸̵̷̴̶̸̴̴̸̻̤͍̺͋͐̀̈́̂ͅ'̵̴̵̶̴̵̵̸̶̸̸̷̷̶̵̷̵̵̷̴̶̢̫͖̱͑̆̽̌́͜t̶̴̴̶̴̶̸̶̴̶̸̵̴̴̴̴̷̶̵̵̷͕̼̦̠̘̽́̾̄̈́ ̷̷̶̵̸̶̵̶̷̸̸̵̴̸̸̵̸̷̶̶̶͉̹̰͙͔̈́̂͐̆̌b̶̵̴̸̷̸̷̴̷̴̵̸̴̵̶̴̸̷̸̵̸̲̝̖̦͚͗̿͊̎̌ȩ̸̵̴̶̵̸̵̴̴̷̸̴̶̵̴̷̸̷̵̴̵̩̦͎͇̃͌͐̔̕ ̷̶̶̸̸̶̶̴̶̵̷̸̴̸̶̶̶̷̷̸̶̹̬̙͎̲̉̈͆͆̏a̸̴̶̶̴̵̸̷̶̴̷̴̴̸̷̷̵̶̷̷̶̙̣̹͍͙̒̏́͘͝f̸̴̷̶̸̴̶̸̴̴̶̶̴̶̶̷̶̶̸̸̶̨̡̧̻̯̐̓̐͑̈r̴̵̶̴̸̷̵̸̸̵̸̸̷̶̷̷̵̶̸̷̴̭̩̪̞̻̈́̄̆̔̎ả̶̸̵̵̶̶̴̸̸̴̷̶̶̷̶̶̴̵̵̶̶̢̡̦̖̠̾͑̾͂i̷̶̶̷̸̶̵̵̶̴̸̴̴̴̸̴̷̸̸̷̵̪̩̜̗̦͂̔̂̓͝d̸̴̸̸̸̸̶̵̴̸̶̴̵̸̶̷̴̶̶̶̵̰͚̪̺̥̒́̏̍͠ ̵̶̶̸̵̶̴̴̶̶̸̷̸̵̸̴̵̸̶̸̶̧̰̠͎̪͋̋̒͋̿ẗ̸̵̸̵̸̸̴̸̵̷̶̷̷̶̸̸̷̴̷̸̸̳͇͕̜̟̒̓͌̈ȍ̸̵̶̷̴̸̸̸̷̸̴̵̵̸̵̵̴̸̴̶̷̖̳͔̭̖̄͊̐̆ ̷̸̶̴̷̶̵̸̵̶̷̵̴̶̸̶̸̴̸̴̷̲͎̩̣͂͛̂͜͝͝ṣ̴̶̴̸̸̴̴̶̴̶̵̶̶̴̵̵̴̶̵̷̵̨̠͔̮̑͂͗̑̔ḫ̶̵̶̶̵̴̴̶̸̵̶̴̸̷̵̶̴̷̶̵̶̡̨̻̼̿͛̈́͌͘ö̶̶̵̴̶̸̵̴̴̴̴̷̷̴̷̷̶̴̴̶̴̞̲͙͉̬́̈́́̓͝w̸̴̶̶̶̵̸̸̷̶̵̴̴̷̶̴̶̵̴̶̶̝͎͓̼̤͐̆͊͊͐ ̴̶̶̷̶̶̴̴̶̷̸̴̷̸̶̵̷̵̵̶̵̡̻̪͍̙̈́̇͗̂͐y̶̸̶̵̸̴̸̶̴̷̶̵̸̷̶̷̶̸̸̴̵̦͕̲̱̥̾͗͊̋͠o̴̵̵̴̴̵̷̴̸̶̸̵̶̷̷̴̴̸̷̶̷͈̻͚͙̔̎̀̎̕͜u̶̴̸̶̷̶̵̵̴̸̶̸̵̴̷̸̶̵̷̸̵̻̥̩̭̿͗̐͆͌ͅr̸̷̴̵̶̵̸̶̴̷̶̵̴̴̵̵̸̶̶̷̵͖̙̼̝̝̃̽̊͗́ ̴̷̶̵̸̴̸̵̵̷̸̶̴̵̵̵̶̶̶̵̷̧̥̥̫̭͑̈̆̔̈p̵̴̴̸̶̶̸̴̶̴̸̷̸̶̵̷̸̶̴̶̷̺̰̪͎͓͋̆̄͆̕o̷̶̴̸̸̶̵̸̴̵̸̷̸̴̵̴̴̵̵̵̸̹̟͔̱͉͆̀̐́̈́w̶̸̵̵̵̸̶̷̸̵̴̸̶̴̷̴̸̷̶̵̸̼̣̘̖͐͋͑̂͝ͅȅ̷̷̵̶̶̵̶̵̶̷̴̸̷̵̵̷̸̷̸̶̵̛̼̩̭͓̍̅͊ͅr̵̸̸̶̶̷̶̶̸̶̸̸̸̷̶̴̸̶̴̴̷̨̻̹̪̽͛͒͝͝ͅ

He breaks the kiss to rest his head against yours, panting from the sudden passion, “I swear���on my darling mother’s soul…I love you.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” 

Alastor’s face twists with a mixture of regret and embarrassment, “I’ve made it a point to be ruthless and unwavering. I thought showing anything more would label me weak. When I returned to the city feeling such foreign urges…I thought I was going mad.” You smirk trying to hide the pure joy rushing over you, “Is that Alastor or the copious amount of liquor talking?”

“Probably both.” He chuckles through a smile you swear could split his face in two if it went any wider. Your hand runs under his open shirt and across his chest playfully, “Oooo what other confessions can I get out of the great Radio Demon?” 

Alastor huffs at your sudden confidence, “Oh - ho darling don't push your luck. Terrible of you to take such advantage of me in this state.” Your lips curl into a half-hearted smile, but doubt continues to flood your thoughts, “You say you love me - but your words have failed me before.” 

He grimaces, “After seeing you with…him…the pain of possibly losing you consumed my mind. I went to see a good friend of mine who was able to put things in a new light. I believe the words she used were, ‘Words are cheap, but actions, they speak for the truth’.”

Time to test my luck as usual. “Then show me.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead and trails down your face, stopping at your lips. “Are you sure?” he asks breathlessly. You nod and push against him with enough force he has to brace himself against the desk. He swiftly returns your passion and draws you flush with his body. As he deepens the kiss with his tongue, you feel him spin and lift you up on his desk - slotting himself between your thighs.

Your hands dance up his body, impulsively undoing the last few buttons of his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders. You break the embrace as you feel the scars that riddled his body. “How -?”

“I didn’t become who I am without some loss, my dear. Does it repulse you?”

“Never.” Entranced, you ghost across each mark making him shiver. Desire crashes over you seeing his body react to your touch. Your fingers continue to flutter over his skin to the small tufts of red hair that trail down his stomach. Stopping at his belt, you lift your eyes to his, “This isn’t like before Alastor. I can’t handle any more disappearing or deals or secrets. Are you ready for that? Are you certain I am what you want?” Your words seem to plead rather than question him.

He pulls your hips into him as he lays you back on the desk, trailing kisses down your jaw. “You’re all I’ve wanted for a long time darling.” he purs into your ear, voice dripping with lust. Is this really happening?

You let out a yelp when his claw abruptly slices down your shirt. He’s too impatient, too deprived of you. His eagerness continues to fuel the heat growing between your thighs. He chuckles as the buttons of your shirt scatter across the room, “Nothing a trip to the tailor can’t fix.” 

He begins to pepper kisses across your collarbone, down your sternum, and over your stomach, pulling soft whimpers from your lips. A devious smile crosses his face as he unbuttons your pants and slides them off your legs along with your underwear. He stands himself between your thighs once more, “Utter perfection.” he breathes. The sudden sound of his belt being undone and ripped from its loops sends goosebumps across every inch of your exposed skin. Last chance to - no…I want this….we need this…

You feel his hard warmth start to slide between your folds. He groans from contact, “It seems you’re already begging for me, darling.” Propping yourself on your elbows, you look down at his length as he teases your entrance. Alastor notices your worried expression, “Take a deep breath and relax, I’ll go slow.” He slowly begins to push himself into you and his mouth falls on yours, begging to catch every moan of pain and pleasure.

Your walls clench from the sudden but welcomed sting. He stills to allow your body to adjust to his size. “Too much?” he asks. You shake your head, “No, keep going.” He continues to push into you, hissing into your neck as he bottoms out against you. You can’t remember your previous experiences from when you were alive, but you were positive you’ve never felt this level of fullness or satisfaction.

You wrap your legs around his waist and tangle your hands into his hair, giving a firm pull at the base of his antlers. “F-f-fuck –“ he mouths while rolling against you, craving friction but not daring to push until he feels your body relax. You buck into him as a silent plea to keep going. He begins to pull out at an agonizingly slow pace, groaning gravelly praises each time he drives back inside, “That’s it.” “Deep breaths cher.” “Give in to me.” He was completely controlled, each stroke deep and intentional.

“Al –“ You cover your face to muffle your moans, surprised by how dazed you’re already becoming. Each thrust you feel him hitting a spot that sends mind numbing electricity through your body. He moves your hands away from your face, “No hiding - it’s just you and me.” His voice is laced with a sweetness you’ve never heard from the demon before.

It isn’t long before the tension in your lower stomach builds. He draws you up against him and grips one of your thighs, putting you in a position that allows his pelvis to grind into you as he quickens his pace. Your fingers dig into his arms to steady yourself. 

You throw your head back with a guttural moan, your noises are pure music to Alastor’s ears. He can’t resist breathing sweet words into your neck, repeating how good you look like this, completely filled by him, no one on your lips but him. In between his admirations, he runs his teeth across your throat, nipping and sucking little marks to claim you that much more. 

His gentle whines across your skin bring you that much closer to release, “Alastor…please…more…”. Any self-control he was holding onto snaps at the sound of your pathetic pleas. Feeling him pull out completely, you protest under your breath. He turns you around and bends your body over the cold wood of the desk. A dark groan rumbles in his chest as his hand slides up your spine and his fingers thread into your hair. He pulls you back gently to lean into your ear, “You want me to show you how much I love you, cher?”

Without waiting for an answer he jerks your head back to crash into you from behind, filling the room with an unholy mixture of your cries and the sound of your bodies connecting over and over. Your back arches from his grip pulling you deeper into his thrusts. Any control he had with you before is long gone. The demon loses himself as your walls tightly massage around him and your sweet sounds feed his desire. 

His free hand wraps around your body. You cry out again feeling his fingers start to massage your aching bud. Your nails dig into his desk and tears begin to stream down your face from the intense stimulation. “D-don’t…p-please…I’m.. – ” you pant nearing the edge of your high. Looking back, you watch his antlers grow.

“Say…my name….a-a-AGAIN!” he stammers between breathy grunts. Unable to hold back any longer, you bow back into him, feeling the tension in your stomach finally snap, “Oh God, Alastor!” you gasp. Every muscle trembles beneath him as your body welcomes the long awaited release.

He plunges deeply once more to feel you spasm around him. “There’s no God here, cher.” He growls as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making his name fall from your lips once more. Hearing you scream his name pushes him over into his own resolve. His body stutters, filling you with every drop of him. You bask in his whimpers as he rides out the high.

Your body collapses on the desk. Alastor lies on top of you kissing every bit of skin he can reach. You hiss as he runs his tongue across the fresh blood trickling from your shoulder, “No one will have the pleasure of tasting you again.” His chest rumbles against you. He continues to drag his lips across you, remaining inside to take in your body just a little longer. For the first time in weeks your mind is blank, entirely present in the moment, drinking in every second of his body being one with yours.

“Stay still dear.” he commands, grudgingly pulling out and away from you. The cold air from his sudden absence makes you shudder. You let out a breathy giggle at the feeling of his warmth trickling out and down your legs. Alastor returns and starts to run a cloth between your thighs, “I admit, I quite enjoy you like this.” 

“What? Vulnerable and naked?” you tease.

“Unequivocally mine.”

You turn around to wrap your arms around his neck. “Say it one more time for me?” He rolls his eyes but happily obliges to the request, “I’ll say it a million times if I need to - I love you.”

“I love you, Alastor.” Rule #3 K̸̷̵̴̸̸̸̵̵̵̵̸̷̶̶̵̷̴̶̶̴̫̩̻̗͚̇͆͑̈́̀e̴̶̷̷̶̷̷̶̵̵̶̵̵̶̶̶̵̴̷̷̷͙̪͔̫̣͛͐̎̀͝e̵̸̷̵̷̴̸̸̸̷̷̷̴̵̶̴̷̴̵̵̴̢͈̬͍̺͗̌̒̆͝p̵̷̷̴̷̸̶̶̵̵̷̷̴̶̶̷̷̵̷̸̸̧̛̦̤̼͚͋̅̄͝ ̷̸̸̸̴̵̵̷̵̶̷̴̵̷̸̷̵̵̴̴̸̺̳͚̩̤́̓̈́̇̌t̷̶̸̴̶̴̵̴̷̸̴̸̸̷̸̸̸̶̶̶̵̤̣͙̫̹̃̉̌͂̂h̴̸̸̶̷̷̶̶̵̸̷̶̵̵̵̴̶̴̷̶̴̡̘̯͖̝́̽̌̌̏ȏ̵̴��̷̷̷̵̴̴̶̵̸̸̷̸̶̵̶̶̸̸̱͍̞̉̓̚͜͝ͅs̶̵̴̷̸̸̵̸̵̵̷̶̵̴̷̶̷̷̴̵̴̢͙̹̯̗̾̒̃͒͝ȩ̶̴̷̵̴̸̴̸̶̴̵̵̵̵̸̵̷̵̵̴̵̧͇͙̠́̑̈́̊̄ ̷̵̵̸̵̷̷̶̶̶̷̸̸̴̴̸̵̸̵̸̸̧̦̘̖̺̔̀̂̌͛y̸̵̶̶̴̶̸̴̸̴̶̸̷̶̴̶̸̸̸̴̸̢̘̼̗̰̌͒̕͝͠o̸̴̶̸̵̶̸̷̴̸̶̶̷̴̸̶̷̴̷̷̶̡̨̖̭̠̊̾̆̓͗ų̵̶̸̵̷̶̴̸̵̵̷̴̵̶̶̴̷̶̷̶̷̙͕͚̰̀͆̔̉̌ ̴̸̷̶̴̷̴̶̴̶̶̵̸̸̸̵̸̴̴̴̴̤͍̤͖͎̐̐̑͆̕l̶̸̵̶̶̷̷̸̷̵̶̴̶̴̶̵̸̶̷̴̶̡͇̦̩̰͋̈͊̈́́o̸̶̸̷̶̶̸̴̴̶̴̶̷̶̵̸̴̶̸̸̶͕̜̟̥̼͐̐̀̈́̐v̸̶̴̸̸̷̶̷̷̵̵̷̴̶̸̷̸̶̵̴̴̟͙̩̝̭̒̒̋͘̕e̵̶̵̶̴̸̴̶̶̷̵̷̸̶̶̴̵̶̷̴̵̺̬̩͔̺̓̾͆̕̚ ̶̷̶̷̴̶̶̸̷̷̴̴̷̴̷̶̴̵̸̸̴̨͈̣̩͕̉͋̎̿̀c̶̸̶̵̵̴̴̴̷̵̷̶̷̴̴̴̴̷̸̵̵͓̳̘͓̬͐̐̈́̌̈́l̸̶̸̷̴̷̴̷̸̵̷̷̵̴̷̷̷̵̸̵̴̢͎͍̻̈́́͊̚͜͠o̸̵̷̸̷̷̵̸̴̴̶̸̷̷̴̶̸̷̷̸̶͇̻̣̯̖̐̿̕̚͝s̴̷̸̷̷̴̵̴̴̶̵̷̵̸̴̴̵̶̷̵̷̛̠͍̳̥͔͆̐̃͝ë̶̵̴̷̵̵̷̷̸̸̸̴̶̴̶̸̵̴̷̴̷͈̳̙̟̥́͑̔͘͠

Green and pink light reflects off the walls once more as you kiss him, bodies vibrating from the connection. He grins against your mouth, “Your power grows darling. You’ll need to learn to control it if we are going to keep this up.” 

You groan at the thought, “I’ll add it to my list of things to do tomorrow.”

Alastor nods and walks over to a chair where a few of his shirts were laid over the arm, pulling one on himself and tossing you another, “This should suffice long enough to make it back to our room.” You slide the shirt over your shoulders and let out a sigh of relief seeing it was long enough to hit mid-thigh. Last thing I need is someone in the hall seeing more than they want.

Without thought you inhale the intoxicating smell of his cologne that still lingered on the material. Every worry you had could wait until tomorrow. Right now, you selfishly only wanted to live and breathe Alastor. You begin to button the shirt but freeze at the realization of what he said, “I’m sorry, did you say our room?”

A hand presses against your lower back, “You don’t actually expect me to let you too far from me again, do you cher? Your things have already been moved. Now, shall we?” He beams as he picks you up, carefully minding that you remain covered. Like second nature your arms slink around his neck, “I can walk you know, don’t give yourself that much credit over what just happened.”

He starts to make his way out of the tower, “I wouldn’t be so smug if I were you dear. I’ve been without you, craving you, for a long time. This is to save your energy for when we make it back to the room.” His tone was playful, but you could hear the underlying threat.

Two can play that game. You mischievously start to gently bite and kiss his neck while whispering taunts in his ear, “Looks like the scary Radio Demon has lost his self-control.”

That comment combined with a solid bite to his neck is his breaking point.  Before you make it to the door the world spins out and back in. You feel yourself fall back forcefully against the silk sheets of his bed. Looking down you see Alastor hungrily climbing over you with feral eyes. He growls through a toothy smile, “Want to say that again love?”

I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight. 

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp @alastorsgirl48 @mysterisumone @phamtasic @ohnah2022 @eris-norwega @kaylopolis @littlebluefishtail @little-slyvixen @laudrawin @qu1cks1lversb1tch @diffidentphantom

[psychabolition]

i think the funniest reason against self dx being that only drs are capable of thorough unbiased assessments is that most drs are not unbiased or thorough. they barely even assess.

True !! Its so funny when people reify a "professional judgment" about you that psychologists make in 0.2 seconds because of the jeans and boots you wear and your dyed hair. Like my clothing and hair dye unironically played a role in getting diagnosed with a personality disorder several times.💀 one psychiatrist told me that my top and boots look histrionic and my hair obsessive compulsive . Another one told me that Im antisocial because my jeans are ripped and I "sit like a rockstar" . no one can tell me that diagnoses are a scientific truth and not a moral judgement about me. Another one told me that he can tell by my hair and clothes and the way I sit and talk to him that Im "promiscuous" (=that I have a lot of casual sex) and that thats a sign of borderline . Im literally asexual .I dont know how I could ever take any diagnosis seriously .

But honestly I personally dont use the biomedical model (=which says that mental illness is the same as physical illness. This model tells us that if we have a psych label then we have "symptoms" of an underlying "illness" .) to understand my experiences at all anymore. I neither think of self dx nor of prof dx as particularly helpful. But honestly everyone can use the framework that makes most sense for themselves to understand their own experiences obviously. I would never tell someone that theyre using the wrong words to describe their own experiences or the wrong framework to understand themselves - I'm not a psychologist.

I personally reject all diagnoses and use a different framework instead of the biomedical model that makes more sense to me - the neurodiversity framework . I think of a lot of the experiences that got me diagnosed and that also made me label myself as "ill/disordered" as simply a deviation from "neuronormativity" (=whats societally deemed 'normal' to think/feel/do depending on your assigned gender/age/socioeconomic status/...) - this includes the norm deviation of "suffering more severely than others" . It just makes more sense to me since all mental illness diagnoses are solely descriptive labels - they literally only summarize experiences that you have . Thinking "well i do x because i have y condition (which was diagnosed based on clinician observations of x) and my brain is simply broken in a way requiring me to submit to expert clinical management and surveillance" was a sure way to make me go to therapy and try meds again and again and again . Like when I said "Im suicidal because of my depression (which is a label I got because I am suicidal)" it was like saying "I'm suicidal because I'm suicidal" . Its a circular logic . The question remains: what was actually the cause of my pain ??? Theres never been found a biological cause for any mental illness label by the way (neither low serotonin in depression nor a genetic defect in schizophrenia or that neurotypicals have a different brain than neurodivergent people or whatever else) .

So the reason why I personally dont see both, self diagnosis and professional diagnosis, as helpful is because it made me think I need to take medication and go to therapy to feel better and to lead a life that I enjoy . Its ironic that I ever thought that since therapy and meds always made my life much worse. and I know for certain that I would be doing better nowadays if I had never been to therapy and if I had never taken any meds. Believing that my diagnoses (self dx or prof dx) are true and say something about me made me think that I'll never be happy in life, that I'm a lost cause and that no one can help me (I was always labelled as non-compliant and as uncurably sick) . I dont think of myself as ill, I think of myself as neurodivergent (= deviating from neuronormativity) .

[oluka]

Tony and transhumanism

Tony Stark mentions in Captain Marvel: Dark Tempest (2023) #3.

Setting aside the “even HE knows what hands-off means”, it's interesting to me that when faced with a humanoid-machine blend, Carol's mind goes to Tony. She says that Tony was the original transhuman, and well, he maybe wasn't the first in the marvel universe, but he got his first synthetic heart in Iron Man #19 (back in 1969!), and transhumanism has been a part of his story arc for a long time. Some examples on the top of my mind (I know there are more, this is not an exhaustive list):

-When Tony had an implant in his mind to remotely control the armour while he was paralyzed in volume 1.

-His fight with the sentient armour in volume 3, and the end of it, when it gave him its heart (Iron Man vol.3 #30). And fully replaced Tony's heart with its own "mechanical bio-physiology". An artificial heart that was still implanting itself into Tony and fixing his broken ribs in issue 31 (body horror much??).

-Extremis, of course, which to me is the height of Tony's path to transhumanism. It's one of the two logical conclusions to his search to always perfect Iron Man and himself. Either make his body machine, or forgo the body entirely (looking at the three different Tony Stark AIs Tony has made). Extremis is especially good to me because of how he made himself the perfect blend of man and machine. Tony had until then always had recurring problems with his heart and other physical disabilities, and with Extremis he was finally past that "flaw". He was stronger, could heal, but more importantly, his mind was faster and better. I think he never came closer to erasing the line between Tony Stark and Iron Man than he did then. There was so much potential for this story beat, but Civil War and Dark Reign kind of ruined it. I really wish we could have had Extremis for longer, and really explore the classic "what makes one human" "man vs machine" and other transhumanist questions with Tony. Oh well. As an aside, it's interesting to me that Superior Iron Man decided to bring Extremis back. Clearly to him that was the next step of evolution, or in his words, what made him a god. If we push the analysis further, does this mean that regular Tony has developed an aversion to Extremis and what it entails? Maybe some left-over trauma from the Civil War and brain deletion?

-The repulsor node in Tony's chest after he was brought back. That controlled his brain. And also the bleeding edge armour that Tony casually put into his bone marrow. You know. Like one does.

-The fact that Tony apparently was experimenting on his biology and body and that that was the only reason Carol didn't kill him at the end of Civil War II. And then the fact that he managed to bring himself back to life and synthetize a new body.

-The Tony Stark AI that ran around during Secret Empire. Who made himself drunk, and also remembered Civil War somehow, and had all of Tony's character traits and regrets (see Secret Empire (2017) #6). I know it's probably an error on the writer's part, but I choose to believe that somehow this artificial version of Tony really remembers the Civil War. On top of AI Tony acting and thinking like the flesh and blood one, everyone around him really treated him like the "real" Tony. Hydra Steve even said that Tony downloaded his consciousness into the AI. Making it essentially Tony. I don't know where I'm going with this but I have Feelings about AI Tony.

-The whole mess of Tony Stark: Iron Man and Iron Man 2020 where Tony was wondering if he was just a soulless copy of the original dead Tony Stark (Which, weird that he now starts to worry about this after all his deaths and comas and whatnots), decided he was just an AI in an artificial body, and then with the help of his friends remade his body. Again. Also, he spoke with AI Tony for like five minutes and then AI Tony sacrificed himself. I am still mad about that.

Transhumanism is one of the most important beats in Tony's character, right alongside his quest to make the future better and his alcoholism. It's a facinating subject that I will never get enough of, especially not in relation to Tony, who for a very long time has dealt with physical disability, and whose mind and genius is maybe the one thing he can rely on and one of the rare things about himself that he is proud of.

Right now, Tony's just a regular man in a can again, but I really hope that we'll see more of his journey into transhumanism, because to me it's an essential part of his character. And done well, it's an excellent source for angst, too.

[truths33k3r4]

Hi! Gosh the part in your Strength in Weakness story where Leonardo just breaks down after hurting Raphael was so well done 😭 which leads me to a QUESTION! How are each of the turtles with expressing emotions or crying in front of each other? I know in society boys (and teens at that), are typically not going to be publicly emotional.

Hello, another Anon! (seriously my brain is STRUGGLING trying to think of who this is.)

Thank you very much!!! As someone who has three siblings, I’ve somewhat been in that position a few times, so it came pretty naturally to write about it.

Ahhh good question!! I’ll go through all of them by their ages. (Heads up this is gonna be LONGG.)

Mikey- Mikey is the most open with how he feels towards his brothers. He’s never been afraid to cry in front of them, and is always encouraging them to be just as open with him. When Lotus comes around, this empathy and emotional-forwardness only grows, trying to prove to Lotus that she can trust the family with her heart.

Lotus- She takes a long time to willingly cry in front of her adopted brothers. The other times she’s wept in front of them were not really her choice. And if she could choose to not feel anything she would. She tries to keep her sob-story to herself unless the information is vital, (not only because it’s painful to relive those memories, but also because she hates being in the spotlight of any kind.) Besides crying, she is VERY open with expressing her annoyance and anger. Her temper is one that rivals Dons, so she wears a scowl more often than not. But on the more rare occasions, she willingly allows a smile and laugh to bloom on her face. (Especially if it cheers someone up.)

Don- Don doesn’t cry in front of anyone. Ever. Tears find his eyes foreign, and emotions that cause tears are just as odd to him. Going by logic, he has a very good life filled with a loving family and a safe home. Soooo no reason to be sad. With other emotions, especially anger, he uses his tone more often than his expression to voice it. (Except for with his twin, Raph. With him Don’s filter vanishes in an instant.) Logic and emotion don’t always go hand-in-hand, so his attempts to cheer someone up usually fall flat, accidentally being laced with apathy and hard, emotionless facts.

Raph- Tears are nothing but liquid weakness. Having that kind of emotional vulnerability exposes way too much, and therefore shouldn’t be allowed to be seen. Raph hates seeing his brothers upset, and so he assumes they feel the same way if they ever got the chance to see him be emotional. It doesn’t help that he has no clue HOW TO HELP, so WHY would he put someone else in that position??? But with anger, joy, and other stuff like that, he’s quite open with expressing himself to his family.

Leo- Emotions have two sides. They can push you and help you grow in passion and kindness. But they can also hinder you, make you not think straight, and cause you to fail those that you love. Tears are the same way. There’s a time to cry, even for a leader. But those times are few and far between, seeing how the leader needs to be the foundation of his team. How helpful can a foundation be when it’s crumbling and broken? Leo is usually adorned with a concern-filled expression. His anxiety always leaves thin lines near his eyes, and he finds it a bit difficult to goof off ever since becoming leader. But there are times that his family changes that. And he loves those moments dearly.

Thanks for the question! :)

~ Melissa

[mochiwrites]

Guess who's back? Back again? Anons back! Tell a friend.

Lol sorry I'm once again back. The same anon who sent a bunch of questions about night life a while ago since I was rereading songbirds blood au. Soo uhm here's more

1. Mochi why does scar say in villainous thing that he has put his head in a werewolfs mouth??!?!?!?!?!? Scar mah dude u ok???? (Lowkey would wanna try it but I probably would leave the werewolfs mouth with a head 😊)

2. Grian.Trans.Canon? (Or scar? Or maybe both???)

3. With the glyphs is there only one way to use them or could you possible make them a tattoo and still you them. Since they are then constantly touching the glyphs they could possible do the magic of a mage. If they had multiple glyphs he could mix the glyphs somehow.(like how Luz mixes the glyphs by drawing them with eachother but instead they do it with their ✨️MIND✨️)

4. Also I love the idea of papapulse. Like I imagine Pearl or grian (most likely grian:^P) and Impulse going full demon mode tl protect them. (I saw that you tagged "Parent impulseSV (Video Blogging RPF)" in troubke in the dead of night🥺👏😍) Also is there different types of demons and what type of powers do they have?

5. In the fic "sitting in the garden at your feet" they have a whole picnic and all the adorableness. Do they go on more picnics frequently? (I really hope soo) I would guess they do since in villainous things they were also on their way to a picnic...but then yeah...poor birb tbh and poor scar

6. Have Ren and Martyn already have their wedding or are they still waiting? I wanna see treebark and I want to see mumbo ask grian go with him as his plus one to the wedding<3

(Though treebark owns my heart, Grumbo will always win) Don't talk about scarian I've never left the desert and don't plan to either😘

7. Okay soo in the fic "weight of living" there was this one scene where etho stared at grian. Here's the quote: "Etho eyes him for a moment, his gaze unreadable as he does so. It leaves Grian with chills. Weird."

Is it possible that etho is a Watcher? I'm mean   he is definitely not human(or maybe he is an immortal human?)  Etho may recognize grian, either as an old Watcher or a new Watcher to be made. Or maybe etho just thinks it is weird to see scar with grian(A HUMAN) The last one is more logical <:^)

8. On that note with Etho. You never confirm nor deny if grian is the "lost watcher" but what if I were to ask you if EFFO is the lost Watcher. I don't have proof but-...yeah idk

Wait wait just had another thought what if Pearl is the Watcher???? When the dream bugs ate her dreams there was a purple mist! Huh huh gotcha!/silly this is purely a joke🤣

9. Will we see a bad boy grian phase or possibly a drag queen phase🥺👉👈. Since it often mention that grian was a dare devil(still is:^P) or did grian have such phases. One of my friends is kinda a dare devil and he did drag once and I feel since grian might be the same there...

10. What did Scott do with the shard? Did he just entirely get rid of it? Also is Scott pure evil or broken. Maybe with the lost of his brother(Xornoth) did he turn evil or was evil just in his genes?

Those are all the questions and theories for now thank you for listing to my literal brain rot<3

This time it was numbered

(There will possible be more to come>:^] )

YIPPEE WELCOME BACK NONNIE :D

see me rubbing my paws together with a big grin >:3c no apologies needed !!!! I love questions hehe. as always, I can't answer everything clearly, because of spoilers but I'll certainly answer as much as I can!

1- WHEEZE scar just feels like the kinda guy to me to stick his head into the mouth of a werewolf for fun, y'know? he'd try it once just to see what would happen (and I mean, he's got no reason to fear dying, all things considered LOL)

2- GRIAN TRANS CANON !! honestly, just operate under the assumption that any grian I write is trans JFGDHFKKJDFG it's my comfort character and I get to project on him /silly (no trans scar though </3)

3- WAUG OKAY -- I've answered this kind of question before but for the life of me I can't find it D: I'm gonna keep searching for it, and when I find it I'll reblog this with that information mjfdhkfghfjg I don't wanna contradict myself LMAO

4- PAPAPULSE MY BELOVED 🥺I really wanna write more with him ueueue. I actually haven't done much world building for sb!demons but I'm going to say that yes, there are different types of demons! and they all have a wide range of different abilities :3

5- they def go on picnics yeah!!! I think it becomes one of grian's default methods to drag mumbo out of the manor when he can <33

6- ren and martyn haven't had their wedding yet :3 I actually hadn't thought about when their wedding would take place but ;w; oh that gives me some ideas....

7- etho isn't a watcher! the current lore is well. no one really knows what etho is. except maybe bdubs and joel. but their lips are Sealed (he's not the lost watcher either I'm afraid </3)

9- so currently I don't have any plans for a bad boy or drag queen phase to pop up in the story (though that could change, if any ideas come up) but they were certainly things he did when he was wayyy younger

10- what scott did with the shard hm? he broke it :) and I'm afraid evil is just in his genes unfortunately </3

hehe thank you for your questions!! :D

[siremasterlawrence]

The Darkside Of The Moon

When Astronaut Chris P is chosen to be a crew member accompanying the mission to the moon it is a lifetime dream come true for us all. He sits down taking an exhaustive heavy and deep breath following an exhilarating weeks of training for his first mission into space precisely to the moon.

Hiding away in NASA’s official locker room he realizes his life is on a precipice of a truly momentous change no one can prepare him for it. The roar of the crowd as hoards of news reporters are on assignment rushing into the area and taking a seat setting up the cameras, cellphone recording and microphones.

The door swing open making way for the astronauts to file out one by one in a successive line before they grab a chair and pull it out to sit down crispy. Chris P felt the warmth of the lights softly fall on him, the chanting of the crowd is also pumping him up, the line of questioning odd but fair enough.

The lights bursting off the camera so bright, so beautiful, so delicate, like starburst in the sky blinding his vision as he poses for the official NASA photograph. You could only imagine the fascination he is feeling from reeling the moment that his dream is about to manifest into a reality is making.

Next year comes in a flash as a prepare to board the ship. He takes one last look at the beautiful sky. Sighing regret for leaving but also I thrill you write bitch freedom for exploring various of the universe. All the good in the world could never equal the measure of the joyous victory of succeeding a proving his place in all is this and in the world.

“Chris…P man come inside we have to launch.”

“On my way “

“Who is ready?”

“Mission Control”

“We are launching in”

“Five “

“Four”

“Three “

“Two”

“One”

“Something is off “

“Hardly time for jokes “

“I am serious “

“The atmospheric pressure is off”

“What do we do ?”

“Do i look the engineer to you ?”

“Where did he go?”

“He’s gone”

“Fuck! I’ll go find him”

“Is this a joyride or something?”

“Tommy! Is that you ?”

“That sound is that gas”

“Oh God! Nnnnooooo”

“Fuck fuck fuck”

“Ok! Calm down”

“I am sure their is a logical reasoning for this”

“I am scientist as well after all”

“No way on earth this is possible “

“It is a practical joke”

“Has to be right?“

“Oh My God!”

“Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare “

“Back up “

“Back off”

“Ssstttoooppp”

“Or what bud?”

“Fuck you!”

“Asshole”

“I love you “

The door slides closed blocking him in he is now permanently enclosed outside of the space ship a flow of black smoke overtook the air encircling him.

Diving deep in to his nose it drudges ever in to his body shaking it into his core as his nerves are broken he begins to breathe so hard and heavily. He fell backwards on to ground losing it ever more his eyes roll back submitting to the will of the alien spirit consuming him as he fell to his knees.

His eyes turn dark black cementing in them so he soon loss control himself with a smirk of his face spreading through his lips as he is happy.His mind spun shook to his core turning it on as they become blue his brain is running on erratic energy spurts an electrical outlet in his nerves.

“This is your Master Lawrence “

“Master Lawrence “

“Rise to your feet”

“I am your slave”

“I am your life “

“My life and life “

“You exist for me”

“Whatever you wish of me”

“Enslave your crew “

“Obey me”

“Submit to me”

“Be all mine”

“Do you love me?””

“I am your mind and body”

“Do you want me?”

“I am your playground “

“Take my hand “

“Guide me”

“A trip around the universe”

“Lift me up “

“The earth is fresh pot”

“I will reap it all for you “

“Let’s traverse the moon”

“Hand in hand “

“Yes Master Lawrence

The end

[respectthepetty]

@neuroticbookworm hear me out! I had to make this a separate post since I've thought too much about these fictional characters!

Yes, I trust Lomfon with my life. He fascinates me. Lomfon poses some good conflicts because he and Tai are the same. Both are so wary of soulmates and the idea that there is only one person for them, that they question the notion of love. We see that with Tai and his relationship with Phat because he is the main character, but we are also seeing it from the other side of the spectrum with Lomfon.

What do Phat and Tai have in common? They are attracted to each other. They like each other's presence. Yet we haven't seen what they connect over since they are barely figuring this out.

What do Lomfon and Tien have in common? They are slightly attracted to each other. They are in the same field of study. Yet most of their interactions are them arguing.

What do Lomfon and Tai have in common? They like the same interests in books and have the same demeanor. They talk naturally around each other and there is an ease in their conversations that neither has with their other love interest. There is a level of attraction between them. <- They could be soulmates.

When Lomfon says it, he could be right. If rain can jam a radio frequency, why couldn't it allow people with this condition to tune into each other like a human walkie-talkie? Much like puberty, it happens to naturally develop at the age of 20. It doesn't mean they are soulmates; it's just science. Yet people are leaving the person they have a genuine connection with for a person they share a scientific phenomenon with? It's not as romantic or magical if we think about it as a reasonable scientific occurrence.

And maybe that's why the rain soulmates don't work sometimes because it's simply two humans with a shared condition.

I truly believe Phat and Tai belong together, but I also believe Lomfon when he argues the possibility that he and Tai are soulmates. Because being someone's soulmate doesn't necessarily mean a romantic relationship nor that the relationship will work out. No matter the relationship, there has to be something more than love, a connection, COLORS(!), or a shared condition. There has to be communication, understanding, a desire to stay, AND a desire to see the other person happy.

We saw that with the very first couple in the series. The man had hearing loss, but his girlfriend didn't, yet they were communicating fine during the rain. They weren't soulmates by the rainverse definition, but they were making it work and were happy. Why couldn't they be soulmates who found each other despite the hindrances and continued to love each other? Wouldn't that make them more of soulmates than hearing someone only when it's raining?

I trust in what Lomfon is saying. I trust that Lomfon, who is hesitant to the concept of soulmates, wouldn't carelessly throw out that word to describe Tai. I trust that Lomfon's lack of color demonstrates his desire to buck the idea of a predetermined fate. I trust Lomfon because he is trying to be logical regarding matters of the heart.

And that's why I trust him with my life.

If done right, he could have the best arc of the series. This rationale guy is going to realize that when it comes to love, he is going to need more than logic and reasons.

He is going to have to use his heart rather than his brain even if that means his heart gets broken.

*applies more clown makeup*

[whatacaitastrophe]

Everything Has Changed - Chapter 11

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Seven Nation Army" - Stevie Howie

Chapter Warnings: Idiots talking about their feelings.

Spotify Playlist: Here

Author Notes: thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting on this fic (and the first one)! if you are interested in supporting me in other ways, I have a Ko-Fi link <3

i also have a discord server! it was created to coincide with my twitch channel but you do NOT need to follow/subscribe/watch my twitch streams to come hang out with us <3 we talk a lot about bg3 and share memes and fics.

Chapter 11: Talkin' to Myself at Night

The night of what she’d started referring to as “the incident” in her mind, Fallon didn’t sleep. Her mind was too busy. It was one thing to imagine her boyfriend and ex-boyfriend kissing, or imagine herself as the middle portion of a vampire and sorcerer sandwich, but it was another entirely for those fantasies to become a reality. Add in the fact that “the incident” in question occurred without her consent, and Fallon was left feeling truly unsure of how she felt, or if coming to some sort of arrangement with Astarion and Gale was something she even wanted anymore. 

Fallon felt betrayed, and not just by Astarion. Gale swore that he never wanted to hurt Fallon again, and it took him less than a month to break that promise. Not only that, but once upon a time, Gale told Fallon that he was only interested in monogamous relationships. Fallon also knew that if the situation were reversed, and she were the one kissing Astarion without Gale’s consent, that Gale probably would have broken up with her on the spot upon catching them. The hypocrisy was rampant, and the hole in her heart that began to fill after rekindling her friendship with Gale was leaking again because of it. All of the reasons Fallon told herself that she couldn’t open her heart to Gale again (beyond the sexual relationship with Gale and Astarion she’d already fantasized about) were completely validated less than twenty-four hours after she’d even realized it was something she might want.

Then there was Astarion: the man who’d seen how fragile her heart was, glued the pieces Gale broke back together, promised to take care with it, and then promptly dropped it on the ground to shatter at the first opportunity. When she first met Astarion, he’d been all honeyed words of affirmation with a perfectly crafted persona to entice Fallon and the rest of their companions into trusting him as a method of survival. Was that still all she was to the vampire? A means to an end to ensure he survived another day? Had Astarion been playing the long con this whole time, and Fallon fell for it? Deep down, Fallon knew this wasn’t true; that Astarion loved her fiercely and genuinely. However, the logical part of her that knew this was currently being completely overpowered by her insecurities and anxieties, both of which were screaming at her for being stupid enough to trust that Astarion would keep his promise. 

It all hurt, and the thing Fallon hated the most was that the person she would normally go to when she was hurting was the source of her pain. She thought about using her sending stone to contact Shadowheart, or Karlach, but Fallon could hear her friends’ voices in her mind already. 

Shadowheart would tell her to go home– to go back to Baldur’s Gate and leave the vampire and the sorcerer to suffer the consequences of their actions and reflect on what they lost simply because they forgot to use their brains. “If they’re stupid enough to make that mistake, then they deserve each other, and certainly do not deserve you.”   

Karlach, on the other hand, would probably jump straight to murder. Murder wasn’t usually Karlach’s go-to method of solving problems. Unless, of course, someone she cared about got hurt. With how happy-go-lucky Karlach was most of the time, it was easy to forget that the tiefling-turned-illithid once served in Zariel’s army, and that she killed a lot of people on Zariel’s behalf. “Say the word, soldier, and I’ll meet you in Waterdeep, sneak up on them in an alley, and make their deaths look like an accident.”  

The solutions her friends would likely offer Fallon were not actually reasonable, or helpful, because they were just different forms of taking the easy way out, of running away from her problems. In the end it wouldn’t solve anything, and the person that was most likely to suffer most would still be Fallon. After all, how she felt about Astarion hadn’t suddenly changed in the wake of everything. How she’d started to feel about Gale again hadn’t gone away. Walking away from the two halves of her heart would do nothing but break her further. 

At the end of the day, Fallon wanted to give Gale and Astarion the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to believe that “the incident” had been as unexpected and unplanned as they said it was. She wanted to believe that Astarion and Gale actually cared as deeply for her as they claimed. 

Most importantly, she wanted them , and at the end of a sleepless night into a restless morning, that was where Fallon’s mind landed. The men who claimed to love her so deeply would get a chance to prove their love, but she would make them work for it. There would be no glossing over their infidelity and jumping right into a conversation about what being “together” as a threesome would look like. No, she fully intended to make the vampire and the sorcerer squirm, and to sit with the consequences of their actions for a while; to make them see earning her forgiveness was not as simple as saying “Sorry, it was an accident, we love you!” 

Fallon slipped out of the inn in Daggerford as soon as she was certain the shops were open, and purchased her own tent, as she had no intention of sharing one with Astarion for the next three days while they made the final leg of their journey to Waterdeep. Fallon knew herself, and having Astarion that close would increase the opportunity for her to have a moment of weakness, to fold too soon. 

When she returned to the inn with her new tent slung over her shoulder in a bag, Astarion and Gale were in the tavern, where the latter was eating breakfast. Astarion noticed her enter the tavern first, and he nudged Gale, nodding in Fallon’s direction. Gale looked at Fallon hopefully as she made her way towards the table. Fallon did not sit down as she observed the two men. They both looked tired, and Fallon did not even feel bad about the fact that knowing they slept like shit too brought her a little bit of joy. 

“I’ve decided I’ll be sleeping in my own tent for the next couple of days.” She explained, acknowledging the bag over her shoulder. Astarion’s eyes flickered sadly as he realized they were not forgiven yet, and that his actions would cost him more than a single night without Fallon in his arms. 

“What you did, what it means…Quite honestly, just looking at the two of you hurts. You don’t get to treat me like that and expect me to carry on like nothing happened, even if the idea of the three of us being an “us” is something I want to talk about. I refuse,” Fallon’s voice was cold, and she could feel her throat threatening to close up as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. Gods dammit, she was not going to cry in the middle of the fucking tavern. She furiously blinked back her tears, averting her gaze from Astarion and Gale since looking at them was just making it worse. “I need more time. When I’m ready to talk, I’ll come to you. Be ready to leave in an hour.” She did not stick around to see them silently nod their heads as they agreed to her terms, or the way that they guiltily looked at each other because they made her cry (again). 

Fallon did not speak to Gale or Astarion unless absolutely necessary for the next three days. In fact, a passerby would have assumed that somebody had cast a Silencing spell over their group, with how quiet their journey from Daggerford to Waterdeep was. Fallon’s silent treatment made Gale and Astarion hesitant to even speak to each other in her presence, and while Fallon hadn'tt asked them to do that, if they wanted to deprive themselves of verbal communication until she was ready to speak to them both as some form of self-punishment, she also wasn't going to correct them.

At night, after she retired to her tent for the evening, Fallon often heard them talking to each other in hushed tones as she drifted off to sleep. Each conversation was entirely about her, how terrible they felt for hurting her so badly that she was still ignoring them, and when they thought she would speak to them again. 

“I didn’t think it was possible for her to be quiet for this long,” Gale muttered to Astarion on the eve of the third day. “How much longer do you believe this will last?”

“I’m not sure, but if she didn’t deign to speak to us for another fortnight, would you blame her? I consider us lucky that she’s even considering speaking to us again at all,” Astarion countered, sighing heavily, and Fallon smiled softly to herself as she listened. “We’ll reach Waterdeep tomorrow, so maybe she’ll be ready to talk once we get to your tower?” 

“I hope so,” Gale said wistfully. “Speaking of which, I got a hold of Tara. Everything should be ready when we arrive.” 

“Excellent. Gods, I hope this works. I wouldn’t blame Fallon for ignoring us for another fortnight if she wished, but that doesn’t mean I want her to. I didn’t realize it was possible to miss someone you see every day.” 

Though Fallon could have guessed that Astarion missed her (probably Gale, too) by the way they looked at her whenever she’d grant either of them any brief acknowledgement in the last three days, it was still nice to hear the vampire say it out loud. Giving Astarion and Gale the silent treatment had been harder for Fallon than she thought it would be, because every time she acknowledged them, the hopeful look on their faces, the optimistic thought that, perhaps, the worst of her hurt and anger might be over, nearly broke her resolve. Not speaking to them unless absolutely necessary had also made Fallon miss them , too. By the time they rode through the city entrance to Waterdeep, the deepest parts of the hurt Fallon felt because of their actions had passed. The pain wasn’t completely gone, but the idea of talking to Gale and Astarion about it didn’t reduce her to tears anymore. That was Fallon’s internal sign that she was ready for this conversation, and perhaps, to begin down the path to forgiveness. 

The City of Splendours was just as beautiful as the name would suggest, and Fallon was actually starting to think that Gale had somehow managed to undersell his hometown. She couldn’t help but watch Gale’s face as he took in the city as they passed through the streets. Fallon couldn’t remember the last time she saw Gale look so happy. In fact, Fallon wasn’t entirely sure she’d ever seen Gale as happy as he was in that moment. 

Gale looked back at Fallon, still beaming as they rode beside each other. “If you’ll allow me to take the lead, I will escort us to my tower.” She nodded, pulling back on her horse’s reins slightly so Gale could pass, and even that small acknowledgement made Gale’s smile so much brighter. Of course, finding Gale’s tower wouldn’t have exactly been difficult even if she and Astarion had been on their own. The ornate tower was centrally located, and arguably one of the tallest buildings she could see. To her surprise, there were people waiting to take their horses to a nearby stable when they arrived, and a small bit of sadness filled Fallon as she kissed her own horse’s nose for the final time, at least until they returned. It wasn’t like the horses could go through the portal to Asha with them, and no matter how long they remained in Waterdeep, Fallon had a feeling they’d mostly walk. 

The quiet filling the air as Fallon, Gale, and Astarion entered the landing level of Gale’s tower was a different kind of silence to the one they’d been sitting in for the last several days. Fallon and Astarion were in too much awe to speak, and Gale was just so happy to be home that he looked like he was trying not to cry. “It’s beautiful, Gale.” Fallon said softly as they ascended the stairs to the next level, where Tara was waiting for them in the sitting room. 

“Mr. Dekarios! It is so lovely to see you sir, you’re looking much better than you were the last time I saw you– even if you still haven’t shaved that horrid thing on your face. Nice to see you both again, too.” Tara greeted them. 

“Hi Tara.” Fallon giggled, not able to help herself. She remembered Gale lamenting about how much the tressym hated his long hair and scruffy face, but Gale liked it, so it stayed. Fallon liked it, too, so she was glad that Gale’s companion hadn’t managed to bully him into getting rid of it.

Gale sighed, but the smile on his face never faded as he shook his head at Tara. “It’s lovely to see you as well, Tara. I’ve missed you,” he squatted down so he could scratch beneath the tressym’s chin. When he stood again, he clapped his hands together. “Is everything in order?”

Tara hopped onto the back of the sofa. “Everything is in order and still on schedule,” she confirmed, and Fallon looked back and forth between Gale and Astarion with a curious look on her face. “Is what in order?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Tara was referring to whatever plan Astarion and Gale concocted to get back in her good graces, but there was a schedule? 

Astarion removed his facial covering now that they were indoors again, and he gave her a sly look in reply. “You’ll find out soon enough, darling, but I’m afraid you’ll need to remain in the dark just a bit longer.”

Gale’s look matched Astarion’s, and suddenly Fallon found herself regretting putting the two of them in a situation to conspire against her. “Indeed. On that note, I’m afraid we have to kick you out for a bit,” Fallon frowned as Gale continued. “Not to worry, though! Tara has agreed to act as your guide while you explore the city”

Fallon opened her mouth to argue– she’d really been looking forward to just taking a bath and mentally preparing herself for the conversation she intended to have with the vampire and the sorcerer standing before her; but before she could say anything, Astarion cut her off as he reached into his pocket for a small satchel that had the telltale jingle of coin inside, offering it to her. “I realize we’ve not given you much of a reason to trust us recently, but I promise you won’t regret it. Please.” His eyes were soft and pleading, the closest to a puppy-eyed expression Fallon had ever seen Astarion make. Gale was already rubbing off on him. 

If they really went this far out of their way to plan something for her, the least she could do is play along. Fallon let out a resigned sigh and nodded. “Lead the way, Tara.” She gestured to the door and relief washed over Gale and Astarion’s faces, the latter looked like he’d kiss Fallon if she let him. The tressym hopped down from the back of the sofa and made her way towards the door. “This way, miss Fallon.” Fallon nodded in goodbye to Astarion and Gale, smiling softly at them, and she followed Tara out. 

Once back outside the tower, Tara hopped up onto Fallon’s shoulder, causing the elf to let out a noise of surprise. “Forgive me, miss Fallon, it’s just easier to travel like this– I fear you’d lose me rather quickly otherwise. Our first stop isn’t far.”

“First stop?” Fallon asked warily.

“Oh yes, this is a multiple-stop outing, miss Fallon. Astarion and Mr. Dekarios gave me explicit instructions.”

“Why am I suddenly nervous?” Fallon mused as she weaved through the streets of Waterdeep, Not a single passerby seemed to be surprised to see a tressym sitting on her shoulder, which meant things like this were just…normal here. She followed Tara’s instructions as she took in her surroundings. 

Fallon didn’t know why it surprised her so much, but their first stop was a bookshop. She should have known, since this was an outing at least half-planned by Gale Dekarios. The shop was quiet, with only around twenty or so other patrons milling about and browsing books. “Hello, Norbert!” Tara greeted someone as they entered. The halfling sitting on a high top stool behind the counter looked up from his book, and as soon as he saw Fallon and Tara, his face brightened. “Ah, Tara! I was wondering when you’d be by. Let me go grab your order.” 

The halfling slid from his stool and disappeared into the back of his shop. “Tara, did Gale send me out with you to run his errands?” She laughed.

“Technically, yes, but also no. We’re not here for an order for Mr. Dekarios.”

Confusion etched across Fallon’s features. “Are we running your errands?” 

“Goodness, I thought Mr. Dekarios said you were a bright woman,” the tressym chastised, and Fallon frowned. “He placed an order for you, dear.” 

Fallon’s face immediately softened, and her heart swelled in her chest. Of course Gale would use books as a means of re-gaining favor with someone. The halfling returned with a small stack of books in his hands, and Fallon immediately recognized the book on the bottom of the stack just from its spine. She waited patiently for the halfling to set the books on his counter before touching them. “Here you are, all present and accounted for.” 

Fallon reached for the books and began scanning the titles– the first three were all romance novels, but the last book in the stack made Fallon gasp. It was a first edition copy of the book about the boy wizard. How had Gale managed to find this? The book was printed almost twenty years ago. Fallon carefully opened it, and a folded piece of parchment slipped out, fluttering to the floor. Tara jumped onto the counter as Fallon bent down to retrieve it, and she realized it was a note, addressed to her. Fallon unfolded the parchment and recognized the neat, precise script with which it was written. 

“ Dearest Fallon, 

As you know, when we met, one of the first things that drew me to you was our shared love of literature. Once upon a time I recommended three romance novels to you, and promised to procure copies for you after we saved the world. These are a bit delayed on delivery, seeing as we saved the world two years ago at this point, but I do hope you enjoy them all the same. I’d planned on taking you to this shop to purchase copies for you once we arrived in Waterdeep anyway and then, well, you know what happened. 

You’ve obviously read the last one in the stack, but you mentioned Astarion has been hogging your copy, so I had Norbert find another for you. Admittedly, I was quite surprised when he told me that he had a first edition copy in his stockroom! What a treasure, indeed, just like its new owner. 

I realize that it might seem like I am trying to buy your forgiveness, but I can assure you that is not the case. I would have bought them for you anyway, because you deserve to start doing things you enjoy again, after spending so long sacrificing yourself and your needs for the greater good. Though I do look forward to (hopefully) hearing your thoughts on the romance books once you’ve finished them. They’re quite riveting. 

Yours, 

Gale”

Fallon’s smile grew wider and wider as she read Gale’s not. The sorcerer might not have been trying to buy her forgiveness, but it was definitely helping. “Thank you, Norbert. These are lovely. I can’t wait to read them.” 

The halfling beamed at her. “Enjoy! Gale has excellent taste, so I doubt you’ll be disappointed.”

Tara jumped back onto Fallon’s shoulder. “Tara, do we have time for me to browse for a bit, to see if I find anything else I might like?”

“We do! Mr. Dekarios had a feeling you might want to browse,” Tara confirmed, and Fallon smiled. “He said to tell you to pick out whatever you’d like, and Norbert will put it on his tab.”

Of course Gale had a tab at his local bookshop, Fallon was not even surprised. She spent the next half-hour browsing the shelves and managed to limit herself to two additional books. After all, Gale already bought her four and she didn’t want to seem like she was taking advantage of his kindness (and his desire to get back on her good side). With her books stashed in her bag of holding, Fallon exited the shop and looked around. “Where to next, Tara?” 

The next shop they visited was a dress shop, and Fallon did not even need to ask which man instructed Tara to bring her here. Just as Norbert had, the elven woman running the shop recognized Tara, and she immediately greeted them both with a bright smile as she pulled a note out of a drawer on her side of the counter. Once again, the note was addressed to Fallon and was written in a familiar, elegant script.

“Fallon, my love,

I believe I still owe you a new dress after ruining yours at the Winter Solstice. The shop has your measurements, and I told them what colors you prefer, so they hopefully pulled a few things already. I look forward to seeing whichever breathtaking option you choose.

I love you.

xx,

Astarion”

Even the notes they’d each written for her were entirely in character. Gale’s verbosity extended even to paper, while Astarion was right to the point, and each note left Fallon’s heart stuttering in her chest. Sure enough, as Fallon pocketed the note from Astarion, the shopkeeper had walked across the shop to a small rack of dresses separate from everything else. Fallon smiled at the assortment of dark blue, burgundy, and black dresses that hung there. “Tara, I don’t suppose you know if there’s a specific occasion I should be shopping for, or if I’m simply just to choose any dress that suits my fancy?” 

“I’ve been instructed to tell you that there are plans this evening for which you might want to have a new dress but, and I quote, 'she could show up wearing rags off the floor of the Elfsong Tavern and she’d still look beautiful, so it doesn’t matter.' ” 

Fallon snorted with laughter. Even Tara’s delivery of the instructions sounded like Astarion. “Well alright then.” 

There was a stool next to the rack of clothing, and Tara jumped onto it and sat down. “While I am not privy to all of the details, Mr. Dekarios alluded to the…transgressions he and Astarion committed together. As a result, he and Astarion are now both desperate to prove how much they care for you, and are equally as desperate to earn your forgiveness,”

“Well that’s certainly one way of putting it.” Fallon hummed as she began to examine the dresses on the rack before her with intent.

“So, miss Fallon, if I may make one tiny suggestion? One female to another?” There was a mischievous tone in Tara’s voice that piqued Fallon’s curiosity, and she tore her gaze from the dresses to look at the tressym.

“Let’s hear it.” Fallon agreed.

“Make them crawl.” 

Chapter List

[traumak1ng]

Addiction🚬

(Written 23/01/24)

I’m currently smoking my seventh cigarette of the new year, well eighth if you count the arse end of a JPS blue that a hot guy (who I was hoping could potentially save me) offered me at my local pub on Saturday.

I’m embarrassed and disappointed in myself, I said I would stop after Christmas, then the New Year, then when I was back in work…

I know how bad it is for my health, the negative impacts it’s having on my appearance, the smell staining my clothes, yet I still do it.

I think we all wonder why we do things that are bad for us, right? We all know there’s no logical reason why, we just do.

It's the same reason why I’m going to end up with a man child who no one else seems to understand.

Maybe it will be that nice boy I met online. The one who’s obsessed with me and the lad who ruined my life in October 2021 (He asks about him every chance he gets by the way. Asks if I loved him, if I miss him… do I still want to fuck him?)

Questions I would also like to know the answers to, questions that I don’t know if I will ever know the answers to.

I keep wondering if it’s him, the guy from 2021 or someone else mocking me, pretending to be some pathetic, big brown eyed loser.

It’s funny to think about, one loser pretending to be another… to talk to a loser.

I know that it’s extremely unlikely that he would troll me or that he even still thinks about me or what happened back on that night at the bus stop. I really should just stop talking to boys who aren’t good for me. Boys who are short and weird and have big brown eyes. Boys who are sensitive and a wreck and just need someone to come and save them. Broken boys who will feed the urge of mine to fix something I can actually fix, even though it will destroy me more in the end, making me feel hollow… starving for more.

That’s what happens when you’re desperate for a conversation. You still talk to them, You still smoke.

You smoke until you’re sick and you have to stop, at least for a little while.

It’s all for the same reason when it comes down to it. The same reason I’ll overshare but never let anyone in. The same reason I’ll flood my notes app with useless poetry about people who I haven’t spoken to in years (they’re strangers to me now.) The same reason I still so desperately want him, or any short boy with pouty lips, daddy issues and says he loves me.

It’s simple to not buy cigarettes, not talk to boys you know are bad for you. It’s just not how humans work, not how hearts work. I should quit smoking, I know that…but how the fuck am I meant to quit him?

Hearts don’t have gag reflexes. I’ll keep inhaling whatever I’m given by these lads. The scraps of affection… The love, the hate, the real, the fake…but I’ll never be able to throw it back up. I’ll never be able to get him out of my system.

I feel lower than I've ever been.

But the sound of his name,

makes my brain,

release dopamine.

And I can’t stomach how much I still want him.

🫀🚬

[makorays]

I'm curious if its ok to ask about how it is to be bipolar like do you feel different or anything? have you always been bipolar? how do you know you have it?

you'll want to get a psychological evaluation done, it's how i got diagnosed. but even without a diagnosis i probably could've figured it out. this is a chart i made of how my overall mood felt on a scale from 0 to 10 on every day of 2022 and 2023. anything below that red line in the middle is when my mood is low enough to make accomplishing anything more than super basic tasks very difficult.

i actually really wish i had another chart to compare mine to, because uh, i'm PRETTY SURE this isn't normal. see how i'll like, have a string of good days, but then all of a sudden i flip and feel like absolute garbage for a bit?

bipolar is characterized by one's mood shifting in and out of hypomania and depression with little to no apparent cause. it typically doesn't manifest until adulthood. starting from when i was an adult, i kept feeling super super depressed without having any idea why, i'd always search my head to see if there was anything weighing on me at the time but i always came up short. or if i DID find something to be upset about, it was only on my mind AFTER the bad feelings already hit, and the bad feelings made me ruminate on the upsetting thought and feel hopeless.

imagine being so happy for a couple of days that you accomplish everything you wanted to do that week, music feels more amazing than usual, everything is exciting, you love the world and everyone and yourself and everything is great.

now imagine waking up after one of those days and having the first thought of the morning being "god i want to die." not a single apparent reason for it, you were feeling fine the night before, but all of a sudden everything is just wrong. everything hurts. you feel so weak that you have to muster up strength just to do basic household chores. you don't care about anything. all of your dreams, everything you've spent your life working for, all of it feels completely pointless. even if you had the motivation to work on something, you certainly don't have the energy. the simple act of moving your body starts to feel like you're swimming through black sludge. your personality shifts and you become a worse person because you're filled head to toe with pain and apathy and you have zero energy to deal with anyone's shit. your brain starts dedicating a ton of resources to inject you with raw suffering. you know that feeling you get when you hit your knee against a sharp corner? when a romantic partner breaks up with you? when someone manages to insult you in a way that hits every single insecurity you have? y'know...Pain? imagine feeling JUST that pain, without any of those things to cause it. imagine your default state is not one of neutrality, but of suffering. imagine a voice in your head, indistinguishable from yourself (because it IS you, just not a you you'd like to be) starts mocking you, calling you pathetic, telling you you've wasted your life and you'll never find happiness. imagine being so used to this voice that you've pretty much gotten a total handle on how to silence it, but silencing it does nothing for all the wordless pain you're also feeling. imagine clearing your head of all your worries, searching for that inner peace that normally acts as the bedrock to your mind, and finding it to have been replaced by a fundamental sensation of wrongness. imagine feeling so trapped in the torture chamber that is your head that you start asking yourself which wall of your bedroom would be most optimal for bashing your skull through. imagine questioning how it could be possible for anyone to be forged this broken. imagine being so intimately familiar with the chronic psychic pain that your only logical options are to either suppress it with medication or kill yourself.

now imagine going back to that other version of yourself, the happy one, the one whose brain tells them everything's fine. imagine starting to pull your life together, making more complex and healthy meals, working out every day or two, practicing skills, making progress with projects, and then imagine suddenly and completely losing all motivation to continue doing any of that because another inevitable downswing hits. imagine watching your muscles go back to how they were before you started working out because you literally do not have enough willpower in your entire body to do it consistently while in this state of mind.

so imagine now that there are two versions of you. one of them is living a happy life, making progress, pursuing his dreams, enjoying his time. but then there's this OTHER you, who always trips and falls back down the stairs you worked so hard to climb, who has spent their entire life feeling chronically depressed for no reason, and they're starting to get tired of it. the happy you starts to show up less and less, and the sad you gets to go further and further through their character arc. except, if you're anything like me, that storyline ends in suicide. you have to not give that version of you what they want, no matter how powerful their voice becomes, no matter how badly they want it, no matter how sick and tired they are of having to deal with this, no matter how much suffering they are experiencing. you have to keep torturing them, force them to live, until you can find the right medication to kill them in a way where they won't take your better half down with them.

and i should clarify, this is not multiple personality disorder. i'm still "me" whenever my shifts happen, the different voices in my head are just how i describe my conflicting thoughts. i am a democracy of neurons whose job is to make sure the dark and irrational neurons get outvoted. unfortunately, i can only influence the ones i am conscious of.

anyway hopefully these meds work :)

[slovo-theshattered-onion]

Musings on my Own Neurodivergency

I'm not sure what's possessing me. For one, whatever it is, it prefers proper capitalisation in what should by all means be a ramble post and therefore lowercase; for two, it feels different to how I've felt in... Gosh, a very long time, now.

It's bigger, for one. It is still a prey animal, but only in the sense it doesn't search out meat for itself, doesn't hunt; it could, if it wanted to. Like a lot of non-carnivorous animals in nature, even though it isn't built for stomaching blood or tearing chunks out of flesh, it could, and at times will. When scared, mostly. When hungry. When lacking.

What I mean, of course, is how I interact with people. The natural bend of society may not be a primordial forest, no metaphor that relies on behaviour of wild animals could ever be adequate, but it illustrates my point; I'm not scared of my claws right now, even if I know they could slash someone without good reason. I'm not compacting myself. I'm dangerous as much as I'm in danger, and it feels... Okay, right now.

All of that preamble just to say, I really don't think 'autistic' is a label that suits me. (because i'm polite and know a decent amount about publicising, the rest is under the cut)

Externally, sure. My behaviour gets clocked by autistic people as prompt for a 'one of us, one of us, one of us' chant far more often than I could keep track of (affectionate, amused, absolutely strawmaning every autistic friend i ever had but only mildly), and I've identified with it for a very, very long time, because it came closest to having a community I could relate to. Internally, though?

It's... Harder to explain, but the vibes are off.

Doesn't say much on its own. The mind is fallible, the chemicals, hormones running the brain are not absolute nor divinely inspired, in a traditional sense. I've long since come to trust my vibe readings, though.

They allow me to reliably clock other people's feelings over text, sometimes before even they realise their mood/state of mind has shifted, for one. They allow me to understand writing on a viscerally intimate level, they allow me to conceptualise my own feelings when all there is in my brain and body is empty void.

The vibes I get from autistic people don't line up with mine, though they come much closer than possibly anyone or anything else. The logic y'all use is sound, not the least because you're aware of it, because you've had to think things through to a much deeper extent than most allistic people for half the credit, but it doesn't line up, doesn't rail on the same track as mine. It's close, annoyingly close for my liking as all I want is to belong, but it's... It's not right to my brain.

(small tangent to clarify: 'not right to my brain' is very specifically referring to My Brain and says absolutely nothing about objective fact. 'logic' is not, can not be, objective and i am not passing any moral judgement so much as i'm just bitching and moaning about not fitting in)

Take 'takes things literally', for example. I only recently learned, through this Ember Green video, that what it means in terms of metaphor is not necessarily 'panics when hearing 'break a leg' because they can't see that it's not a literal wish of harm on them' but something closer to 'pictures a broken leg while understanding the intention behind the words, very possibly even knowing the social context for how the saying came about'.

I fit that! Down to a T, my thinking does tend more literal in that regard, and in regard to questions like 'do you hate eye contact, yes or no' I tend to think 'no, i actually don't mind it sometimes'. Do I know what the question's actually asking is, if I struggle to make socially acceptable amounts of eye contact? Yes. Would my answer change based on that understanding? Also yes, I absolutely struggle to make 'acceptable' amounts of eye contact, and in fact I don't particularly love looking at people's faces too much- unless I really like them- full stop.

... Does it line up the experience of autistic people as I perceive it? Not quite.

The way I hear it described, it sounds a lot more... Natural. Like it's your first instinct, like you had to pick it apart to find where your understanding and thought process misaligned with the understanding and thought process of the people asking.

As far as I remember- which isn't saying much, emotional and literal amnesia barriers are a bitch- I could always at least glean the intricacies of that divide. As far as I remember, there used to be a time I was just as imprecise with wording, understood the core of what people meant when they used sloppy-ass definitions like that, all relatively intuitively- even I don't think I ever liked it much.

It feels like, at least the second example of my 'literal thinking' is a result of me getting deeply obsessed with writing, prose and word choice more specifically. It feels like a lot of my more internal symptoms are not that inherent to me, though the external ones I've clocked all the way back before spring of 2020.

I... Understood, social implication. I understood passive-aggressiveness, I understood hints, I've used both as manipulation, on purpose, as early as about 12. I understood for as long as I remember myself. Again, not much of a useful admission; my memory is incredibly, weirdly good at its best and unreliably faulty at its worst.

Still.

Learning about society and structures that govern it, learning about nature and bodies and minds and tools, watching, fucken, PhilosophyTube and whatnot, hasn't given me new intuition so much as it expanded, grew, budded out of a really small and relatively inconsequential seed that was always in the soil. Oh, there's plenty of new thought processes, plenty of new explanations of my logic, plenty of pedantic pickings apart of all the concepts I once held for granted!

The core, though, is the same. Live and let live, all people are unique in some way. If it doesn't demonstrably hurt anyone, let it be. I do remember, distinctly, thinking almost these exact words, so many times over my teenage years. Earliest I can remember is at my old laptop, mystified at some discourse I glimpsed somehow; maybe through my parents' routine argument about feminism, maybe through some kind of early left-tube video.

At that point, I was at least starting to think in English, lest I probably wouldn't remember it as my brain has banned all other languages. 7th grade, then? 8th? I went to school at 7 years old, skipped 6th, so probably also about 12 years old.

(yes, i did have to double-check on paper because i'm miserable with maths. you can't prove it in a court of law /j)

Either way, my point is, I've grown and changed since I was 12 (obviously), but it didn't come as a rebirth of any kind. There weren't big realisations about the world or other people, only a sort of 'oh, duh, fucking finally i have it in words'.

(unless you count the repeated, highly annoying, 'other people are just as complex and intelligent as i am' realisation that i have to drill into my head over and over and over and over and over every once a couple months. i prefer to ignore it in this context WHEEZE, it's technically less of a realisation and more of a practiced understanding anyway,,,)

Maybe that's the common experience for autistic people, too. Maybe it's just how most people think, even, maybe it's ye old confirmation bias. I know how to recognise when my brain is trying to talk out its ass about something it absolutely had no clue about, I know how to recognise I was wrong, most times I'm pretty good at both!! But I'm still human, still fallible, no matter how impressed the people who brushed up against my communication practice and social theory are with me.

I have always had somewhat of a god complex, but that's neither here nor there-

Anyway. That's just one example. Take 'likes strict routines' for another, and you'll find the biggest reason I don't want a 24/7 d/s dynamic is that the only routine I like to keep to is my tea making one in the morning, and the only one I ever struggled to break was taking my meds before bed.

At that, the meds were less of a routine and more of an addictive habit- not to the chemicals, I don't think, but to the safety of being assured I'll sleep soothing the anxiety of the danger losing sleep posed according to my mother- and the tea, I easily and without much thought fudge every once in a while. I don't care about routines; instead, I care about sudden changes of plans, or major changes in environment- expected or unexpected- possibly in a very allistic way, even.

I honestly have not studied allistic thinking enough to be able to tell. It's more intuitive, right? Not going through the logic of things but acting, far more split-second, in accordance with subconscious knowledge. That's what I gleaned, and I blame the very low amount of research done on allistic people for my knowledge gap. Anyway-

Yet another example, sort of related, is rules. The typical autistic stance on rules, as far as I know, is 'if it makes no sense i will Not Follow, if it does i Almost Certainly Always Will', and like... Yeah, sort of me! Not really. My 'tell no lies' rule, just like the rest, is not absolute and is active only when it is in line with my core aforementioned philosophy of 'if it doesn't hurt anyone, it's fine'. I dislike rules, and not just because I'm an anarchist.

If anything, it's the other way around. Realising on some level no rule could ever be perfect or all-encompassing has very much led me down the 'fuck it, no gods no masters' rabbit hole, and very much established in my mind that I must have a core philosophy, rather than a set of rules, if I want to be any level of sure my mind is flexible enough for doing as much good as possible in as many situations as possible.

I'm not a robot, and there're a lot of feelings mixed into this mess, but this precise bullshit is why I still struggle to think of myself as categorically a human. Am I homo sapiens? Uh, I sure hope it does (/ref). Do I think and feel in ways that the humans around me seem to display?

...

Come back with a warrant.

And that's the core of why I don't think I could be autistic, innit? Autism is for humans, even if it may make you feel like you aren't one. Autism has a community where it fits in, autism is a relatively common social difference, it is at least somewhat understood, at least possible to find insight on.

It is not, as far as I know, a common reason for feeling intrinsically alien to other people who have diagnosed autism, or people who self-diagnose as autistic. It is not, as far as I know, so deeply changed by learning about social justice that it becomes nearly unrecognisable as itself to an informed observer. It is not, to my understanding, very explicitly writing a story where the worldbuilding very explicitly included, and I'm very lightly paraphrasing the direct wording I still remember using here, 'a mental illness which is basically like, anti-autism'.

('anti' in this context is used as 'thematic opposite', not as 'i hate you and everything you stand for')

It's... Weird, to me. It's lonely, but validating. It's fun, comforting in a way and despairing in another, fucking miserable and the most exciting thing since Sigmund Freud's theories to my psychology-loving mind, it's torture of the unknown and it's very possibly got something to do with C-PTSD, it's incredibly hard to explain and trust myself on but it's what has felt true for years and years and has stayed far more consistent than, say, my Possible Plurality, it's every contradiction you can think of, and I love to gnaw on it like a wolf on a bone or a rabbit on tree bark just as much as I hate it, just as much as I feel compelled to crush it in my teeth as false and impossible.

It's annoying, is what it is, and I'm gonna go chew metal about it (/lh /j).

But yeah, there are my musings on my own neurodivergency !!! if u want to commint or have a convo in the reblogs. pblease do. just don't be a rudeass (to translate: basically just keep to no insults of anyone or any cruelty toward any group, i'm not about to tone police otherwise) because i'm not being paid for dealing with that and you will get ignored or blocked. godspeed out there 👍

[talkinpunchline]

A review of Knight Terrors: Punchline 1 & 2

So I was going to just post a review of Knight Terrors: Punchline #2 today but then I figured why not go ahead and talk more about both issues? Before I start though I wanna just compliment Danny Lore, Lucas Meyer, & Alex Guimarães. They came together to make a REALLY great pair of comics

So the issues follow the pretty basic set up of all the Knight Terrors tie ins. The protag of the book falling asleep, being subjected to whatever they were fearing at the moment, and then eventually fighting them off. Where these two set themselves apart though is the execution. I don't really have a reason to bring it up here, but if you follow me on my main, you might know I'm a MASSIVE horror fan. A fact that has lead me to feeling pretty let down by this event as a whole. Sure, some of the stuff being shown in the other books is creepy, but scary? Nope! Which isn't a slight at the other writers at all, a lot of them are pretty good and even some of the other Knight Terrors books are fun, it's just hard to write really good horror. Danny thought? They absolutely nailed it. Working off some pretty logical and, I'd say, relatable fears to tell the story and explore Alexis's perspective as much as you can in just two issues

Another thing I think this book has over others, and again no shade, is really subtle bits of dream logic in the art. Costumes not being quite right in photos, things notably shifting to afford you a better look when you want to see something from another angle. All those little things your brain plasters over It's a smart touch!

But that all leads to the question of what Alexis fears. It's a couple things, nothing that the solicits said, the first is pretty simple- Surveillance.

I've seen a few people complain about Babsgirl's inclusion in this, myself included, but it really makes sense with how the book presents it. It's not Babs, it's the surveillance she has.

Like love her or hate her Oracle has a genuinely horrifying level of control over the internet, and when you think about that constant threat of violence that molded Alexis into what she is? OFC she'd worry about that when she finds out just what she's been living under for life.

So yeah the big Batgirl monster isn't Babs it's the concept of surveillance like we're in the middle of a Magnus Archives episode. I also like that it does, ultimately, play into her second fear: A lack of control.

(I don't wanna post too many full pages, but this one is too good not to drop in full)

But yeah control, and the fear of losing it, really does make sense for Alexis. Losing control of the narrative, the small amount of safety she's literally paid for with blood, it's perfect.

Most of the second issue is a fight, alongside what I mentioned before, but one thing I really appreciate that got lost in Gotham Game is the fact that Alexis refuses to just die despite fantasizing about it

Out of all of the clowns she is the one trying to expose a message and she's not going to stop I dunno if her using broken glass to try and fight even when she's as good as dead is an explicit reference to the Orca fight in Joker #3 or a happy accident, but either way it rules.

And that's it in a nutshell. An expertly done two issue book with some phenomenal art and coloring that handles Alexis pretty much perfectly.

Seriously DC I'd buy every variant of an ongoing with this creative team I NEED it

[birubilirubin]

*Warning: Brain hole + logic + speculation

Please Don't Repost Anywhere

 *Warning: Brain hole + logic + speculation

I made this analysis in between my postgraduate studies, so pls understand that the analysis is very messy, irregular, broken, and the pictures don’t include it

At first look at Haibara Ai's character settings.

The following content is mainly developed from Haibara Ai’s perspective.

If Akai Shuichi is the most unpredictable character in the entire show, then Haibara Ai is the most complicated and contradictory character in the show.

At first, when I saw manga and animation, my focus was mainly on the storyline. When I really wanted to write a character analysis, went back to the summary and suddenly found that Haibara Ai's character value had almost skyrocketed. The words to describe her feelings were simply extraordinary.

At first, let's look at the main characteristics of this character.

In terms of language skills, she is fluent in at least four languages: Japanese, English, Spanish, and Russian. In terms of professional knowledge: pharmacy, chemistry, biology, physic, astronomy, mathematic, computer programming, literature, politic, history, art history (and many more). She can shoot, drive (even in Haibara Ai's body), ride a Harley, has strong observation and alertness, and is intelligent and reasoning.

Compared to the other main characters, Conan was poisoned by Gin, so his main goal is to transform back into Kudo Shinichi and destroy the organization that made him smaller. Akai Shuichi entered the FBI to investigate the reason for his father's disappearance, and he found the organization and regards the destruction of the organization as the ultimate goal, which is also clearly explained. Agasa is a tool man, providing technical support for Conan to become a superhuman. Ran's goal was simple and clear, just waiting for Kudo Shinichi to return. Gin's ultimate goal is to find and kill all traitors, and complete the tasks assigned by the organization. The fate of these characters seems clear.

How about Haibara Ai ?. Her parents died, and her sister also died, she became homeless. As of now, there has been no official CP in the plot that could make her pursue a happy ending like Mouri Ran. I haven't found any solid plot evidence to prove whether she wants to return to Shiho Miyano, but at least in her life goal, she doesn't want to destroy the organization's plans, because in the first place, the power of the organization is too strong, and she can't handle it, and secondly, she has no intention of destroying the organization. Her level of fear is greater than her level of hatred, and she is always in a state where she just wanted to hide. 

Then what is the fate of Haibara Ai ?. 

Under the contradiction between the character setting of such a strong attribute value and the meaning of existence it is logical to bring up the self-contradiction of Haibara's character at an early stage. On the one hand, she was afraid of being persecuted by the organization, wanted to hide and run away, she wanted to live, but on the other hand, because she thought she had no one in this world, she hoped to use her own life as a price for the safety of the people around her. (Little Red Riding Hood, Full Moon, Train, etc). All of them have related plots that can clearly prove this point. Therefore, this kind of complex character design related to active survival and pessimistic death, can be considered the biggest contradiction of Haibara Ai's character. I wish she can appreciate her life more.

If this character is HE, then this contradiction is a problem that must be resolved in the future development of the plot. From the perspective of the initial plot, it seems that there is a long way to go, but the main path has come to this point, and some clues and hopes can be seen equivocally.

First of all, Haibara Ai will most likely has HE. So, she will have to return to Miyano Shiho in the end, then the next question is, where should she go after she transforms back?

Watching Higo, cooking for kids, scolding Professor. Someone mentioned this stage, Haibara Ai is already a bit OOC, but I think it's an inevitable plot. Because if she always only becomes Haibara Ai who is always sad like in the early stages, then she will never be able to reach the real HE.

Let's take a look at Haibara Ai's Harem:

Conan Edogawa

Among all CP Haibara Ai, Co-Ai is undoubtedly the most popular CP. It didn't take long for Ai to appear on stage, and until now the usual CP fights are still seen everywhere. First of all, I personally don't like this kind of couple, because Conan is a character who can match Ai in terms of experience, intelligence, and ability.

I went to the analysis of Co-Ai side looking for in-depth analysis post from Co-Ai's side, but I was a little disappointed that I didn't find the content that really convinced me, maybe this also had something to do with me reading it with Shu-Ai's preconceived thoughts, but after rational analysis, I still feel that there were too many loopholes.

In addition to the evidence and clues provided by Co-Ai, let me talk about my perspective on Co-Ai. For Ai's partner, for me as long as it's not Mitsuhiko in the end, I can accept everyone. In all elections, Conan is nothing more than a good candidate, but the probability is zero.

First of all, Conan has a clear official heroine, and the plot has come a long way. If the picture of Aoyama suddenly turns into Co-Ai, it will create a lot of holes, and quite a lot of bugs, and it is a problem for the Shin-Ran party to leave holes and tear the book, and it is expected that this manga will be taken off the shelf directly.

Let's see how Ai feels towards Conan. 

They met when Haibara Ai ran away from the organization and had no relatives. At that time, Ai was very vulnerable, sensitive, and had low self-esteem. Even though Agasa gave Ai a good shelter, he's not the same age as her, and didn't share the same fate, it would be difficult to communicate. At this moment, when Conan appeared by her side, Ai couldn't help but feel dependent. Later in the process of getting along, Ai discovers Conan's extraordinary intelligent mind abilities, and his high sense of justice, and began to be attracted to him, and both of them became victims of drugs. The good feeling here was just a good feeling, it was a respect and sympathy, because they have a common enemy and a common secret.

If Ai has a male-female relationship with Conan, she shouldn't be so free and easy to tease him. Instead, she will be sad and even jealous. Compare to when Ai mistakenly thought that Yoko Okino and Higo was dating, Aoyama emphasized it was just liking idols, but when it came to Ran, she was nonchalant, and sometimes made jokes, and she was more sympathized to Ran than Conan.

In terms of emotional intelligence, Ai is much more mature than Conan. In terms of personality, Ai is the queen of the iceberg, and Conan is the straight human type. No matter from which point of view, they are not very harmonious. Most of the CPs in this comic, Heiji-Kazuha, Shin-Ran, Makoto-Sonoko, Takagi-Sato, Shiratori-Kobayashi, are a pair of one strong and one weak.

Even though Ai is strong, don't forget that Conan is also arrogant, and when the two of them face each other. What will happen from this CP?.

Mitsuhiko

It doesn’t need to explain.

Higo Ryusuke

This is a reasoning manga, the focus is on destroying the organization, Conan and Haibara will change back after defeating the organization (humans can't turn back time). Everyone can fall in love before the organization is destroyed. How many times did Haibara have to transform back into Shiho for a love story ?. It's very dangerous to change back every time just to make a love story with Higo. He has nothing to do with the main plot, and it is possible to fall in love with her when Haibara becomes her normal body, but will Aoyama write a love story like this after finishing the organization’s plot, after the main plot is completed??

 Amuro Toru & Hakuba Saguru

I'm going to cry writing this. At first lets talk about Amuro Toru.

According to the writer Amuro's character was originally black, but to be honest, when the plot got to this point, I still felt that Amuro was a little bit good and bad, unlike Gin or Shuichi, who were very clearly black and red. Then there are so many bugs. Although Aoyama said that if there was Char there must be Amuro, but why did the Gundam settings have to be copied like this. He's not enough to pay tribute by having Char ?. Why should he gave him another opponent to fight ? 

Amuro first joined Japanese public security to find out Miyano Elena, and Miyano Elena died 17 years ago. So, his investigation found that his first love was dead. Was Amuro pursued further investigations ?. He was trying so hard to disguise himself in the organization just because of orders from his superior ? ?

In addition, the first action of the Bourbon character, who had foreseen only to find the missing Sherry. This setting gave people a very far-fetched feeling. I don't know if this is my hunch, I have been always worried that there would be a major reversal of the plot one day, and Amuro will turn out to be two-faced. Because the reason why he joined the red faction really made his revolutionary position indecisive.

He clearly knew that Akai is a red faction, but he still wanted to capture him and hand him over to the organization for credit.

Compared to Akai's steady demeanor from start to finish, Amuro's appearance is somewhat less considered.

Moreover, after Amuro's appearance the target of the investigation changed again and again. First, Sherry then Shuichi Akai, then Conan and Sleeping Kogoro, and finally started checking on Sera.

So, what Amuro wants to do ?. Even though I have a feeling, he will join after being invited for tea, but it feels like something is wrong.

Although I found this character very shrewd, sometimes he did random things. Not many serious clues to be found, but the coffee just got better. Although he has many films, but in general so far, I personally felt that this character formation was quite a failure, although I have no opinion about him, after all he is also a character with all kinds of skills.

If it's purely to make money selling him, then I'm speechless.

Amuro's background is currently unknown, and the only information I can find that he is of mixed blood and has been bullied because of his hair color and skin color. It's similar to Ai, but other than that, the two have met a few times, and then no more. Unless Aoyama fills the hole for Amuro's background.

Next Hakuba Saguru. Ai-chan, how did your harem get to the next manga. He and Shiho had never met each other, even though both of them had similar appearances, the same temperament, and the same hair, but even if they were forced to match each other, they might just end up as long lost siblings in the end. (At this rate, then Miyano and his wife are suspended, and then they can draw 1000 episodes, and DC has become a series for life).

•        Moroboshi Dai

When I was a sweet niece, I didn't care much about CP, and I was just a passing reader, now that I've become an aunt. As I've gotten older, my perspective has changed a lot since I was young, and I have some new comprehensions about this character pair. If you have different opinions, you can discuss it together~

1. Judging from the setting of the entire story structure

First of all, in my opinion, Miyano Akemi only appears in one episode, the episode in which she is killed, of course this almost disproportionate role is the fate of all extra characters, but regardless of the main plot. Looking only at the story of Akai Shuichi, Miyano Akemi and Haibara Ai, we will find that everything started after Miyano Akemi was killed and Miyano Shiho escaped from the organization and became Haibara Ai.

In movies, dramas, or literature, almost all authors will design a backstory for their characters, which is an indispensable content to make the character's image deeply rooted in people's hearts. But in Detective Conan, the past of Akai Shuichi and Miyano Akemi, we can hardly dig up any useful information. My guess is that there are two possibilities here;

First, the author is too mean, deliberately leaving a large blank space to appeal to people's imagination and taste. Of course, this is Aoyama's usual trick, but I personally don't think it is the main goal, because this manga is called Detective 'Conan', not Detective 'Shuichi'. It is clear that Shuichi isn’t the protagonist. If the deliberate concealment of their past was to whet the audience's taste, it would be a little excessive, and for readers who focus on Shin-Ran, if they don't really like Shuichi or Akemi's role, hardly notice Aoyama's little trick, could it be that he wants to whet the audience's taste if he doesn't explain it, or explain it, they don't care.

The original plot was like this:

Moroboshi Dai's rebellion → Akemi is killed → Shiho refuses to continue developing the drugs → Shiho is locked up by Gin → Takes the drug and turns into Haibara Ai.

In my opinion, if Shuichi and Akemi were an official couple, it would be more logical to see the following situation:

Moroboshi Dai rebels and takes Akemi away → Shiho is suspected by Gin → locked up by Gin → takes a drug and becomes Haibara Ai.

Why should the author let Akemi die? The reason is cruel, but very realistic: because Haibara Ai is the heroine, and the heroine needs CP, so Akemi must die.

I want to talk about Akemi's death, and most people seem to be confused whether Shuichi should save Akemi or not. I would like to have an opinion.

First of all, let's think about what the FBI is. It's the FBI, not the police, let alone the rescuers. In many American crime movies, FBI investigators play annoying characters. They are discreet and cold-blooded, and often start from completing tasks given by superiors, and do whatever they can to achieve their goals, so many people feel that they are completely inhuman.

In the Conan series, I don't know why the FBI is meddling business in Japan (originally they wanted to catch the silver haired killer who ran to Japan, but now they are meddling in the business of Japanese organization) but their essence as the FBI will not change. Their goal is to investigate and destroy the organization. In their eyes, Akemi and the organization are the same thing. In their eyes, Akemi's robbery plan was probably just an internal dispute within the organization. They just needed to sit on the sidelines and reap the rewards.

Let's take another look at Akemi's role, I still don't know exactly what she does in the organization. She's simple, kind, not a scientist, not a computer technician, can't shoot, doesn't understand espionage.

So no matter what her specific position is, we can be sure that this is an unimportant role, so is her role valuable to the FBI??

The reason is the same, because she is just an extra.

Then go to the main topic. Regarding Miyano Shiho and Moroboshi Dai, at this stage I use the name Moroboshi Dai. So, we focus on the relationship between them in the organization. Some are just speculation, as there was too little related content in the original manga, I can only push back the relationship between Shuichi-Ai . Thinking back to when Ai complained that Conan didn't save Akemi and burst into tears, we can see that Ai would be very sensitive and irrational in matters related to her sister's death. For the parties involved in the robbery, Conan was just a passer-by. Who determined that a smart person should save the lives of everyone around the world ?. Who says a detective has an absolute duty to stop people from doing stupid things everywhere ?. Ai is a smart person, she was really angry at Conan who points out that this incident was really an indelible pain for her.

As I had analyzed earlier, in Akemi's case, although Moroboshi Dai wasn't the direct cause of her death, it was more or less related to him. The appearance of Moroboshi Dai gave Akemi illusory and unreal dreams for the future. So, Akemi has a plan to rob and threaten the organization to take her sister away to find Moroboshi Dai.

Ai scolded Conan which had nothing to do with it, why wasn't she angry at Moroboshi Dai?. In the manga and animation, Ai remembered Moroboshi Dai several times, and she never even feels angry. Animation team added clenching action, maybe they did it without permission.

Original text (File 231)

"I fell in love with you from the first time I met you"

Many Co-Ai parties believe that this is Ai who secretly confesses to Conan through dialogue in script rehearsals. Since the possibility of Co-Ai has been analyzed above, there is no need to dispute this perspective here.

Let's take a closer look at the content of the conversation,

"There's no mistaking it, she's starting to realize your true identity..."

"There's no point in tricking her anymore, it'll hurt her..."

"Why would you say such a thing to me?"

"Your eyes of justice can see the heart of evil, but you cannot see a woman’s heart"

"I fell in love with you the first time I saw you"

"Mr. Kamen Yaiba..."

*Brain Hole Warning :

Shiho: Exactly. She (Akemi) starting to realize your true (Moroboshi Dai) identity (in disguise).

Shiho: There's no point in tricking her... it’ll hurt her.

Moroboshi Dai: Why do you say such a things to me...

Shiho: Your eyes of justice can see through the heart of evil, but you can't see a woman’s heart ?

Shiho: I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, didn't you notice it?

Shiho: Moroboshi Dai?

This scene could also refer to Kudo Shinichi and Ran here, but doesn't everyone feel that the relationship between Moroboshi Dai and Akemi was even more similar ?.

From the original manga, we knew that Akemi was well aware of the fact that Moroboshi Dai was the FBI, so now think about it, Akemi as a simple person can figure it out, and Shiho who is very intelligent, won't she notice it?

Back to the content above, Akemi's death, Moroboshi Dai's big defection. Ai showed no anger or resentment towards him.

So my guess...

Could it be... Could it be...

Shiho was actually secretly in love with Moroboshi Dai back then ?. Shiho was 15-16 years old when her feelings of love began to develop. When she met a very good person, became her friend, said the promise of protection for her. Will she really... fall down?

In the plot proof provided by Co-Ai Parties, there was a lot of content in the early stages of animation (there are more than 100 episodes) At that time, Ai debuted not long ago. At this time, Aoyama added some suspicious Co-Ai plots, in my opinion there may be 2 purposes.

1. To test the market, because in the beginning Conan was a short story, Akai shuichi has not been made, and all CP was not fully formed, and maybe not many people are chasing Conan. The addition of Co-Ai was possible to test the audience to see which CP was more popular.

2. It might be a shadow for Shu-Ai.

So, because Aoyama still made at Ai suspected of falling in love with Conan even though Kudo Shinichi already has Ran, could it be that based on the story of Moroboshi Dai and Akemi what the writer wants to reveal is that Shiho was really in love with Moroboshi Dai at that time.

In the original it was known in the organization Shiho and Moroboshi Dai were friends, because some of Ai's memories were all good memories, but after watching various plots from Co-Ai, I suddenly found many doubts about the relationship between Moroboshi Dai and Shiho.

It was assumed that during the organization, Shiho secretly liked Moroboshi Dai, but Shiho didn’t know that Moroboshi Dai and Akemi were actually in a fake relationship. Since he was her sister's lover, she could only silently retreat backwards and suppress everything in her heart. Even though it's very sad, but that person is her sister, what can Shiho do ?

The picture above is another plot proof provided by Co-Ai Parties. They analyzed that the dolphin here refers to Ran, and the shark refers to Ai herself. There's no problem with this, but don't forget, there's another girl who is like a dolphin beside Ai. If Shiho really liked Moroboshi Dai at first, but she didn't know that Moroboshi Dai was in disguise, facing a sister like a dolphin, Shiho would also feel inferior. As I said above, if you love someone secretly, you will feel sad and jealous in your heart. These two plots are noteworthy.

I think the part about dolphin and shark that is worth noting is that a large part of Ai's affection for Ran was a projection of her feelings for Akemi. That's why I assumed, in the early stages Ai stayed away from Ran because she was still running away from Akemi's death.

Brain Hole Warning

The first guess is that Shiho probably knew that Moroboshi Dai liked her, based on his promise of protection, but because of her sister, Shiho could only avoid facing her feelings all the time, stressing to herself that he was her sister's lover.

The second guess is that from his promise of protection, Shiho might suspected that Moroboshi Dai wasn't black, but Ai didn't know that Moroboshi Dai has explained his identity to her sister, and she didn't know he broke up with her sister 2 years ago. So, her description about him is still "sister's lover", not "former lover".

The third guess is that Shiho might have tought that Moroboshi Dai's caring attitude towards her was because her sister, Shiho might have thought that only bridge between them was her sister. Combining with the shark and dolphin theory, everyone likes dolphin, Shiho probably thought Moroboshi Dai liked her sister, so Shiho suppressed all her feelings. Then after her sister died, there was no connection between them anymore, but suddenly Moroboshi Dai (Okiya Subaru) reappeared beside Haibara Ai, and maybe Ai thought, could it be this person is by her side just because her sister's death. Seeing Ai's expression was a little sad in the chapter bubble,smoke. 

To prevent Conan from involving Ran in a confrontation with the organization, Ai is willing to help Conan hide his identity.

File 503 In order to prevent Ran from getting hurt, she was willing to put aside her indifference and high-handed attitude and begged bitterly.

File 820 When she faces threats from the organization, she will rely on Ran.

Source : File 423

Therefore, file 251 and file 423 Ai deliberately avoided Ran, deliberately pretended to sleep, and said "Did I run away......" not because she liked Conan and was jealous of Ran, but because Ran was kind with her like Akemi, and when Ai saw Ran and her care for her, it was difficult for Ai to hide her sadness at losing her sister and accept that she lost her sister because of herself, and it was difficult for her to face Akemi's death.

"My sister did it for me..." In Ai's mind, Akemi lost her life because Shiho couldn't prevent her when Shiho had sniffed organization’s smell from her sister and knew her sister had committed a crime, and she held a strong sense of guilt towards her.

The author compares Akemi to Ran, who has a similar personality, bright and cheerful, implying Shiho's complicated feelings for Akemi.

This is also the first hint of the shark dolphin theory:

She is the dolphin that everyone loves, she is bathed in sunshine and warmth.

I was the shark that everyone hated, there was only cold and darkness around me.

Akemi is very bright and kind, everyone likes her, she lives a normal life.

Shiho loved Akemi, for Akemi she was willing to trade her freedom for Akemi's normal life, for Akemi she never mentioned the threat of the organization to her, she understood Akemi's feelings of losing her parents, she appreciated everything Akemi gave her, but Shiho also envied Akemi who had a bright life, could go to a normal university and make normal friends, get a lover, but Shiho could not have it all.

In addition, the attitude of inferiority that Haibara Ai faced in the early stages: "She is a dolphin, everyone likes dolphin." I don't think she's talking about Ran, but Ran's character reminds her of her sister and "that person". By the time that chapter Akai Shuichi had officially appeared, Aoyama must have made a Shu-Ai line and I think for Co-Ai arrangement, Aoyama might have had such an arrangement in the early days of manga, but after the Shu-Ai line gradually came out, Aoyama didn't play Co-Ai, and Aoyama never clearly answers, does Ai likes conan, he keeps the reader guessing.

Does Ai really like Conan?

In the original manga, Ai understood the unspeakable pain between Shin-Ran and never showed jealousy, and often supported Ran.

Faced with Ayumi and Mitsuhiko asking her if she likes Conan, she never blushes to cover up for being exposed by others. Taking a closer look at the chapter, what image did Haibara think of Conan? Those are all pictures of Conan saved her or promised to protect her. According to this, what Haibara liked about Conan is a sense of justice, pursuing the truth, bearing pressure alone, and promising to protect her. (Like someone in the past)

A little denial of the narrative trick, Yukiko said "Women will stare at a man if there is something on his face or they are in love with him"

In the photo taken by Akai's subordinates, Ai was looking back which means Ai already knew that someone was following them from the beginning, that's why Ai kept fidgeting and worrying, so she kept looking at Conan. So, Conan is not insensitive to Ai's feelings here, Conan can guess the emotional expressions of the suspects, Conan just can't guess Ran's emotional expressions, the girl he likes. So, Conan said "It's impossible for Haibara to fall in love" here it is true that Conan did not feel Ai seeing him because she was in love, but because she was worried about the people following them.

File 423

Ai's inner monologue "You still don't understand …... you don't understand anything...but I don't want you to understand..."

What do you understand? The author didn't write it out.

① If combined with the scene where Ai dreams of Conan protecting her, the meaning here is that I like you, but you don't know, and I don't want you to know.

② If combined with Ai deliberately pretending to be asleep to avoid worrying Ran, the meaning here can also be understood as “you” (referring to Conan) don't understand why I don't want to face Ran, you don't understand my feelings for my sister.

(Shiho is the character with the most complex emotions written by the author, with a variety of intertwined emotions, it is difficult to explain clearly from a single perspective.)

According to this, Ai projects her feelings for Akemi on Ran, and projects her past emotional experiences on Shin-Ran's feelings. She is unable to face Ran not only because of her guilt for not being able to save Akemi, but also because of guilt at her complicated feelings in the Dai-Shi-Ake emotional relationship, and Shiho chooses her own position in the emotional relationship with Moroboshi Dai, liked him secretly.

Combined with the shark and dolphin theory, the second layer of clues can be extended:

Moroboshi Dai is a good man, Akemi is kind, everyone likes Akemi, Moroboshi Dai must also liked Akemi, I won't tell anyone about my heart, I will secretly protect them with everything I have. (Similar to the emotional connection in Manga "Touch")

Combining the above details, it can be concluded that the author implies Shiho's past emotional experience in the same situation. In Shin-ran's emotional connection, Ai casts her own shadow, and in Conan, there are certain character traits where Shiho thinks of other person and projects her feelings.

What kind of person is that person?

Someone she fell in love with at first sight.

He is a person who has a sense of justice and bears too much pressure.

A man who promised to protect her.

It is one that she doesn’t want to say "goodbye" to.

A man who left beautiful memories but had left.

She could only hide her feelings for him and didn't want him to know.

Haibara thought that Conan would confess when he received chocolate from Ran, but Conan didn't do it.

"The annoying man she is waiting for never showed up, I don't want to see her tears again, even though I have to leave her heart."

"You two are so painful..."

Specifically refers to Ran because she missed Kudo, she was sad, but she has to pretend to be strong on the surface, because Conan didn't want to involve Ran, he wanted to express himself, but he was speechless. Emotionally they were in pain.

Looking at the case in chapter 379, Itakura's shogi playmate who has been friends for 20 years was the killer, this case explains that human feelings can change. Ran was worried about Shinichi who changed because she thought Shinichi was somewhere far away, then Akai Shuichi appeared, looking for Shiho, who had not met for 2 years. (So the girl Shuichi mentioned isn't closer to Shiho's situation than Akemi's?).

Seeing this case with Ai's monologue in flower language chapter 337, don't you have the same feeling?

Haibara gave an inner monologue about flower life. This passage is translated into connotation — flower refers to feeling.

The feeling is fragile and short-lived. If not properly cared for, it will not be able to withstand wind and rain. Throughout this chapter, Haibara bemoans emotional issues, but this kind of relationship clearly doesn't refer to a family relationship, and it's clear that the emotion here express the emotional states of both parties. The fact that Haibara could expresses such emotions, largely indicates that she, herself had a similar experience .

Therefore, the emotion here implies that Haibara and Conan have the same emotional psychology, and there is an emotional object, for some reason, she just like Conan, can only keep her feelings for 'that person' in her heart.

File 371. The title of this chapter is “Red Trap”, look at "The Red Woman” Chapter, and Sera is Akai's sister. This is may be a clue.

"No wonder you decided to give up, the memory of the person who doesn’t exist will remain forever, and the memory will remain in that person's heart forever... ".

The original text is "いなくなちゃった人" (The person who no longer exist). It doesn't just mean death. If following Conan's answer "I'm not dead ...", then the author can use the word “dead / passed away” (亡くなった／死亡). So, "The person who doesn't exist" here "The person who doesn't come back". It doesn't refer to the dead, nor refers to Conan.

This implies that there was someone in Ai's heart who left her with good memories, and that person has left.

"That must be something she wanted to say, but couldn't say... Goodbye is a sad word that pierces the feelings together..."

Haibara expressed her emotions again. According to the background of the story in which this sentence was spoken, there must be an object that has left without saying goodbye.

Ai remembered Moroboshi Dai. In fact, we all knew who Moroboshi Dai was. Why does Ai always have to add a "Sister's Lover" image on the left to emphasize.

My guess is that this might be an obstacle that Ai has never overcome, and this is also a place she was very worried about. It didn't matter whether Moroboshi Dai was a fake or real lover, he was the one her sister once liked.

Another point of the image on the left, since it is Ai's memory, it must be a sight she saw with her own eyes, since Moroboshi Dai had that expression in her memory, does that mean Shiho also knew at that time that Moroboshi Dai was not sincere? 

Even though Shiho was young, she was a very rational person. She worked in an organization, but in reality she had to keep her head down. I don't know if she ever thought about escaping from the organization, but if she found out that Moroboshi Dai wasn't black, it's possible.

I've written so much about this CP pair, and I'm going to summarize my brain hole that fat might beat.

If the guess above is my over-interpretation, and Shiho had no other feelings for Moroboshi Dai other than friends, then whether he is Subaru or Akai who appeared in front of Ai one day, they still had a long way to go. The key point is still Akemi, how Shuichi can make Ai cross Akemi's limits is the culmination of the relationship between the two.

If as I thought, even if there was a slight chance that Shiho had ever liked Moroboshi Dai, then the path would be easier for Shuichi in the future.

Next, let's look at the Miyano Akemi robbery case again.

Source 313 : Courage is a word of truth to raise one's spirit, it should not be used for the reason of killing someone.

Most people probably forget about Aoyama's values. He doesn't like crimes for love or anything. That's why he doesn't really like and care about Akemi's character. She's just like the perpetrator in Conan's daily episode. Therefore, Aoyama doesn't like to pair her with Akai Shuichi which he is based on his favorite hero. So, a 'fake lover' setting was formed. 

Source: 13-15

Even though she is Shiho's older sister, I personally don't really praise her much. Its three chapters in the manga when Miyano Akemi was alive, but as Shiho's older sister and (fake) Moroboshi Dai (Akai Shuichi) ex-girlfriend, her death still brings a big turning point for the plot, I personally feel that if the robbery act was done carefully- heart, there are many things that need to be explored. 

1. Judging from these few words alone, Miyano Akemi was about to commit a robbery, and the reason for the assassination as an accessory was because she wanted the two sisters to run away from the organization. 

2. As an extension of the first point: Although her deceased was very charitable, due to Shiho's good memory of her older sister and some plots in the memories of the FBI and Shuichi, everyone's comments about Miyano Akemi were mostly positive, but if Aoyama didn't mean to add additional reasons for her crimes (like the content on PS), I really don't understand the reason why Miyano Akemi committed the crimes, and I find it doesn’t make sense.

From multiple perspectives: She tried to get her younger sister who helps the organization’s research illegal drugs to leave the organization. This was the most normal explanation before Akai Shuichi came out. Prior to the robbery, Akemi Miyano obviously knew nothing about the organization. 

Personally, I felt that neither Shiho nor Moroboshi Dai would tell her anything about the organization. The strange question is, her younger sister was safely working as a researcher in an organization to develop drugs. Her life was not in danger. What was the reason for suddenly planning to leave the organization?. It is of course possible to fill this reasoning with other explanations. 

The first possibility is that her younger sister was forced to carry out human experiments by the organization and wanted to help her escape once she found out. This logic is basically nonsensical. Shiho obviously wouldn't tell her sister about this kind of thing, and her sister couldn't possibly be related to the organization. Everyone know this. 

The second possibility is that Miyano Akemi found out the truth about her parents' death. The truth may be that her parents didn't die, her parents were killed by someone in the organization, or her parents committed suicide for some reason. This also makes sense. She suddenly tried to escape from the organization, but it seemed impossible to explain without telling Shiho anything about her parents. (Besides, her older sister hid the tapes in the toilet in the designer's house which her younger sister couldn't find in a normal body state, and then Aoyama said her older sister just liked to hide things before she died) 

A third possibility, she was trying to avoid the organization from executing her and her younger sister as Moroboshi Dai's undercover accomplices. Of course, this is not the case in chapters 13-15. I personally think that this reason cannot be explained logically, because Shiho was an important scientist of the organization and Gin didn't say that he wanted to kill the younger sister when he killed the older sister. Can't Gin kill the traitor 2 years ago?. This is clearly impossible, unless Aoyama wants Akemi to be a black character (but according to his style, the probability is essentially zero). Akemi didn't always want to rob a bank to get rid of the black organization and clean herself up, and sees her accomplice kill the bank's security staff, watched A's accomplice killed B's accomplice, and gave B's accomplice a sleeping pill that was actually cyanide. Then the purpose of her running away was to request a reconnection with Moroboshi Dai who is an FBI agent (at least she knew he is a police officer from a certain country, right ?). Sorry, she's like the brain of love.

3. Sherry's position in the organization. Gin thought that Sherry was an important person and may have high status. However, to say that Sherry has an important position because of the main force in APTX drug research, and her limited contact with people outside the research institute is also fully explained. 

4. Miyano Akemi wasn't really dead. There seems to be no doubt that Miyano Akemi confirmed her death personally, however in Conan's presence her death was confirmed. Some people may make a fake death argument, but this is totally untenable. Conan lacks the ability to persuade the police and medical staff to play out scenes to protect her as a perpetrator (unless his identity was revealed). Either the APTX drug is a revival drug and can be used to revive Akemi, but this is pure nonsense. Akemi was long dead, and her body didn't know whether to be buried or cremated. 

Actually, when I review the time when Akemi robbed, I always complain about this character, because I really can't understand her. If there's no additional explanation, just for the purpose of releasing her younger sister from the organization, I really can't understand what people think of her? 

Although it's a bit twisted to say this: she didn't discuss the plan with Shiho, and Shiho didn't seem to cry to her older sister how difficult her life in the organization was, and the organization forced her to study dangerous drugs that she didn't want to learn (in fact, I always felt that Sherry was in the organization wanting to learn the drugs), Shiho was not in danger of life, etc. Miyano Akemi convinced herself and ran to rob the bank saying that she wanted to save her younger sister from the organization. I felt everyone was victimized because of her behavior. I’m touched. I don't really understand this character. However, since Shiho has always had a very positive perception of her older sister, I don't glorify Miyano Akemi, but I don't hate her either, but her fans are so annoying.

Looking at file 180, I have a little insight here:

Initially, reading this chapter explains why Sherry realized that Kudo has become Conan, and describes the scene where the sisters meet for the last time. When reading it again, I found something very interesting that can be used as an analogy for some Akemi's actions that suddenly want to take out her younger sister for no apparent reason, this concerns the reversal of PS. There was a theory like this a long time ago, I just added a little material.

This is just speculation

When reading chapter 1072, Akemi was very sensitive to other people's feelings, with a simple mind, she knew Moroboshi Dai didn’t love her, and Akai Shuichi is the obvious a double standard man. Therefore, how many percent chance that she knew about Shiho's feelings for Moroboshi Dai? 

From this I dared to guess that Akemi knew Shiho might like Moroboshi Dai.

Looking at the text message in Japanese, Akemi used the formal language 'ます', and didn't use the subject 'I' 

Then seeing from Akai and Akemi's conversation, Akemi used informal language. Isn't this a contradiction?. Did Akemi write this message to herself or for her sister happines? Or did Akemi write that message?

So, my brain hole about PS is that Akemi as an outsider who didn’t know anything about the organization or the drugs, suddenly with a self-confident determination of success wanted to get her younger sister out for no apparent reason, and Akemi might not be that stupid either, she must have known that when she robbed the bank, she would be imprisoned. So, why did she suddenly ask for a relationship with Moroboshi Dai, who is an FBI agent ?.

The chapter title when Akemi appeared was 悪魔の女' "The Devil Woman", looking at the case of Shiratori who thought the female killer was his first love saying "Women can turn from angel to devil", it has the same feeling, doesn't it?. So, my interpretation is that women can become a devil because of love, but the "love" here is meant for Shiho not Moroboshi Dai.

James said because Akemi can't forget Moroboshi Dai, she wanted to leave the organization. I personally think this is a narrative trick. Looking at James' dialogues in the red and black chapters, his dialogues was full of the bombs.

For example, James said Akai's relationship with the younger sister was 顔見知り(Not acquaintances, he only knew her face),

The difference between 顔見知りand 知り合い

顔見知り: they are not very close, only know each other's face

知り合い : he know her face and name, and have a certain degree of acquaintance with her.

The fact is Moroboshi Dai and Shiho were very close.

Next, James said "If the older sister doesn't succeed in the mission, the two sisters die". The fact is the organization never wanted to kill the younger sister. 

So, how much does the FBI know about Akai's past?

How much false information comes from the FBI?

How much truth can be trusted from the FBI?

How many narrative tricks are played on James and Jodie's dialogues?. 

Do you remember when she said she would return to the Dejima's house with her younger sister?. Looking at Akemi's attitude wasn't like a woman who hasn't moved on, she was very happy to prepare for her new life with her younger sister.

So, this hole in my brain about P.S is related to Shiho and Moroboshi Dai.

So, P.S can be in line with the content of the message and can be a reversal. The logic also can be in line with Akemi's "good sister" image and this logic can be in line with motivated Akai's decision to turn into Subaru and immediately come near to Ai. 

Jodie said the price of Akai's death was not comparable to Mizunashi Rena, and Bourbon also said Akai was a good hiding person, he could have hidden without wearing a mask.

Next..

Many readers think Shuichi confessed his FBI identity to Akemi because he fell in love. Personally, my guess is:

Seeing Scotch's death, Rye's promise of protection to Sherry, Elena's mirror that Akemi had but Shuichi didn't know about it, and the messages Akemi sent and he didn't respond it. That’s meant, Shuichi didn't pay much attention to Akemi, and has no emotional basis for her. So, it wasn't because he loved Akemi that he revealed his identity.

Remember, Shuichi was undercover in the organization for 5 years, he got the code name in 2 years. So, his contact with Shiho should be more often than spending his time dating Akemi. Akemi was just an outsider, how can she get Shuichi into the organization?, and the sisters rarely met. Maybe because of this, Akemi realized he was not like a real lover.

The most likely reasons are: Moroboshi Dai said the promise of protection for Shiho, based on Shuichi's morality as a red party, he must feel guilty, it's like 'I have used this person for three whole years', and he also wanted to protect Shiho, Akemi is her older sister. So, Moroboshi Dai had to explain to Akemi that he was just using her.

Moroboshi Dai broke up with Akemi, and the reason was an FBI undercover, which meant he was only pretending to be a couple because he was undercover. So, when it ended, Akemi had a hunch that Moroboshi Dai would go and separate from her, so Akemi burst into tears.

Seeing his attitude as Subaru, could tell Shuichi was a straight ball man, and the reason why Shuichi wanted to end it wasn't because he wanted to catch Gin. Seeing his dialogue he doesn't want to catch the members of the organization, Shuichi is smart, he must know that if he manages to catch Gin, Gin won't open his mouth. So, my guess is Moroboshi Dai did it to mislead the FBI, mainly because he wanted to protect Shiho. Moroboshi Dai dared to risk revealing his identity, not because he knew Akemi well, but because he trusted Shiho. So, Moroboshi Dai thought Akemi was not a threat.

The possibility that Moroboshi Dai never told information about Shiho to the FBI could be that he wanted to take Shiho out, so that Shiho would not be caught by the FBI. He wanted to hide Shiho from everyone.

In chapter 1072, many people speculated that Rum came to Teitan Elementary because Akemi revealed Shuichi's identity intentionally or unintentionally, it's possible that Aoyama is going to make a reversal of their separation 2 years ago, but I personally think the reason Shuichi's identity was revealed was due to Scotch’s death. After Scotch's death, it's possible that the organization was checked a lot of rats, and Rum was related 17 years ago case. How did she report Akai to the top members of the organization?. Her only contact was Shiho.

I personally prefer Akemi to have the setting of not knowing anything about the organization (not related to any important plot, she is only pulled when Aoyama wants to open a new plot like that drug introduction), her role is only as Haibara's older sister, just for Haibara, a naive woman.

So, the 1 billion Yen robbery was her first crime, then when she made a deal with Gin, she was sure she could fool Gin, but in fact she was the one who was fooled and didn't think she would be shot (That means she didn't know anything about Gin and how the organization works).

Therefore Akemi's mentality was not death, and PS is not a secret about the organization. If PS is the secret of the organization Akemi's mentality should have been prepared for her death by then. This has been explained before. I will explain it again.

A bit of denial from the perspective of many readers who think Akemi's mentality knew she is going to die. So, she wanted Akai to take care of her sister.

Camel : ️ ️だから赤井さんに電話で今回の作戦に適任な人材はいないかと聞かれた時、自ら運転手役に志願して日本やって来たんです、死ぬかもしれないと言われてましたが、結果的には赤井さんの彼女を死なせてしまったのは私のミスが原因ですから

赤井さんには彼女も覚悟していたことだから気にするなといわれていたんですがね

Camel : So, when Mr. Akai called me and asked if there was anyone suitable for this operation, I offered to be the driver and came to Japan. I was told that I might die , but in the end it was my fault that caused Akai's girlfriend to die.

Mr. Akai told me not to worry about that because she knew it (his identity).

彼女も覚悟していた: she also knew.

覚悟 is a polysemy, one of the meanings : to be aware (気がつく), to know (存知).

The translations in English is : "she had already made up her mind about Akai".

Based on the context of the previous sentence, its mean She already knew it about (his identity)

覚悟していた > "She prepared for danger...." it is correct, but "Danger" here refers to Akai's FBI identity.

So it didn't mean that Akai said Akemi was prepared for her death, but Akai told Camel that there was no need to feel guilty. 

Camel thought, because of his negligence Akai's FBI identity was exposed which caused Akemi's death. Before Camel's identity was revealed Akai had already told Akemi his identity and Akemi realized it.

So, Akemi's mentality before the robbery mission was that she was very confident with full intention of success. She will success in leaving the organization and bringing her sister. So, there was no need to entrust her sister to someone else. 

If Akemi had a death mentality back then, she should have told Shiho she hid the tapes at her father's old house, but Haibara had absolutely no idea about the hidden tapes. So, it means that when Akemi success from the robbery mission, she thought she could take Shiho to her father's old house and give the tapes. After all, didn't Akemi think that after her death, her sister will suicide?

Then, there are also some opinions saying PS regarding the Miyano couple's fire case, if the premise is like this, shouldn't Akemi told this to Shiho instead of Moroboshi Dai?, because it was related their parents, and Akemi's mentality must also be a death mentality. This would be a logical bug .

Let's look at the side ball analogy: Sato, Takagi & Yumi.

Then, what situations did Sato say this...

"Don't make fun of him, hurry up and find a good man"

A very similar dialog is as follows:

Brain hole:

In short, don't you think that the phrase "I’m fine" and keeps repeating it in Ai's memory, is rather meaningful ?. Then Akemi said "The only thing to worry about is you, Shiho". Could it be that Akemi saw Shiho's emotion change after Moroboshi Dai left ?. If my guess is correct then Ai's heart knot will be easier to open.

The Point is : Akemi is a normal girl without any plans or experience. She rarely met Shuichi at the level outside the organization, and had no chance to get to know Shuichi in depth (Akemi and Shiho rarely met). In this case, Akemi can clearly detect, the man didn't love her, he was just took advantage of their relationship, it can only show that Shuichi didn't make any effort to maintain their "relationship" from beginning till the end.

Akai Shuichi

Actually, whether Akai Shuuichi is Moroboshi Dai or Okiya Subaru, in their relationship with Miyano Shiho, they are just identities that can only exist at a certain stage. The name Akai Shuichi can represent the continuous entanglement of the characters' relationships from the past, to the organization, to the present, and even the future, thus becoming the highlight of Shiho CP's analysis.

Assuming that many people I've read before that the two did have a meeting in the United States, then based on the existing plot, I can make the following analysis.

In all Shiho CPs where Akai Shuichi's name is mentioned, it is inevitable to involve the so-called United States border. Currently, there is no sign of this in the plot, but I feel that most people, including me personally are likely to have this part among them, because I don't think Akai Shuichi knew the effects of the drug during the early days when he came to Japan, he only learned about the effects of Aptx when eavesdropping on Conan-Ai's conversation, he only knew Sharon was the ever-young Chris thanks to the disguise technique.

If the premise says Akai learned about Aptx from the Haneda Koji case, wasn't the effect of Aptx at that time killing not shrinking the body, the first case of Aptx was Kudo Shinichi and at that time Akai had betrayed and only Sherry knew Conan = Kudo. So when Akai caught a glimpse of Haibara on the street, he immediately recognized her and confirmed it in the full moon chapter when Vermouth called Haibara "Sherry", but if my guess isn't right, I'll get slapped.

The life trajectories of the two people seem to overlap on the timeline, and the overlapping period is the period of time when Shiho studied in the United States before returning to Japan, and Shuichi first arrived in the United States to join the FBI. Therefore, in terms of time, this conjecture is possible, since all assume Shiho's age when she returned to Japan was 13. Plus the clue from Elena's tape asking 11-year-old Shiho if she had a first love, and the clue was drawn in a large frame.

The first point is that Shuichi must have gotten to know Shiho unilaterally in the United States.

Shiho was sent to the United States before she could remember, but when the Akai family and the Kudo family met on the beach, Shuichi had not yet joined the FBI. At that time, Sera was about 6-7 years old, and Shiho was older than Sera. So when Shuichi met Shiho, Shiho had to be older than Sera's age, and she had to be able to remember things. In addition, Shiho's IQ is higher than normal people, and her mind is precocious.

If she knew Shuichi when she was in the United States, then when she met Moroboshi Dai for the first time, even if she didn't know his name, she should be able to recognize him immediately. However, based on the plot analysis, Haibara Ai remembers Moroboshi Dai several times, but does not connect with Akai Shuichi's character or American past, so if this conjecture is correct, then Shiho does not know the name Akai Shuichi.

Second point, I have two guesses about Shuichi Akai's acquaintance with Shiho.

The first guess is that when he joined the FBI, he started investigating the disappearance of Akai Tsutomu, and then quickly passed the Haneda Koji case, and followed the path to the Miyano couple and the black organization.

Regardless of whether he knew the relationship between the Miyano family and the Akai family at the time, as long as there were clues leading to the Miyano couple, it should not be difficult for the FBI to know the current situation of the Miyano couple. Shiho was just a little girl at the time, and had not officially joined the organization as a scientist. For the organization, there was no need to block the news, and the Miyano couple was dead at the time. Start with a living person. (In the episode when Subaru first appeared, he mentioned the case of checking the parents of the children)

So, after this conjecture, Shuichi should have investigated little Shiho when she was in the United States, since it was an investigation, of course he couldn't contact her directly. If the conjecture is true, then why his undercover target chose Akemi which can be interpreted as the fact that Shuichi's purpose of pursuing Shiho from beginning to end, but because of Shiho's age and her relationship with the organization. For reasons like closeness, he should start with Akemi.

But in fact, I personally prefer the second type of conjecture, which is that when Shuichi met Shiho in the United States, he didn't know her relationship with the Miyano couple and the Black Organization had any intersection at first, but for some reason, the genius little Shiho accidentally attracted Shuichi's attention, and since then has added a strong color to his memory just like the case of little Kudo meeting Shuichi on the beach. In the Ripple Chapter Shuichi has great respect for children.