#and i tend to not like his work on this show

[vmlnrzmp4]

𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

no cw, just domestic bliss<3 for reference, she's making kheer: a famous south asian dessert. you can call it a pudding. this is me y'all. i think the "banned from kitchen" girlies deserve representation. without further ado, enjoy<3

itoshi sae

"it stings...!" you mumble a complain as sae applies the burn-cream to your thumb and index finger. he calls you a dumbass for even stepping into the kitchen.

"sae," you call softly trying to gain his attention. he ignores, too busy tending your wounds. "sae," you call again. and after a long pause, he hums.

"what?"

"can you atleast taste what i made?"

he looks up at you, blowing air from his mouth to your booboo, the coolness easing the pain a little. "you sure it's not poison?"

"no promises."

he stares at you for a moment. sighing, he reaches for the spoon, taking a bit—just a little bite, "what did you put in this?" he asks, "is this supposed to be salty?"

oh the horror! "what?"

"it's salty."

you take the spoon from him, tasting it too, gagging at the bitterness. "i may or may not have added salt instead of sugar."

"you," he snaps his finger at you, "stay out of the kitchen."

itoshi rin

"hot hot hot!" you say, the burning spoonful of kheer still in your mouth.

"here," rin quickly passes you a bottle of cold water as you wash it down, "don't choke on it." his brows furrow, "is this supposed to be that watery and oily?"

"it's not oil. i used ghee," you say, showing him the container, "it's butter. but fancier." he examines it in his hand, reading the label and notes. you take another gulp of the cold water, "my tongue feels numb now."

he takes a spoonful, seeing how it runs down from the sides like water, "what were you trying to do?"

you sigh. big big sigh as you ramble, "i tried making this. i know i shouldn't even step into the kitchen but, i just felt like yes i can do it like it's the easiest thing i can make cause my cousin made it back in india and she sent me a picture of it and it looked so simple and i—"

"it's fine," he cuts you off, "leave it to me next time."

isagi yoichi

"here you go," you say, placing the bowl in front of him, along with a spoon and a forced smile.

he chuckles nervously, taking the spoon from you, "is this...soup?"

"no!" you correct, "it's kheer, even fancier!"

he hums, taking in a spoonful while you wait expectantly.

he coughs. loudly.

looking up at you he sees the horror in your eyes—he feels guilty as he sees the messy apron, hair that was messily put up in a bun and a little something on your cheek too—you worked hard on it.

"it's...not bad."

you let out the most heart wrenching sigh, "it's ok yo-chan," you plop yourself beside him, your forehead bangs on the table, "you don't need to lie."

"oh y/n..." he reaches for you, soothing your forehead that you just abused on the table, "it's not bad, really. it's just...a little too sweet for my liking. maybe we can fix it together?"

you look at him with puppy-dog eyes, yet fully of hope, "together?"

"together."

michael kaiser

the first thing kaiser does is plant a sweet peck on your cheek as he enters the kitchen, pointing at the apron you wore that says kiss the chef.

"what's cooking?"

you simply point at the cook-book that was open. he raises an eyebrow, then adjusts the glasses resting on his forehead, pushing them down to eye level as he inspects the recipe.

"aaaand all done!" you say happily. but the horror in kaiser's eyes when you were pouring the kheer into a bowl—it was like you were a maniac mixing chemicals to feed the lab rats.

"here," you hand him the spoon, "mihya, i want you to be the first one to try it."

he gulps in fear, "if that's what you want angel..."

aftermath.

he wouldn't stop laughing at you and your poor attempt to stealing a chef's job.

"i'm sorry—" he laughs, "—i'm sorry," more laugher.

"i get it. i can't cook. and i apologize for even thinking i would get appreciated. even if it's a little."

his laughter dies down slowly—still smirking as he hugs you from behind, "hey, i appreciate you loads. even if you made the most disastrous dish imaginable," he pecks your temple, "it's the thought that matters."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Sorry if this sounds like I'm trying to stir up trouble, but does Malleus do any of his dorm duties? I've been re-reading vignette and with the exception of choosing a theme for his dorm on Halloween it seems Lilia does everything. Lilia goes to the meeting, talks with the students, fills out the forms needed for the headmaster, and more. It seems like he's just a figure head there for appearance while everyone else does the work.

Cross-referencing my own compilation post on the dorm leader responsibilities and powers, Malleus has or can be assumed to have fulfilled some of his duties as dorm leader, although the ones he does tend to are relatively minor. For example:

Dorm leaders choose their vice dorm leaders. I assume that Malleus chose Lilia, as it's someone close to him and a person he deeply trusts.

Malleus is stated to have selected Diasomnia's Halloween costume (longs).

He approves Lilia's request to use the Diasomnia lounge for his farewell party in book 7.

Malleus chastises and corrects his own students (namely Sebek) for stepping out of line, although the intent is often to retain his own good standing as a royal rather than to maintain the reputation of his students or his dormitory.

The big tasks such as attending dorm leader meetings, taking part in ceremonies, and showing freshmen around their new dorm post-orientation are mostly headed by Lilia. To be fair, it's Malleus's right as dorm leader to delegate his responsibilities to his second-in-command as he sees fit, and it's sort of necessary to get any information passed along to Diasomnia at all since the actual dorm leader is hard to approach and/or misses meetings due to his time perception being different than that of the average human. However, this doesn't change the fact that a lot of his responsibilities are taken up by Lilia. Lilia does appear to pass along meeting notes and such to Malleus, but it's not the same as like... Malleus actually being physically present at these meetings himself.

This kind of ties back to the surprise I expressed when I realized just how passive Malleus is in leading others or expressing policy ideas. He and the people he generally surrounds himself with already assume he will be a great leader, but then the narrative does not actually grant Malleus any major opportunities to show us that there's a solid basis for them to believe this. Again, I do believe that part of Malleus not fulfilling most of his dorm leader duties is because he genuinely does struggle with the flow of time and being invited to events! He also does make an effort to try and tend to these duties (like when he attempts to bring his fellow dorm leaders to him rather than bringing himself to them in his Dorm Uniform vignettes), so it's not as though he's intentionally shirking his work. Passing along his responsibilities to Lilia isn't done out of laziness, it's done as a necessity so he can still have some window in which to glimpse his peers and understand what has to be done. Unfortunately, this doesn't exactly paint him out to be a competent leader when you put this lore next to the fact that he hasn't truly demonstrated his leadership capabilities to us in several other scenarios.

[tastesousweet]

01 : Who’s the New Guy?

hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n can’t help it if she’s just so intrigued by this friend of her brother’s.

01. 02. 03.

crushes came to you quite often.

you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he must’ve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : “i’m sorry, but i’m no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?”

your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that you’ll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didn’t have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure they’re accepted among themselves, “they’ll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and it’s only worse that you’re so quick to accept any “love” without them having to at least try, y/n.”

she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) — or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guy’s attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.

your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever she’d start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.

while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.

at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you haven’t known a time where you weren’t amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.

yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream you’ve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of “higher!” “now tighter!” “follow through!” “be consistent!” from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.

those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what you’ve always thought you wanted — early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.

so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down you’d become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that you’d be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as you’d already been through the hell of it in the spring.

now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawn’s wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool — rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.

he’s hasn’t given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet he’s somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. you’ve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), you’ve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know you’re staring at him than stare and get a poor view.

there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting — you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. it’s unbearable that you don’t know his name, but you can imagine it’s something cute that you’d like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.

after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.

“hi,” you speak, standing in front of him.

he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), “uh, hey?”

“are you finished?” you question with a slight head tilt.

“oh, not really, i just have t’pressure check the jets in the hot tub. that’s my bad, ill get back to it.” he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.

you both look at your hand’s placement then into each other’s eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, “… just some sorta feather or …” you clear your throat and retract your hand again, “sorry, um, i just thought i’d introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i … just wanted to know your name,” you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.

your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion he’s not sure anyone has in his entire life. you’re like a viper or siren, some sort of creature that’s hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, “hamzah.”

“hamzah? i like it.” you love it.

“yeah?” he looks down at the popsicle that’s now slick from your mouth’s warmth, then he’s looking back in your eyes, “thanks.”

“how’d my parent’s find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?” you flirt.

“i mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, y’know i check the piping, change the tank …” your stare is so captivating it’s hard for him to not feel like blushing, “i’ll, uh, tell you all about it later. t’answer your question, i’m friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goin’ back to school.”

you can’t believe it’s true — your brother doesn’t have nice friends. your brother even doesn’t have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, “no, you’re not? i know all of my brother’s friends.”

hamzah shrugs his shoulders, “i mean, i guess we weren’t the closest in high school,” he pinches his eyes slightly, “you are the younger sister, right? the one who’s got all that dance business goin’ on?”

you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, “yes, that’s me with the “dance business”” you smile, “i’m y/n.”

“cool. s’nice to meet you,” he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.

── .✦

you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, “i wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,” for your father to immediately agree.

he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, “oh! that’s a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?” he nods towards the sliding glass door.

you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but can’t help that your socked feet glide over to the door.

your father’s immediately calling out, “hey hamzah! c’mere a minute would’ya?”

hamzah immediately bolts over, he’s out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, “hey,” he directs to you but it’s sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.

“no running by the pool,” you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.

“fair,” hamzah shrugs.

“hamzah, we were hopin’ you’d stay for dinner tonight?”you father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

his face lights up, “sur-”

“say yes,” you warn through your teeth, knowing your father’s irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as “sure”.

“yes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.” he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.

── .✦

dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.

“y/n, pass the mashed potatoes,” your brother calls out.

you whine, “leo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, i’ve passed it back and forth like four times already.”

“oh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.” he laughs under his breath.

“that’s enough, now.” your mother speaks up, “but y/n, i’m getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?”

“i’m fi-”

“shoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchin’.” your brother jokes, “weren’t you in ballet?”

hamzah is completely flushed, “like, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-”

he’s cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, “wait, you’d really help me?” you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.

“hamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.” your mother comments.

leo laughs, “he’s n-”

hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, “well, yeah, i’ll help out wherever i can.”

“really?!” you’re relieved that he actually agreed.

“oh good fucking luck,” your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzah’s shoulder.

── .✦

“don’t forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience — i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!”

hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that he’s done tying his shoes in your foyer, “as opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience —” he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, “right. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?” he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.

your arms are crossed as you explain, “yes but that’s just unreliable- it’ll be gone by morning…” you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, “and i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and don’t set an alarm.”

he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, “i won’t.”

“cool.”

“so i’m wakin’ up at 10 and goin’ for breakfast then meeting up with you?” he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. “i’ll be at the studio before 6, how about that?”

you nod as you pull away, “you better.”

“uh huh,” he opens your front door and finally calls out “good night!” to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, “bye, i’ll see you in, like, nine hours or somethin’.”

“bye, thank you,” you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, “don’t forget, hamzah!” you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.

── .✦

you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.

the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, “so, what exactly are we doing?”

hamzah rubs at his eyes, he’s clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, “umm, you’re the professional here?”

“hamzahhhh, you said you would help!” you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.

“yeah! but i wasn’t expectin’ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.” he moves to the ground with you.

“m’kay, here,” you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, “and now flatten your back and lean forward,” you both complete the action then return to sitting up.

“what do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!” you both hold “and out,” you both release.

you smile at him,“you’re a natural, look at you!” you compliment.

the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that you’d do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses you’d heard of under the guise of “let’s just try it!”

there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.

just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. “i just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me …” you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.

hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. “yeah? ‘kay, guide me.” he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.

“mhm, yeah here i’ll just,” you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, “right … there.” you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. he’s already focused on your face and your next command, “just lean forward and bring my leg with you,” you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.

“m’sorry,” he whispers with wide eyes.

“no, don’t. it’s good, i needed this,” you remind.

“yeah, just breathe, you’re doin’ good.” he coaches while pushing your leg further.

── .✦

“mmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this i’d be skinned and shunned from the program!” you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. you’re more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.

hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, “that’s gnarly as fuck, you couldn’t even have like a single plain donut? just one?”

“no, and half of ‘em have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.” you wipe your face.

“well, damn maybe ballet-in’ kinda sucks?”

“maybe.” you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, “what’d you think it was like?”

he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, “i dunno- fun?”

you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. you’re just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him — how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interested…?

── .✦

a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3

[inthelibrarybtw]

get to know college!basketball!captain!rafe

college!basketball!captain!rafe who has loved sports since he was a kid, fell in love with basketball when he was around 10 and took it seriously from that moment on. he wants to go professional after college if he can but is also working on his finance and administration degree. He has always been very smart and doesn’t worry a lot about grades but understands the importance of them, reason why he got a full ride in college and got recruited for the basketball team. who is very disciplined with everything that he does, once he commits to doing something he will do it and will do his best. he loves going out with his friends but also likes to stay in, secretly he loves cooking all thanks to his mom and his sister. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is very cocky and a flirt, knows he is good-looking and that’s the reason why everyone thinks he’s a player, he has never had a girlfriend in college. Everyone seems to know him and or fall for him, he doesn’t really care about it but it boosts his ego. He has been around a bit yes, but not as much as people think, he is picky even if he doesn’t like to admit it. He thrives on teasing people, especially his friends but he’s also very kind and intentional, not everyone gets to see this side of him. His family is very important to him, he has a good relationship with his parents and sister. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is very easy to please, just some good food, music, and his friends and he can be the happiest man alive. who loves watching movies and of course, never misses one basketball game, usually watches them with his dad or his friends, it’s his favorite thing to do. Has never missed one basketball practice since he was 10, just the very counted times he has been sick. His love language is physical touch, gifts, and acts of service the last two he prefers giving them than receiving them. Quality time could be added to but in very specific scenarios. His favorite artists are J. Cole, The Weekend, and Kanye. who is also a dog guy, every time he sees a dog he asks if he can pet them. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who loves being an older brother but sometimes he wishes the age gap wasn’t that big, fortunately, he has a cousin his age who might as well be his sister. they grew up together and are kinda inseparable thanks to that. He usually goes to her to talk about his feelings, since he knows he won’t get judged by her. he’s not the best at showing his feelings, or so he thinks, usually his eyes speak volumes, and anyone can see it but him. no, but really, talking about how he feels sometimes can be the hardest thing he can do. he tends to put everyone first and even if he’s this confident guy when it comes to his feelings he’s anything but. 

college!basketball!captain!rafe who is incredibly perceptive about how other people feel as long as the feelings are not directed at him because then he’s blind. who likes to take time to get to know someone and help as much as he can. who also can easily get angry when things don’t go his way and when this happens he prefers not to talk to people in case he says something he doesn’t really mean. If he’s really frustrated he tends to isolate himself to calm down but if he needs to talk to people he will be very cold towards them, and he immediately regrets it.

authors note: i always have trouble writing intros because i don't know what you should know before reading and what you should discover while reading but i finally finished it. i'm very obsessed with him, and i hope you guys too :)

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @masonmountme69 @winterivory if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :)

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.*

[yoredoesmore]

The Life of A Married Couple | Soshiro Hoshina | IDMCWBM

a/n: “I Drink My Coffee With Blueberry Milk” is my new mini series featuring a stoic and always serious reader and her funny and teasing husband (Soshiro)! “IDMCWBM” is a long acronym but we will live 

(I'm not dead guys, exam season is almost over please bear with me! > <)

Husband Soshiro who has multiple folders dedicated to different pictures of you. One is for funny pictures, one is for candid pictures, one for professionally taken images and so many more the list goes on!

You who pretends to not be affected by the fact that you haven't seen your husband in 12 hours but the second someone mentions his name you melt internally 

Husband Soshiro who leaves his office door unlocked at night because he knows that you like to take a nap in there. You act like its no big deal when he catches you but he absolutely loves it

You who once tried to make his favorite dish for him but you ended up creating something so gruesome and terrible that Hoshina lost his appetite that day and has ever since claimed a new dish as his new favorite (don't mention the old dish, he will get war flashbacks)

Husband Soshiro who buys you a cup of flan every month and places it in the exact same spot in the fridge every time, because during your first date you mentioned your love for flan. (You actually prefer pudding over flan but he got it mixed up but that is a secret you will take to the grave)

You who personally tends to his blades, fixes them up and polishes them whenever necessary, since you are the only person Soshiro trusts them with.

Husband Soshiro who once overheard a cadet make an inappropriate comment about you and later that day completely demolished him during the combat training session. He walked away smiling, not even bothering to help him up, which earned him many suspicious looks from the others. (Especially Kafka found himself freaked out by the Captain's roughness)

You who goes lengths to ease up your husbands work life. “Oh, these folders are supposed to be inspected by the Vice Captain? No worries, I will handle them myself.” No matter how much needs to be done in your own office, you will do anything so that Soshiro can rest a little more.

Husband Soshiro who agreed to a “no display of intimacy/PDA in public and especially not at work” rule but he can't help himself but pull you into an empty training room every now and then and show you just how much he needs you. You pretend to be upset but not so deep down you need this just as much as he does (you end up initiating round two)

a/n: I could write these for hours :>. To everyone who has send in a request, please bear with me I'm working on them !! > < for the time being please accept my crumbs

[harpieisthecarpie]

looking at how Goro Akechi became a foil of Akira Kurusu thru their childhood (attachment styles)

(Content Warnings for discussing all the stuff in Akechi's childhood specifically, bad parenting, neglect, mental illness. Take care of urselves)

waking up to the tags @1derpu2 added on another post of mine about Akechi ("#I don't think I could survive in his position") had me thinking of a 15-16 year old Akechi, and how survival even feels to him.

Because arguably Akechi has been in survival mode since he was born. Even with a mother doing her best to provide, poverty fundamentally rewrites the brain especially at such a young age−

(Tangent: Akechi's dessert blog actually reminds me of Brennan Lee Mulligan during the d20 Misfits & Magic actual play discussing his character [Evan Kelmp, an unhoused orphaned kid] ordering from desserts at restaurants in order to maximize caloric intake for his money bc stuff on the dessert menu actually tends to contain the most calories– ANYWAYS)

–and he also can feel the underlying tension in how his mother is treated, how he himself is treated, how there is no support network for them. I can imagine that's part of the lure of an ensemble kid's show like Featherman: reliable companions who take your hand rather than slapping it away.

I've done a lot of reading into attachment styles and attachment trauma (bc it's interesting and also haha ;] trauma) and it is a really cool lens to view the differences between our two Wild Cards Akechi and Akira.

adding a reblog with an attachment theory rundown! actual discussion of akechu attachment stuff below cut

There is no better fit for Akechi than a Disorganized Attachment style after finding his sole caregiver and financial (his mother) dead by her own hand after years of her focus being split by the work she needed to do for them to afford survival, before being passed around by distant relatives who viewed him with contempt, if they acknowledged him at all.

The world treated him and his mother like vermin, so of course no one else is trustworthy, of course the people who take advantage are evil. Of course everyone takes advantage. Just like his father, who is the root of this whole horrible thing (the thing being Goro's life, the thing being Goro)

His mother left him violently, voluntarily (from his pov, suicide & mental illness are complicated), so he must be someone repulsive. Incapable of being loved. If he wants others to love him, and he must in order to get close enough to his father to kill, then he must be anything other than himself.

One of the symptoms of disorganized attachment and attachment trauma is the inability to regulate emotions, leading those with it to feel things with an intensity they can't control, soothe, or explain that can fluctuate between emotions rapidly.

And doesn't that markedly fit with a kid who has awoken such disparate personas that are both him? His entire relationship with the world (there must be justice but there is no such thing as justice) and his inner psyche does explain why he brings up Hegel. If you have both Loki and Robin Hood inside you, thesis and antithesis, then isn't it a comfort to know their existence somehow makes sense? That you are synthesis rather than just chaos and pain.

Meanwhile, from the little we hear about Akira's parents and how Persona 5 frames the adults around him, the Avoidant attachment style fits best. He is fiercely independent, with such a strong sense of identity despite with the masks he wears for others that he has the true Wild Card ability. He stands his ground with his morals, even when everyone around him is telling him his life would be easier if he gave up.

He has a strong internal moral center because he was never attached enough to his caregivers that they'd be able to influence his cognitive assimilation. Why trust someone's moral judgment when you can't even trust them with your vulnerability?

This is why Akira and Akechi are so fascinating as foils, as rivals, and as people who know each other better than anyone else could. Akechi walks around as a fake, appealing version of himself that Akira sees through clearly. And Akira likes the bitter, vicious, angry version of Akechi because it's honest. That is the underlying intensity of people he knows is hidden behind the masks adults are convinced are their faces. (Where's your rage? RISE RISE RISE)

Akira and Akechi match so well not because they have a hidden ugliness, but because they view the pleasant masks people wear to excuse or ignore injustice as what are truly ugly. And their difference lies in Akira's belief that there is good in people while Akechi's upbringing has him convinced that humanity is rotten to its roots.

And Akechi wants Akira's beating, caring heart between his teeth because there is still a lonely little child in his own chest who loves Featherman and just wanted a better life for his mom. And who won't fucking die, no matter how Akechi tears the world apart to match his perception of it.

Akechi has spent years trying to kill his heart, which has done nothing but soaked his masks in his own blood.

Akira looks Akechi in the eyes, straight through those masks, and steals his heart from off the chopping block. And he keeps it close even as Akechi turns the blade on him in a rage borne of fear.

They're gay as hell thanks for coming to my ted talk. might improve after work

[kxtsukixoxo]

”boy i know what you desire, oh you’re such a bad bad liar”

PART 1

⋆.˚ dabi x fem!reader

“open up (y/n) i don’t have time for your games”

“i don’t have time for this shigs” you removed your glasses, walking towards your back door. the only people who knew about this side of your house, was the league and the only time they ever needed you was when they needed medical attention. you were a huge asset to shigariki and his bandits, atleast according to Kurogiri.

opening the door, you noticed a splayed collapsing figure thrown across shigarakis shoulder, “quick.” was all that left Shigarakis lips, you let out a deep breath rubbing the bridge of your nose, “one quick text wouldn’t hurt y’know, i don’t even have the room prepared” “i’ll pay double the price, i need him alive no matter what.” taking the deepest breath you possibly could, you made sure he knew you were pissed about this “toss him on the table” while you slid on a pair of nitrile gloves, grabbing a metal tray for whatever you need. Shigaraki held down the dark haired man, while he groaned in pain. From the many years you’ve worked with Tomura, he’s never showed this much value towards a person, you couldn’t imagine how valuable the guy is to him. “what happened to him?” “shot.”

deciding you should sedate the big guy, you grabbed a sedative from the bar fridge, grabbing a needle, flicking the bottle twice and transferring the drug. You made your way to him, “hold him down, i need him to calm down before i do anything else” Shigaraki nodded as held onto the man’s legs, you noticed he was covered in scars, adorned by piercings, dazed due to the amount of blood he’d already lost, looking at you through half shut eyes.

tending to his wound, you worked through layers of ripped and wounded skin, “just one bullet?” “yeah” “he’s lucky it’s only one” removing the gloves, you tossed them into the trash, not bothering to check if they actually made into the trash or flipped onto the floor. “i need him to be supervised at all times, he’s strictly on bed rest for the next 24 hours at least” Shigaraki looked at you in disbelief “you’re on thin ice with me shiggy” sighing as you decided to let him rest in your house til he was finally okay to move, Shigaraki left you alone with the absolute stranger, you don’t even know his name, how should you trust him? Kurogiri never mentioned him before, you had no idea the league was expanding. You decided to let the man rest comfortably in your bed, your quirk allowing you to be able to sustain his heavy weight ontop of your shoulders. You placed him carefully on top of your sheets, leaving him to rest while you scrubbed your bloody floor and the steel table.

two bottles of bleach and endless squirts of dish soap later, it looked like the mess never happened. You collapsed onto your couch, eyes drooping as tiredness washed over your face, the muscles in your body relaxed as you lulled into a deep sleep.

“where the fuck am i?” your eyes fluttered open, as you scanned the figure towering over you, noticing a blue flame exerting from his palm,“calm down hotcakes, i saved your life” you chuckled as the flame died “who are you?” “well aren’t you talkative, you should really sit down i don’t recommend moving considering the damage your body endured” stretching your body, deciding to finally get up, just before you could, he held you down, the flame in his palm igniting once again. “who are you.” you shrugged, “i suggest you put your flames away, it doesn’t make you any more of a man, and by hurting me, you disadvantage the league” he watched you carefully, narrowing his eyes as you grabbed a cig from your pocket and lit the end with the flame exerting from his palm “quite a mouth, huh” he chuckled as he grabbed the cig from you and took a drag “you really shouldn’t be smoking” you watched as he titled his head back, smoke leaving his lips.

“(y/n)”

“what?”

“my name.”

“dabi”

dabi would stop by every week with minor injuries, it confused you deeply, small wounds that he could stitch up himself or with the help of an acquaintance but he refused to. eventually you’d wait for him almost everyday, waiting for the rhythmic rap of his knuckles agaisnt your door to let him in, today was one of those days, you watched him walk into the room, clutching his bleeding arm. “i’m starting to think you have a little crush on me dabi” “don’t flatter yourself dollface, i’m just terrible at this stuff” you pouted mockingly “aw, i bet Kurogiri could stitch you up pretty good, don’t ya think?” he chuckled as you cleaned his wound attentively and carefully, “i like it better when you do it” “i know you do, there’s no other explanation as to why you show up at my door at 2 in the morning to stitch up your wounds when you could just ask one of shiggys bandits”

“go on a date with me”

[aperrywilliams]

Satellite Call. Part I: What You Kept Hiden from Me (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Words count for this part: 3.2k

Series summary: Your world crushes when Spencer is arrested. Between finding a way to get him out and keeping you afloat, there is something else you need to focus on, too. And even when you thought things couldn’t go worse, a tragedy makes you question if you can make it through.

Part I summary: One of Spencer's trips to Mexico ends badly, and you don't know how to react and what to do.

Series warnings: ANGST (with CAPS). 18+ (MDNI). Some heavy topics will be discussed and shown here. Prison arc, but mostly from Reader's perspective and Emily’s. More detailed under the cut.

Spencer lies to his wife. Drug consumption (against their will). Pregnancy symptoms. Spencer is in jail for more than three months. Hospital visits, doctor’s info dumping (not accurate). Alcohol consumption. Arguing. Strong language. A lot of crying. Emotional breakdowns. A car crash happens (as in the CM storyline). Character dies. More hospital things. Miscarriage. More angst. Depressing symptoms. Mourning. Self-doubt. Suicidal ideation, and almost consummated. Emily is everyone’s emotional support.

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Spencer thought you would be outside the correctional, just as Penelope is now, waiting for him. But you are not. He either didn't ask JJ why you weren't with her picking him up from inside in the first place. Spencer just assumed you didn't want to be in there, and he understood your reasons. You stopped visiting him because it was hard to see him locked up like that and not do anything about it. Or at least it was what you said to him in a letter Emily handed him during a visit time when you didn't show up. It was a month ago.

After a tight hug with Penelope, Spencer couldn't help but ask.

"Where is she?"

JJ, Luke, and Garcia exchange a troubled look, something Spencer sure does notice. When he sees Garcia's glassy eyes, his gaze settles on JJ and Luke for answers.

"Spence, she—" JJ doesn't know how to express a fact she knows will break her friend.

"Man, she - we should go to the hospital right now." Luke chooses to point out what to do instead of why.

"What?! Why? What happened?!" A frantic Spencer starts to question. What the hell had happened to you? Why are you in a hospital? There are too many questions in his brain right now.

With a hand on his shoulder, Luke gently propels him to start walking to the car.

"We are going to tell you everything, I swear. But let's go to the car, okay?" This time, it's JJ's turn to speak, trying to make Spencer move.

Spencer hasn't felt so confused and afraid even in the four months of being locked up in jail.

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Five months ago

Exhausted. It's the definition of how you feel after the draining case you just ended in Tampa. The jet is quiet enough to assume everyone is sleeping. But although the evident tiredness consumes your body and brain, you can't bring yourself to sleep. Instead, you look at your front, where your husband is reading a book. His eyes look heavy, but you know he can't sleep either, not before decompressing first. And for that, a good book tends to work most of the time.

It's amazing how you can love someone so much. After two years of marriage and a couple of years as coworkers and friends before that, it isn't easy to think of Spencer as anything less than your soulmate and the love of your life.

You are lost in your thoughts, and you don't notice Spencer's eyes on you, a lazy smile on his face.

"Where did that pretty little head go?"

You don't know if the blush on your cheeks is from being caught or from Spencer's loving tone. Maybe both.

"Nowhere in particular. Just wondering."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-mm."

"Care to share?" Spencer asks with curious eyes.

"Well," you start, smiling at him. "Since you brought it up and knowing we have two days off, what about a getaway out of the city, huh?"

It's not a sudden idea. You and Spencer have been thinking about doing something like that for a few weeks. After a chaotic couple of months at the BAU, you both need time for yourself.

Spencer's eyes softened—a little pout on his lips.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I promised my mom's doctor I would be in Houston tomorrow."

You don't remember Spencer telling you that. Could it be that you had forgotten?

"Oh. I didn't know. Something happened to Diana?"

Spencer shakes his head.

"No. Just the usual. The doctors are adjusting the treatment, and we're doing a follow-up, that's all."

Another source of stress for Spencer in the past months has been Diana's health. After an important decline, he got her mom into an experimental treatment in Houston. Spencer fought hard to get her admitted, and even if you weren't sure about it, you supported him in everything related to it. That's why you won't even protest losing another chance to spend time together.

"I'm sorry," Spencer apologizes when he sees you haven't said anything. Reaching for your hand, you hold it and squeeze it reassuringly.

"It's okay, Spence. You must be there. And maybe it's a good chance for me to have a long beauty sleep," you shrug. In all honesty, your body has been yelling for uninterrupted sleeping hours in the past weeks.

"I promise we'll make up for the lost time when I come back, okay?" Spencer offers, kissing your hand. You nod and give him a soothing smile.

Some weeks later, the loud ringing of your phone wakes you from your sleep. Not fully conscious of your surroundings, you pat to the right side of the bed, expecting to feel Spencer next to you, but it's empty. Then you remember you are alone because Spencer had to go to Houston again this week.

"Hello?"

"Did I wake you up?" A confused Emily asks at the other end of the call. You check your bedside clock, and it reads 11 AM. You have been sleeping for twelve hours now.

"Yeah," you rub your tired eyes. I think I caught something. My stomach feels funny, and I was so exhausted last night. What is it? Do we have a case?"

"No, but- Have you heard from Spencer?" Emily asks cautiously.

"He called last night and told me he would come back today." There is a tense silence between you both. "Emily, what's wrong?" you ask.

"You should come to the BAU." It's all she says, and you know something bad happened.

Everything has been a blur since Emily's call and your arrival at the BAU.

As you bolt into your boss's office, you see her, David, and Penelope there, a troubled expression on their faces.

Emily is who delivers the news. Spencer has been arrested in Mexico after a car chase and caught with drugs in the trunk.

It's like she is telling you a movie plot. There is no chance she is talking about Spencer, your husband. No, it can't be. Your husband left two days ago for Houston to check on his mom, as he has been doing in the past month.

But as much as you want to deny what you are hearing, Spencer's mugshot, appearing on Garcia's screen, is screaming the truth.

You think you might throw up. And you do. Quickly excusing yourself, you run to the nearest bathroom to empty your stomach.

It's the same Emily Prentiss who enters the bathroom after you and holds your hair as you keep kneeling before the toilet.

"We are going to bring him back. I swear. Everything is going to be okay," Emily assures you, rubbing your back.

You want to believe her, but not knowing why this is happening makes it hard to think clearly.

You insist on going to Matamoros with Luke and Rossi, and no one dares to protest. You're visibly upset and confused, but staying in Quantico is not an option.

On the plane, Emily sits in front of you. You know why.

"I swear I didn't know anything, Em. I'm as confused as everyone," you confess. "And it's killing me. I know Spencer never would do what they say he did, but either I can explain why he was there."

"I know, but you must have caught something. Has Spencer seemed nervous or extremely quiet lately? Maybe a phone call or something that made him change his mood."

You think for a moment. Spencer has indeed been more pensive in recent weeks, particularly since Diana joined the new treatment. It's also true he's told you less and less about how things are going with her. But you assume it's because he's been worried about everything going well and not because something bad was happening.

A memory suddenly appears in your mind. One night after arriving from the BAU, you were making something to eat, and Spencer left his phone on the counter while he took a shower. You looked at the device, thinking it might be from work, but the name 'Dr. Medina' appeared on the screen. You didn't recognize the name because, according to what Spencer had told you, her mom's new doctor was Dr. Hammond.

"After he checked his phone, he quickly called back, but he went to the bedroom to make the call. I didn't pay enough attention. I should have done—" You trail off, and Emily rubs your arm to comfort you.

"Hey, don't. We don't know if that has to do with what's going on, so let's not get ahead of ourselves."

It's easy to say but almost impossible to achieve, especially when, upon arriving at the Matamoros police station, in one of the cells, you see your husband lying on a bench with his eyes lost in the ceiling.

"Spencer?" you mumble, but loud enough to catch Spencer's attention. He sits and looks at you with eyebrows furrowed as if trying to remember who you are. Some feet behind you, Emily, Luke, and Rossi stand, witnessing your interaction.

Without saying anything, Spencer gets up and walks over to where you are, only separated by his cell bars. With that closeness, you can see the several cuts all over your husband's face; his clothes are torn. But what shocks you are Spencer's red and lost eyes. He is visibly high.

"Do you know who I am?" you ask almost in a whisper, scared of his answer. Spencer nods slowly, his eyes shifting from lost to sad. He recognizes you.

"I'm sorry." It's not much, but you can't hold it against him right now, not when answers are required in the first place.

"Baby, it's okay. We're going to get you out of here, okay? But you need to talk to us. Can you do that?"

It's not until a couple of hours later Spencer fully returns to himself, the effects of the drugs leaving his body.

For the sake of the case, you stay out of it while Spencer tells the team what happened. You don’t want Spencer to feel uncomfortable admitting he has lied to you for weeks.

After Emily conducts a cognitive interview to get details that could help, Spencer returns to his cell. When Emily, Luke, and Rossi leave the police station to search for evidence, only you are left there with him.

Spencer looks embarrassed, and you can feel the gears in his head turning as he tries to find a way to talk to you. When he comes empty of words, he addresses you instead.

"Can you please say something?" His voice is tentative and pained.

"I don't know what you want me to say," you reply honestly.

Spencer sighs deeply. "Tell me whatever you're thinking now. Yell at me, tell me I'm a fucking liar, that I dragged you into this mess, tell me I'm a terrible husband."

You consider his words for a moment. Is it true everything Spencer says is what you're thinking? It probably is, but you don't feel like you have the energy to bring it out the way he wants. However, there is one underlying question that has been on your mind since all this started.

"Why? Why you kept it from me? You don't trust me enough to tell me those things?"

"No, don't say that. I do trust you," Spencer rushes to say, but he knows it's a weak defense considering the circumstances.

"Then I don't get it. Why, Spencer?" Your tone isn't accusatory but sad. You could have helped him if you had known. But he, for some reason, decided against it.

"I was trying to protect you," he says and shakes his head. "I know it sounds stupid now we are here, but it's true. I didn't want you to worry about my mom's situation. I'm so sorry."

Spencer is probably telling the truth, but it doesn't make you feel better. Not seeing him behind bars like this.

The helplessness of not having anticipated this situation and now being unable to do anything to solve it eats you up inside. Despite that, you know Spencer is having it worse. So you, as his partner and who loves him the way you never loved anyone, decide to put your feelings aside to be his support at this difficult moment.

"It's okay," you assure him, placing your hands between the bars to hold his. Spencer is quick to respond and grabs onto your hands as if you were a lifeline to him. "We'll figure it out."

Spencer's eyes fill with tears as he repeatedly murmurs, 'Thank you' and 'I love you.'

You have always considered yourself a strong and tenacious woman. Since you were a kid, you have been independent and able to overcome everything that came your way. But adult life has continued to test you, and this has been no exception. When you find out Nadie Ramos has been murdered and all the evidence points to Spencer, you're about to break down. Still, you can't because if you do, who's going to support your husband? You have to be strong. Some reprieve emerges when you learn Ramos is an American citizen and Spencer can be prosecuted on American soil.

Baby steps.

The jet is mostly silent, save for Emily's occasional page-turning or Luke's typing on his phone. Rossi seems to be sleeping. You and Spencer are in one of the back seats. Spencer's head is in your lap while you absentmindedly play with his hair, looking at the night sky out the window.

"You think Scratch is behind this?" Spencer asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. You consider your answer for a couple of seconds.

"I do. I mean, it's such a damn elaborate plan. I can't think of anyone but Scratch."

Spencer assumes a sitting position and examines your face. He knows you are upset. Cupping your cheeks, he looks directly at your eyes.

"I have no words to say how sorry I am. And I promise to make it up to you for the rest of my life when this is over."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. When you open them again, you are met with Spencer's expecting gaze.

"I know you will." And you really think that. "I love you, Spencer. I'm sure we are going to get through this." Your voice trembles with emotion, but your words seal a promise you mean to keep.

"And I love you. So so much. God, I'm so lucky to have you." Spencer's arms envelope you in a tight embrace. You melt into him, breathing his scent. It's the way you usually use to ground yourself. It's hard right now because, once the jet lands in Virginia, Spencer will get snatched from you, for God knows how much time it will take.

When the BAU elevator doors open, you find JJ, Penelope, and Tara waiting for you all. Spencer has his cuffed hands covered with your FBI jacket so as not to attract too much attention. Garcia is the first to rush forward and hug him.

You only have fifteen minutes. Then, the police officers will take him to the station to book him and leave him in a cell.

JJ and Tara hug him, too. You assume they are giving him reassuring words, something you know he needs right now. From your peripheral, you see Emily exchange glances with Stephen and retreating to Emily's office. You can't say what's going on, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you follow them. You know Tara, Penelope, and JJ will keep Spencer occupied for a couple more minutes.

"What? Is the bureau abandoning him?" You hear Emily ask, visibly upset.

"They said Reid traveled with his personal passport and didn't inform the office. That's enough for them to step aside," Stephen explains.

"So we don't have legal support," Emily confirms, and Stephen nods.

You can't help but interrupt the conversation.

"What? Spencer will not have a defense?" Both Emily and Stephen startle and turn to see you. While Stephen gives you an apologetic look, Emily is quick to speak.

"Not provided by the FBI, but it doesn't mean Spencer will be alone in this. We'll find a lawyer for him."

"They do want to bury this, don't they? It's bad publicity, and Spencer will fall for it," you start to complain, your breathing picking up speed.

"Hey! We won't let that happen, do you hear me?" your boss steadies you and makes you look at her with both hands on your shoulders. "But for now, Spencer can't know. Not until we get this figured out."

As in cue, you look through Emily's window and see Spencer still chatting with JJ and Penelope.

"This is a nightmare," you mumble. Emily squeezes your shoulder.

"We're going to solve it, I promise."

You see Spencer looking around with a frown. Penelope and JJ are still talking to him, but Spencer seems to be looking for something, better said, someone: you. Cautiously, you descend the stairs to join him. You know you don’t have much time, and you know you can’t tell him about the lack of a lawyer.

“Hey,” Spencer calls when he finally sees you.

“Sorry, I went to talk to Emily about something real quick while giving you time with the team.” You don’t want to delve into specifics and hope Spencer doesn't ask about it.

“Thank you. Can we talk more privately?”

“Sure.” You both move to a corner with fewer people around. Spencer’s eyes trail every part of your face as he wants to engrave you in his memory. At the lack of words, you frown. “Spencer?”

“I know this isn’t going to be easy. I’m terrified, and not just for me. I’m scared about how this will affect you and us. I just want to say that I love you with all my heart, but I will understand if this becomes too much. You don't owe me anything. Don’t feel obligated-”

“Stop! Stop right there. Don’t even try to finish that sentence,” you rush to cut him off.

“But-”

“No. You are my husband. You are the love of my life. You are the person I chose to share my life with. In thick and thin, remember?” You cup his face so he can look directly at your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Physically, we’ll be apart, but I won’t rest until I get you out, and we'll be together again, okay?”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears, and so do yours. He leans down to catch your lips with his. He can’t hold you - he’s cuffed - but for now, you can do that work. Lacing your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss, and you can feel your tears mixing.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” Spencer mumbles on your lips.

“I know you will,” you mumble back before kissing him again.

Emily clearing her throat takes you both out of your bubble.

“I’m sorry, guys, but it’s time. Police are here,” she apologetically announces. You look at Spencer, and he nods. It's time. With a last lingering kiss and an ‘I love you,’ he turns and follows Emily down the hall. Spencer doesn't turn around because he knows if he does and looks at you, he won’t be able to leave you there.

You watch him walk away and wonder if this nightmare will end soon. You don't know if you'll have the strength to hold on to him and yourself and if the love you share will be enough to keep the hope of a better tomorrow alive.

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Next part

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[woozinhos]

heyy beautiful !!!

Congratulations on your 1K !! Love your fics btw 😘

Was wondering if you could write love-making with DK

(With a pinch of aftercare)

Feel free to ignore if uncomfortable 😚😚

LOVE YAA😘💗🎀🫶🏻

Notes: finally a dk fic my ult bias guy teheheh enjoyyy

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Smut below the cut

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Dokyeom pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he walked over to the bed. He sat down and gently laid you down, his hands running up and down your arms in a soothing gesture.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with love and adoration. "And so perfect." He began to kiss you softly, his lips gentle and tender against yours. His hands roamed over your body, tracing patterns on your skin as he kissed you slowly and deeply. As the kiss continued, Dokyeom's hands moved lower, his fingers massaging your muscles and easing any tension in your body. He pulled back slightly, his lips trailing a path down your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake.

"You're so tense," he murmured against your skin. "Let me take care of you." Dokyeom continued to lavish you with gentle touches and kisses, his fingers working out any knots in your muscles. He could feel the tension slowly leaving your body as he tended to you, his touch filled with love and care. He whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he massaged you, his words of praise and affection making your heart flutter. Dokyeom finally finished the massage, his hands resting on your hips as he looked down at you. He smiled softly, his eyes filled with love and admiration. "You're so relaxed now," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "You deserve to feel good."

"Thank you," you said, your voice filled with contentment. "That was amazing. I feel like I'm floating." Dokyeom chuckled and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"I'm glad I could make you feel that way," he replied, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "You deserve to feel loved and taken care of." Dokyeom continued to kiss your face, his lips moving across your forehead, cheeks, and nose. He showered you with affection, each kiss filled with tenderness and love. "I love you so much," he murmured between kisses. "You're everything to me." Dokyeom's voice was low and sultry as he whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Will you let me make love to you?" he repeated, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your earlobe. "I want to show you just how much I love and adore you." Dokyeom's voice was filled with desire as he spoke, his hands roaming over your body. "I just want you so badly," he confessed, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist. "I need you, right now."

"I want you too," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I need you to make me feel good." Dokyeom's smile widened at your words, his eyes darkening with desire. "Good," he said, his voice husky. "Because I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to make sure you feel every bit of pleasure I can give you."

He gently rolled you onto your back, positioning himself between your legs. He looked down at you, his gaze filled with lust and love. "You're so beautiful," he said again, his hands tracing the curves of your body. "I could look at you all day and never get tired of it." Dokyeom's hands moved lower, slowly removing your clothes, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. He leaned down to kiss your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone.

"I love the way you respond to my touch," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "The way you shiver and arch into me." Dokyeom's lips moved up to your ear as he spoke, his voice a sultry whisper. "Can I eat you out, baby?" he asked, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I want to taste you so badly." You nodded, your body already aching for his touch. Dokyeom smiled and began to kiss his way down your body, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your skin.

He paused when he reached your inner thighs, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "You're already so wet for me," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "I can't wait to taste you." Without further ado, Dokyeom's mouth found its way to your most sensitive spot, his tongue licking and teasing you. He took his time, savoring every moment, as he pleasured you with his mouth.

His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he worked you with his tongue. Dokyeom's movements were slow and deliberate, each stroke of his tongue a testament to his passion for you. He took his time, making sure to drive you wild with desire before finally giving you the release you craved. He knew exactly what you liked, and he used that knowledge to bring you to the brink of ecstasy, his tongue working in perfect rhythm with your body.

As you gasped and moaned in pleasure, Dokyeom reached up to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He held onto your hand tightly, anchoring you to him as he continued to pleasure you. His grip was firm, his touch reassuring and possessive at the same time. Dokyeom's grip on your hand tightened as he felt you responding to his touch even more, your body writhing beneath him. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

He knew he was driving you to the edge, and he was determined to take you over it. Dokyeom looked up at you, his eyes filled with need and desire. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his chest heaving with effort. "Please," he said, his voice hoarse with lust. "I need to be inside you. I need to feel you wrapped around me." He positioned himself over you, his body hovering above yours as he looked down at you with intense love and passion.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness. You looked down at his body, your eyes drawn to his erection. He was hard and ready for you, the tip glistening with desire. He noticed your gaze and smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "Yes," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "I'm more than ready for you." Dokyeom smiled and leaned down to kiss you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as he positioned himself at your entrance.

He broke the kiss and looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed into you, his gaze filled with love and possessiveness. You gasped as he filled you, your body adjusting to his size. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. He kissed your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone as he began to move slowly, his thrusts deep and deliberate. Dokyeom moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust of his hips bringing you closer to ecstasy. He took his time, savoring the feel of you around him, as he made love to you with all the tenderness and love in his heart.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing and squeezing, as he kissed and whispered words of love into your ear. Your body responded to his every touch, arching up to meet his thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, as the pleasure built within you. Dokyeom moaned against your skin, his movements becoming more urgent as he felt you clenching around him. He knew you were close to coming undone.

Dokyeom kept his pace slow and steady, even as your body begged for release. He knew that he wanted to draw out this moment for as long as possible, to make it last and cherish every second. He continued to kiss and caress you, his body moving in perfect harmony with yours, as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of bliss. Your breathing became ragged as the pleasure built within you, your body on fire with need. Dokyeom could sense that you were nearing your breaking point, and he quickened his pace ever so slightly, his thrusts becoming more urgent.

He looked down at you, his eyes burning with desire, and whispered, "Come for me, baby. Let go." Dokyeom increased the pace of his thrusts, his body moving faster against yours as he chased his own release. He was now lost in the moment, consumed by the need to make you both feel good. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he moved, his body driving into you with a fierce intensity. He could feel your body tightening around him, signaling that you were close to coming undone.

You could feel the pleasure building within you like a tidal wave, growing stronger and stronger with each thrust. Dokyeom was driving you closer and closer to the edge, his body moving with a wild abandon. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he pushed you towards the precipice. The kiss broke, and Dokyeom buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He was now panting heavily, his body slick with sweat as he moved against you.

"I'm close," he gasped, his voice strained with desire. "Come with me, baby. Come for me now." Your body obeyed his command, and you came undone beneath him, your orgasm washing over you in a wave of ecstasy. You clung to him, your body trembling with pleasure as you cried out his name. Dokyeom followed soon after, his own release coming in a powerful burst. He collapsed on top of you, his body shaking with the force of his climax. He lay there, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His body was still pressed against yours, his weight a comforting presence.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, placing soft kisses on your skin as he came down from his high. Dokyeom slowly pulled out of you and rolled onto his side, pulling you into his arms. He held you close, his body still trembling slightly from the intensity of your lovemaking. He gently stroked your hair and whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his touch tender and loving. He wanted to make sure you were okay and that you knew how much he cared for you.

He continued to hold you close, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your skin. He whispered words of love and praise, telling you how beautiful and amazing you were. He planted soft kisses on your forehead and cheeks, his touch gentle and caring. He was fully focused on making sure you were comfortable and cared for after what you had just shared. Dokyeom wrapped a blanket around you, tucking you in snugly. He then got up and grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table, bringing it to you.

"Here, drink this," he said, handing you the glass. "You must be thirsty after all that." You took the glass and drank the water gratefully, feeling a bit weak and tired after the intense lovemaking. Dokyeom watched you with a loving gaze, his eyes filled with tenderness and care.

He took the empty glass from you and set it aside, then laid back down beside you, pulling you close again. Dokyeom pulled you into his arms and snuggled you tightly, his body warm and comforting. He held you close to his chest, his heartbeat a steady and soothing rhythm. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent as he stroked your back gently. The room was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing and the occasional rustle of the blanket.

[yapihapi]

You’ve been the perfect student ever since kindergarten. The school has been blessed to have you—student leader, consistent top achiever, and the school’s pride in academic competitions. Medals, awards—you’ve brought home so many. You’ve always been outstanding.

But then Nagi transferred to your school. Suddenly, everything changed.

It felt like you were perpetually in second place, and no matter what you achieved, there was always this gnawing feeling of inadequacy.

Even when the list came out, showing that you scored higher than him, it didn’t feel like a win. He always did it so effortlessly.

You sat in the front row, dedicated, writing notes and reviewing endlessly. But when you glanced at Nagi in the back, you’d always catch him sleeping at his desk, oblivious to the world. It frustrated you to no end.

During quizzes and exams, he’d still get high marks, but his carefree attitude made it seem unfair. While you sacrificed sleep and poured every ounce of energy into studying, he simply coasted. Yet he remained unbothered, like he wasn’t trying at all.

You were jealous.

Nagi noticed your furrowed brows whenever your eyes met, but he didn’t understand why. You’d never even spoken to each other. To him, you were the model student—perfect, composed, and untouchable. But he was just that guy in the back of the class, minding his own business.

When midterms came, the pressure was unbearable. You spent endless hours reviewing and juggling your responsibilities. The weight of expectations, the relentless need to prove yourself—it consumed you.

Then came the exam day. You answered the test quickly, confident in your preparation. But as you handed in your paper, you noticed Nagi did the same, just minutes after you. You glanced at him in disbelief. Was he really that gifted, or was it luck?

As the class emptied, you stayed behind to pack your things. Nagi lingered too, his feet propped up on a chair, phone in hand, looking as relaxed as ever.

Then it happened—a sudden, warm sensation in your nose.

“Huh?” you muttered as you touched your upper lip. Blood.

Nagi furrowed his brows when he glanced at you. He put down his phone, grabbed tissues from his bag, and rushed to your side.

“Here,” he said softly, handing you the tissues.

You stared at him, startled by his uncharacteristic concern. He didn’t stop there. Gently, he guided you to the clinic, one hand lightly supporting your arm.

At the clinic, the nurse tended to you, cleaning you up and ensuring you were fine. Once everything was settled, you stepped out, adjusting your bag and ready to head home.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw him. Nagi was leaning against the wall just outside the clinic, a lollipop in his mouth. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling, deep in thought.

You tried to walk past him, hoping to avoid an awkward interaction, but after a few steps, he spoke.

“Why do you despise me so much?”

You froze, his question hanging in the air. Slowly, you turned around, meeting his confused gaze.

“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly, though your voice wavered. “I’m… jealous of you.”

His confusion deepened. “Jealous?”

You sighed, the weight of your feelings spilling out. “You’re so good at academics, but you barely try. I work myself to exhaustion, and I still feel like it’s not enough. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—I have to push myself because of the standards I’ve set. Then you come along, doing the bare minimum, and it makes me feel… small. Like I’m stupid.”

He blinked, stunned into silence.

“I just wanted to feel like I was enough,” you continued, voice trembling. “But when you showed up, it felt like I had to work even harder just to keep up. I’ve never felt this way before.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” you replied quickly. “This is childish. I shouldn’t even feel this way.”

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Honestly, I kind of disliked you too at first. I thought you were just a spoiled rich girl who had everything handed to her. But I didn’t realize…” He trailed off, exhaling deeply. “You really do deserve the top spot. I don’t even care about ranks—” He paused, muttering to himself. “Why am I even explaining this?”

You gave a small nod, avoiding his gaze. “I see,” you said quietly, the bitterness still lingering in your voice as you turned away.

The rest of the school year didn’t go as you expected. Somehow, you and Nagi became close. He wasn’t as infuriating as you’d thought—laid-back, yes, but also oddly insightful in his own way. The tension between you hadn’t completely disappeared, but it had softened into something more tolerable, almost unspoken.

One afternoon, you found yourself sitting beside him on a bridge, both of your feet dangling over the edge.

“Do you always come here?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at the horizon. “It helps me clear my mind.”

The golden sunlight bathed your face, softening your usually sharp features. For the first time, Nagi saw you relaxed—genuinely at peace.

He watched you, noticing details he’d overlooked before. The way your hair caught the sunlight, the faint curve of your lips when you smiled. It struck him.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “I think you’re amazing. Not because of your grades or your accomplishments. Just… you.” He hesitated, his gaze softening. “But you should take care of yourself more. You push yourself so hard, and you don’t deserve to burn out trying to meet everyone else’s expectations.”

You turned to him, startled by his sincerity. His words lingered in the air, disarming you. For once, the competition didn’t matter. Sitting there with him, bathed in the warmth of the setting sun, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. It was strange, but for the first time, you didn’t feel the need to prove anything.

And maybe, just maybe, the one-sided rivalry had finally come to an end. It wasn’t about winning or losing anymore, but about understanding. You realized that chasing perfection wasn’t the only way to prove your worth, and perhaps Nagi wasn’t the antagonist you made him out to be. Instead, he was someone who challenged the way you saw yourself—someone who, without meaning to, helped you see things differently.

[fee224]

Love calls from miles away

Bf!rafe x overlooked!reader

MASTERLIST

Rafe had left to Morocco with promises you presumed were hollow. Your mind tended to go to the pessimist dark room and stay there. The night he left, you half convinced yourself there was no work trip, this was his way of tapping out and you’d probably see him at the club the following day.

After crying yourself to sleep under the comfort of your own warm duvet, you were surprised to be woken by your phone singing rather than your fluffy alarm clock.

The contact name sent a warm tingle through your stomach as you accepted the call. “Rafe?” You gulped.

“Hey baby, I just landed, thought I’d ring to let you know” his voice was tired too and you quickly wiped the sleep out of your eyes to lean against your headboard. “You’re there? Is it nice rafe?” You whispered, desperate not to wake the mutt at the end of your bed.

“Sure, Little hotter than the obx but we’ll adjust hey? Shit I didn’t even think of the obx, what time is it over there?”

“Eh nine o clock, I’m just watching a movie” you lied, coughing the sleepiness out of your throat, you wanted to keep talking to your boyfriend.

“Yeah? What movie?” He asked patiently, clearly not calling for a reason as you smiled distracted by his deep voice. “Ah legally blonde, trying to get in a study mood for when college starts” you spoke softly, calmly and slowly. The silence comforting, and rafes breathing soothing you.

“Legally blonde” he ticked his tongue, attempting to make conversation about the movie he’s never heard of. “Cute?” He shook his head to himself as you giggled.

“You wanna see this place we are staying, place is a fucking palace” your feet intertwined underneath the sheets, listening intently about the interior design of said palace.

“I thought ward would be that type of dad, to buy super big palaces as a place to stay” you mused from the other line as he hummed, not burdening you with what exactly he had to deal with in terms of ward, talking about him as a man focussed on business and priorities, which wasn’t a lie.

The phone call ended twenty minutes later with rafe needing a shower before dinner reservations. The next call came a day later, day one being filled with texts, day two came with a FaceTime.

You were sitting at your vanity, applying expensive skin care when the call came and you placed it against your mirror.

It must have been late for him because he was in bed, darkness filling most of his room, as he laid shirtless against the wooden headboard.

He made a conscious effort not to mention your small pink silk crop top that made your nipples exposed, and every time you would lean across the desk, he was gifted with a pretty view. He hoped the darkness in his room would help hide the fact he was staring.

“And this one is a glazing milk, I’m pretty sure this is what makes my skin so soft, my face skin of course because on my body skin I just use moisturising lotion” you rolled your eyes at yourself, still rambling as you poured the liquid into your hands.

“Yeah? What’s next baby?” He sounded out of breath, and his panting made your head snap to the camera, just to be met with his unclear face.

“Hmm” you rummaged around your drawer “this! It’s like a lip mask, for while I do the rest of my make up, then I’ll take it off and my lips will be soft” you show it to the camera.

“Mmmhm” his camera was shaky and you scratched your head watching him

“rafe i cant really see you”

“That’s okay, I can see you” he stifled as you poured, accepting his answer and applying the strawberry lip mask, sniffing the fragrance while you did.

You were the one that had to hang up this time, and not because you had to change into your dress, because he insisted you could do it on camera, but when your mother yelled from downstairs that the car was leaving in two minutes for brunch, you scrambled down.

The third call came on Sunday, the day before he was back. You were missing rafe the most this day. You had just got back from walking Simmons at his favourite beach, and you were making chocolate cupcakes for rafe when he got back tomorrow.

“Hi rafe” you smiled wide, placing him against the wall while mixing the batter in your favourite pink baking bowl. You couldn’t make out the background, just his pretty tanned face, and his navy blue polo.

“Sweetheart” he mused happily. His hand coming behind his head, rubbing his hair as you smiled back. The pair of you staring at each other wordlessly, endearingly.

“Are you baking?” His eyes shifted from your face to the ingredients sprawled across the counter, and the batter on your cheek.

“Mhm” you answered with an exaggerated nod and smug smile. Teasing was something anybody rarely saw, but it was one of rafes favourite trait of yours, the way you’d giggle at his fake begging, shaking your head so cutely.

“You gonna tell me?” He smiled knowingly as you stirred with your spatula, focussed on the base.

You smiled softly at the camera “uh uh” you snorted putting the mixture down to go find cupcake cases. “It’s a surprise rafe! Ever heard of one” you rolled your eyes, which he chuckled at, amused by what your idea of banter entailed. Entertained by anything that came out of your silly mouth.

“When do I get my surprise” he set you down on the coffee table, leaning back to cross his arms and manspread as you stared at him complacently. “Hmm” you responded clearly distracted by the camera.

“You there baby?” He chuckled at camera as you nodded dumbly.

“I miss you rafe”

“Miss you too sweets” his smile dropped, replaced by something more tender as you quickly made a silly excuse about the oven, before hanging up to quickly rush to the bathroom and wipe your tears.

You clicked your phone open to see a small message

One more sleep xx

- fee xxx

[talenlee]

4e: The Pinball Wizard

Back in the heydays of the 4th edition community being a community that all met on a single forum and shared a common lexicon and all that, there were phrases, truisms, slang and tropes we recognised and used to speed our way through conversations. This was true of 3rd edition too, since the community was actually, broadly speaking, the same thing, but that community kind of uprooted itself and moved on to other places, while the 4th edition remnant seems to have not really coalesced in a subsequent form. We don’t really have a 1d4chan or Brilliant Gameologists or deeply intimidating Pathfinder Subreddit as places to scare people off, and instead it’s stuff like…

Well, this blog post might get shared on the subreddit. Hi reddit! I like you even if we don’t agree about Blackguards!

Anyway, thing is, there are things that now have no meaning except their place in 4th edition conversations, and are functionally un-googleable because they’re very generic ways of just using words, or maybe, were named after something else. Back in City of Heroes there was a powerful supergroup known as the Green Machine, that was entirely team-buffing healers that refused to heal, and that’s not a term you can search for meaningfully. Another group that existed and that shares its title with today’s subject was a group of kinetics, where everyone could use powers to make everyone else fire off at super speed, showing you don’t need good powers if you can fire off your best powers every second.

They called themselves the Pinball Wizards, and now, if you go look for what that means in 4th edition D&D you kinda find nothing.

Here’s the story of one of the more distinct power level errata of D&D 4th edition, where in 2011, a single sweeping change to the way the rules worked destroyed a strategy and in the process brought something ridiculous down to merely really good.

This build was a combination of two basic parts, which were well and strictly defined under 4th edition rules. The first is zones. A zone is an effect, made by a power with the ‘zone’ keyword so you knew where to look for it, that looks at that area for some reason. Some zones are used for things like a healing aura, or a space that a character can move around in freely, but very commonly, a zone is used to represent an effect that’s bad that lasts. This can be a bunch of falling shards of glass, a cloud of toxic venom that hovers in a space, or a ground teeming with sharp, jagged vines on thorns.

Zones are extremely cool, make no mistake, and they tend to fall into the toolkit of the Controller. Controllers want to deprive enemies of actions, and zones are a great way to give enemies a bad choice: Stay in an area to do something they want to do, or spend actions getting out of it. Since zones do a good job of representing effects like rings of fire, or clouds of poison, or raining ice, it’s stuff that hits the wizardy feeling of editions past.

The other part of this is forced movement. 4th edition had a family of these effects known by their more specific names of push pull slide, but these are ways to change where enemies are positioned and everyone who complains about fighters in 4th edition is usually complaining about these and they are cowards. These effects show up everywhere, but undeniably, if you’re looking at the people who will do the most of them, you want controllers.

The build that worked out of this was known as the Pinball Wizard. You played a Wizard who used one of a number of long-lasting powers that created a zone that did something dangerous when someone entered it. Then you used your other powers to slide something in and out of that zone over and over again. Wizards got more than a few powers that did slides, and they got access to items and feats that improved their slides. You could use a slide effect to turn two squares of slide movement (and we’re talking like, 4-8 squares for builds that are trying) into like, 40 damage.

At level 2, when tanks are happy to have 40 hit points.

Anyway, you might be thinking the sensible solution is to make it so that these zone powers are limited in how often they can have their effect – and it kinda makes sense, narratively, in the context of the world, right? Like, an enemy or person isn’t going to breathe more if they run back and forth through a poison cloud.

In 2011, Wizards released an update to the compendium that added that rules information to every single damaging zone power in the game, with a note of the when, and an article explaining why they did it. It was a perfectly reasonable rules update made through a digital system they had and realistically speaking, the only thing to mourn is that there’s now no good reason to ever let a player get away with this use of these powers together, because it’s pretty silly.

The system that was left after this change was obviously a better system. It had a clear, specific template that it could use thereafter and while it did lose some edge cases, it was implemented thoroughly and comprehensively in a way 3rd edition almost never managed to execute. This was because of a central control system, the compendium, but it also spoke to a problem that a game normally about disconnecting and engaging with a very material play space was going to have to confront head-on.

Basically: This kind of errata existed in the rules, sure, and if you download a rules compendium, every power that can be changed mentions the 2011 change. But the books don’t. The books still have the rules change and to learn how the game works, you have to know it. Or you have to use a digital compendium, which presents a new problem for a game that is meant to work with paper and dice.

These were inevitable evolutions of technology and they interest me because they kinda present problems and solutions at scale. The actual problem of a wizard stacking a bunch of redundant effects together to kick an enemy through the boundary of their zones as a single incident was not a meaningful problem to a table. If it’s a problem, it’s a problem that has an administrative option to work with – the Dungeonmaster can look at it, and decide it’s too good and talk to the players about it. That problem is solvable almost instantly if everyone in the group and game has a good relationship and respects the DM.

But if you made the game, you don’t have a problem that can be solved on the spot. You have a problem of all the players, in a communal space, who bring it up and ask if it makes sense and consult with one another and now you have the problem that looks like at scale your product has a flaw and you need to address it to make that flaw not look like you don’t know what you’re talking about. Oh, what makes a good game is important here, it isn’t not important.

It is neither a good thing nor a bad thing.

It is a thing that few games get, not really, unless they’re very big, and trying to do a lot. It’s barely something that even the next tier down of games need to care about. Errata happens, people care about making the books better. But most people don’t have a comprehensive central database where they can update all the powers that use a particular wording.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[maybeafrog-blog]

Leonardo and Autism

I am fascinated by the amount of autistic that 2012 Leo is, because unlike Donnie’s convenient tech savant situation, Leo’s autistic traits are solidly plot neutral to negative? He’s obsessed with rewatching one specific TV show (a cartoon with a repetitive and predictable plot), uses his favorite character to script his Leader Speeches to try to get his team to listen. He generally tries to plan every mission in detail and gets very frustrated when his brothers don’t go along with it/when plans have to be changed (at first- he gets more flexible over time). Leo also has an incredibly black and white understanding of morality and tends to take Splinter's teaching's as fact rather than advice, which can make him fairly gullible and easy to manipulate (the Karai situation), and he probably has the least social intelligence of his brothers.

It's interesting that the traits that make Leonardo such a paragon across most iterations have such autistic vibes. 2003 Leo is obsessed with honor but has a ridiculously hard time recognizing his own emotions (you kumquat!), and MM Leo's heroic personality can't be blamed on Splinter without that good Hamato ninja juice, so like, he's just like that. It sorta reminds me of anecdotes about undiagnosed autistic/adhd people thriving in the military-- "Ninja training" and all the rules that come with it probably works like crack on that neurodivergent turtle brain. Kinda makes me wonder about Rise Leonardo and his comparatively very lax upbringing-- obvi the guy would still be a lot more social and silly compared to most Leos, I think he's more ADHD than autistic, but how different would he be if he were trained in the structure of 2003 or 2012 Splinter?

Anyway, give me a Leo who trains everyday not just to get stronger, but because of how badly he needs that routine. How does he react when it's broken? How does he cope with being away from home during the farmhouse arc? Maybe a Leo with sensitive hearing that makes him great at noticing when they're being followed, but overwhelms him when he's too close to street level traffic? A Leo that tries to suppress his stims because that's not very cool stoic ninja of him? How would his brothers react to a Leo who's calm and focused in the midst of battle finally shutting or melting down over something seemingly small?

Also, 2012 Leo is very cute when he gets excited about his space show and it makes me want to squish his dumb turtle face. Give Leos More Hobbies (looking at you Mutant Mayhem, I'm glad he draws his silly lil comics in Tales but I'm concerned all his interests are gonna revolve around April or Ninja Responsibilities. My boy already has anxiety this shit is too much pressure for him.)

[deusvervewrites]

First of all: Happy Birthday Deus!

Secondly, I have more thoughts about the whole "The Villain must Die" thing. You already allude to it in your original post, but one of the reasons that people tend to dislike it is definitely the fact that, if they were to acknowledge & accept it, they feel they would also have to "blame" themselves for liking "bad" media that does not follow this "rule".

You point out Star Wars, so some people will simply read this as "If you enjoyed Star Wars, specifically Palpatine dying, YOU ARE A BAD PERSON!"

Which is not what you said, (and I assume not what you meant) but some people will just read this into things, and feel like they have failed some invisible "vibe check" or something by liking the "wrong" media, and it all starts becoming some weird purity test even if it's often only in peoples head.

Like, stop reinventing Catholicism over here, stories can have different meanings and lessons, and one single thing doesn't mean that the story is no forever tainted and everyone who ever liked it should be branded as evil or some-such nonsense.

To use an extreme example, Metal Gear Rising Revengeance very VERY much kills its villains. It also has a very strong and important message about politics and ideology and how people justify atrocities in it. It's a different kind of story with a different kind of message compared to things like BNHA. Also, it even implies itself that the protagonist might have been wrong in killing his enemies, the fact that he did so anyway and that that was the only way he could see is a flaw that the game directly points out! So good news, liking MGR doesn't make you "bad" just as liking SU or BNHA doesn't mark you as inherently "good" or "righteous".

People need to take a step back and consider that not everything is an attack on them or what they like. Good stories are allowed to have flaws. Because most of them do. Any you are still allowed to like them. That's also fine. You can even like something and criticize it anyway, that's allowed!

This is getting long, so I want to end with another example that helped me realize how much I love villains surviving:

Fairy Tail, and the Arc of Jellal. Long Story short, when we first meet Jellal he is THE WORST. Absolute scum of the earth, sadistic maniacal supervillain that, inevitably, ends up blown up in a big anime battle.

Except, nope, ~2 arcs later, he is back, with amnesia, and involved in some other villains plot. Over the course of the arc he works with the heroes but then regains his memory and is utterly devastated to learn who he was in the past, to the point that he tries to noble suicide sacrifice himself to stop the villain. It does not stop the villain, but he still wants to go through with it to "atone", until the hero that he had hurt to most slaps him in the face and yells at him to Live and Struggle.

Because his death wont change anything. It wont heal those he hurt, or revive those he killed. He can only make up for this, only truly become better, by living.

And, spoiler, he does not sacrifice himself, but instead starts to go on a long and arduous and messy journey of atonement and it absolutely rocks. It makes him and his story a million times better than if he had died.

Anyways, sorry for the second wall of text I send you today, once again, Happy Birthday and best wishes!

One of the many things I love about Metal Gear Rising Revengeance's dialogue on the nature of violence is that, as you said, Raidon loses the moral victory at the end. When he kills Senator Armstrong, Armstrong names Raidon as the inheritor of his ideals that Might Makes Right. The entire game shows Raidon martyring himself by sacrificing his morals in an effort to save lives, implicitly comparing this to real-world warfare

[novashelby]

"I Once Saw You"- Tommy Shelby x Reader Angst

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader Warnings: Hints of depression-otherwise, nothing Word Count: 250 Summary: She is upset that Tommy returned a new man.

There was a time in her life where she saw him in everything peaceful. In the midst of the dark and gray city, engulfed in factory dust and bustling mayhem, she found him in the small trinkets of serenity. The smell of fresh bread every time the bakery doors opened reminded her of his warmth; like a hug on a hard day. Or the flowers that popped up around the city in people’s windows; a bit of color in the clouds that rested above. It represented his smile that wore bright and large. And the school children on her way to work; their laughs of glee and innocence was him and hers last string of youth. They were his laughs and jokes, and insistent pestering that never seemed to annoy her. It was there, weaved in the crevices of the world around them. 

But that was before. After the tunnels cut and scarred him, sucking out everything that made him human and leaving whatever was left. The bread, the laughing, the flowers…they all soon meant nothing. What she once saw in them, she turned to dark clouds, dusty air, and gray life. He no longer hugged like warm bread. Instead, he hardly hugged at all. His smile became smaller until it was nothing more than a burden to his emotions and his laugh was soulless, often accompanied by alcohol. 

And when it became too much, she one day asked, “Tommy, why do you never smile for me?”

Simply, he looked over at her, showing more emotion and attention to his cigarette. “You should go home and tend to things that mean something.”

[shiftingdisaster]

My Percy Jackson DR Intro ★*•.

About me

ᯓ꩜ Alvaro Willow, Child of Auroea.

ᯓ꩜ In this dr I’m 12 years old, going along with the ages of the main characters. Whats the fun of shifting to a dr if not to experience it at the same age it’s depicted in?

ᯓ꩜ I have brown curly hair with faded teal streaks, mostly just leaving green and yellow left, I love my hair being dyed but I love swimming in the lake and warm showers more than maintaining the color. Blue eyes with brown central heterochromia and tanned skin.

Godly Parent

ᯓ꩜ I’m a Child of Auroea, a goddess I made up, in this reality at least. Auroea, pronounced (Oar-re-uh), is the goddess of mystic powers. The powers that come from the planet itself, rain, earth, wind, and magic. She was one of the first Titan-Goddesses, born of a piece of Gaea that Helios found and crafted into a god. She’s the goddess who first created the mist that separates the magical world from the mortal one. She has powers in most the domains of the olympians, though less of a connection to them as they do. Her magics are what caused many animals and people to have access to magic, despite not being of godly descent or creation.

ᯓ꩜ Auroea’s sacred animals consist of Humming Birds and Manta rays. She’s the mother of the first fae and nymphs. Auroea is also known to be a protector of heroes, specifically but not limited to child heroes, so despite not being an olympian and not having demigod children anymore, she has a cabin at camp half-blood to honor her.

ᯓ꩜ Auroea doesn’t have many children anymore due to so many greek demigods dying by monsters hands, or claws, at young ages. She makes few exceptions over the millennia, one of which being me. The last child she had before myself was in the 1400’s and lived as a reclusive warlock in the woods.

Past

ᯓ꩜ I grew up in southern california with my older brother and dad, running around in the sun and going to my elementary school that was at the beginning of the street I grew up on. My life was fairly normal till I was 6, when I started getting visions. After having them a while, my dad concluded that it had to do with my mom and decided to take me to camp.

ᯓ꩜ Once at camp, I met Grover who ended up taking us to the big house where we were introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, They tried to figure out what was happening, because then we didn’t know they were visions, but since I hadn’t had a vision since coming to camp, they weren’t sure. But, despite that, barely a couple days after arriving at camp, I had a dream. Apollo showed up and told me what was happening. I was a prophet. My powers were supposed to show up earlier, but he held them off as long as possible so I could have a semblance of a childhood without constantly seeing the future. He told me about how he blessed me to hold off my powers, and now the blessing would work to help me have more control of my powers.

ᯓ꩜ Days later, a week into my first year at camp, I was the turning point in a game of capture the flag and once I was given a golden laurel for winning, My mother claimed me.

Apollo’s blessing

ᯓ꩜ Apollo first noticed my presence after I was given to my dad, sensing that I was going to be one of his prophets. I had a natural knack for my powers when I was barely a year old, which was when he first decided to bless me. He made his blessing so I wouldn’t come into my powers too early into my childhood and when I did eventually come into them, they wouldn’t be too powerful to where I had no control of them.

ᯓ꩜ My prophetic powers don’t have much of a physical impact on me, but they do tend to cause me to glow somewhat when in use. My visions tend to make my eyes emanate what looks like sunlight, while when I tell a prophecy my whole body emanates or rather, glows, the same light.

Powers

ᯓ꩜ My powers from my mother consist of weaker versions of her own godly ability over her domains, I can control rain and move storm clouds at will, manipulate winds to move certain directions or speeds, I can manipulate plants to grow at different paces and what directions they grow in, along with most forms of earth (dirt, rocks, etc).

ᯓ꩜ I can do advanced magics such as telekinesis, casting spells and curses, enchantments and mist manipulation. Although, I’m better at light and sun magic than others because of Apollo’s blessing.

Prophet related powers

ᯓ꩜ My visions are the more typical occurrence, my visions essentially take up what I’m visibly seeing and they show me images of something thats going to happen in clips that can feel minutes long but really my visions dont last more than 8 seconds.

ᯓ꩜ My premonitions happen constantly, they work like basic gut feelings, but much more intense. I’ll usually get goosebumps and then a STRONG urge to do something that I usually can’t ignore.

ᯓ꩜ I get prophetic dreams that are rare, but when I do get them they essentially show me extremely important details on whats going to happen soon, though they usually don’t show the right order in which things go down.

ᯓ꩜ I get trances make me act like an oracle when I tell a prophecy. I go into a vague trance where I’m still in control of my body, but my voice changes to a deeper tone and I get the obligation to go tell whoever the prophecy is for, their prophecy. I can usually go a couple minutes ignoring it if I’m in a fight but the second I’m not in mortal danger, I have to go to the person the prophecy is for and tell it to them.

Family

ᯓ꩜ My dad’s name was Gene Willow, he was 41 and died when I was 11. He was a doctor.

ᯓ꩜ My older brother’s name is Tenko Willow, and he’s currently 19. He has custody of me, even though I live at camp most of the year. He still lives in California, in an apartment that he keeps a room for me in, despite me only living with him one month a year, and he goes to university to get his degree in coding.

Items

ᯓ꩜ My main weapons that I use are my rings. I have two rings that I keep on both my middle fingers, black and white with small gold details, my rings, much like percy’s sword, can transform. If I make specific hand motions, snapping my wrists in certain directions, my rings will transform. If I snap my wrists outwards, my rings will transform into dual blades. My swords are thin and gold, with one having a black and one having a white hilt. If I snap my wrists inwards, my rings will transform into twin daggers. They look the same as the swords, but have more detailing on the hilts.

ᯓ꩜ My other weapon that I primarily use is my bow, because of Apollo’s blessing I’m almost as good as his children at archery. My bow is golden with detailing all along the base.

ᯓ꩜ My satchel is the main bag I take with me when I go anywhere, it has an extending charm I put on it so I can fit 3 times the amount of stuff that I should be able to in it.

ᯓ꩜ I constantly wear two necklaces, my camp necklace and my pendant necklace. Both have a black leather string, my pendant one just has my birthstone on it, while my camp necklace has 6 beads on it for every year I’ve been at camp.

Extra

ᯓ꩜ I have my cat, Luna, who stays with me in my cabin. She’s a tortoiseshell cat and 2 years old. I got her as a kitten for my 11th birthday.

ᯓ꩜ Hobbies include cassette making, journaling, reading, and jewelry making.

📍2016-!!