#LED Grow Light Reviews

[honeyedmiller]

Mr. Bakery Man

baker!joel miller x f!reader

rating: none

synopsis: it’s not every day you get to move from nyc to austin for your job and relish in a pleasant change of pace. it’s also not every day that you discover a cute family owned bakery in the heart of austin—and it’s definitely not every day that you meet the owner and fall head over heels for him.

warnings: this is pure, innocent tooth-rotting fluff ; fun flirting, we’ll call this one a hallmark type beat lol, sarah and ellie are both in this, joel is down bad in this (but so is reader), no use of y/n.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this was supposed to be for @punkshort’s au writing challenge but i’m hella late on it. life has been crazy lately, but thanks for sticking with me during my unintentional hiatus 🤍

Moving from New York City to Austin Texas had been an oddity in life’s recent escapades. 

Your job had asked if anyone in your department was willing to do the big move because the office in Austin needed a strong journalist on their growing team. With the rest of your colleagues having kids and spouses, nobody was interested in uprooting their whole life to move to a completely different state. 

You, on the other hand, wanted to get out of New York. You yearned for new opportunities, and when this one arose, you didn’t hesitate to tell your boss you were interested. 

You’d been slowly settling into Austin, getting used to life in another city with a completely different atmosphere. You were grateful your new colleagues were all very nice and welcoming. 

The one thing you’d say you missed dearly back in New York City, though, was this amazing bakery off of Fifth you’d frequent before work. Their coffee and croissants were delicious, which is what led you to go on a Google hunt to see what bakeries were good around here in Austin. 

One caught your eye immediately—Sarah & Ellie’s— with five star reviews and multiple photos of all the sweets they had to offer. It was a cozy little café and bakery mixed into one with a homey, warm vibe and cute decorations. You mapped it to see how long it would take you to get to the place, and to your luck, it was only a ten minute walk from your apartment complex. So, you decided you were going to go first thing in the morning before work. 

And for some reason, you felt excited to try a new place. Maybe it was a sign of finally getting used to living in a completely different state, fifteen hundred miles away from your old life. 

You luckily got used to being an early riser, so once morning had rolled around, you were up n’ at ‘em by six thirty. You left your house around seven, making your way down to Sarah & Ellie’s. 

The shop felt more homey than it looked online. As soon as you stepped in, there was already a short line of customers and a waft of delicious baked goods and coffee that filled your senses. You suddenly yearned for a home you’d never even been to. 

You stood in line and observed the menu, deciding on sticking with a classic chocolate croissant and latte for the time being. You wanted to see if this place held a candle up to the place off of Fifth. 

The older gentleman in front of you greeted the cashier with a bright smile, and she immediately typed in an order. 

“Hey Randy, how’s it going?” 

“Hey sweet pea. Just here for my usual mornin’ coffee and danish,” he says, handing the girl a ten dollar bill. She counts out the change and closes the register with her hip before returning his beaming smile to him. “Tell your old man to stop workin’ so damn hard. Cheryl says I need to lay off the sweets once in a while, but I can’t do that if all his baked goods are too delicious to resist.” Randy pats his stomach with a satisfied hum, and the girl laughs. 

“I’ll be sure to pass on the message. Have a good one!” 

After she waves him off, she locks eyes with you and gives you the same beaming smile as you stepped up to the register. 

“What can I get ya, Miss?” she asks, tone cheery and light. 

“I’ll take a chocolate croissant and a latte, please.” 

She nods and rings in your order, grabbing a cup to write your name on it. 

“Not to intrude or anything, but are you new ‘round here?” Her tone is still light, laced with pure curiosity as the sharpie pen hovers over the latte cup. 

You gave her a smile and nodded meekly, “I am.” 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Sarah.” 

You give her your name and her smile never wavers, scribbling your name on the cup. 

“Let me get that chocolate croissant for you—” she started, but was accidentally cut off by a man opening the door that separated the front of the café from the back. 

“Hey babydoll, do we have anymore—” the man stops abruptly, eyes landing on you. A black apron adorned his clearly thick and strong physique, flour dusted on his hands and arms. He was tall, and had a sweet glint in his brown eyes that made warmth flood your whole body. He had a head full of thick brown curls with grays strewn in here and there, and the mustache along with the stubble on his chin mirrored the streaks in his hair.

He instantly gave off a charming aura, and when he smiled at you, you were a goner. 

“Hello Miss. Don’t think we’ve ever met before,” he says, dusting his hands off on the apron before extending one to you. His Southern accent dripped like thick, pure honey, and it made your skin burn hot. 

You couldn’t hold back your smile when you reached your hand out to shake his. It might’ve sounded cliché as hell, but the sudden surge you got from just touching him made every single cell in your body alert, yearning for more. 

“I’m new in the city,” you explain, “Just moved here not too long ago.” 

“Ah, makes sense. Think I’d remember ya even if you didn’t come in often.” 

You’re taken aback by his words. Was he… flirting? You felt your face heat, and your eyes nervously flit to the glass case full of delicious looking pastries. Well, if he was flirting, there’s no harm in doing it back… right? 

“Me coming in often depends,” you find yourself grinning like a fool, “Do your pastries taste as good as they look and smell?” 

“They’re the best in Austin,” he winks, and with that, murmurs something to Sarah before giving you one last smile before walking to the back again. 

Sarah can’t help but giggle as she hands you your croissant. “It’s on the house,” she waves her hand as you pull out your wallet, and you stop short to give her a confused look. She clocks the expression on your face and grins. “Dad said.” 

“That’s your dad?” You didn’t mean to pry, you were just taken aback. 

“Mhm. Family owned and operated bakery,” you immediately hear the pride in her voice, and you can’t help but smile. “I’ll have your latte out in a minute.” 

You grin and nod, stepping over to the other side of the counter. You decided to take a bite of your croissant while you waited for your latte, and god, it was the best pastry you think you’d ever had. The croissants on Fifth had nothing against these gooey, decadent, flaky treats. 

You nearly had to hold back a moan, and the man—Randy, you think—laughed beside you. 

“Good, ain’t they?” he asks, and you nodded expeditiously. 

“Probably the best croissant I’ve ever had.” 

Randy nods in agreement, “Miller’s the best baker in Austin. Been comin’ here since his girls were little.” 

And you finally figured that Ellie must be his other daughter. It warmed your heart that he’d name his place after his two girls, clearly his pride and joy. 

“That’s so nice,” you say, and give him a quick wave goodbye when his order is called out. 

“Hopefully I’ll see you again soon,” Randy shot you a smile before taking a sip of his drink, and you nod at him with a smile before you turn your attention to your name being called out. Sarah handed you your drink and you thanked her, taking a cautious sip. 

Even the latte was superb. You were one hundred percent sold on this place, and maybe even a little smitten with the owner. 

Yeah, you’d definitely be coming back. 

-

A month passes by before you know it, and you’re now deemed an honorable regular at Sarah & Ellie’s. You’ve met Ellie, who was a total opposite of her sister—but you loved both of their personalities all the same. You learned that Ellie was going to art school and you promised her you’d buy a commissioned piece. 

Sarah was going to school for business, studying to take over the bakery one day, and possibly even expand it as a franchise. You told her you’d be at the grand opening the day that it happens. 

As for the owner, Mr. Miller—or, Mr. Bakery Man, you teasingly called him—kept the flirting subtle but fun. You looked forward to the playful banter you two’d exchange, and it always earned a raised brow and a not-so-subtle smirk from either Sarah or Ellie. 

Unbeknownst to you, they’d tease their father about the ‘crush’ he had on the pretty regular that came in and how he should buck up and ask you on a date. 

And he planned to do just that. When you went in on a Saturday morning, you were surprised to see him working the front counter instead of one of the girls. 

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Bakery Man,” you say, and he runs a hand through his hair. 

“In the flesh,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Girls didn’t come in today?” You lean up against the counter as he grabs a latte cup, writing your name out on it. He hesitates for a moment, but continues to write on it before setting it down on the opposite countertop. 

“Nah. Sarah was up late doing homework and it’s Ellie’s turn to have Saturday off.”

You nod in understanding, pulling out your wallet. He stops you and shakes his head, and you scoff. 

“You have to let me pay, Mr. Miller. You can’t keep giving me these discounts.” 

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” his smile was shy, and he was fidgety—almost like he was scared. Right when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, he cut you off. 

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” His words were rushed, and your heart melted at how nervous he sounded. 

You paused your movements completely, meeting those warm brown eyes that made you feel so safe. 

“I’d love to,” you answered, and relief visibly washed over his features. 

“Great. I, uh, wrote my name and number on your cup. Hope you don’t mind,” he says, and you have to bite back a smile. Then you suddenly realized you never even knew this man’s first name. You’d just stuck with calling him the nickname you gave him, or by his last name. 

You took the cup from him gingerly as he finished making your drink a few minutes later, and turned it in your hand to see his name and number scrawled on the side as promised. 

Joel. 

The name fit the gorgeous man in front of you. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, and your palm landed on his insanely toned bicep with reassurance. 

He stared at you, the warmth in his eyes nearly making you weak in the knees. 

“I promise I’ll call you,” you say, giving his bicep a soft squeeze. Your hand falls to your side again before grabbing the croissant from the counter that you didn’t notice until now, and you eagerly took a bite. 

Joel wanted to laugh at the chocolate on the side of your mouth as you tilted the pastry toward him. He restrained himself from reaching up and wiping it from your mouth, but you beat him to it by using your knuckle to wipe it off. 

“Compliments to the chef.” You tease, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He couldn’t help but admire your playful side, ecstatic that you agreed to go out with him. 

“Anythin’ for you darlin’,” he said, and you left the bakery that day with a smile on your face that you couldn’t wipe. 

That night, you found yourself pacing back and forth in your apartment as you chewed on your bottom lip. Your phone was clutched in your hand, keypad open and ready to dial. Your other hand had the empty coffee cup with his name and number. 

You didn’t know why you were battling this in your head. Is it weird? Is it too late to call him? No—No, it’s not weird. He’s the one who asked you out, after all. 

Fuck it. 

You sighed as you dialed the number on the cup, pressing the phone up to your ear. Within seconds, Joel’s deep voice rang through the other line. 

“Hello?” He sounded a bit tired, voice hoarse from what had to be a long day. 

“Hey Mr. Bakery Man,” you said in hopes of lifting his spirits even in the slightest. 

His deep chuckle that sounded through the receiver had a warmth blooming in your chest. Even his laugh alone made you feel good inside—like a cup of hot cocoa in your hands on a cold night while you’re in your pajamas sitting fireside. 

Did it sound kind of insane? Sure. Did you care? No. 

The feelings you’d felt toward him almost blindsided you, but something in your gut told you that Joel would be a constant in your life from here on out. 

“Hey darlin’. How’s your day been?” He asks. 

“Good, good,” you pause for a moment, “So about that date…” 

“I was thinkin’ some dinner? Friday night at seven?” 

“That’s perfect. I can’t wait.” 

-

Friday night rolled around, and Joel was kicking himself for not exactly having a plan B. For some reason, the reservations he made got mixed up and you couldn’t be seated. 

You assured him that it was okay, and that his presence was enough for you to enjoy yourself. 

You both decided to get some pasta to-go and eat your food at a park nearby. Even though you both were dressed to the nines and didn’t exactly blend in, you couldn’t care less. You were enjoying your time with him and getting to know the amazing man that he is. 

He opened up and talked about how Sarah and Ellie were both his pride and joy, how he had Sarah really young and adopted Ellie later on, how he sometimes helped his brother Tommy in the contracting business, and how he’s loved to bake in the kitchen with his mom ever since he was a young boy. 

“Didn’t really think I’d make a career out of it,” he confesses. 

“Looks like it worked out for you really well though,” you nudge his side gently. You were settled onto a bench with him then, closer to each other than anticipated. Neither of you said a word, though. 

Being by Joel’s side radiated nothing but safety and comfort. It felt natural, like you two were meant to find your way to each other. 

“Guess so. ‘S funny though. I meet new people every day because of the bakery and, forgive me ‘f this is too bold to say, but meeting you has completely thrown me off my game,” he chuckles, and you furrow your brows. 

“What do you mean?” You try not to feign hurt in your tone, but he wraps his arm around your shoulders and brings you into his warm body. You’re engulfed in his scent, and you could stay here forever, you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t mean it as a bad thing, sweetheart. I mean you’ve been on my mind constantly, and truth be told, I didn’t think you’d ever agree to go on this date with me. ‘M not really one to put myself out there and go on dates, but somethin’ about you made me want to get to know ya more,” he explained, and you nodded your head in understanding. 

“I get it. I didn’t know what to expect when I moved out here. I always buried myself in work and didn’t pay much attention to dating someone, but I’d like to say this turn of events has been pleasant.” 

He can’t help but grin foolishly at your words. 

“‘M glad it worked out this way too. Y’know my girls pushed me to ask you out? Not that I didn’t want to in the first place, but ‘m… not very good at this,” he waves his hand to the side.  

You could easily picture Sarah and Ellie giving Joel a hard time, hounding him to ask you out. 

“Your girls know what’s best,” you tease, and he can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “But you’re doing just fine, Mr. Miller. I promise.” 

“Even if I goofed and our reservation got messed up?” 

“Joel, I wouldn’t care if you took me to Whataburger for a date. It’s the company that matters,” you say, and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. 

“Where have you been all my life?” His question sounded like it was meant to be directed just to himself, but you leaned in and gave his cheek a kiss. 

“Probably in New York City,” you shrugged. 

“You and your sarcasm,” he said, shoulders shaking from laughing. 

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me out. That’s on you,” and Joel couldn’t help the pride that bloomed within his chest. 

“Sure did. What do ya say? Wanna head back to the bakery for a cup of coffee and croissant?” 

“What, like a nightcap, but sweet?” You grinned, and he nods. 

“Somethin’ like that.” 

“I’d love to.” 

Joel offered you his arm and you wrapped your hand around his bicep, staying close to him as you both walked back to his truck. 

It didn’t take long to get back to the bakery. Joel made you some coffee with creamer and sugar while he drank his black. He made you a croissant too as promised, and you couldn’t help but gush to him about how you loved his baking. You’d tried a few other things off the menu since you started coming into the shop, but the croissants were what stole your heart. 

You and him sat there for what seemed like hours just talking and getting to know each other on a deeper level. You told him about your family, your dreams and aspirations, what made you want to become a journalist, and what drove you to reach your goals. 

He loved that you were so ambitious—he didn’t come across too many people these days that seemed to know exactly what they wanted in life. You impressed him, and as he sat across from you listening to you talk about work, he knew you were the woman for him. 

He would’ve deemed himself crazy not even a few months ago for thinking such a thing, but hell, if you know you know. 

So the months passed by, and you two became inseparable.

Both of you didn’t think you’d meet someone like this, let alone someone you both could see sharing a life with. This man, all kind hearted and selfless and a big teddy bear who treated you like a goddess, was the man that swept you off your feet and made you see that work isn’t everything life had to offer. 

You took that leap of faith to move to Austin, not knowing the outcome it would have. But, you sure as hell were so glad that it happened. That this thing with Joel happened. You were decently happy with your life before you met him and let him in, but now, you felt as if you’d been on cloud nine for months. 

You were helping Joel close up the bakery one Sunday evening when he turned to you and confessed that he loved you, and he couldn’t imagine his life without you. Neither could the girls. You’d changed him for the better, even if it hadn’t even been a year of knowing each other. 

You’d said it right back to him, and with flour still lingering on his hands, he’d grabbed your face and kissed you like you were the air his lungs needed, the blood to keep his heart pumping, and his god-given solace. 

And you thought, this was exactly where you were meant to be—safe in his arms, full of love, with a whole lifetime with him to look forward to. 

He was it for you. You'd won the heart of the charming Southern gentleman—your Mr. Bakery Man. 

dividers by @saradika-graphics

p.s. sorry if this sucked i’m genuinely so rusty w writing rn. thanks for understanding <3

[fireplaceapp]

Mars Hydro 600w Grow Light Review: The Best LED Grow Light for Indoor Cannabis Growing

Finding the LED grow light system that best suits your own specific requirements can be very troublesome, particularly if you're new to the game, and we're here to help.

Whether you've been growing cannabis for quite a long time or you're just now gaining ground, you've probably heard about Mars Hydro.

Mars Hydro is a quintessential cannabis brand that has caused significant disturbances with its LED grow light systems. Marijuana growers all around the world trust the brand and utilize their grow lights to grow far superior buds of the cannabis plant indoors. The grow light that we will review in this article is the Mars Hydro 600W LED grow light, which is one of the most amazing choices for growers out there!

Mars Hydro is a famous, inventive brand of value, and the Mars Hydro 600 watt is one of the most well-known LED grow light choices for novice growers. It offers a full light spectrum and is financially savvy and proficient with regards to energy; however, is it the best decision for you?

We have try to give a broad and all-around check on these lights. So, let us now start with our review of the Mars Hydro 600W LED grow light.

Mars Hydro TS 600 LED Grow Light: Why You Should Buy This Grow Light?

The Mars Hydro TS 600 is a popular choice from one of the brands with durable traction in the area. However, if you're looking for great results at a reasonable price, there aren't many items with nearly identical highlights at a low upfront cost.

Likewise, Mars Hydro as a brand has been around for a while now. The organization has been experimenting with various grow lights as well as specific other equipment that nursery workers require, for example, grow tents.

Their grow lights are likewise exceptionally protected for use, and the lights go through a quality check on various occasions before they are transported. All their grow lights offer a three-year warranty too, which makes them a seriously appealing decision for some growers. Ultimately, Mars Hydro has a presence in every single significant market, like the US, UK, Canada, Germany, Australia, and so forth, and has service centers at these locations!

Design and Durability

The Mars Hydro 600 Watt LED Grow Light is an experimentally designed grow light. The manufacturer guarantees that their grow lights are the result of eight years of research and development.

The grow light weighs around 2 pounds and measures 14.02 x 12.2 x 1.42 inches, with a waterproof coating on the front. Hence, this LED grow light is solid no matter what the growing environment.

It includes an efficient reflector, a thermal insulating layer, an aluminum sheet for heat dissipation, and equitably distributed IR diodes that utilize SMD technology.

The design is likewise remarkable, as unlike numerous other dark panel grow lights, this one accompanies a white reflector panel that has bubble-like designs on top of it, giving it an interesting look.

Technical Specs and Lighting

On the off chance that you're worried about technical specifications, this grow light requires an input voltage between 85-265 volts (AC). This unit is outfitted with 120 bits of 5W LED chips. Each LED light bulb has been painstakingly positioned so your plants receive the highest possible light intensity and density.

Moreover, it has a centering point of 90–120 degrees, which helps the radiated light spread equally while still communicating energy zeroed in on the particular spot you need. The Mars 600W LED grow light is fit for delivering PAR or PPFD consequences of around 440–455 umol at a level of 18".

With the help of 225 LEDs, it produces a total output equivalent to 600 watts of lighting. The lumen output of the Mars Hydro 600 watt system is 12631 lumens.

Light Spectrum

It is a full-spectrum grow light, meaning it conveys the reds as well as the blues and mirrors the normal sunlight intently. Notwithstanding, you can't switch between red and blue or veg and bloom lights, and that can be an issue for certain growers.

The presence of an IR light here is likewise very valuable for your plants, particularly during the flowering phase. These lights also provide an extremely high standard for every lumen output, resulting in the vast majority of the light being consumed all around well by the plants, resulting in significantly superior growth. This assists the growers in getting the highest possible yield per square foot.

Power Consumption

In terms of power consumption, this grow light is a clear winner! It gives a 600W output while consuming just around 100W of power from the power socket.

Perhaps no other grow light at a comparable price offers better power consumption. Aside from being very beautiful and consuming less energy, the grow light is also extremely safe to use and has been certified by various global organizations, including the CE and the ETL.

Cooling and Temperature

This 600W LED board is outfitted with two great cooling fans and an advanced aluminum heat sink for enormous heat dissemination. Furthermore, the cooling capability is somewhat peaceful during activity.

It also has a massive pin cushion heat sink, which keeps the temperature inside your small grow tent significantly cooler than other HPS or MH grow lights.

Besides, with a decent-quality, fair-grow tent with ideal ventilation, this board will work like magic.

Product Warranty

These LED grow lights will run for around 50,000 hours before a replacement is essential. This quality allows you to have more than five and a half years before any of them cause you trouble.

Besides, all products manufactured by Mars Hydro accompany a 3-year restricted warranty and a 30-day return policy. However, for warranty terms, we'll suggest actually checking their policy exhaustively for more information.

Final Verdict

This is an excellent grow light if you are a small-scale grower or a beginner, assuming you are looking for an additional light to support your plants, or on the other hand, if you are looking for a reinforcement grow light.

Whether you have plant shelves set up or you need to utilize a grow tent, the Mars Hydro TS 600 offers fantastic elements while remaining affordable. Moreover, the Mars Hydro 600w LED is pretty energy-effective compared with other products available.

The elements we have talked about above make the Mars Hydro TS 600 one of the best LED grow lights for beginners available on the market.

[smackdabchicago]

King Plus 1200w LED Grow Light Review

Grow lights, as any grower would tell you, are among the main things that you really want with regards to growing a marijuana plant. Without sunlight, these fake wellsprings of light assist you with growing weed. Light is fundamental for the growth of plants since they need it for photosynthesis, which is the way they convert light into energy. Consequently, the better light you give them, the higher the yields will be.

A King Plus 1200W LED grow light is quite possibly the most ideal choice that growers can have with regards to growing marijuana indoors. At the point when you get a decent-quality LED grow light for growing marijuana, similar to the KingLED 1200W, you guarantee that your plants are getting the full spectrum.

Throughout this article, we will give a detailed look into this grow light. So, let's get this King Plus 1200W review started right away.

King Plus 1200w Review

This King Plus 1200W review is all you really want to know in the event that you are conflicted about whether you ought to or shouldn't buy this LED grow light. We've broadly tried this light in our grow room, and we can fill you in regarding it.

King LED 1200W is a kind of grow light from the King LED series, which is an brand based out of Shenzhen, Guangdong, China. The company has a considerable amount of involvement with regards to delivering lighting products. Despite the fact that KingLED is a China-based brand, it has a worldwide reputation and is, to be sure, a solid brand for those looking forward to buying grow lights.

Structure and Quality

King Plus involved top-notch materials in this LED grow light. The plan conveys the most usable light to your plants. The dimensions are 15.7′′ x 8.3′′ x 2.4′′, and its weight is 6.6 lbs. It has 120 bits of 10W Dual Chip LEDs installed, which produce extraordinary and denser light. This builds the pace of light penetration for the plants.

You get a single-compartment LED grow light with VEG and BLOOM switches as an afterthought, alongside a port to plug into the fundamental power cord. On the rear, there are two openings for fans, alongside four bands to hang the grow light. On the sides, you can find openings to let the intensity out.

Light Spectrum and Output

The King Plus 1200W light is a full-spectrum LED grow light, and that implies that it imitates the normal light of the sun. It utilizes lights from all frequencies, particularly the reds and blues. It has a total of 100 LED grow lights, each giving a 10W result, bringing the total wattage to 1000W.

With this grow light choice, you get 12 bands of spectrum, which mimic normal sunlight. The two switches stamped "VEG" and "BLOOM" are perfect for growing weed indoors on the grounds that they make it simple to give the perfect sort of lighting for various stages of growth. The scope of frequencies that you get while utilizing the King Plus 1200W LED grow light ranges from 410 nm to 730 nm.

Power Consumption

The KingLED 1200W grow light provides you with a result of 1200W, which is astounding when you contrast it with the genuine power it draws from the attachment. Regularly, it will utilize somewhere in the range of 185W to 235W, contingent upon which modes you are utilizing.

Coverage

The coverage region is on the positive side of King Plus 1200W. You are getting 3.5 x 5.2 feet of Veg coverage when it is hung at around 24" off the ground, which is splendid at that cost level. You can undoubtedly grow six cannabis plants with that much space!

At the point when you lower it down to 18", it gives 3' x 4' of center coverage during the bloom phase, which is enough for most growers.

Cooling Fans

The heat should be dissipated appropriately, or, in all likelihood, it could wind up harming the plants or the actual light. Three high-quality, highly effective, and quick cooling fans, upgraded aluminum heat sinks, and grow lights all have vents on the sides to allow heat to escape from the device's body without difficulty.

In any case, the one downside here is that a few growers have grumbled that the fans are excessively noisy. In any case, if you overlook the noise, fans are truly adept at warding off the heat and keeping grow lights from overheating.

Warranty

King LED offers a 3-year warranty on their items in general, including this King Plus 1200W LED grow light model.

Indeed, for individuals worried about the nature of help, you could depend on them, as their reaction rate for client inquiries and concerns is very high. Furthermore, they make every effort to assist you in unfortunate circumstances by looking at their items.

Final Verdict

When you investigate the KingLED 1200W grow light from King LED, you can see why it's such an extraordinary bargain, particularly considering the cost and the low amount of force it uses in comparison to other grow lights. The large and consistent King LED grow yields make this an excellent choice for marijuana growers.

These elements make the King LED 1200W grow light one of the most amazing grow lights available. While there are a few little disadvantages—for example, the loud fans and the low PAR score—the quantity of net upsides you get thoroughly offsets the negatives.

[rabidretrospectgames]

King Plus 3000w Full Spectrum LED Review

To guarantee that your plants are getting strong, great growth indoors, you want to make sure that they are being furnished with the ideal alternatives to natural components. Grow lights are a central part of this growing process, and King Plus probably makes the best indoor LED grow lights that you can give your marijuana plants.

In this article, we will furnish you with the King Plus 3000W LED Grow Light, which is a full-spectrum LED light that helps your weed grow better and makes sure that your plants give the maximum conceivable yield.

King Plus LED bills itself as "A Sun at Your Home." This company has a base office in China. It has successfully spent over five years in the marketplace and presently holds the leading spot.

They have manufacturing, research, and improvement departments all in one place.

King Plus LED grow lights are truly outstanding on the market, especially the Plus Series. It offers great features like a durable casing, an advanced cooling system to keep the light's temperature low, and a splendid and exceptionally successful light to assist you with delivering a decent yield. The company also included useful extras such as protective glasses to protect your eyes from the bright lights.

Why Should You Choose King Plus 3000w LED?

It is great for all levels of growers. Beginning with novices, intermediates, specialists, and experts, all can utilize it to their greatest advantage.

Here is a detailed survey of the King Plus 300W LED grow light, where we have attempted to cover as many parts of this grow light as could reasonably be expected!

Design and Durability

Estimating in at 26" x 15" x 6", this is one of the biggest grow lights that you can find for your grow tents or grow rooms. At 3000W, this size and shape are practically anticipated. The light weighs 16.2 lbs. and can be effectively hung in enormous grow tents, as they are prepared to deal with loads of near 150–200 lbs. easily. The main panel includes a solitary compartment behind a glass screen that has 300 LEDs inherent in it.

This grow light has vents on all four sides to allow heat to escape. On the right side, you'd track down two switches, checked "Veg" and "Bloom," to be turned on during those periods of growth. On the back of the King Plus 3000W LED grow light, there are three slots for fans to allow heat to escape, as well as four circles to allow this grow light to be properly hung. All things considered, this is a good design and a solid grow light.

Light Spectrums

This is a full-spectrum LED grow light, which assists the growers with guaranteeing that their plants are getting as close to regular lighting as could really be expected.

There's a 12-band full spectrum of lights engaged with this cycle, which range from 380 nm to 780 nm; there's likewise IR lighting and UV lighting that are involved, which is perfect for the growers. Every one of the diodes here comes with an extra optical lens cover, which is perfect for the general lighting experience.

Power Consumption

No! It's not the genuine power consumption of the King Plus 3000W LED grow light. Truth be told, it is a calculative portrayal of the complete number of LEDs duplicated by every one of their power evaluations. King Plus 3000W LED is equipped for creating exceptionally thick light that could end up being useful in supplanting a 2000–2500W HPS or MH system.

Currently, on the off chance that we arrive at the point where we can elaborate on real power consumption, regardless of whether each LED is entitled to consume 10W, its inward drivers will limit the genuine power consumption of every diode. Furthermore, and keeping in mind that the working King Plus 3000W LED only requires 610W to connect with its full potential when the Veg and Bloom switches are turned on,

Light Density

Indeed, because it is a 3000W LED grow light, it has greater central penetration than others; however, the question remains as to what size area respectable light could be found inside the grow space.

This is the best arrangement, which covers the most elevated coverage area of around 4 x 8 feet at such an insignificant cost. You can grow around 12 cannabis plants in a coverage area of 62 sq. ft. In addition, its canopy penetration is likewise worth commendation.

Cooling System

This grow light, fortunately, has a great cooling system. There's a mix of different fans working on the posterior, which ensure that the heat is scattered well.

It contains three fans that are both high-velocity and noise-free. They likewise have overhauled aluminum heat sinks, which keep the lights cool and calm and give them a longer life.

Warranty and Return Policy

The warranty that you get with the King Plus 3000W LED Grow Light is a great 3 years, which is among the best in the business. Furthermore, there's likewise a 30-day return period where you get your full cash back in the event that you are dissatisfied with the way this grow light is working.

Simply ensure you return it with little to no harm, and they will refund your cash in full. You can more deeply study the organization's warranty policy on their site.

Final Words

The King Plus 3000W LED Grow Light is an exhaustive LED. Also, with its interesting highlights, it has acquired monstrous notoriety among the client base. The one thing that purchasers of this LED grow light should know is that this is among the most ideal choices that you have, assuming you are looking forward to purchasing a grow light for an enormous region.

This is a truly brilliant grow light for enormous tents and for people who have their plants fanned out rather broadly. The lighting toward the focal region is somewhat thick and extremely splendid.

[ssa-dado]

2 - Early Birds

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Genre: fluff, angst if you squint

Summary: Two weeks in, the excitement of your first case had faded, and you found yourself handling simpler cases while learning from senior team members. You aimed to prove yourself, arriving early each day, only to find Hotch always there before you. This sparked a playful rivalry and connection between you two. Hotch recognized your determination to earn your place, and your insights on a cold case led to a field mission together. Through this growing mutual respect, your dynamic evolved into a partnership with unspoken mentorship.

Warnings: Usual CM case stuff described in detail, Hotch being a jokester, Rossi being iconic as always, no Gideon though.

Word Count: 4.4k words

Dado's Corner: Trying my best not to write reader looking at "Hotch's muscles reaping through his tight shirt", and limit the emotional description that both of them feel because stupid me wanted to write a slow burn. They are so cute though, c'mon. Also I wanted to point out that both of them basically know nothing about each other outside of work (their family, their past, if they're dating someone...👀). And yes, that is very deliberate, hihi.

part one ; part three

Two weeks had passed, and the initial rush of excitement that had accompanied your first case with the team was starting to settle. You weren’t paired up with Hotch, Rossi, or Gideon for any of your most recent cases anymore - not that you expected to be.

The more straightforward cases were often left to the younger or less experienced agents, which included you, as frustrating as it sometimes felt. Still, you were learning, absorbing everything you could from your new other colleagues, even though part of you itched to be working on the more complex cases that the senior team members handled, mostly because they were the ones who were allowed to travel all across the country.

You wandered how they expected you to go back to work after the big rush you felt after that first case, although it was probably intentional – an unspoken invite - if you continued to keep up with your works, maybe you would be allowed to join the big boys club again. The placement of your desk, didn’t help you at all to keep those thoughts out of your head, as it was situated right in front of Hotch’s, and constantly gave you an unobstructed view of his work.

It was yet another reminder of what you 'could have been doing' disguised as a neatly arranged workspace with case files that seemed far more complicated and intriguing than the ones you were currently dealing with. Every now and then, you’d catch a glimpse of him leaning over one of his meticulous reports or reviewing photos, his focus so intense it was hard not to feel a twinge of jealousy.

But you immediately learnt Hotch was nothing if not organized, and despite your best efforts to sneak a peek at the cases he was working on, he always kept his desk so perfectly neat that you could never quite make out any of the details… which only made you even more curious.

So you started coming to the office earlier each day, driven by a fierce determination to prove yourself and earn a spot on the senior team. You knew your skills were valuable, but without more field experience, you needed to find other ways to stand out. Arriving early became your way of showing commitment, a quiet but persistent demonstration that you were ready whenever the team needed you.

However, your plans to impress were unknowingly thwarted by one person: Hotch himself.

No matter how early you arrived, he was always there before you, settled at his desk with a steaming cup of the bitter government-office coffee in hand, already absorbed in his work.

His calm presence, bathed in the soft glow of the early morning light, became a familiar sight. It almost felt like he was deliberately keeping the upper hand, showing you that no matter how early you came in, he would always beat you to it. This routine repeated so frequently that it turned into a sort of unspoken ritual: arriving to find Hotch already deep in thought, sharing those first moments of the day completely in silence. Sometimes, you'd exchange a nod, and if you were feeling particularly bold, a brief smile of acknowledgment to him. Those quiet mornings became the closest thing you would ever have to connecting with someone from the senior team.

One particular morning, you arrived earlier than ever, determined that this would finally be the day you beat Hotch to the office. You slipped into your chair, a triumphant smile spreading across your face at the sight of his empty desk. For once, you were ready to enjoy the small victory of being there first. But before you could even settle into your morning routine, Hotch strolled in with an infuriatingly composed air, as if this were all part of some game only he knew the rules to.

"Early again, I see," Hotch said, setting his bag down with a casualness that suggested he wasn’t bothered in the slightest by your efforts.

You smirked, trying to hide the disappointment of losing yet again, and fired back, "What can I say? I like to get a head start on the day."

Hotch gave a small nod as he took his seat, already opening a case file. "I noticed," he replied in his dry, signature tone. "Maybe next time you’ll actually beat me to the office."

Your eyes widened slightly; it was embarrassing how easily he had read your unspoken intentions, as if your competitive spirit was as obvious as the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Still, you couldn’t let him have the last word. Leaning back in your chair, you matched his teasing tone. "Is that a challenge?"

Hotch didn’t look up from his file, but you caught the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he was fighting back a smile. "If it were a challenge, you'd know it."

The next day, determined to prove a point, you arrived even earlier, practically at the crack of dawn. You felt a surge of pride when you saw Hotch’s empty desk. You sat down, arranging your papers with a satisfied grin when you heard the door creak open. Hotch strolled in, holding his coffee and glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you sleep here?" Hotch asked, his voice edged with amusement as he took in your determined expression.

"Thought I’d enjoy the office without the competition," you quipped, not missing a beat. "But I guess I was wrong."

Hotch set his coffee down, glancing at his watch pointedly. "Maybe try five minutes earlier tomorrow."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. If it weren’t for the pile of files on top of your desk you would probably search down the office looking for the secret bunker he had to use to hide in. "Maybe I will."

As the days passed, this playful rivalry grew, turning your early arrivals into a daily test of wills. You found yourself not just trying to beat Hotch to the office but eagerly anticipating your quiet battle of wits, moments where the two of you just coexisted in a space of mutual respect and silent competition. You found yourself noticing the little things, like the way he meticulously organized his desk, his unspoken but obvious disdain for the office coffee, and the way his focus never wavered, even when he knew you were watching. And though Hotch rarely let anything slip, you could tell he was enjoying it too.

One morning, you brought in coffee from a nearby café, one of the good ones, and set it on your desk with a pointed look at Hotch’s usual cup of the bitter office brew.

"Upgrading already?" Hotch asked, eyeing the cup with faint interest.

"Figured if I’m going to keep coming in early, I might as well treat myself," you said, lifting the cup slightly in a mock toast.

Hotch nodded thoughtfully. "Smart. Too bad I didn’t think of it first."

You raised an eyebrow, your tone playful. "I’ll grab you one next time. Wouldn’t want you to lose your edge."

Hotch smirked, his expression a rare mix of humor and challenge. "I’ll hold you to that."

Rossi, who often strolled in a bit later with his own cup of coffee, couldn’t help but notice the budding rivalry. One morning, as you and Hotch exchanged your usual nods, Rossi ambled by with a bemused smile tugging at his lips.

"I’ve gotta say," Rossi began, glancing between you and Hotch, "this little routine of yours is the most entertaining part of my mornings. Hotch, are you ever going to let her win?"

Hotch glanced up, his face the picture of neutrality, but his eyes held a glimmer of amusement. "I’m just here to work, Dave," he replied smoothly, as if your ongoing game wasn’t the highlight of his mornings too.

"Sure you are," Rossi said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He turned to you with a knowing wink. "Keep at it, Y/N. Sooner or later, you might get him to crack."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. "I’m working on it."

Rossi leaned closer to you with a knowing grin. “I’ve seen people try to get through to him for years. Don’t lose hope. You might be the one to break the streak.”

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you said with a chuckle, but his words resonated more than you let on.

The rivalry wasn’t just about who got to the office first anymore; it was about pushing each other in subtle ways. Hotch would occasionally leave a file slightly more open than usual, tempting you to sneak a glance. Sometimes, you’d leave your notes on display, knowing he’d catch something you were working on. These little tests became part of your dynamic, an unspoken way of challenging each other to be sharper, to think more critically.

One morning, you arrived to find a sticky note on your desk, written in Hotch’s neat handwriting: “Nice try. Better luck tomorrow.”

You laughed, shaking your head and scribbling a quick reply, sticking it to his coffee mug: “Don’t get too comfortable.”

As the day progressed, you found yourself lost in your work, occasionally sneaking glances at Hotch as he meticulously reviewed a series of photographs from his latest case. It was during one of these moments, late in the morning when the bullpen was nearly empty, as most of the other agents had just left for their lunch break, that you caught sight of a specific photograph that Hotch had been studying. It was upside down from your perspective, but something about the positioning of the victim caught your eye. You glanced at Hotch, who was fully absorbed in his work, before you shifted your gaze back to the image.

You couldn’t help yourself. "Hotch?" you called out tentatively, trying to sound casual.

He didn’t look up from the file, his voice as calm and collected as always. "Yes?"

"That case you’re working on... the one with the body positioned against the wall?" You gestured subtly toward the photo.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a hint of curiosity in them now. "What about it?" Thankfully he was so desperate he didn’t even call out on you snooping on his files.

You leaned forward a little, glancing between him and the photo. "Well... I couldn’t help but notice something about the victim’s posture. It looks deliberate, almost ritualistic, but there’s a subtle tension in the arms. It feels like... he wasn’t posed post-mortem. What if he was still alive when the unsub placed him in that position?"

Hotch’s brows furrowed slightly as he considered your words. He leaned back in his chair and studied the photograph again, his focus intensifying. After a moment, he glanced back at you. "Go on."

Feeling a little more confident now, you continued. "If the unsub posed him while he was still alive, it means he’s not just seeking control after death, he’s enjoying the power he holds over his victims while they’re still conscious. That could point to a different kind of psychological profile. It’s not just about domination or display; it’s about interaction. He needs to see their fear."

Hotch’s lips pressed into a thin line as he processed your theory, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head, coming unstuck for the first time. Then, to your surprise, he gave a slow nod. "You might be onto something."

You blinked, not expecting such an immediate acknowledgment. "Really?"

He leaned forward, quickly scribbling a note in the margin of his case file. "It changes how we look at his escalation pattern. If he’s interacting with them before death, it suggests a different type of compulsion." His gaze flicked back to you, and there was a hint of admiration in his eyes, though it was still masked by his usual stoic demeanor. "Good catch."

You felt a small surge of pride at his words, then you caught Rossi, who had been hovering nearby with his coffee, heard the exchange and couldn’t help but smirk. "Looks like you’ve got some competition, Hotch."

Hotch glanced at Rossi, his expression barely changing. "I’m always up for a challenge."

Rossi chuckled, clearly amused by the dynamic between you two. "This ought to be fun to watch."

Later that day, while you were both in the kitchenette grabbing some burnt bitter coffee, Hotch broke the silence. "You know, Rossi’s not wrong. I’ve worked with a lot of people, and not many would speak up the way you do."

You looked up, surprised by his sudden candor. "I guess I’m just stubborn."

"That’s not always a bad thing," Hotch said, his voice softer than usual. "It’s how you learn."

You shared a quiet smile before the moment passed, and you both returned to your desks. But it lingered, this newfound sense of mutual respect.

As the day drew to a close, you were working through your own case files, reviewing behavioral patterns for a consultation you’d been asked to give. It wasn’t as high-stakes as Hotch’s case, but it still somehow puzzled you. You were working through the details when you heard Hotch’s chair scrape against the floor as he stood up.

"You’ve been staring at that file for hours," he observed, walking around his desk to stand beside yours. "Something bothering you about it?"

You glanced up, caught slightly off-guard by his sudden attention. "It’s just... I’m having trouble piecing together the unsub’s motivations. The crime scenes are chaotic, impulsive. But then there are these little moments of control. It’s not adding up." You blurt out

Hotch studied the pages you had spread across your desk, his eyes scanning over the crime scene photos and notes. After a moment, he pointed at one of the reports. "The pattern of escalation doesn’t match with someone who lacks control. Look here." He tapped the page. "The victims all lived within a few miles of each other, but the attacks are spaced out by months. He’s controlling his impulses, waiting for the right moment."

You leaned forward, following his train of thought. "So he’s picking his moments carefully, but when he acts, it’s chaotic."

"Exactly," Hotch confirmed. "The chaos is part of his release. But the periods of waiting, of planning - that’s where his real control lies. He’s not impulsive, he’s deliberate. You’re dealing with someone who needs the build-up almost as much as the act itself."

A lightbulb went off in your head. "Which means the chaos at the crime scenes isn’t a lack of control: it’s the goal. It’s what he’s been working up to."

Hotch nodded, clearly satisfied with where the conversation had led, finally making you become unstuck. "Now you’re thinking like a profiler."

You smiled at his words, "Thanks for the help. I guess I owe you one”

Hotch’s expression remained neutral, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "I’ll remember that."

The rest of the evening passed in a comfortable silence, both of you working on your respective cases. But every now and then, your eyes would meet across the desks, and you couldn’t help but feel that there was now starting to be an unspoken understanding between you now, built by your small moments of banter.

Suddenly, as the clock neared midnight, Hotch spoke up again. "You should get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day."

You chuckled softly, packing up your files. "You always say that, but you never seem to take your own advice."

He gave you a rare, brief smile. "Someone has to keep an eye on you."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Is that what this is? You’re secretly just keeping tabs on me?”

"Something like that," Hotch replied, his tone dry but not unkind. "Besides, you’ve been sneaking glances at my case files all day."

You bit back a laugh. "Caught red-handed."

Hotch crossed his arms, though there was no real accusation in his voice. "Next time, just ask. I might let you take a look."

You smirked. "I’ll hold you to that."

As you both gathered your things and headed for the door, you glanced at him one last time. "See you tomorrow, early bird."

Hotch gave you a knowing look. "We’ll see who gets here first."

The next morning, when you arrived at the office, Hotch was already there, of course. But this time, as you approached your desk, you noticed something new. A fresh file, placed neatly on top of your papers, with a small note attached.

"For your curiosity. - Hotch"

You couldn’t help but grin as you opened the file and began to read.

You opened the file carefully, half-expecting it to be another mundane consultation, but no. The more you read, the more it drew you in: it was a cold case, one with a string of victims found in seemingly random locations but with similar grim injuries. Each one had been reported missing for weeks before their bodies were found posed in open fields. There was something about the methodical yet personal nature of the kills that stood out.

The file indicated that the team hadn’t cracked this one yet, and the investigation had stalled. Hotch was likely trying to see if you could spot something they hadn’t. You glanced across the bullpen at him, just coming back from the kitchenette holding a cup of coffee. His face was unreadable, but you could sense that this was a test, not in a malicious way, but in his own way of pushing you to think bigger, to trust your instincts.

You spent the rest of the morning poring over the details, making notes, and jotting down ideas. Something wasn’t clicking, there was no clear pattern in the victim’s personal lives. They weren’t all the same age, gender, or background. But then something Hotch had said to you while yesterday helping you on your consultation echoed in your mind.

"The chaos is part of his release. The periods of waiting, of planning, that’s where his real control lies."

You took another long look at the victims, and then it clicked. They weren’t random. The locations, the way the bodies were posed, they weren’t haphazard at all. It was a pattern, but not one based on the victims themselves. It was based on where they were found.

Without realizing it, you stood up from your chair and made your way over to Hotch’s desk. He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

"Got something?" he asked, setting his pen down.

You handed him the file, unable to hide the excitement in your voice. "It’s not about the victims. It’s about the locations. They’re all near bodies of water—rivers, lakes, even a man-made pond. I think the unsub’s been using these locations as part of his ritual."

Hotch’s eyes narrowed as he flipped through the file, his expression becoming more focused. "Bodies of water... it’s symbolic. Cleansing, rebirth."

"Exactly," you said, feeling the pieces fall into place. "He’s not just dumping the bodies. He’s placing them there, almost like he’s trying to wash away something. Maybe guilt, maybe some twisted idea of purification."

Hotch leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That changes things. If he’s choosing these locations deliberately, we can use that to predict where he might strike next."

You nodded, excitement building. "There are three other bodies of water in the same radius where the previous victims were found. If we stake those out, we might catch him before he strikes again."

Hotch studied you for a moment, and for a brief second, you felt a flicker of self-doubt. Had you jumped the gun? But then, his lips curved ever so slightly into a small, approving smile.

"Good work," he said simply, and that was all you needed to hear.

Little did you know that the next day, you surprisingly found yourself riding in the SUV with Hotch, heading toward one of the potential strike zones you’d identified. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the landscape as the two of you drove in comfortable silence.

"I didn’t expect to be heading into the field this soon," you admitted after a while, breaking the silence. "Especially not with you."

Hotch glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his expression as calm as ever. "Let’s say your early mornings finally paid off. Besides, you saw something we didn’t, that’s exactly why you’re here."

The compliment caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure how to respond. Instead, you focused on the task at hand. "I just hope we’re right about the unsub coming back here."

"We are," Hotch said with a certainty that made you feel more confident. "He’ll be back. It’s part of his pattern now."

You spent the next few hours staking out the area, watching as the quiet evening slowly turned into night. The stillness of the surroundings, combined with the anticipation of the chase, made every small sound feel 10 times louder than it actually was. You and Hotch barely spoke, but the tension in the air wasn’t uncomfortable, it was rather a focused kind of tension, the kind that comes with knowing you’re close to a breakthrough.

Hotch glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his usual stoic demeanor softening just a bit. “You know,” he started all of a sudden, a hint of amusement in his voice, “I’ve been meaning to ask, did all those philosophy books you read in college inspire you to show up so early every morning? Is that where your existential rivalry with me started?”

Of course he had to poke fun at you again for your philosophy degree just when all the rest of your coworkers recently found out it wasn’t your only personality trait. “Philosophy books? Really? That’s where you’re going with this?”

“I mean, you’ve got that whole ‘deep thinker, rise-before-the-sun’ vibe going." He said with a deeper than usual mocking tone trying to simulate a hippie "I just assumed you were contemplating the meaning of life every morning before anyone else got to the office.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, that’s it. All those Nietzsche and Sartre quotes really got me fired up to beat you to the office every day. And here I thought you just couldn’t get enough of the terrible coffee.”

Hotch chuckled, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to scan the darkening landscape. “That’s part of it. But I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to keep at it for this long. Most people would’ve given up.”

You shrugged, playing it cool. “Maybe I just like a challenge. And it’s not every day you get to try and beat the infamous Aaron Hotchner at something.”

Hotch almost sounded surprised as soon as his full name escaped your lips but then his tone shifted slightly, more serious now, though still laced with that dry humor. “I know why you started showing up early.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone. “Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze still fixed ahead, but his voice softened. “You wanted to prove yourself - to show that you were ready for more, especially to us senior profilers. You’ve got that drive, that need to show that you belong, and you wanted to earn your place, not just be handed it.” He glanced at you then, his expression more open than usual. “And I noticed it from the first time you walked in early, thinking you’d catch me off guard.”

You felt a mix of surprise and embarrassment; you hadn’t expected him to see through you so easily. “I… well, yeah. I guess I didn’t hide it as well as I thought.”

Hotch’s smile was small but genuine. “You didn’t have to hide it. You’ve got the skill; you just needed the chance to show it. And you’ve been doing that every day since.”

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of validation and warmth from his words. “Thanks, Hotch. I guess I just… didn’t want to be the newbie forever.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You’re not. And you’ve more than earned your place here, I wouldn’t have escorted you here to sit in my car for 4 hours straight otherwise.” He paused, his eyes returning to the scene outside. “But don’t think I’m going to let you win the next morning race.”

You grinned, the familiar competitive spark reigniting. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It wasn’t until the early hours of the evening, just when you were beginning to wonder if you’d missed something, that Hotch’s hand suddenly shot up, motioning for you to stay still. You followed his gaze, and there - just barely visible through the trees - was a figure moving toward the water’s edge, dragging something behind them.

The adrenaline surged through you as you and Hotch exchanged a quick glance, silently confirming what you both knew. This was it.

Moving as quietly as possible, the two of you approached, your hearts pounding in sync as you drew closer to the unsub. He hadn’t noticed you yet, too focused on his ritual as he began positioning the body at the water’s edge.

"FBI!" Hotch’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and commanding.

The unsub froze, and for a split second, you thought he might run. But instead, he dropped to his knees, hands raised, as if surrendering to the inevitable.

You and Hotch moved in quickly, securing him before he had a chance to change his mind. As you handcuffed the unsub, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of triumph and exhaustion.

Back at the office, the energy was different. You felt you weren’t just the youngest on the team anymore. You’d proven yourself, and even though Hotch didn’t say much, you could feel the shift in how he treated you. There was more trust, more recognition of your abilities.

The next morning, when you arrived at the office, Hotch was already there, of course. But this time, as you approached your desk, you noticed another file waiting for you, along with a familiar note.

"For your next challenge. - Hotch"

You couldn’t help but grin as you picked up the file, feeling the anticipation build once more. The friendly rivalry between you was still there, but now it felt like something more - a mentorship? Partnership? Definitely there was a shared respect.

As you glanced over at Hotch, already deep in thought at his desk, you felt a sense of belonging settle over you. Even if you weren’t part of the dreaded senior team just yet as you were still earning your place every day. Although you felt that with Hotch’s guidance, you knew you’d only get better.

"Let’s see what you’ve got for me this time," you muttered to yourself with a smile, flipping open the new file and diving back into the world of profiling.

And maybe, just maybe, Hotch was enjoying this as much as you were.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Bridges to Belonging

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Y/n needed a new gig to bring in a little extra cash while she finished her PhD research at the hospital. The Hotchners are looking for a nanny for their infant son, Jack.

Spencer is not in this part, just introducing Y/n to the team!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: Backstory

Warnings/Includes: none!

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi!! i am so back in my spencer reid shit it is insane. here goes me writing a self indulgent fanfic because i can't get this idea out of my head. let me know what you think!!

main masterlist

Washington, D.C. - Spring 2005

The small conference room at the hospital was dimly lit, the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Y/n L/n sat at the long table, reviewing her notes for her dissertation on child psychology. The hospital had been her second home for the past few years, a place where she could immerse herself in her research while pursuing her passion for helping children. 

As she packed up her things, her phone buzzed with a text message from a friend, forwarding a job listing. 

*Nanny needed for newborn. Reliable, experienced, and patient. Contact Haley Hotchner at [xxx-xxx-xxxx].*

Y/n considered the opportunity, her mind calculating the benefits of having some extra income while she completed her PhD. Besides, she loved working with children. After a moment’s thought, she dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Haley Hotchner,” a warm voice answered.

“Hi, Haley, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m calling about the nanny position. I’m currently finishing my PhD in psychology and have experience working with children,” Y/n explained, her voice steady but hopeful.

“Wonderful! We’re looking for someone who can become part of our family, especially with Aaron’s demanding job. Can we meet for an interview?” Haley asked, her tone inviting and sincere.

“Of course, I’d love to,” Y/n replied, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect.

---

Y/n arrived at the Hotchner residence a week later, it was a quaint home in a quiet neighborhood. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door, smoothing her hair as she waited. The door opened to reveal a smiling Haley Hotchner, holding a sleeping baby in her arms.

“You must be Y/n! Come in, please,” Haley greeted her warmly.

As Y/n stepped inside, she felt an immediate sense of comfort and belonging. The home was cozy, filled with family photos and the soft scent of baby powder. 

Haley led Y/n to the living room, where Aaron Hotchner sat, looking relaxed in casual clothes, a stark contrast to his usual suits. He stood to shake her hand, his demeanor polite and welcoming.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” Aaron said, his handshake firm but friendly. “Haley has told me good things about you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hotchner. It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Y/n replied, smiling as she sat down.

“Please, call me Aaron,” he insisted, exchanging a glance with Haley.

The interview was less formal than Y/n had anticipated. Aaron and Haley asked her about her studies, her experience with children, and her aspirations. She, in turn, learned about their lives, Aaron’s work with the FBI, and their hopes for raising Jack in a loving environment.

“We’re really looking for someone who can be a part of Jack’s life as he grows,” Haley explained, gently rocking Jack in her arms. “Someone we can trust.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a connection with the couple. “I’d love to be that person. Working with children is my passion, and I think I could learn a lot from Jack, too.”

Aaron smiled, looking at Haley before turning back to Y/n. “We’d like to offer you the position, Y/n. If you will take it, we want to welcome you to the family.”

Y/n beamed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Thank you, Aaron, Haley. I promise to do my best for Jack and your family.”

---

Over the next two years, Y/n became an integral part of the Hotchner household. She cared for Jack with a dedication that went beyond her job description, forming a bond with the infant that was almost maternal. She found herself spending evenings with Haley, talking about life, love, and dreams. Aaron, despite his demanding job, always made time to catch up with Y/n, appreciating her insight into Jack’s development and her ability to connect with people. As Jack neared his second birthday, Y/n knew her time as his nanny was coming to an end. He was ready to start preschool, and she had secured a position at the hospital as a child psychologist. Yet, leaving the Hotchners felt like leaving a part of her own family. 

On her last day as Jack’s nanny, Y/n sat in the backyard with Haley, watching Jack play in the autumn leaves.

“We’re going to miss you, Y/n,” Haley said, her voice tinged with sadness. “You’re like a sister to us.”

Y/n smiled, touched by Haley’s words. “I’m going to miss you all too. You’ve been my family here.”

Haley nodded, tears in her eyes. “Promise you’ll visit? Jack will need his Aunt Y/n around.”

“Always,” Y/n promised, her heart full. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

---

Life moved on, but Y/n never lost touch with the Hotchners. She visited often, spending time with Jack as he grew into a lively toddler. Her work at the hospital kept her busy, but she cherished the moments she could steal away to see them.

One evening, as she was leaving the hospital, her phone buzzed with a text from Aaron.

We’re going out for drinks to celebrate a closed case. Care to join us?

Y/n smiled at the invitation, feeling a warmth at the thought of seeing Aaron and meeting his team. She quickly replied.

I’d love to! Where should I meet you?

---

Y/n walked into the bar, scanning the room for a familiar face. She spotted Aaron standing with a group of people, all engaged in animated conversation. 

As she approached, Aaron waved her over, a rare smile on his usually serious face.

“Y/n! Glad you could make it,” Aaron greeted, introducing her to the team. “Everyone, this is Y/n L/n. She used to be Jack’s nanny and is basically family.”

Y/n smiled and waved, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Hi, everyone! It’s great to meet you all.”

Penelope Garcia, the team’s tech-savvy and flamboyant analyst, immediately stepped forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Oh my gosh, I love your outfit! Finally, someone who appreciates the art of pink as much as I do!”

Y/n laughed, relieved by Penelope’s enthusiasm and excited to have her brand new top appreciated. “Thank you! I knew I’d find a kindred spirit.”

Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, the team’s communications liaison, offered a warm handshake. “Aaron’s told us a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet the woman who kept him sane during those early days.”

“Glad to be here,” Y/n replied, feeling welcomed.

Emily Prentiss, with her confident and approachable demeanor, chimed in. “So, you survived being a Hotchner family member? You deserve a medal.”

Y/n grinned, appreciating the camaraderie. “It wasn’t so bad. I’m just glad I didn’t have to deal with any of Aaron’s work stress.”

Derek Morgan, the charming and confident agent, leaned back with a smirk. “If you ever want to switch from psychology to profiling, we could use someone with your skills.”

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll leave the profiling to you guys. I’m happy helping kids find their way.”

David Rossi, the seasoned agent with a love for fine wine and stories, raised his glass in a toast. “To new friends and old family.”

Y/n joined in the toast, feeling a sense of belonging with this eclectic group. As the night wore on, she found herself bonding with each team member, sharing stories and laughter. They talked about everything from childhood dreams to favorite music, forming connections that would last beyond this night.

As the evening wound down, Derek leaned over with a grin. “You’ll have to meet our boy wonder next time. Spencer’s a little shy, but I have a feeling you two would get along.”

Y/n nodded, intrigued by the prospect of another lively team member to add to her seemingly growing list of friends. “I’d like that. I’ve heard a lot about him.”

Emily chimed in, a playful glint in her eyes. “Spencer’s one of a kind. You’ll see what we mean.”

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Seduced By Your Scent (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: Swayed by rave reviews, you purchase a perfume that endeavours to make any man fall for you. But you don’t want just any man; you want your beloved husband.

AN: Based on a perfume review I saw on twitter/from discord, and my friend got me back into Bridgerton so here we are. Potential part two to Subtle-tea but can be read as its own fic. 

Content Warnings: Reader wears a dress, is referred to as “my lady”. Suggestive language and actions, 18+ readers only, minors DNI

Masterlist // AO3

“You must try this elixir! It’s like they’ve bottled Venus and sent her to solve all marital issues!”

Not that you and Benedict needed any kind of aphrodisiac or marital advice. After your glorious wedding and the honeymoon of your dreams, you grew more enamoured with one another with each passing day. But you couldn’t help but become intrigued by your companion’s impassioned declarations.

Here was where that curiosity led you: sitting at your vanity, staring at the bejewelled and beautiful bottle – fitting of its praise and hinting at the power of the perfume it held. It cast rainbow refractions across your room as you rotated it with a scrupulous gaze. The glass stopper released with a delicate pop and you gave the opening a tentative sniff. Sparks of something musky with a hint of whimsy reached your brain. It seemed to caress your sense of smell, lull you into a foggy serenity whilst curving the corners of your mouth into a smile.

A light knock at your bedroom door did very little to pull your from this haze, and your maid stood awkwardly in the doorway as you dragged your eyes away from the bottle and over to her.

“Breakfast is ready, my lady,” The maid bobbed a curtsey.

“Thank you.” And, as she closed the door behind her exit, you gave the bottle one more look.

Well, it couldn’t hurt.

With care, you tipped the bottle then dragged the soaked stopper across one wrist. It pressed together with its partner then paired against your neck to seal the scent in.

The moment you stepped into the dining room – empty besides your beloeved husband - Benedict rose from the head of the table and drew out the chair beside him for you to sit. It was part of your routine, in your home and wherever you went, as was the smile with which he greeted you. Often it was broad and beaming, like today. Sometimes it was more subtle but with his eyes just as bright. On one or two occasions, it arrived with eyelids sunk and a hand to his forehead that pounded with consequences from the previous night’s actions, but still he smiled even though (and these were his own words) it felt like his skin was being melted from his skeleton like candle wax.

“Good morning!” He called to you while you crossed the room, his arm outstretched to clasp you close then guide you into your chair.

Continuing the routine, you kissed his cheek before sitting down, “Good morning.”

Now, this was when Benedict would push your chair in then sit beside you, ready to dine and run over your plans for the day ahead. And he started as normal. However the rate with which he pushed your chair into place was as if he was encased in jelly.

You clocked his new blank expression, “My love, are you alright?”

Instead of speaking, Benedict bent over the back of the chair and kissed your cheek. A short and slight sniff dragged up where his lips had pressed. He withdrew gradually, just a few inches, his brow was creased in thought.

“Hmm.” His jaw twisted and he clicked his tongue. Then he leant back in, this time his nose drew a tickling line down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Benedict,” You felt your face grow hot as you resisted the urge to tense when he planted a quick kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

But your mild embarrassment only warmed the scent on your skin and spread it further around you until Benedict was encased in it beside you. Just one of your thoughts was spared in thanks to the fact that you and Benedict had stipulated that you dine alone – no butlers, no maids, no interruptions unless someone was dying.

“Have you been bathing in an aphrodisiac?” Benedict mused. Without turning away from you, he dragged his chair loudly across the floor so that he could perch himself beside you. Taking your hand, he kissed your loosely closed fist and breathed deeply in before finishing his question:

“Or are you just naturally this irresistible, and you’ve been hiding from me?”

“I can’t think what’s gotten into you,” You said, your voice wobbling when Benedict raised his eyebrows at you.

“I think you know exactly what’s gotten into me.”

Melting under his sparkling stare, you weakly nodded at his plate and setting, “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

Benedict didn’t look away from you, “I know what I’d rather eat.”

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you found yourself bordering on hysterics as Benedict’s eyes creased and he leant in close to you to titter and teem with joy.

After taking a few deep breaths, your face aching from the grin, you managed to say, “You must be drunk from the alcohol in that perfume.”

With a hand clutching at his cravat, Benedict gasped, appalled, “How dare you? Must I be drunk to show my wife some affection?”

“Nevertheless, you approve?”

“Oh yes, but only when we’re at home. Can’t let anyone else catch a whiff of this. You’ll seduce them, make them all fall in love with you, make them fall to their knees.”

“We absolutely cannot have that. Only you’re allowed to do so.”

Very suddenly, Benedict rose and kicked the seat from beneath him, pulling and pivoting you around so that you faced him. Knelt before you, you let him kiss you whilst you pet through his dark hair. His affections did not distract you from his hands tracing up your legs. The skirts of your dress caught on his wrists and exposed your sensitive skin to him.

He mumbled dreamily, “I could not agree more.” Then, with another deep inhale pressed into the side of your neck and his hands drawing down your undergarments, he drew from you the first of many delighted sighs that mingled with the lingering scent of your new perfume.

[billie-black]

Thread of odd connections between Ikora, Elsie and Eris

I was scrolling through concept art when I noticed that, despite not being so in-game, The Stranger's rifle is Branded as a Cassoid weapon. This wouldn't mean much, bungie tends to use decals at random, except-

The curse of osiris variant, The Machina Dei 4, is also branded with a slightly altered version of the Cassoid logo, which I think proves that it has been upgraded with components from the foundry.

But let's put a pin on that and talk about another Cassoid weapon, The Invective shotgun, Ikora's signature weapon. The Invective has an ornament called Iconoclast, a word which here means "Destroyer of images used in religious worship." This nomenclature is very similar to-

The Vex Mythoclast, a weapon which, thanks to its sister weapon, The Worldline Zero (which coincidentally also has a prophecy variant), we know to be made by Elsie Bray. Canonically, we earn the Mythoclast as part of-

the "Not forged in light" quest, which ends with Elsie gifting us the No time to explain. A weapon which eventually ends back up in her hands and she gifts to us again earlier in the timeline as-

The stranger's rifle, which hangs around until it becomes the Machina Dei 4 (later Adhortative). And the prophecy attached to the Machina Dei 4 desribes Eris Morn and the events of Shadowkeep, when Eris discovers stasis and starts using the darkness.

A charnel but effulgent orb.

beacon in a loathsome dark.

Fêted, fetid corpses rise.

a too-long-absent gibbous spark.

Now, it's generally accepted that No time to explain (and all it's variants by proxy) was created at some future point in a distant timeline, this is incorrect. Ghost specifically points out that "parts" of it shouldn't exist, because the rifle itself is a common suros frame.

Going back to The Invective, you're probably more familiar with its legendary sister, The Comedian, and its D2 counterpart, Deadpan Delivery. The Comedian's flavor text reads "A. A ha. A ha ha ha. A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha" In D1 the joke wasn't really clear, but with the addition of a lore tab in D2, the joke has become the vanguard's falling victim to a hive god's deceit. Now, let's take a little trip to The dark future.

In The dark future, Beyond light never happened, Eramis was allowed to grow her armies and master stasis, which led to a massive attack on the city by Cabal remnants, Savathûn, and the glorious House Salvation, all masterminded by Eris Morn, who up to that point was believed to be an ally, but had been corrupted by stasis and the darkness.

Coming back to our timeline, let's look at differences between our case exotics and their variants. Elsie's rifle has undergone many more modifications than Invective. Matter of fact, Invective has barely undergone any changes from its default. It's painted red, AND It has tape wrapped the handle and the grip, just like No time to explain. (I know I'm talking about grip tape right now but please don't go, it gets better, I promise)

It's a weak link, many weapons have grip tape, but I think many of these small details add up and point to The Iconoclast being one of Elsie's gifts. Let's review the similarities between Iconoclast and other gifts from Elsie.

>It's sourced from one of the city foundries and later received Cassoid upgrades (Invective and it's variants are nadir products)

>It has grip tape where the original does not.

>Mythoclast and Iconoclast are very similar terms and could point to a connection.

>It has a perpetual ammo function, like No time to explain and The Mythoclast.

But we should also look at Iconoclast within it's own context. Invective being her weapon, what does it mean for Ikora? She's never been been known to combat or really oppose any sort of religion, at least that I can find. And let's make it clear, the gun is not the Iconoclast. Just like the Mythoclast is not The Mythoclast. The weapons, in this case, are named for the wielder. You kill Atheon and so you become the Mythoclast, the gun is more of symbol. So, what religious figure is Ikora supposed to kill in order to become the Iconoclast?

Well, just this season, the hive have come out with a brand spanking new god, one very close to Ikora. Now I don't think Ikora is going to kill Eris. Eris would need to do something completely heinous for her to even consider that. Like, idk, bombarding the last city with House Salvation and the shadow legion... i. e., what happens in the dark timeline.

Look, I really don't believe Eris is going to turn evil all the sudden, that would be character assasination of the highest magnitude. But from Ikora's point of view? She has a supposed time traveller yelling at her that she's letting everything go sideways.

So my theory is that Elsie took Ikora's Invective from some other failed timeline (possibly the one where they smooch) and gave it to Ikora as the Iconoclast, along with the idea that alternate Ikora ruined everything because she failed to act and put Eris down when she could.

And this is where Deadpan Delivery comes in. You see, Ikora doesn't use invective anymore, and she doesn't use the Comedian. She exclusively wields Deadpan Delivery. Now, I know this was probably just the animators being faithful to her character, seeing how she prefers shotguns-

But the retroactive additions to the Comedian's lore, outside my crazed theories, implies a statement from Ikora. The Comedian's joke is the vanguard falling victim to a hive god's deceit, and in the dark timeline that god, the Savathûn figure, is Eris morn. And so-

By maining Deadpan delivery Ikora is subtextually saying "It's not funny. I'm not laughing. I don't subscribe to the narrative put forward by the comedian or Elsie. I trust Eris". And by rejecting the Comedian she's additionally disavowing it's older sister, The Invective, which is a symbol of the gung ho attitude which defined her in her youth. And wether my Iconoclast theory is correct or not, we can definitively say: Ikora is against what it represents , she is a guardian, and she will make a new fate no matter what.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #12 – What Moves The Dead by T. Kingfisher

I initially meant to read this back last year when it was up for a Hugo nomination, but well – honestly I forgot my copy in an airport waiting room and it’s presumably now living a good life somewhere in a New Jersey compose heap. But a friend had a copy and said they enjoyed it, so! Stole it for a few days, and very glad I did. It’s a quick, fun shot fungal gothic, great for stormy nights.

The basic plot is, well, it’s very explicitly Fall of the House of Usher with a slight admixture of Ruritanian Romance. The Ushers are a genteely impoverished family of minor aristocracy in Ruravia, a less than impressive principality in Eastern Europe. Alex Easton, Roderick Usher’s former commanding officer in some recent war (the Gallacian Army they served in having a habit of getting into these quite habitually) receives a letter from Roderick’s sister Madeline begging company and help, as she is deathly ill. Of course by the time Easton arrives the pair of them look like they’re one stiff wind away from dying, and the estate and the lands around it are both decaying and full of unnerving strangeness. The only person who seems happy to be there is Eugenia Potter, an Englishwoman and amateur mycologist studying the great variety of mushrooms and fungus to be found in the area.

So yes this is very much aiming to be Gothic Classic, at least in aesthetics and trappings. An overgrown and decaying estate several times too large for the last remnants of the family who now occupy it. Genteel madness and disease, hidden behind polite euphemisms and high walls. A deep, atavistic horror at parasitism and the desecration of the human (especially the well-bred, young and female) body by an alien presence. There’s even a cowboy for some reason. It definitely all works for me, but then my exposure to the genre is all a bit second hand.

Speaking of parasitism – mushrooms! The book expresses decay and desecration basically entirely through the idiom of fungal infections, both in terms of metaphor and imagery in descriptions and just in the actual source of the horror here. The lights in the tarn are fungal blooms, Madeline’s disease and her reanimation are both the result of almost drowning and inhaling that fungus into her lungs, and so on. There are two really effective horror beats in the book for me – the image of an infected hare which had just had its head shot off slowly jerking back to its feet as a dozen others placidly stood there and watched it be shot, and the moment of realization that Madeline’s oddly long and wispy body hair is in fact mycelia growing out of her skin – and both play off of this pretty directly.

I very awkwardly didn’t use any pronouns for Easton when giving the plot synopsis because the book actually plays around a bit with gender and pronouns in a way I’ve always loved and wish I saw more of. Easton is Gallacian (unrelated to the actually existing Galicia, I think), and the Gallacian language has a variety of pronoun sets beyond just he and she – one for children, one for God, and one (ka/kan) particularly for soldiers. Which, due to the exigencies of early modern warefare’s manpower requirements, eventually led to both men and women being perfectly eligible to become ‘sworn soldiers’. So y’know, Enlist today! Service guarantees citizen-transition!

(But actually I enjoy the thought and at least superficial sociological plausibility/consideration of what gender means in Gallacian society a lot more than how a lot of modern spec fic just kind of assues that every culture in the world has the perspective on gender of a well-educated 21st century progressive, material conditions be damned).

Anyway yeah, overall very entertaining read. Though Goodreads tells me it’s now the first in the series, which given how cleanly this one ended is not something that fills me with an abundance of faith.

[seiueina]

I couldn’t help but think what it would be like for the significant other of Ego Jinpachi…and how married life and parenting life would change drastically while he took more of his responsibility to the Blue Lock Project.

unfinished, not proofread, i’ve had this in the drafts for so long so i am deciding to just post it now :3

“Where is the stupid pass?” You utter as you scramble through your backpack, the backpack that was filled with a lot of things..things that are needed for the kiddos and needed for you. You always noted that you have to clean the backpack out at some point but with raising two children at the age of 4 almost entirely by yourself…is exhausting and you always forget to clean the bag out.

“Mommy I need to pee!!!” Your daughter, shouts just as you found the pass in order to enter the Blue Lock building. “Give me one second! Let me scan this real quick!” You exclaim as you hurriedly put the pass against the scanner, the scanner stays a red LED color, you gasph. Repeatedly putting the pass against the scanner.

‘Entry Denied’

At this point in the day, you we’re already overwhelmed. Taking your son to his soccer game early in the morning and then running home quickly because you forgot to pack your daughters ballet shoes…rushing then over to the dance studio and now ended up here. Unable to get through the door and to a bathroom in which your daughter (for some reason) needed so urgently all of a sudden. You stood there, the tears lining your waterline.

You wanted to let everything out. Cry, scream, shout, curse your husband out the moment you saw him. Years before this…it wasn’t like this. You wouldn’t have imagined your life to become of this. He promised you that he will split his attention from this Blue Lock Project and his family. But he didn’t live up to the promise.

You would go days without hearing a single thing from Jinpachi. Any and everything that you were updated about your husband was given from Anri. The woman who is working with your husband on this “stupid” project. You didn’t feel any remorse for her, you couldn’t bring yourself to even though at this point she’d seen and been in his presence longer than you have in 3 months. And including now…even more so you couldn’t hate Anri, especially when you hear her calling your name.

“y/N-sama!!!” She screams and your ear perks up. “I can’t get in!” You shout back, and she runs up to the door and puts her pass onto the scanner, it quickly lights up green and the door opens. “Mommy I need to go!” Yumi, your four year old daughter utterd again and you swiftly grab her from the ground and rush towards the sign with the restroom sign. Your son, Yuri, quickly following behind you. Luckily, you were able to get to the restroom and Yumi was able to go to the bathroom just in time before an accident occurred.

“Let’s go see your father.” You huffed before leaving the restroom and finding his office. The moment you got there, his eyes were glued on the many of many screens plastered on the wall. He didn’t bat an eye at the supposedly three important things in his life. “What did I say about knocking. Anri- I am”

“Jinpachi.” You exhaled, he turned his head around to see you standing near the door. Your children running around his office as you couldn’t care less about what they were up to in this moment. “Oh. y/N.” He breaths out before returning his head back to the many of many screens, all displaying each individual clips of the players.

“That’s all? Is this really what we mean to you?” You grumbled, walking closer and closer to your husbands desk chair. “Look at me Jinpachi.” You say as you turn his desk chair around. He now faced you.

“Why are you even here? Can’t you see, I am busy reviewing match clips of my unpolished gems.” He replies with a growing urge of annoyance. “So your more interested in these “unpolished gems” then those gems?” You shout, pointing over to the two children the both of you created, he looks over in the same direction then back at you.

“Watch your attitude when you’re talking to me. You’re the one who came here unannounced.” He scoffs standing up from his seat. The two of you were almost the exact same height, Ego only being one inch taller than you, he just barely towered over you, but with just enough space for him to sinisterly smile down at you. “Let’s get a divorce then.” You say, leaving him in utter shock as you go and grab the kiddos from the couch. “I am sorry for yelling.” You apologize to your children as you saw them with hands over their ears. “-C’mon, papa is busy with work…maybe one day he’ll want to see you!” Staying as optimistic as you could.

You were over it to say the least. Ego Jinpachi wasn’t the same man you fell in love with 10 years ago. He’s changed drastically and you can’t help but blame the JFU and this whole Blue Lock Project. With each kid holding your respective hands, you walk past your soon to be ex husband.

“Bye daddy!” Both kids cheerfully smiled and waved at him as the door to his office opened. There you startled Anri who was holding a laundry basket. “Ah! y/N! Leaving already?” She awkwardly laughs before looking up at you. “-No she isn’t.” Your husband blurts out. “Errand girl. Take Yuri and Yumi somewhere…I have an important conversation with my wife.” Jinpachi continues as Anri raises an eyebrow. Looking at your face.

“I guess I can take them to meet the players!” Anri whispers, you wanted to hear your husband speak to you…you didn’t know why. He could have given you his time a day a few seconds ago, so why now does he want to give it? You hand your kids over to Anri. “Okay babies, go with Anri-chan, she’s gonna show you guys all over while daddy and I have a talk!” You say cheerfully before sending them off on their way.

Once the doors to his office closed he quickly started, “You’re not divorcing me.” He speaks and you walk closer to him. “What if I am?” You reply, arms crossed over your chest.

“y/N. I am still in love with you.” He says looking at your face, seeing any type of reaction that’ll perform. “Really? Well it sure don’t look like it!” You exhaled, shuddering your shoulders he steps back, exhales a breath.

He stays quiet, standing in the same position. You rub your temples, "Exactly what I was thinking...am' gonna pack me and the kids stuff and stay at my parents until further notice. I'll contact the lawyer and they'll give you call." You speak aloud, hesitating to turn around and walk to the door just in case, maybe, he'll say something. But he doesn't.

“That’s what I thought…” Whispers came from your mouth as your waterline brimmed with tears as you turn around to exit Jinpachis' office.

© satoberrie 2023 | let me know if i should make a continuation!

[foxfables]

The Space Between Hearts

A/N: This is Just the Plot Bunnies I Couldn’t Shake. Please Don’t Expect Any Kind of Medical Accuracy. This is inspired by House MD & a Film Called Fathers & Daughter (Loosely).

The Space Between Us.

Warnings: Migraines, Medical Talk.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Aubrey Hurst.

Spencer Reid had one persistent, insidious problem: migraines. But his real frustration ran deeper than the searing pain. It was the half-dozen doctors who had repeatedly dismissed his symptoms, each one claiming he was wrong, that grated on him the most.

That’s how he found himself sitting stiffly across from Dr. Edwards at St. Charles Medical and Research Hospital. As soon as Spencer stepped into the stark, sterile office, he had already pegged the man as dismissive. He didn’t need his finely honed profiling skills to see it—the doctor’s disinterest was plain in the way he barely glanced up from his files, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on the desk.

“Are you having one of your headaches right now?” Dr. Edwards asked flatly, as if the answer didn’t particularly matter.

“Not at the moment,” Spencer replied, his irritation barely concealed.

“And when was the last one?”

“Two days ago.”

The doctor scribbled a note with an almost robotic detachment before glancing up, his eyebrows raised in a half-hearted show of interest. “You don’t think your headaches are psychosomatic?”

Spencer’s jaw clenched. “No,” he said firmly.

Dr. Edwards barely reacted, his expression remaining passive as he began to close the file in front of him. “Honestly, I think your migraines are stress-related,” he said with an air of finality. “But I’ll arrange for a consult with the diagnostics team. Stay here.”

Spencer bit back the urge to argue, frustration simmering beneath the surface. It wasn’t just that his headache—the one that had been steadily building since he stepped off the jet—was growing more pronounced. The bright, clinical lights overhead felt like needles pressing into his skull, amplifying the pain.

Twenty agonizing minutes passed, and the tension in the room seemed to grow with each passing second. Finally, the door creaked open. But instead of Dr. Edwards returning, two younger doctors entered the room.

The first was a man in his late twenties, with dark hair and a welcoming, unassuming presence. He was of average height, but the ease with which he carried himself gave him an air of quiet confidence. His eyes were observant, yet kind, and he wore a small smile as he stepped forward.

“I’m Dr. Daniel Rhodes,” he said, his voice calm but engaging. “I’m a diagnostic fellow here.” He gestured toward the woman standing beside him.

She was much shorter, standing at barely 5’3”, with striking features that Spencer noted immediately. Dr. Rebecca Langford, a 27-year-old neurology resident, had rich, dark skin and wore her curly hair tied back in a neat high ponytail. Despite her youthful appearance, there was a sharpness in her eyes that suggested she took her work very seriously. Still, her smile was gentle and welcoming as she nodded in acknowledgment.

“We’re with the Diagnostics Team,” Dr. Rhodes continued, his tone professional yet reassuring. “We’ve reviewed your case, and we’d like to take a closer look at what’s going on. If you’re ready, we can start now.”

Spencer slowly rose from his seat, his head pounding in rhythm with his quickening heartbeat. There was a flicker of hope in the air, mingled with his frustration. Perhaps, finally, someone would take his pain seriously and stop brushing him off.

Spencer was led to an office that was much bigger and brighter than Dr. Edwards’—which felt like it had been stuck in the 70s with its dark wood paneling and outdated decor. This new office, however, was modern and sprawling, technically three rooms separated by glass walls. In the central room, a large table was placed in the middle, surrounded by whiteboards and bookshelves. A young woman sat at the table, surrounded by a clutter of files and medical textbooks. She glanced up briefly when they entered, but quickly returned to her work. Spencer’s eyes wandered toward the back room, which was dim and empty except for the outline of a desk, a computer, and an upright piano that was tucked beneath the window.

Dr. Rhodes led him into the final room, which had a more comfortable, welcoming feel. The walls were a warm cream colour, and the space felt modern and fresh. A patient bed stood at the centre of the room, with a chair and monitoring equipment neatly arranged around it.

“Go ahead and take off your shoes and sit on the bed,” Dr. Rhodes suggested, gently pulling Spencer out of his daze.

“Sure,” Spencer replied, slipping out of his shoes and climbing onto the bed.

“I’m going to take some blood while we talk through your medical history,” Dr. Langford added, her voice calm but focused as she prepped the necessary equipment.

For the second time that day, Spencer recounted his medical history. His mother’s condition, the paranoid schizophrenia that had plagued her for as long as he could remember. His own brushes with danger—the gunshot wound, the anthrax exposure, and his brief but difficult stint with dilaudid, which made him extremely reluctant to rely on strong painkillers now.

His migraines had started about six months ago, and they had only been getting worse. Initially, he could manage them with over-the-counter pain relievers, but by Christmas, they had stopped working altogether. He had tried to push through the pain, but now it was becoming unbearable.

As Spencer spoke, he noticed that Dr. Rhodes and Dr. Langford were asking far more detailed questions than any of his previous doctors. They didn’t just focus on the surface-level details. Instead, they delved deeper—into his caffeine intake, how much sugar he consumed daily and weekly, his sleeping patterns, and where he lived. They even asked about the type of building he resided in, where he had been over the past year, and, more specifically, where he had been when he first noticed the migraines beginning.

They wanted to know what his headaches had been like before the migraines had evolved, and they didn’t shy away from the mental health side of things either. Spencer could feel himself growing defensive, even though he knew it was illogical. He had been building this defence mechanism ever since his father left him in the care of his mother—a woman whose paranoid schizophrenia had defined much of his childhood. And now, here he was, at the perfect age to potentially develop symptoms himself. Spencer was acutely aware of the statistics, the genetic predisposition, and the trauma he had endured throughout his life. He knew the risks better than most, and the thought of it all worried him far more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

Dr. Langford finished drawing Spencer’s blood and called out to the young woman in the other room. That’s when Spencer learned that she was a medical student. As the doors slid open, he noticed for the first time that the office at the far end of the room now had its light on.

“Thanks,” Dr. Langford said as the medical student quickly took the vials of blood from her and exited the room, following Dr. Rhodes.

Then, Dr. Langford turned back to Spencer and resumed her questioning.

“Any hallucinations?” she asked, her tone even and professional.

“No,” Spencer replied, shaking his head.

“Are you just saying no because of your history?” she probed.

“No,” he said again, a little more firmly.

“No visual or audible hallucinations?” she pressed.

“No,” he answered, his patience holding.

“Any colours or auras?”

“No,” he said, and this time, she seemed satisfied.

“Okay,” she nodded. She paused for a moment before asking, “You don’t think your headaches are psychosomatic?”

Spencer exhaled, barely managing to keep his frustration at bay. “No,” he answered, the word clipped.

“Okay,” she said, offering a small, understanding smile.

Just then, the door creaked open again, and a new presence entered the room.

“Hi,” the newcomer said, her voice warm and inviting.

Spencer turned his gaze toward her. “Hello,” he replied.

“I’m Dr. Hurst, the head of diagnostics here,” she introduced herself with a soft smile. Dr. Hurst was a 29-year-old woman with a naturally friendly expression, framed by shoulder-length brown hair that was parted neatly down the middle. She wore a black coat layered over a simple black dress. Her demeanour was professional, yet approachable, and though she smiled warmly at Spencer, he couldn’t help but notice a faint sadness lingering in her eyes, as if something weighed on her despite the smile she presented.

Even as Spencer observed her, she radiated an aura of confidence and care, putting him slightly more at ease. Still, the sadness in her gaze intrigued him, almost as much as her curiosity about his condition. He wondered silently what she had seen to put that sadness there, but quickly reminded himself that this wasn’t about her—this was about his migraines, his pain, and the answers he so desperately sought.

[yourreddancer]

We know exactly who’s behind “Project 25”. 6 Billionaire Fortunes Bankrolling Project 2025

More than $120 million from a few ultra-wealthy families has powered the Heritage Foundation and other groups that created the plan to remake American government.

Aug 14, 2024

More than 100 nonprofits led by the Heritage Foundation, a right-wing think tank that has engaged in climate change denial and obstruction for decades, have signed on as advisors to the Project 2025’s 900-page “Mandate for Leadership” document — a plan to rapidly “reform,” or radically alter, the U.S. government by shuttering bureaus and offices, overturning regulations, and replacing thousands of public sector employees with hand-picked political allies.

An analysis of financial disclosure forms shows the same small group of donors supporting Project 2025’s advisors again and again — hardly a sign of ideological diversity. Of the 110 nonprofits formally supporting Project 2025, almost 50 received major donations from the same six sources of wealth since 2020.

Many of the organizations the six families funded also have close ties to Donald Trump and his running mate, Ohio Senator JD Vance, DeSmog found. Trump has repeatedly denied involvement in or knowledge of Project 2025, though that position conflicts with a growing number of news reports — a disavowal made more awkward by the fact that Vance wrote the forward to Dawn’s Early Light, a forthcoming book by Heritage Foundation president Kevin D. Roberts that describes his Project 2025 vision. DeSmog’s review of Project 2025’s financial backers found additional links to Trump, Vance, and key figures in their orbit that had not been previously known.

These six donor networks, linked to the family fortunes of a handful of wealthy industrialists, have spent years working to loosen environmental regulations and promote climate change denial. Though Heritage describes Project 2025 as a mainstream effort to “return government to the people,” its funding sources suggest something far less populist: a vehicle for the obsessions of ultra-rich donors on the far-right fringe, pushing an agenda to reshape American democracy and overturn regulations needed to maintain a livable climate.

To learn more about the people behind “Project 25” Read “The Scheme” How The Right used Dark Money to Capture the Supreme Court. By Sheldon Whitehouse

[doctorkinktraveller]

The sign over the door said “Associated Industries”, but @little-bred-riding-slut knew better. As she pressed the doorbell, she remembered the names people had used for the place online: “The baby factory”, “Pussy Pounding Inc” and some had even referred to it in glowing terms as “The Rape Room”. The thought of those reviews made her pussy leak, it was all so naughty.

She had absorbed every word of the 5 star reviews and glowing testimonials on the website, she was going to have a lot of fun here.

The door opened and a handsome older man in a well tailored suit greeted her with an enquiring “@little-bred-riding-slut ?” She replied with a simple “yes”. He gestured for her to come in as he stepped behind a reception desk.

He pulled a form with her name on it from a folder on the desk and read it in front of her.

“So you have booked for 2 full days & nights”

She nodded

“No specific limits, just safewords if needed”

She smiled, “I couldn’t think of anything I didn’t want to try”- He smiled back, “OK, we will try a lot, but if any of it is too much just use the safe word or shake your head and I will stop immediately”.

He turned back to the form, “No Contraception at all, you want us to breed you?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “Well I can see why I got this gig,” he continued “I’m Steve by the way. I will be your partner for the next 2 days”. - “Oh yes”, she enthused “I want the risk, I might ask you to pull out if I get scared though”.

Taking her hand he kissed it in an old fashioned way and then said “That is your prerogative, but I hope you don’t, putting a baby in you would be a real privilege. Now if you could just sign the disclaimer, here and here.” As she did he asked her “The safe word you were given?”.

“Angel Juice,” she replied immediately. He laughed, “it seems the computer has a sense of humor because we are going to get a lot of juice out of you angel”. She laughed with him as her pussy pulsed from the thoughts it conjured up. “Now where to start…mmm I think The Rape Rack would be perfect”.

He took her by the hand and led her to a door halfway along the corridor behind reception. The whole thing was turning her on so much she was glad she had decided against the thong or going commando. She needed something with a proper gusset to stop the juice running down her legs, as it were they were already soaked through and nothing had happened.

Fuck she was horny! She followed him into the room which looked very bare with bright lights and white walls. “It’s not very homely,” he said, noticing her reaction, “but the light is for video and the rest is wiped clean because sluts like you tend to squirt everywhere”.

“Video?” she asked with surprise in her voice.

“Oh yes, we record everything for everyone’s security. Though we can live stream you to the internet if you like”. Her clit pulsed at the thought of people watching her degradation. “I would like that” she whispered, ashamed of her own perversion.

He took his phone from his pocket, worked the screen and a few seconds later said “There we are, already got 30 regulars watching. I expect we shall get up to around 30,000. Curvy girls are always so popular.”

“Now strip you little @little-bred-riding-slutt”, there was an air of command in his voice and she complied immediately, draping the clothes over a chair in the corner. He stood watching her as she slowly removed her clothes. She noticed the bulge growing in his trousers. “I fucking love my job” he said with a smile.

Once she was completely naked he walked up to her. Grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled her head back and kissed her deeply, the passion and intensity of the kiss flooded through her. The fingers of his other hand immediately invaded her cunt, slipping easily into her wetness.

He broke the kiss and held her head back as he finger fucked her hard and fast. She was overcome with emotions. Kirsten couldn’t believe the way he treated her, like she was his property, an object he owned, a plaything.

This was how she needed to be treated, it was exactly what she had wanted for a very long time indeed. In less than a minute her body was convulsing and cumming on his skilled fingers. Each shudder through her body causing her hair to be pulled and the pain caused her to cum harder and harder. She screamed with the climax. He kept going though, even after a hard cum there was to be no respite. No sooner had her legs stopped shaking from one orgasm than her next climax was approaching. “Squirt you fucking filthy whore”, he said in her ear.

That was enough to cause her to convulse with excitement and her cunt juice to squirt all over the floor like the dirty slags she had watched on porn hub. He let her collapse into his arms and lowered her to the chair. He wandered over and checked his phone.

“Ohh 27,000 already. You are popular”, he said with a smile. She liked his smile.

“Let's check the comments:”

“She needs breeding” -- “you lucky bastard, wish I could knock up a girl like that”

“Wish I could be her” -- “Her tits look great, will look better full of milk”

“Bring her back at nine months, she is going to look so sexy full of baby” -- He smiled at her, “Seems they really do like you, I can’t blame them”.

He slid open a panel in the wall and pulled out a strange contraption. It was a metal frame with leather pads on arms that could be moved around independently. “This”, he said theatrically “is the breeding bench. Though I like to think of it as the Rape Rack, because once you are on here you are going to be helpless and I can do what I want with you”. He adjusted two pads and told her to kneel on them.

Then moved a larger pad for her tummy and got her to lay across that. Two for her elbows and a final one under her chin. It was as though she was kneeling on all fours but suspended off the floor by the rape rack.

Rape Rack, why did that name turn her on? It shouldn’t if she was a nice girl but somehow the thought of being helpless and used by this older man made her cunt drip again. He strapped her down in place she was completely helpless. Unable to move, she started to wonder if this was such a good idea.

He moved in front of her and adjusted her position so that her face was level with the bulge in his trousers. He rubbed his covered cock across her lips and she groaned. She could feel it, smell it but she needed to taste it.

He moved behind her and adjusted her position so his cock would line up with her cunt hole. Whilst he was there he forced a finger into her tight little arsehole “looks tight, I’m going to have fun stretching that” he said as though she were a brainless fuckdoll, which was really all she was now. He walked around in front of her and checked his phone again.

“Oh 85,000 that's a record, more comments”

“breed the bitch”

“cream her cunt”

“Can I eat her out after?”

“Lets see your cock”

“Oh well best not disappoint your audience” he said as he removed his clothes. As his cock sprung free she gasped. It was a good size, 6 or 7 inches but it was thick - really thick. She loved the look of the shiny head popping out from his foreskin. God it looked delicious. “Open wide”, he commanded and she immediately complied.

His thick cock slid down her throat in one move. He held it deep down her throat as she gagged and choked on it, her throat convulsing on his cock in a way that clearly pleased him.

She looked up with her eyes pleading for breath but a cruel smile passed across his face and he reached down and held her nose shut. She struggled for breath, pulling at her restraints. She felt her consciousness ebbing away and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Finally he released her nose and pulled his cock out letting her gasp frantically for breath, her face a total mess of spit & dribble.

He grabbed the phone “A quarter of a million viewers”. He showed her the screen with all the comments on it.

“What a great cock sucker”

“Now knock her up”

“Breed the bitch”

He smiled “Well a quarter of a million people can’t be wrong. It’s time I made you a mom”. Walking round behind her, she lost sight of him for a minute but then she felt the warmth of his cock head against her pussy lips.

She expected him to go slow at first but it was not to be, he slammed into her, his thick hot flesh driving deep into her cunt. He pulled out and then slammed back in, she winced slightly as his cock head banged against her cervix. “Oh god yes” she cried. Something primeval inside her was being awakened, it was the need to breed. His pounding makes the desire for her impregnation stronger.

Every time his cock slammed inside her she craved his seed deep in her womb, this was what she wanted more than anything. She found herself screaming. “Do it you bastard, knock me up”

“Fill my cunt”

“Breed me”

This drove him on, slamming faster and harder into her fuck hole. Her words just became moans and groans as she lost control of her higher functions all she could manage was a “nuurrrgghh” as the most intense climax she had ever felt crashed over her like a tsunami of pleasure.

She begged for his seed. His cock swelled inside her, he plowed in deep and held his cock right against her cervix.

She felt the pulses as wave after wave of potent sperm splashed her insides and he roared with pleasure.

As his cock exploded inside her she just knew her defenseless egg would soon be fertilized. They stayed coupled together for a minute or two as he made sure all his seed was delivered to her receptive womb.

Finally he pulled out and she watched him walk over to his phone, his perfect cock still hard and shiny with their combined juices. “Ohh a 4.995 out of 5 rating, looks like you are very popular amongst our ... .wow..625,000 viewers. You are... internet famous girl”.

He absent mindedly stroked his cock.

“Looks like they want anal next” he said with a smile.

“That’s good because so do I,” she said as she smiled back at him.

It was going to be a perfect weekend.

[rei-caldombra]

Demon Girl Next Door Chapter 89 Review

I’m back to talking about one of my favorite series ever, Demon Girl Next Door / Machikado Mazoku. If you didn’t see my post giving my thoughts about Demon Girl Next Door as a whole back in September of last year, please check that out! I’m keeping the promise I made there of doing a post on each chapter of going forward. I’m very happy to finally be writing about chapter 89 of Demon Girl Next Door. There will be spoilers and this post is largely written chronologically with the chapter.

This chapter gets right back into the most recent plot development, which is Shamiko wanting to dive into Anri’s memories to obtain the family recipe that was lost in the fire. I’m very happy we are getting a lot more focus on Anri and getting introduced to her family. I’ve always really liked her as a minor character. She fits in perfectly with the cast as she is an eccentric weirdo like everyone else, but in a more normal flavor. She can be silly and gung ho with the weird things in this story that you’d think a normal person wouldn’t, but has more normal reactions and information. She is the most helpful for Shamiko navigating social situations. I think she helps keep things grounded while still contributing to the silly energy of the story. But who knows, that grounded normalcy may be changing in the future based on what we learn here. 

We’ve seen Shamiko’s abilities grow a lot in recent chapters. The most notable new one that is mentioned in this chapter is that Shamiko can now mend wounds, including broken bones. This is a pretty big deal, giving her a new way to be helpful to the people around her in a way only she can. Recent developments shown in this chapter are important and I'll get more into how great of a character Shamiko is later in the post.

Shamiko is such a caring girlfriend, making sure Momo eats properly while she is gone. I still love these two and they are the only couple I go full shipper with.

Some of the magical side of things is actually pretty complicated. Sion’s thing as a book demon got brought up here, which I will honestly say I do not get very well. I need to re-look at the arc that focused on her sometime and try to understand it better. I feel her purpose recently has largely been to give cryptic information that is not as helpful as it could be, when we know that she is or at least more knowledgeable about the wider story but doesn’t give us all that info. I don’t dislike her as a character, but I don’t love the way she is being used. It’s pretty much my only criticism of the series right now, and it’s hard to describe why she just doesn’t vibe with me. I think I just don’t like feeling that information is being withheld for no good reason. It’s not a problem of severe note, and maybe if I understand her better than I'll fully see a good reason. 

Oh boy this is officially our 2nd foray into proper horror in this series. A meat grinder is a good choice for the family of butchers. Those shots are genuinely creepy and well done, I’m terrified but excited to get more. The horror works especially well because of how long we have had with the series being very wholesome and cutesy. The juxtaposition works very well, so we will see if it continues to work well as we get more scary content. I'm confident it will.

We’re getting some serious lore here. It looks like this story involves the Russo-Japanese war, which I assume is mirroring the real life one. We also learned that demons participated in that war. If I remember correctly Momo was found by Sakura at a Russian facility and spoke Russian when Sakura approached her. So the Russo-Japanese war may have been the event that led to Sakura finding Momo. The old picture mentions Shirosawa which gives the story an avenue to how we can hear another account about this event. A big question going forward is how this factors into the conflict between demons and the light clan + magical girls. Were there demons and magical girls fighting together on both sides of wars? Or is it more in line with each faction being on one side? Is the world at large as aware of and blasé about magical stuff as Tama City is? It looks like we will see more into how magical beings have played into politics, and likely get more into detail about the conflict between the demons and light clan. This is some heavy stuff, showing how the series is maturing into taking itself seriously and has much more to say than just being wholesome and funny. I love the more serious directions it’s taken and hope it continues to feel well balanced with the wholesomeness we all love. 

In terms of what this means for Anri, it’s pretty complicated and hard to say right now. The issue in the family Sion mentioned is clearly about the darkness that came in at the end. The family must be under some kind of memory shenanigans. Right before they went into Anri’s home she says that she has a large family. But when they are eating at the table she states that they are a two child family, which totals at 4 people. That is not a large family by normal standards, that’s exactly average. Lilith’s “I see” response is likely her picking up on this. The table is also set in front of those chairs which is strange. When Shamiko goes into the dream we get to see more of the family tree, which I will admit I am not great at reading. But it’s clear that there are 3 siblings who are being blocked out from memory due to some terrible event. 

The ending to the dream dive is very rough for Shamiko. Shamiko started off being incapable and incompetent whose failures are mostly played for laughs. But it becomes clear that her weakness and lack of skills gave her issues of inadequacy. I think this stems largely from her long state of being physically weak and ill, along with her time of health where she generally appears as pretty stupid and unfit. We even get reminded of this idea in this chapter through the joke of Anri’s little brother only knowing her as losing and crying a lot. We saw these feelings showcased a lot with her initial interactions with Momo. Such as her getting angry over being looked down on and pitied, and thrusting herself into situations she is not prepared for like fighting Momo in desperation to prove herself. Over the course of the story we have seen her struggle and grow into a more confident and capable person. She got many genuine wins due to her own way of thinking and capabilities, such as defeating Sakura’s minion, freeing Ugallu, and most recently fixing Anri’s broken bone. She has grown to be much more secure with herself, but deep down she still has issues of inadequacy. This coupled with her desire to help people after seeing the darkness inside Anri, makes her feel like she did not succeed here even though she still completed her mission of getting the recipe. Shamiko deeply cares about helping others, likely due to her own past weakness, so when she is presented with the opportunity to help she puts everything else aside to focus on that. And she is still harsh on herself, calling herself a failure for not being able to help in a situation she just found out about. It’s details like this that makes Shamiko feel like such a realized and endearing character. 

I’m sure it won’t be long before Momo finds out about all this. She is quite perceptive, so I’m not too surprised that she would know that Anri usually sleeps early. We have seen her notice people’s minor behaviors to a surprising degree, such as when she mapped out how Shamiko’s tail portrays her emotions. It’s also nice to see that Shamiko also does not expect the deception to go on long, showing how well she knows her magical girlfriend. They’ve been close for awhile now and I believe the series does a great job of showing the growing understanding between them. They still have some conflicts but they know each other very well. This is one of the reasons why they are such a great couple. I trust that once she finds out she will help Shamiko get through this. 

I’m glad the first chapter we got in awhile is a meaty one! Absolutely worth the wait! I’m very interested to see how the story develops from here. And I do want to end by saying that if you love the series as much as I do, I highly encourage buying the manga and anime DVDs. It’s the best way to support the series. I’m not trying to guilt trip anyone, I just believe it’s best to monetarily support the media you truly care about when you can in addition to talking about how awesome it is online. Most of the manga is available in English already.

Thanks for reading! I’ll be doing posts on each chapter going forward so please stick around! Hopefully the wait will not be as long for the next chapter but I'm happy to wait as long as Ito Sensei needs.

[takarahase99]

Dreamful Memories

A story in which childhood friends find out they are soulmates.

Soulmates are two individuals who are predestined to spend the rest of their lives together. At least that is what we are taught as we grow closer to the age of sixteen. It was greatly stressed that both individuals have to be sixteen in order for the ‘dreamful memories’ to start. Two days ago I turned the lucky sixteen. Unfortunately, my predestined person has not.  Therefore, I am left with the built up anticipation that has been distilled in my mind since the age of ten.

“Happy birthday Kacchan!” Midoriya Izuku’s voice excitedly bounced off the classroom’s walls.

Bakugo grumbled his appreciation leaving Midoriya smiling brightly. It’s not everyday that the hot tempered blonde shows any form of gratitude. Growing up with him, Midoriya and I quickly caught onto this character trait. So it was only natural that the interaction between the two left a smile of my own plastered on my face. 

“How’s it feel to finally be sixteen Kats?” I cooed in his ear.

“Not any different.” He spat back.

Chuckling, I sat back in my chair satisfied with his answer and reaction. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood up and the tips of his ears flushed bright red. Unlike Midoriya, I never let my admiration for Bakugo and his quirk render me standing my ground against the blonde. Over time my admiration turned into something more. I don’t recall when or how but soon after the realization every wish upon a star was dedicated to him.

“What if Bakugo is Y/N’s soulmate!?” Mina exclaimed as if she had read my thoughts. 

“That’d be so awesome! Childhood friends turned soulmates!” Denki chimed in.

Before Bakugo or myself could respond, Mr. Aizawa entered the classroom. The start bell chimed soon after. Instead of focusing on the review for our upcoming exams my attention was used on calming the rapid pounding in my chest. The previous comments circled my mind and made it difficult to calm my heart.

“One could only wish.” I mumbled with small hopes that my words were heard.

~Time Skip~

She wore a sweet knee length dress. One that was made in her favorite color. Her hair was loose from its normal pulled back style. She was sitting in her usual place in the park. Under the tallest cherry blossom tree. My feelings for her only grew stronger day by day. But I couldn’t tell her that. We have three more years until we both turn sixteen. Which means we find out who our predestined life partner is. 

“Stop standing over there like a creep and come join me.”

Without any hesitation I strided over and sat next to her. The book in her hands being one of her favorites. Her delicate hands traced under the words she read. Once she was done with the page she placed her marker and closed the book.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“I dislike how well you can read me.”

She giggled softly. Her laugh is a sound I can listen to on repeat. The way her eyes squint when she’s really happy. 

“Will you be my soulmate?” I blurted

The light in her eyes shined brighter. The pounding in my chest quickened in pace and the temperature of my face rose. That was such a stupid thing to ask.

“You know it doesn’t work that way. No matter how much either of us would like for that to be the case.”

She’s right. No matter how much either of us want to be each other's soulmates it can’t happen. Our soulmates are predestined way before we’re even born. Only the deities in charge are responsible. 

“One could only wish though, right?”

She pushed herself up from the ground and dusted her dress off. She looked back down towards me and extended her hand. I hesitated before taking her hand and using her help to pull from the ground. Her hand was soft. They always were. 

“One could only wish.” I repeated softly.

Nearly falling from my bed I jumped out very clumsily once waking up. The dream. The memory. It was one that I led Bakugo to believe I had forgotten about. So many different emotions flowed throughout my entire body. To say I was happy was an understatement. Bakugo Katsuki is my soulmate. I swung my door open to leave only to find myself tumbling backwards. I looked to see who it was I had run into. Staring back at me were the all too familiar crimson eyes I grew up staring at.

“K-Kats, what’re you doing here?”

“Probably for the same reason that you’re rushing out.”

The Dreamful Memories. He turned sixteen yesterday which meant that both of us saw a memory in our sleep. I wonder what memory played for him. I don’t have too many intriguing ones. 

“It was the day you got your quirk.”

He looked away shyly. I remember the day very vividly. It just so happened to be the day that the two of us met. I took notice of his pajamas and disheveled hair. He rushed across the dorm the moment he woke up. 

“For me it was our conversation under the cherry blossom tree.”

His attention shot back towards me quickly. The surprise was well written across his face. Relief washes over me once my mentality grasped the fact that he was not upset.

“You remember?”

“Mhm. It’s a conversation that’s filled me with so much hope and sorrow at the same time. I realized my feelings for you that day and began to wish on every star that night. Every wish I made was in hopes of having you as my soulmate.”

“What now? Now that we know? What happens next?”

The smile across my face only grew in size. I’m unsure what it is that soulmates are supposed to do after their discoveries. But I do know what I want to do at this moment.

“This.”

Without a second thought I grabbed ahold of his shirt collar and pulled him closer. I then pressed my lips against his gently. His lips were soft and tasted of spice. Pulling out of his daze, Bakugo started to kiss me back. I couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s soulmate.” We both mumbled. 

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 2 - Death Does Not Become You

Description: After receiving strange readings from the local hospital, a group of Heroics headed there to investigate, but what they found was just about the last thing they'd expected.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Author's Notes: This chapter is entirely from Marcus's point of view.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 1545 (708 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   “Something’s happening at the hospital downtown. Sensors are detecting massive power-fluctuations,” one of the analysts in the control center announced shortly after sundown.

   “Is it a super?” Marcus Moreno asked in response, abandoning his own work at another computer to go over to the analyst and review her data.

   “Unclear, sir. The system doesn’t recognize the signature.”

   Well, that was never a good sign.    He read the screen over her shoulder as it displayed a graph of several power-surges, each one looking stronger than the previous but none of them conforming to any real pattern. They seemed completely random in both timing and the way that they intensified.    And the energy itself was apparently generated by, or comprised of something the sensors couldn’t even identify.

   “That’s… weird,” he observed, mostly just talking to himself.

   “Weird… That is all you got, hijo?” his mother replied, even though he hadn’t addressed her, and he straightened up to throw her a mildly annoyed grimace.

   “Mom, don’t start with me.”

   “I’m just saying that ‘weird’ is not much of a description, is all,” she persisted, in her very typical mother-knows-best kinda way.

   “Well, I don’t know what else to tell you. It’s a weird signature. How am I supposed to know any more than that until I’ve actually investigated it?”

   “Okay, so stop staring at the screen, and go investigate,” she insisted, to which he grumbled under his breath.

   “No, I thought I’d just ignore a potential disaster at a major hospital, cause why would that be of any concern?”

   It was low enough that she couldn’t hear what he said, but she heard him mumble something.

   “What was that, Marcus?” she brightly inquired while he turned away to leave, and he just called back over his shoulder.

   “Nothing, mom.”

   Ten minutes later he’d managed to wrangle Miracle Guy, Invisi Girl and Tech-No to go with him and investigate. They chose to fly to avoid traffic (and because Miracle wouldn’t be caught dead in a car, what would that do to his image?!) and all four of them landed just outside the hospital’s emergency entrance just minutes later as it was quite close to the Heroics headquarters.

   Every light in and around the entire building was blinking and flickering like crazy, sometimes going completely dark for several seconds at a time, and then coming back to life only to shine way too brightly all of a sudden.    Even before they’d landed, Marcus could feel the vibrations of the power-fluctuations as they disturbed his electro-magnetic abilities. Which made him worry that whatever this was, it was gonna be worse than they’d thought.

   Once inside, they made their way through the floors and corridors, led by Marcus since he could sense whenever he was getting closer to the source, and before long, they found it.    Or rather, her.

   “Wait, this can’t be right… I thought you said that the signature suggested it wasn’t a super?” Miracle said as Marcus came to a stop by the ICU bed, wordlessly indicating that this woman was where he sensed the anomaly.

   “I said it was inconclusive, as in: I don’t know what the hell it is,” Moreno replied, and then turned to Tech, who had stepped up to his right side and was aiming his portable scanner at the woman. “Are your instruments getting anything useful?”

   “Not really. It’s the same signature, and it’s growing in intensity, but that’s about it.”

   “She looks… like she’s dying,” Invisi Girl observed then, making them all fall silent as they couldn’t help but agree.

   Marcus had never seen a human being look so life-less while still breathing.    She was as grey as a corpse, with a hint of purple in her skin and all veins pushed to the surface, like little dark rivers against the almost transparent epidermis. There were deep circles under her eyes and her lips and nails were turning purple as well, and she was so thin that her skin was literally hugging her bones.

   “Mr. Moreno, sir. May I ask what your interest is in this patient?” a doctor politely asked then, having come to see why four Heroics had assembled around this one bed.

   It was one of the ER doctors, whom the supers were well familiar with because of how often they’d had to fly patients to the hospital after one of their battles had ended up injuring civilians, so no innocents wouldn’t die waiting for ambulances.

   “Dr. Cortez, this woman is the reason why you’re having power-fluctuations,” Marcus answered him, to which the doctor looked completely stunned.

   “She’s a super? No, that can’t be, none of the tests we’ve performed suggested anything of the sort.”

   “We don’t know what she is, but she’s definitely causing this. We’re gonna need to take her with us, for the sake of the safety of your other patients.”

   “Yes, of course,” Cortez replied, before hurrying to set his staff in action to prepare the woman for medical transport.

   “How long has she been here?” Marcus asked while they worked, trying to learn as much as he could, even though he knew there’d be a transfer of information between the hospital and the Heroics medical bay.

   “Uh, she came walking in on her own about two hours ago,” the doctor recalled. “She was in bad shape, vomiting blood and convulsing randomly, with a temperature of 108F, which then suddenly dropped to normal within minutes.    And although she’s been thoroughly examined, we haven’t been able to find a probable cause for her symptoms. But whatever it is, it’s killing her. She’s deteriorated significantly even in the short time she’s been here.    I was about to put her on end-of-life care status.”

   As he listened, Marcus moved to the side of the bed to look closer at her, careful not to get in the way of the nurses who were prepping her for transfer.    The machines which she was hooked up to told him that her pulse was racing at a staggering 197 bpm, while her blood-pressure was low, and she was struggling to maintain oxygen saturation, despite having an oxygen mask on.

   Without really thinking about it, he brushed his fingers over the top of her hand, and was slightly shocked to see her open her eyes at the contact.    He wouldn’t have thought she had enough strength for that, but evidently, this woman was stronger than most. She turned her head slightly so that she could look at him, and when her eyes found his, a knot instantly formed inside his chest.

   The dread in those eyes was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Beyond tortured. There was something so much worse than the fear of pain and certain death within those eyes.    No sound escaped her, and yet she was begging. To be saved… or to be put out of her misery. And for all the protectiveness he felt for people in general, what Marcus wanted in that moment was just to give her peace. Even if it meant ending her life.

   But then, through the connection between their skins, as he was still holding her hand, he felt how the energy coming from her abruptly shifted, and her eyes closed again as fresh tears spilled down the sides of her face. Because somehow, even though it shouldn’t be possible, her pain had just worsened.     And suddenly he understood that it was the energy which was killing her. Torturing her out of existence, ripping her apart from the inside with each new surge.

   “You’re right, doctor. She’s not a super,” he said without taking his now tear-filled eyes off her. “This isn’t an ability, someone did this to her.”

   “What…?” Cortez breathed, staggering to a halt on the other side of the bed as he tried to re-evaluate what he knew, and came up dry. “But there’s nothing in the world that can do this to a human being so quickly.”

   “Nothing we know of,” he corrected, and then Miracle butted in.

   “Hey, Moreno, I know you’re better at the medical stuff than I am, but are you sure about this? Seems kinda farfetched-…”

   The Heroic was cut off when the energy suddenly shifted again, and every ounce of electricity in the whole building died in an instant. Including the back-up generators.

   “We’re out of time,” Marcus concluded then, ripping the remaining wires from the woman’s body and picking her up, doing his best not to think about how much that must’ve hurt her, before handing her over to Miracle. “Get her out of here and back to HQ asap.    Invisi, go after him, make sure he doesn’t take any scenic routes.”

   He heard Guy grumble something about how he damned well never took any scenic routes as he ran off, heading for the nearest exit with Invisi Girl on his heels, but Marcus didn’t much care if the blonde took offense. He had a history of screwing things up because he’d gotten distracted at the wrong moment, and this was no time for dropping the ball.

   “I’m gonna see about restoring power here,” Tech said once they’d disappeared around a corner. “Unless there’s somewhere else you want me, chief?”

   “No. I’ll stay and help. Right now, these people need us more than she does.”