#but the thing is with that is that it's not as simple as buying a hard drive and swapping it out...I gotta like. prep

[redtail-lol]

If you ever need more proof that Tumblr users can't read, OP has repeatedly said it's not about the mug and showed tags that explained the mug is a metaphor or a representation of financial security and people are STILL going on about how to aquire a mug for cheap.

Being upper-middle class is having financial security. And those of us lower classed than that long for what they can have. They can own their home, and have something nicer than a studio apartment to live in. We can't. They can go on vacations and enjoy a change of scenery for a few weeks. We can't. They can buy nice things, and not at their best possible price, and still have their home, and food on the table. We can't.

The mug is not a literal desire to have another mug but being hopelessly unable to find an affordable one. The mug is an example of something simple and basic that people in the lower classes are not allowed to just buy without searching for the cheapest possible one, because we lack the same financial security. It was chosen for the metaphor because it is so simple, and yet it is too expensive for poor people to get brand new at regular stores. The post was never about mugs. It's about the desire for simple and basic things like a home of your own with space and no landlord to dictate what you can and can't do, vacations, security, and yeah, small purchases of nice things you'd just like to have without having to scower the town for a dirt cheap price. It is about living comfortably. It represents small luxuries you can have if you live with financial security. Each thing is just an example of something greater than the word alone.

The condo is an example of being able to afford a home. To have a space of your own. A space with some room in it, not just a cramped apartment. A home that you pay utilities for but doesn't require rent on top of that. A home that you can decide what to do with, you don't have strict rules for maintaining property value. You can just live.

The vacation is leisure time and travel. It is not having to work 2 jobs or work paid overtime often just to make ends meet, but getting to enjoy your day. It is being able to take days off when you need or even want them. It is the ability to travel and go places and afford to do that. And take time off of work to do it.

The mug is small purchases and things in life that are mostly simple and meaningless, yet bring small amounts of comfort and happiness to your life that poor people aren't even able to have. It's the ability to just buy something you want to have without worrying about if you'll be able to afford groceries, and without couponing or searching for the places with the best prices or buying the generic version that always tastes a little worse but it's all you can afford.

It's literally just yearning for the comfort and stability and security that's only afforded to the upper middle class. It's not mugs. This is why your english teacher gave you those assignments

When I grow up I wanna be upper middle class.

[mattslolita]

Shy Matt brings fuck girl reader flowers and is so scared she won’t like them(she loves them but he can’t know that)

-🦋

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

like usual, matt had texted you that he was on his way to your shared apartment with your roommate. usually you'd ask her to go spend the night elsewhere because matt spent the night there some of the time.

you liked things to be perfect when he spent the night, but you never told him that — you tidied up more than usual, and you tried to act nonchalant about excited you'd usually be.

at this exact moment, matt was stressing as he glanced over in the passenger seat of his car, the pretty purple irises sitting in its wrapping paper as he continued driving the street. his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he hums a song under his breath, tapping the steering wheel to distract the nervousness creeping up inside of him with every passing minute.

soon he'd pulled up to the apartment, opening the door and climbing out and going to the passenger side of the door — he carefully retrieves the flowers, letting out a breath as he runs a hand through his hair. his palms sweat slightly, as he clicks the lock on his keys and begins making his way up the steps.

he rings the doorbell, nerves on high alert as his heart races, awaiting to gauge your reaction from what currently sits in his hands. he doesn't have to wait long, as the door slowly opens.

if it wasn't for matt not slowly learning everything about you, he would've missed the way your eyes instantly lit up as they landed on the flowers in his hand. you looked shocked, even — no guy had ever gotten you flowers before.

"i um...remember you sayin' these were your favorite," matt mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere but your face, "hope you like em'."

your stomach instantly did cartwheels, and you were incredibly giddy inside — no guys you've slept with or messed with have ever taken you out on a date or even did something as simple as buy you flowers. it almost made you say something you'd regret, therefore you kept those words in the back of your brain, and let a small smile tug at the edges of your lips.

"they're pretty," you shrug, matt's eyes finally looking up at your own as he holds in a breath, "you can set em' in the vase on the coffee table."

he hums in response as you step aside to let him into your apartment — matt walks in front of you, so he doesn't catch the way you smile widely at him, eyes twinkling with adoration and desire.

[see-arcane]

You know, I think what "Schreck" in Shadow of the Vampire talks about when he drunkenly brings up why Dracula made him sad should be the elements adaptations that want to make the Count more sympathetic/tragic should focus on.

Max Schreck: Dracula hasn't had servants in 400 years and then a man comes to his ancestral home, and he must convince him that he... that he is like the man. He has to feed him, when he himself hasn't eaten food in centuries. Can he even remember how to buy bread? How to select cheese and wine? And then he remembers the rest of it. How to prepare a meal, how to make a bed. He remembers his first glory, his armies, his retainers, and what he is reduced to. The loneliest part of the book comes... when the man accidentally sees Dracula setting his table

Absolutely. And on the subject, there really are a lot of ways to highlight flashes of humanity or allow sympathy for Dracula that don't just whittle down to 'Oh I Want Reincarnated Wifey So Bad :'(.'

He was a great warlord, feared, respected, ruthless, relentless.

He was an active polymath of alchemy, sorcery, and occult lessons taught beneath a mountain by impossible infernal tutors.

He was a conqueror who made a bargain to conquer even Death.

He was. He was. He was.

But what is he now?

An old dragon who lets his captured maidens mock him when he snarls and brings their meals. A withered cadaver who, through restraint or simple ennui, has allowed himself to go hungry for who knows how long, pacing around the ruin that was once a castle. A dormant monster grown bored of baring his teeth at the quaking chattel who are now all but too wrung out to feed upon.

Van Helsing puts a lot of weight on the implication that Dracula has been planning the 'first England, then the world!' scheme for centuries, but...I can't buy that. It doesn't take that long to go house shopping or even to grasp another language. I don't think England was even that much of a vital prize in the old bat bastard's eyes.

But conquest is a thing he knows. A thing that made him happy once upon a time, when he was a man. If he conquers that nation, if he eats the world after it, surely he will be happy again. He will not weep like Alexander. He will rule! He will be powerful! He will be happy! There will have been a point to all of this after all..!

All this plays behind his bloodstain eyes as he stares into the fire.

"...The warlike days are over. Blood is too precious a thing in these days of dishonourable peace; and the glories of the great races are as a tale that is told.”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

okay so once again

if your "simple and lighthearted belief system" involves assuming that people have immutable characteristics and traits without knowing anything else about them aside from something entirely outside of their control

I do think that belief system sucks shit and I do think it extra sucks shit when queer people, who suffer so much primarily because of our deviation from the expectations placed on us at birth, eagerly buy into the same thing in a different font

it does still make me insane specifically how many queer people lovingly embrace astrology. I went to a poetry workshop yesterday that was genuinely quite good but also included an option to disclose astrology designations during introductions and so many people broke out some variation of "I'm a [x] sum but I have a [y] placement and it SHOWS" girl no it doesn't. that's meaningless correlation you completely invented the causation

[doctordeathawaits]

INFO - LIST FOR TRANSABLED AID ACCESS

A list of discreet access of assistive aids , ways to hide assistive aids , and euphoria inducing replacements .

Where to get assistive aids ?

01 , An obvious choice would be online shopping , although discreet shopping can be a bit difficult . Buying many things at once so you get a big / couple of packages could be a way to not turn any eyes , especially now that the holidays are coming up . " But I live with people who have the tendency of opening my packages " , there are a couple of options of what you can do - use a p.o box or locker service ( ex: amazon locker will send you an email with pickup instructions ) , choosing a specific delivery time of when you are only home / you have time to be the first one to pick it up ( tip : have delivery notifications on so you can be the first one to receive it ) , have delivery instructions to specify where to put the package ( ex : behind a pot plant , under the steps , etc ) , have it delivered to your friends / work . " But big shopping sites aren't safe for me " , Facebook Marketplace and Craigslist could be a better option for you , may be also safer as you can request the person selling you the item to make it discreet / can also be on the cheaper end , as they tend to be used . It can also be safer on the end of simply picking it up , making it so that there isn't any sort of electronic transaction that can be seen on a bank / phone receipt . 02 , Thrifted / Yard sales are also a good option - not only is it generally more discreet , allowing you to take it home by simply putting it in your bag without any other notice , but it's also generally cheaper , seeing that often times its used items still in a somewhat good condition . " What / where do I look for ? " , I would often suggest Goodwill , as they tend to have a wider range of mobility aids . You can also find them at your local small shops - try calling ahead and asking if they have anything , as they mostly will have more time to look through their storage . " How do I know it's worth it ? " , shopping out is a greater option as you can test out if the aid is good for you . When shopping for aids , test if they are sturdy , if they are the right size for you / there is any ability to diy fix it to your measurements , and how you would be able to put it away / hide it .

When it comes to what sort of aid is the most discreet : Canes : foldable canes are the most discreet , they are compact and are able to be carried in a bag . Double use canes , such as umbrella canes , are also discreet in the sense of being able to play it off as just an umbrella . Rollator : also good to consider a foldable rollators / walkers , ones that also have a seat can be passed off as just portable seats . Wheelchairs : Wheelchairs , unless you live in a spacious area without any judging eyes , are hard to turn discreet . While folding wheelchairs are a thing , plus lightweight ones - like most wheelchairs , they are expensive , and often are badly fitted / uncomfortable . ++ temporary replacements are a better option . Hearing Aids : Hearing Aids kept in their case can very easily be passed out as to be wireless earbuds / there are many hearing aids that resemble simple ear buds. Although , Hearing Aids bought online aren't the most reliable , and may be even dangerous - so temporary / thrifted replacement is a better option .

Where do I hide my aids if I am in an unsafe environment ?

While hiding things from the people you live with can be draining , it is still suggested for your safety .

01 , Folding Aids - Any aid that is able to be neatly folded and easily stored is the best when it comes to hiding . Placing them in bags in also the best , as you are able to take them out once you leave your place . Another way would be having a designated spot outside your place , where you can easily access it once you are out . More ways of hiding them : in drawers , unused umbrella holders , under your mattress , in coat hoodies , old shoe boxes .

02 , Aids with Wheels - While trickier , definitely able . The biggest suggestion is to have folding versions . You can fold them and store in the back of your closet along the wall . You can put it on the frame of your bed and put a mattress over it . If you have a rug , putting it specifically near / under your bed , and then the aid right under the rub can also be an option . If you have a dresser , sliding it between the wall and the dresser's side can help . On top of closets can also be good . When needing to store it for outside use , big portfolios could fit them . 03 , Hearing Aids - Probably the easiest to hide as they resemble ear buds . Although getting custom / decorated cases can be good for disguising them . Nonetheless , if needed , hiding them in small pockets of backpacks , coat pockets , pencil cases can be extra security . " What if I immediately need to hide something for my safety ? " , when opening your drawer - look past the drawer / take it out , you will see that there is room on the inside of the frame , even with the drawers fully closed . You can throw any smaller sized aid in that space , and then simply take out the drawers to take it back when ready . Another way for more bigger aids - take out all of the drawers from a dresser , put the aid inside , then put the drawers back in . If the back of your dresser is a softer material that's able to be cut , cut a ⊏ shape so that it creates a flap , put your aid in and tape the flap , put your dresser back up on the wall - the flap is an easier access than taking out all drawers . Although if you feel like you are in immediate danger for having an assistive aid in your home , prioritize your safety and take the aid out of your home . You are worth more than something that you will be 100% able to get back in the future < 3

DIY - ING

Everyone should be able to have access to assistive aids - even when it comes to creating their own .

Folding Crutches . ( need to already have simple crutches ) Cane out of yardsticks . ++ easier , You can make a cane by taking hard pvc pipe , sealing the bottom + adding a stopper ( shaped rubber or foam ) , while at the top you cut out to sides of a handle - a top and bottom , glue it with hot glue and attach it.

While it may not be as sturdy - it's still a good alternative .

More affordable assistive aid shopping :

essentailaids.com , affordable canes / crutches / walkers - lots of accessories , has wheelchairs too .

mobilityshop.co.uk , also affordable AND a huge range , so you have some options . Also offers accessories and some more simpler accessibility aids .

argos.co.uk , on the more pricier end yet still quite affordable , also offers joints support and braces .

abilitysuperstore.com , while not as affordable as other sites , still has a pretty decent price range - but has way more options to offer .

[prettyboykatsuki]

maki is rough around the edges.

but she's kind to you. and simple, in a way that makes you smile a little. naturally charismatic and strong, she's always going out of her way to do things for you.

she likes to tease you. and she likes to rough house. she's quick to get irritated but also forgives easier then most. she stands behind you when your shorts or dresses fall too short and pulls your chair out for you on dates. she drives you everywhere, does your heels for you and orders for you. buys you whatever you like.

she's a gentleman is what you mean.. hard muscle and rougish smile, a little softer with her glasses on. more handsome then pretty, you think.

she's about the way you expect the first time you have sex. careful. considerate. on top and trying to meet your every need and make sure there's nothing you dislike. she's so thoughtful during it, you almost want to act it for her. be doe-eyed, submissive, sweet. she's doing her best after all. you're sure there's plenty of exes hung up on her as you speak.

but you know, you can't help your wants. and you do want to praise maki for doing her best. but only after she's at your mercy. rope snug between the curves of her muscles, face flushed red, knees pried open. melt her slowly. see how she looks when you're pleasuring her and being purposefully wilful. it'd be nice to make a mess of her. it'd be nice to see how tough she is with a vibrator pressed to her clit. hand in short black hair tugging at the root. maybe she'd let you make her cry with her glasses on.

you'll wait you think. give her what she's expecting first then give the rest to her slowly.

it'd be an awful shame if she ran away, after all.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

baddie!Reader ft Nanami

A/N: Depicted a few different body types in this one. Reaching out to all my faboulously-shaped curvy girls.

baddie!Reader that happens to stumble upon our resident Daddy inna local bread shop you thought to try out on the way home from a fun lil spa day. Clumsily colliding with Nanami after you recite your order and carelessly spin on your heel while taking a selfie. The piercing gaze as he looks down his sharp, straight nose at you has your coochie immediately screaming for a trip to pound 🍆 town 🍑 with extra turbulence ✈️ thank you very much.

baddie!Reader is so ready to slut Nanami's fine ass out within moments of meeting. Chiseled jaw. ✔️ Big hands. ✔️ Strong physique. ✔️ A nice fat bulge pressing against you gently as he holds you steady. ✔️✔️ You lick your glossy, lined lips and contemplate what position you're gonna fuck him in first, before even gettin this mans name chile!, when apologies stumble outta his pretty mouth. "Im so sorry. Please forgive me miss." Anxious eyes swiftly glancing at the outline of your nipple piercings.

Oh yeah.. Looks like you already have this handsome new stranger wrapped around your pinky.

baddie!Reader plays up the innocent coy act when Nanami offers to buy you a drink for his transgressions, batting your lashes and talking all sweet so he lowers his guard. "So Mr. Kento.. There a Mrs. Kento waiting for you at home?" Biting your lip and dragging a finger down the tendons on his big ass hand. "N-no, ma'am, not married. No one else. Just me.." You giggle at his nervousness, flicking wavy bundles over your shoulder. "Good to know, handsome." Need I say you don't leave the cute lil shop till you get his landline and cell.

baddie!Reader waits a week before finally gracing Nanami with a call. He's in a state of euphoria, thinking you'd forgotten about your lil exchange. "I could never forget you, Mr. Kento." "Please, Nanami is fine." More of a plea to you really, seeing as everytime you call him that his dick swells till it threatens to burst through it's confines. "So, Nanami. Besides missin me, any plans today?" He chuckles at that. "None actually. It's my day off. Have a friend thats needs a favor later. Nothing else. You?" You guys chat till your phone dies, to which he simply finds and hits you up on your socials, continuing your carefree conversation effortlessly. And even when you tell him you gotta go he stalks your socials, drooling over every single photo youve post. Doesn't even realize he's groping his chub, gawking at a string of lewd roleplay pic.

"Fuck me, babydoll, you're so fuckin gorgeous." Nanami huffs, pulling his cock outta his snug grey sweats. Unable to jerk it more than once before he's cummin like a hydrant allover his home office's desk, his nut spraying up your pretty face on his computer screen.

baddie!Reader that has a 6 sense of things and surprises Nanami with the perfect anecdote: a video call, late the same evening, teasing him in your sheer lil onepiece.

Embedding the notion that you've been thinking about him non stop dizzying his brain. "Couldn't sleep right now, you're all I can think about handsome." "Really? About- urm.. What about me?" The sexy tilt of your head as you chuckle makes Nanami wanna lick a path down your goddess like frame, taste every inch of your supple brown skin. "Can show you better than I can tell you, Nami." Cute lil nickname falling from your lips effortlessy, compelling Nanami to squeeze at the base of his cock through his pants with a grunt, really hoping not to nut a minute into this intriguing call.

baddie!Reader feels empowered witnessing a calm, stoic Nanami Kento lose his shit. All it took was a bit of peer pressuring, a simple exchange of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." Now your kneeling at the edge of your bed, ass in the air as you ride slick fingers; laptop on the desk behind you, your new friend desperately pressed to the screen as he stares at the cream dripping from your slit to your wrist. "Wow.. You're so.. Wet. Never see one drip like that, honey. Hnnh.. Wish I was there with you, darling. Wanna make you cum for me so bad." Nanami's tortured groans join your noisy cunt, your empty insides fluttering to the wet sound of him fucking his fist. Fuck! Shameful you couldn't see him: his pinched expression, flushed cheeks, blonde bangs dusting his sweaty forehead, fat dick salivating, beating against his sticky palm as he begs you to let him see you cum.

baddie!Reader isn't satisfied from fucking your own fingers. Really puts on a show when you grab your heavy duty clit sucker. At first Nanami thinks he might prefer watching the prettiest chocolate pussy he's eva seen swallow up your dainty lil fingers over and over. That is, till you get your toy in place and all hell breaks lose! You're squealing and thrashing, moaning like his personal whore while squeezing a handful of your tit, repeatedly bucking your throbby clit into the intense suction. "Oh fuck- ohhhshit! Not gonna last, too fuckin close already, baby. Wanna see me cum, Nami? Hm? Use your words, handsome." You love how deranged he's become when obeying. "Yesyesyes! Show me how you do it. Spread those lips honey, wanna see it all." His bold ask is shocking. Gets you that much closer, so you spread your glossy fat lips and cream allover your pretty comforter, chanting Nanami's name like it's a fucking lifeline. You cum so hard you're just barely able to turn your head in time to see him stumble back from the force of his nut, eyes glued between your shaky brown thighs, thick cum spraying outta his swollen cock like a hose, the force of the pearly streaks of white blurring his expensive ass camera.

baddie!Reader sleeps like a baby after finding out you're the only bitch that's been made Nanami nut inna year. Wake up to tons of flowers and gifts on your doorstep, not even sure how he got your address, let alone delivered the costly mass before the sun rose. Oh well. You shrug, lugging your presents inside and reading the attached note. Roses are red, violets are blue, I enjoyed last night, how about you? Date at 8? Meet me at my place: [address] -Your Nami. Oh fuck yes! You like this daring side to the gentle man you met at the shop. Your quick to grab the closest jewelry boxes, kicking your feet while slipping on the thick diamond chains and watch, sending a quick text to your generous donor.

Thanks for the gifts, Big Daddy. Love em! Can't wait till 8. See you then. 🫦👅🍆 xoxox, y/n.

baddie!Reader shows up fashionably late at 8:10, smelling like Chanel and looking like money.

Nanami's brain short circuits soon as he opens his front door. He busted 2 fat ass nuts before you arrived yet here his is, bricked up in his black slacks within a nanosecond, silent tense ogling making you chuckle and sidestep him to enter his spot, gently tracing an acrylic across his buff pecs. "Gonna eye fuck me all night, or show me around Nami?" Soft teasing tone reminds him of the previous evening and he has to try counting all the curses he's killed to not nut untouched to your seductive charm. "Course, sweetheart. Look too damn pretty is all. That way, to the left." Nanami points, trying his best not to stare at the jiggle of your plump backside.

baddie!Reader thinks it's a real accomplishment that your actually able to put a muzzle on your greedy pussy, finishing the tour and dinner without try to suck Nanami's dick through his dress pants. It's so hard to ignore how Nanami oozines sex appeal and doesn't even know it! Kicked back on the sofa manspread, white button up rolled to his elbows, strong arms resting wide along the back of the sofa. You musta pressed your thighs together at least a hundred times, searching for the smallest bit of relief as he weaves an interesting intimate tale of who he is, though remaining somewhat vague about his work life. Then he's diving into you as much as possible before your suddenly in his lap, silencing his chatter with plush lips on his, swallowing his surprised grunt. "C'mon big Daddy, preciate your manners but I'm so fuckin empty inside. Lemme sit on it?" Nanami's deer in the headlights look as you massage his half-hard cock is a little less amusing this go around so your impatiently on your feet unbuckling Nanami's pants and yanking them to his ankles. "No underw- oh.. Fuuuck.. Really are Big Daddy, huh? Think you're gonna stretch me out sooo good. Ready to get your dick wet, Nami?"

baddie!Reader most definitely bit off more than you can chew messin with this man! He fucks you like a demon, making you embarrass yourself by bussin on his wide mushroom tip the 3rd stroke in. Now he's standing in front of the couch, forcing you to bend and grab your ankles; gripping your tiny lil dress thats pulled up to your neck, yanking you back on his thick dick, completely unremorseful how he digs into you. His tip knocks into your spongey depths and steals your breath. You wanna stop squealing, but it feels like he's in your fuckin throat. "Na-na-miiiii, uhn, pleease, baby! S-slow down, gonna break meee!" But Nanami's lost his composure completely, growling in agreement, eyes crazed with the pressure compressing his girth. "No, y/n, nuh uh. No man could do that. Pussy's way too damn good.. You don't know what you're askin of me, sweetheart." It's a luxurious squeeze he couldn't dream up of if he tried, guts brewing with the sweetest nut he's eva felt. He's so selfish in this moment, reaching to pull you inna mean arch by your dark soft bundles, speeding the clash of his powerful hips against your round ass. You're reaching back, holding at Nanami's wrist, pleas babbling into nonsense as his length swiftly pounds inside, beats your syrupy lil pussy up till your eyes cross. "Shitshitshit! Haaah.. H-honey? You on birth control? Mm? .. ahhh-! Y/n, darling! Please tell me I can't knock this good ass pussy up.. Cause I'm gonna cum." Unaware that you're zoning out; legs numbing, tongue wagging, the grip on your fit and hair the only support keeping you upright. "Y/n, babydoll.. Need you to answer- FUUUCK!" You're spontaneous orgasm has him jackhammering your poor lil pussy a dozen more times before convulsing, jabbing in once more, grinding a fat load so fuckin far inside you. Prolongs your bliss seeking his own, abandoning your dress to wrap around your tummy and pull you close. "'M so sorry, darling.. Don't know what came over me. You okay?" He murmurs at your ear, still pumping you full, smiling triumphant when you hum at him uselessly, head lolled back on his shoulder. "Heh.. Fucked you up good, didn't I?" You don't even hear his taunts, fat dick penetrating you so deep you think cums gonna spill out ya ears.

baddie!Reader that breaks Nanami's heart by not spending the night after the way he molded your coochie to his cock. But chu a bad ass bitch that leaves em wantin and much as you like Nanami, that shit ain't gone change. He's still blow you up by time to get home and your pussy pulses sore soon as you pick up and he asks when he can see you again. You tell him your free next week to which he promptly freaks the fuck out and calls you. "Just kidding, Big Daddy, damn.. Got a few errands to run in the morning but you can come over after." Nanami's got no shame in thankin you profusely, promising to get you a copy of his black card tomorrow if you let him swing by in the morning instead. His filthy ass even has the nerve send one last text when y'all finally hang up:

NomNom: Should've spent more time on those pretty tits 2nite. Send me sumthng to say gn, sweety.

You: Yes, Nami. 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼

You: [y/n has sent a photo]

A/N2: Should we part 2 it?? 🤔

[mantis-lizbian]

okay, y'know what? let's go into this same. ignoring all the rules in 5e that i think are dumb, an itemized list with explanations. obviously, my list won't necessarily be the same as everyone's, but it'll illustrate the problem with suggestion in a practical sense, not just as a structural critique from the standpoint of game design, which i know a lot of people don't actually care about.

bare in mind that these are going to be criticisms with regards to the kind of game D&D 5e is and wants to be, and are largely going to use other editions of D&D as points of comparison, rather than other TTRPGs as a whole, just because to do so i feel could easily approach "i want a game about a witch looking for lost pets in the Alps" type stuff. no sense in criticizing D&D for not being Monsterhearts or GURPS, after all.

classes are too simple. any given berserker barbarian is functionally indistinguishable from another. for some classes, even different archetypes don't offer enough variation from each other to feel meaningfully distinct. here's a challenge: take your party of four and make an entire 6th-level party using only one class in each of 3.x, 4e, and 5e. depending on the class you choose, you may have more or less difficulty, but in two of those, you generally can manage to make four characters who can all function in a party together without feeling like clones of each other, and perhaps even able to actually complement each other.

classes are too complicated. for the most part, AD&D, BECMI, OD&D and the like, classes only have a couple of fairly basic features, most of which are granted from 1st level. this means that if a character dies, you can roll up a brand new one and jump straight back into play that same session. not being able to do this makes everyone, even the GM, resistant to allowing a character to die, defanging one of the only meaningful consequences to losing combat inherent to the mechanics.

battle master fighters restrict everyone's options in combat. if you're playing a melee combatant, there's very little you can do apart from run up to your chosen enemy and smack them in the face with your weapon until they die. disarming, feinting, tripping... these were all things any character could do in 3e, as outlined by the rules, and these things were possible in AD&D and the like because they weren't explicitly spelled out in the mechanics. the GM is free to adjudicate how to handle these maneuvers as they see fit, but because they aren't explicitly granted to a specific kind of character, they aren't implicitly denied to everyone else.

ability scores do not matter outside of Dexterity and whichever one your class cares about, and specific circumstances dependent on which saves are being targeted. 4e did start this, but even it made a conscious effort to make every class care about at least two scores alongside Dexterity, outside of saves. in AD&D, every score determined a number of things independent of your class (with the exception of Intelligence and Wisdom, if you weren't a spellcaster). and 3e required you to spend character resources (feats, specifically) to do things like use Dexterity on melee attack rolls, and even then it couldn't be added to damage, so there was still value to Strength even if you fought exclusively using daggers. all of this results in making it so that if you're using point-buy to determine ability scores, there is no meaningful mechanical consequence you can count on having to contend with for dropping every score to 8 so you can pump the ones you care about up to their maximum (in fact, i suspect that 5e makes point-buy cap out at 15 specifically to prevent players from doing exactly this to pump their two important scores to 18). unless you're a barbarian, even Constitution isn't as important as it should be, given the ingrained hesitancy 5e's design creates towards letting characters die.

only a couple of feats are actually better than taking the ability score boost, until you hit that cap of 20. even fewer are ever going to be meaningfully applicable to the same character as another, meaning that altogether, depending on what you were able to boost your class's main ability score to, by level 12 or so... you're likely to feel like meaningful pickings are slim for what to do with your remaining ASIs. it also becomes clearly apparent that the reason feats are an optional replacement for an ASI isn't so much an attempt to simplify the game compared to 3.x's notorious endless ocean of feats to wade through, and more about just having something to do with those ASIs after reaching 20 in your main score.

due to free Dex-to-damage, the only reliable consequence of a low Strength score left is encumbrance. which is often the first rule players choose to ignore, and even if they don't... an 8 Strength is still enough to wear full plate, and carry a pike and heavy crossbow and still having plenty of carrying capacity for a decent amount of random loot. so yeah... this is a rule that even if you aren't ignoring it, the rules are doing plenty to avoid it ever coming up anyway.

skills offer a great way to flesh out who your character is outside of "someone who rages" or "someone who chucks fireballs". unfortunately, your class still fully defines these things, outside of the two you get from your background, or if you choose to spend one of your feats/ASIs on gaining another three. at which point, you're probably going to have proficiency in more than half of all the available skills.

several excellent designers have gone into a number of other issues with D&D 5e's skills, from how overwhelmingly important ones like Perception are, how laughably irrelevant others are, and the issues in figuring out how to make good use of the knowledge and Investigation skills.

resting is... so... a lot of classes have nothing to do with a short rest. one time, i was playing as a warlock in a group that only ever took long rests because no one else got anything from just taking a short rest. which meant that the warlock essentially only had 2 spells per day. granted, this didn't mean nearly as much as it should thanks to cantrips, but i'll get to that later. so yeah, short rests were introduced in 4e where every class got equal value from them, and so they were more reliably used.

crafting is pointless. the example it gives of making a suit of plate armor taking 300 days means that it would take an entire year to make something that you're likely to find or at least afford with easily a month of adventuring. there's also no accounting for how good a craftsman you are. in 3e, that same suit of plate armor will take (assuming no failed checks along the way, to be fair) at most a month and a half. even assuming you fail half the checks, that's still only a quarter the time it takes to make that armor in 5e. this is still a decent time investment, but especially when you consider how having a higher Craft skill bonus (or even just a good roll) means you may be able to shorten that time, it brings it into the realm of "okay, that could be worth it, if i really wanted to".

bonus actions are only usable by a handful of classes, and may as well not exist for the rest, outside a couple of feats. with only one other action, alongside moving, that makes the kind of tactical combat built on the same principles of 3.x and 4e drag and feel incredibly monotonous (especially when, see #3). 3.x and 4e have alternative things you can do with your move action, which - especially alongside full-round actions - just as a way to open up design space means that there are a lot of ways to expand your options in combat. while AD&D also only features an action and movement - and doesn't even have a bonus action - combat is much smoother due to the overall simplicity of the game, and the fact that rounds represent a whole minute, not just 6 seconds.

cantrips are broken. they're usable at-will all day, which is fine. definitely an improvement i like over 3.x, and it gives your spellcasters something spellcastery they can reliably do any time. that's cool. but when they deal as much damage as a crossbow, and are based on your spellcasting score, it adds to the aforementioned thing about how most classes don't need to worry about more than one or two ability scores. why bother carrying around a crossbow when your fingers can shoot infinite crossbow bolts, possibly even targeting something other than AC and not dealing physical damage?

...oh wow. there's a character limit in posts...

im confused about the dnd 5e hatred. yall arent just ignoring rules that are dumb? ur dm actually follows every single thing in the book for real?

if you have to ignore some of the rules for the game to be good then the game is not good

[erensfeed]

happy thanksgiving from ur fav boyfies & i 🍗🍽

a/n: couldn’t decide if i should write for eren or rafayel so here’s just an x your favorite instead ♡︎🥧🍂

‘No sweat,’ he said.

That was the biggest lie you’d heard all year.

Somehow, your boyfriend had convinced you to let him handle Thanksgiving turkey duty this year, and you stupidly let him.

Okay to be fair, last year had gone well since he helped but you’d been in charge so why wouldn’t it have?

This year however, you thought that maybe this time, you know—things would go swell. Especially with the fact that before leaving, you left him with the most basic instruction an 8-year-old could follow.

“Okay, babe. Again: the oven’s preheated already. The turkey’s been in there for a bit. When I step out, drop the temp from 450° to 350°. So that by the time I get back, we get our turkey. Boom. Got it?”

He nodded, flashing that infuriatingly confident grin as he did. “Got it. No sweat.”

At the doorstep, you placed both hands on his shoulder. With a simple exhale, you gently shook him with a pleading look of desperation.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and gently pulled you closer, then leaned down to give you a kiss that secured your trust and almost erased your doubt.

“Don’t worry pretty, I got you.”

Almost.

You had to pick up some last-minute ingredients and special food items—ones that only one store, always luckily open for a few hours on certain holidays, carried—along with pies and treats you and your boyfriend both loved.

You told him to call you if he needed anything. And he did, a few times.

First, to check in and on you.

Second, to tell you how ‘great everything was going’.

And finally, on your way home, to ask if you could buy him this special kind of gumballs he loved.

Gumballs. 

He claimed he needed something sweet to balance out ‘the stress’. Whatever he meant by that.

You would’ve caught on earlier if you weren't so trusting that he ‘got you’.

It meant going out of your way but you turned back to get them because honestly? You loved them too and even grew crazy for them at one point — obviously because he fueled your interest in them.

What you didn’t realize was that he was buying time by telling you to get it for him. 

On your way home, you decided not to tell him you were close by. Just because. And you were glad you didn’t because when you finally reached your door, the mess that awaited you…

Growing closer to your apartment, you heard it: the telltale wail of your fire alarm.

Your brows quirked up as worry set in about him, about the house, about the food, about the mouth watering turkey–.

 “Oh, no. No no no please, no.”

You hurriedly unlocked and opened the door, and immediately, the smell of smoke hit you like a wall. The acrid scent of something being burnt filling your nostrils.

Oh how you hoped all your senses were playing tricks on you. 

Your eyes darted around the room until they finally locked onto the culprit. 

And there he stood, oversized kitchen gloves on, in front of what could only be described as a Thanksgiving crime scene. The smoke alarm started blaring overhead, smoke poured out of the oven, and worst of all, the turkey—your turkey—was blackened beyond recognition.

He froze when your eyes met, guilt all over his face. “Hey…” his greeting dragged out, followed by a nervous laugh that brought you back. “You’re back! Welc—”

Before he could finish, you hurled the particular shopping bag containing the gumdrops at him. It missed and bounced harmlessly off the cabinet, but the gesture made him flinch.

“OH—Oh, so you’ve got reflexes now?” you let out a sharp laugh, slamming the door behind you before you decided to stalk toward him. Slowly nodding, your tone dripped with simmering frustration. “You’ve got reflexes now?” Without breaking your gaze, you slipped off your shoes onto the doormat as you continued your approach.

His mouth parted, an excuse on the tip of his tongue, but the sly smile he wore disappeared when he saw the intensity in your eyes.

“Babe, babe, wait — before you go full on Gordon Ramsay on me, Remem–remember, it’s Thanksgiving. A day of forgiveness, a day of love, and—”

“—the day I end you.”

“Wait, wait!” He outstretched his hands in front of him, backing up as you advanced. He scurried around the couch, using it as a barrier. “I can explain!”

“Explain?!” you gently settled the other shopping bags on the counter, pointing at the charred remains of the turkey. “The turkey is gone. It died, twice. Twice.”

He flinched at the rising pitch of your voice, muttering, “Okay, so maybe I slightly overestimated my broil-to-crisp ratio…”

“Broil-to-crisp? BROIL-TO-CRISP RATIO?” That infuriated you even more. “That’s not even a thing! And I gave you—I gave you specific instructions.”

“Yes, you did. But let’s talk about this like mature adults—no need for violence here baby.”

You lunged, but he sidestepped, surprisingly agile for someone who’d clearly been stressed-cooking for the last hour maybe.

“I’ll show you violence,” you let out an exasperated laugh that didn’t quite mask your frustration. “When I stuff you in the oven myself!”

He smirked and eyed you, muttering something under his breath, 'I know something else I can stuff…’

"What was that?!"

"Nothing!" he yelped, darting around the other side, keeping the couch between you like a shield.

It went on like that for several minutes—him darting, you chasing, the smoke alarm blaring in the background—until the absurdity of it all caught up with you.

Finally, after your “truce” as he called it, you decided to head straight for the shower to clear your head, but not before telling him to work three times as hard to clean up the mess he’d made so you could get started on the rest of dinner.

*** 

The kitchen was still warm, but at least it smelled like food now instead of regret.

“Babe, you’re holding the peeler upside down,” you said, not even looking up as you mixed stuffing in a bowl.

He looked down at it.

“Oh…yeah, n–no, I knew that. I just wanted to see if you’d notice and say something funny… duh.”

You didn’t even look at h–

Anyway, despite his questionable peeling skills, you both started to find a rhythm. He mashed the potatoes (after only one near-miss with the hand mixer), and you worked on reheating the sides you’d prepped earlier. You worked on everything else as you told him to stay far away from the kitchen. 

Occasionally, he’d sneak bites of other foods when he thought you weren’t looking.

“I see you.”

Caught red-handed (or pie-handed), he gave you his most sheepish grin, swallowing guiltily.

“…Sorry.”

Eventually, you managed to salvage the meal with a backup plan: rotisserie chicken, a quick fix for the turkey debacle. It was the best way to keep the spirit of the feast alive and your sanity intact.

As you finished setting the table—without your star turkey—you smiled at the sight. That is… until your boyfriend raised a champagne bottle and cleared his throat.

“To the turkey that gave its life… for no reason… and to my girlfriend, who almost ended mine.” 

“And I’ll do it again.”

During dinner, everything tasted out of this world, and your frustration with the turkey had long since vanished.

“This is so gooddd,” you said between bites of it all. “I could eat them all forever.”

Scoffing with pride, he went, “Well, I mean yeah, thanks to me—”

A quiet, unimpressed stare was all he got from you

“…staying away from the kitchen.”he added, quickly trying to save himself.

Despite your failed attempts to look serious, his quiet chuckles pulled a small smile from you.

Reaching for your hand, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles with a quiet smile, murmuring, “Happy Thanksgiving, angel.”

With a quiet smile, you closed the distance between you, kissing him softly on the lips, a gentle response to his affection.

“Happy Thanksgiving, my love.”

©2024 ERENSFEED. All rights reserved.

[andrearose96]

✨ Help Me Femme Up My Apartment, But Keep It Chill ✨ please 🙈

Hey Tumblr Sissy’s Mommy’s and Daddy’s, This Indecisive bitch NEEDS YOUR HELP! 🏠💖

Here’s the tea: I’ve been living in my apartment for a while now, and it’s giving *boring* Like, plain, blah, nothing special vibes I’m SO ready for a makeover, but here’s the thing, I want to make it feel feminine and cozy but I can’t go full girly girl Think soft, chic, and understated, not *cotton candy explosion* 🙈🙈🙈

💞 Here’s the vibe I’m thinking (not strictly) 💞

🌸 Feminine, but subtle: Soft touches of blush, cream, sage, or mauve,nothing too frilly or over the top

🌸 Chic + cozy: A space that’s warm, inviting, and comfy, but still polished enough to feel like an adult apartment

🌸 Practical magic: I have guests sometimes, so I need cute things that are functional or easy to tuck away if needed

💡 Help me brainstorm!💡

I’d LOVE your ideas for decor, furniture, or little touches that can help me find that perfect balance. Here’s some inspo ✨🌈✨

✨ Throw pillows, blankets, and rugs:

I’m obsessed with soft, luxe textures maybe velvet, knit, or faux fur in muted tones. Something that screams “curl up here” but doesn’t overpower the space

✨ Functional storage, but make it cute:

Decorative baskets, storage ottomans, or sleek shelves with brass or gold details. Pretty *and* practical

✨ Art and wall decor:

Minimalist prints, abstract art, or line drawings. I’m thinking feminine energy without being super girly, like soft botanicals or muted tones

✨ Soft, glowy lighting:

Fairy lights, warm table lamps, or maybe even a statement light fixture with gold or soft finishes Lighting makes ALL the difference, right?

✨ Plants and accessories:

A mix of leafy greens and cute planters nothing wild, just simple and fresh. Maybe neutral pots or ones with subtle pastel details.

✨ Unique touches:

A chic accent chair, a vanity corner, or little things like trinket dishes, candles, or cozy books to make it feel personal

But here’s the thing: If you want to recommend super girly pieces, *please do*! I’d love to know what you’d suggest if I went all out. Whether it’s frilly curtains, a pink velvet sofa, or even a sparkly chandelier, I’m open to hearing it all. You never know 🤭 I might just fall in love with it and buy it anyway! 🙈🙈🙈

🌷 So leave your ideas in the notes and vote on ones you like✨ also Tag your Pinterest girlies, decor baddies, and anyone who knows how to balance pretty + practical! 🌷

I’ll post updates as the transformation happens, so pleas help me Let’s make this boring boy space into a cozy, feminine dream! 💕

Love you all!! 💖💖💖

Andrea Rose 🌹

[safety-pin-punk]

is it ok to buy from hot topic as a punk is it better to avoid it?

The simple answer is that its better to avoid them and shop at smaller stores, local businesses, and give money to independent artists.

HOWEVER, I will always believe that people are allowed to treat themselves. If theres something you want, go for it. Contrary to what all those campaigns about plastic straws try to convince you, the actions of a single person are not going to make or break anything. One person shopping somewhere isn't going to save or kill anyone. Changes happen at a large scale, when people organize, protest, boycott. Don't feel bad for getting something nice for yourself. You are a human. You are allowed nice things.

[polyamorousmood]

they do not make enough matching type jewelry for 3+ people

Platonic or romantic

Tf is up with that

What if the polycule all wants matching necklaces

What if a friend group wants them

Unfair

Its normally actually very easy to just buy 4 of the same necklace! And you should do that!

But I think you mean paired/coordinating jewelry a la

And honestly I sat on this ask for a long time because y'all need to get more creative! Just because its not SOLD for that purpose doesn't mean you can't USE IT for that. I know being able to buy rainbow shit from Target is a sign of acceptance and that feels nice, but you really think gays didn't do pride before them? Are you really going to let it not being mass-produced by corporate stop you from showing your love?? Come on!

Just buy an earring pack from Claire's and split it between the polycule or friend group! Everyone gets a different color of teddy bear charm!🧸 Its cute, its obvious you all did it on purpose!

Or buy a matching set, keep the earrings, give the bracelet to one person and the necklace to the other!

And like, what happened to making things?? Even if you're not crafty enough to feel confident making things out of clay or doing actual beadwork (neither are as hard as you'd think, though!), Friendship bracelets are SO SIMPLE. You can VERY EASILY find patterns for hearts 💙and letters🔠 and make whatever you want in whatever colors you want for literally <$5 and a couple lunch breaks.

Not to mention, like, going to your nearest pet store, picking out the $20 dog tag that looks least like a dog tag (or not, if you're into it looking like a dog tag) -- then a custom engraving is free. You can do the "best friends" thing still! Or make it more personal with an inside joke or something! For a pretty reasonable amount of money for a gift! Mine even has a machine that handles all that so I don't have the awkward bit of explaining to a human person what I'm doing.

I'm not saying it wouldn't be NICE to see it in stores, of course. It would be nice! But with a little extra effort, we can make something way more heartfelt 💗 We actually have SO MANY options!! Don't let commercial limits bog you down!!

[meracyn]

i love your writing 💕 can you do my request Kwon x fem reader where they get invited to a party by a karate tournament (not sekai taikai btw) and reader isnt really outgoing (kind of tomboyish/simple) but her friends sam and devon convince her to go and tory is with miyagi do still so they are all at readers house and kwon and reader end up dancing and it leads tk him taking her to his room? Spicy lol and sry if its to long ty if you acdept

ONE DANCE || kwon jae-sung

a/n: tysm anon 🫶 i got a similar request to this lol,, time for another spicy shot guysssss ayeeeeee

warnings: suggestive content ahead, cursing

Parties weren’t really your thing.

The drinking, crowds, fights— it was a pain to deal with.

However, this time was different. After receiving an invitation to a party by the hosts of a local karate tournament, you couldn’t exactly refuse.

Especially since your friends were here, in your apartment, insisting you go—those being Devon, Sam, and Tory.

“You are coming to the party tonight.” Devon declared, giving you a look that made it clear she wasn’t willing to argue.

“No way. I prefer to stay home, thank you.” You groaned out.

“Come on. Get up, get dressed and come have some fun with us.”

Tory and Sam, who were both chilling on the couch, chimed in as well.

“We’ll help you pick something out,” Tory said.

“Yeah,” Sam added. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Besides, you won’t be alone.”

The next thing you knew, you were sitting on the bed, surrounded by clothes that the three of them kept throwing at you. Apparently, your clothes were too ‘simple’, thus not acceptable to wear at a party.

“Why can’t I wear jeans and a top?” You asked, picking up a red shirt from the pile.

“Too plain.”

“Boring.”

“Not slutty enough.”

“Damn.” You replied, feeling defensive at their immediate answers. “Am I supposed to be sorry for not trying to get knocked up at my age?”

“Nope.” Devon piped up, before holding up a black dress. “This is the one.”

“It literally screams ‘bend me over’.” You said, yanking it out of her grasp. “How the hell did this get into my clothes?”

Tory raised an eyebrow, “You sure you didn’t buy it?”

You shook your head in response before turning back to Devon. “It’s a bit too much..right?”

“Not at all,” She grinned, “Trust me, you’ll look amazing in this.”

“She’s right. Who knows, you might meet someone suited for you.” Sam spoke up with an encouraging smile.

Tory nudged you on the shoulder, agreeing with Sam.

“I...” You trailed off, before giving in. “Fine. I’ll wear it.”

Devon clapped her hands in excitement, “Great! Now, let’s get you ready!”

By the time you arrived, you were already getting second thoughts about accepting.

The place was buzzing with people, the music so loud you could barely hear what your friends were saying. Devon led the way, holding your hand as she dragged you into the middle of the crowd, Sam and Tory in tow as they laughed along.

“Just relax, it’s going to be fun.” Sam reassured as she handed you a drink.

Devon excused herself to go talk to Kenny, leaving the three of you alone. Even though you were engaged in their conversation, it wasn’t long until your attention started to drift.

And there he was—Kwon Jae-Sung. Leaning against the bar, watching you with a look in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat. As your eyes met, he smirked. The way his gaze lingered on you was intriguing.

You recalled a few times where his touch would linger on you a little too long, to glances and flirty remarks, the energy thick with undeniable need. The thought of it only made you get embarrassed.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath as you averted your gaze immediately, cheeks turning red.

Tory noticed your actions, looking over and spotting Kwon. “Seems like someone got caught.”

Sam chuckled, leaning over, “Go for it. You got this.” Placing her hand on your back, she gently pushed you forward before they both walked away to let you have your moment.

Great. You thought. "You won’t be alone," they said.

You tried to ignore it, but as he took a step forward, moving through the crowd towards you, your heart rate sped up.

“Hey,” Kwon’s voice was smooth, a small smile forming on his face,

“Care to dance?”

Your breath got caught in your throat. What?

Looking up, you noticed there was something about the way he looked at you– as if some sort of hidden intention, though you couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Uh..” You trailed off before nodding. “Sure.”

Kwon held your hand in his, leading you to the center of the room. His hands slid down to rest on your waist, pulling you close against him, his touch firm. You could feel the heat of his body on yours.

The beat of the music slowed, giving Kwon the chance to pull you even closer until there was barely any space between you both. He leaned down, his lips slightly brushing against your ear.

“Trying to be a slut for all the guys here?” he asked, breath warm against your skin. His comment made your face heat up as you struggled to come up with a reply. Then, you felt his index finger trace your dress’ zipper down until your lower back.

You expected him to pull away, but he remained his touch on your dress. Kwon looked up, gaze flickered down to your lips before meeting your eyes. For a moment, you forgot about everything else, tranced under the look of his eyes. But before the tension could build any further, Kwon pulled back slightly.

“Come with me,” he said lowly.

You nodded without thinking as he grabbed your hand, leading you out of the party, the cool night air hitting your skin as you stepped into the empty street. The city was quiet, the loud noise of the party fading away as you both walked down the alley.

Once arriving at his room, Kwon shut the door with a soft click, dark eyes kept on your figure as you walked forward. Kwon stepped up to you from behind, hand reaching out to trace the neckline of your dress, keeping his touch light, yet sent shivers down your spine.

“Tell me when it’s too much.” He murmured, as his fingers slowly pulled down the zipper of your dress. Your dress came undone, and began to slip off your shoulders. Kwon’s hands caressed your skin, pressing soft kisses down your neck as he pushed down the garment until it fell on the ground, leaving you almost exposed entirely to him. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

Kwon reached up, his hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I want to hear every little sound you make, princess. Can you do that for me? hm?”

Without giving you a chance to speak, he leaned in and kissed you– like a soft, tantalizing burn. Soon, he lifted you up in his arms, carrying you over to his bed. Gently laying you down, his eyes never left yours as he took off his shirt, leaving you to see his toned chest.

“By the end of tonight, you’ll be mine only. ‘til then, focus on me.”

[stansthemans]

Yall my fem stan brain rot is so bad rn. I just looked at my wips. 78k for fem Stan. 4k for dude Stan. lol oops anyway here’s some more

Sometimes it feels embarrassing to ask, like she really is still a child. But Ford never denies her, even when he’s really busy with some project or studying for some exam. Stan knows how important those things are to him, and even though she thinks he needs to relax about it—he’s miles ahead of everyone else at school, even the teachers—she doesn’t want to drag him away from it unless one of them really needs it.

Today, it’s her.

Nothing has gone right today. She actually tried her own homework, like really tried, not just half assed it or copied Ford’s. Predictably, she beefed it, and her teacher actually took the time to call her out in front of the entire class. She tripped on the way to English class, bruising her knee and sending all her shit flying. She hadn’t been fast enough gathering it all up, and she got a tardy. One of her gloves busted at boxing practice, and she hasn’t yet had the guts to tell Pa because she knows he’s going to blow a gasket at having to buy a new one. Dinner was an icy affair. Shermie had apparently called and he and Pa got into it about something. Then, cleaning up the kitchen, Ma had taken out her frustration on Stan.

Stan is glad it wasn’t Pa. She’s always glad when it isn’t him and not just because hiding the bruises has recently gotten much harder. But it still doesn’t make it nice when Ma locks a sharp, critical gaze onto Stan and picks apart everything that’s wrong with her. Too loud and opinionated. How is she ever supposed to catch a man if she’s got the crazy idea that she’s allowed to think anyone cares to hear what she has to say? Not to mention her waistline. The extra dough in the middle—she had pinched Stan’s side here—that Stan certainly didn’t inherit from her. And still with the boxing? It really was high time to stop that brutish, unladylike nonsense.

As if she doesn’t know exactly why Stan needs to keep it up, needs the easy excuse to hide behind.

As soon as she’s able, Stan retreats to the bathroom. It takes a good couple of minutes for the water to heat up, so while she waits, Stan strips down and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She isn’t vain, she doesn’t think. She doesn’t wear any makeup, doesn’t do much more to her hair than run a brush through the waves to manage any tangles. She doesn’t care about trendy clothes or the latest styles. A pair of jeans or shorts, depending on the season, a simple t-shirt, and some high tops. That suits her fine.

She isn’t stick skinny like her mother or a lot of girls at school. She isn’t fat either, not even really that chubby. She’s just kind of thicker. And she’s got muscles from boxing. Not much by way of hips.

How are these ever supposed to bear a child? Any nice boy at the temple, any potential mother-in-law worth their salt, they’ll be looking for that. Hips like these, bad figure elsewhere too. She doesn’t have the looks enough for any good husband to overlook all the other things wrong with her.

Stan steps under the stream of water, hoping that it’s warm enough to wash her mother’s words off her skin.

It isn’t. It never is.

Ford is deep into whatever assignment when she comes into their room, deep enough that he doesn’t look up and watch from the corner of his eye while she changes into pajamas. He’s been doing that for a really long time, but he’s been a little more obvious about it the past few months, and every time it sends a thrilling jolt down Stan’s spine. But he isn’t looking right now, and that makes her feel even worse, despite the fact that he doesn’t look every time and that he’s clearly fully immersed in his textbook.

Stan folds her arms over her stomach, leaning up against their dresser as she watches him. He isn’t hunched too badly, despite how into his work he is. She’s glad to see that at least. The way his spine will pop when he stretches out sometimes really isn’t right for a sixteen year old boy. He took a shower while she was still cleaning up after dinner, and his hair, much shorter than hers, looks so soft and puffy in its freshly cleaned state. His eyes are sharply focused on the textbook, even as his pen dances over his notebook in his neat, looping writing.

He’s so deep into his work, but Stan’s heart is aching too much to keep standing there or even to go curl up in her bunk alone. She steps over to the bookcase. Over the years it’s changed a lot. More and more space is taken up with Ford’s textbooks and scientific journals and less and less their treasures found while out exploring or their comics. Still, there is a small section of novels. Stan picks up one of the most worn down and shuffles over to the desk.

“Hey, Sixer,” she asks, and Ford hums in acknowledgment. “I know you’re real busy.”

“Yes,” Ford says, but not dismissively. “I’m writing that proposal to send in to the Rutgers field office. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Stan says, hugging the book to her chest. “Big deal if they take it, right? Maybe get this dump cleaned up some.”

“That’s the hope,” Ford says. “And it will make an excellent addition to my academic portfolio.”

“Yeah,” Stan says again. “Yeah, it’ll be real good.”

The pen stops moving on the paper, and Stan presses her lips together as Ford looks up. His eyes flash as he takes her in, and he opens his mouth. Stan can’t have him ask her what’s wrong because she just can’t, so quickly she blurts, “I know you’re busy but—“ And she shoves their battered old copy of The Hobbit in his direction.

Ford leans back in his seat, almost jumping a bit. She isn’t standing close enough that the book would have smacked him in the face, but it is a close thing. He blinks at it and then again up at her. Stan thinks she must cut a very pathetic figure, but she also doesn’t care in that moment.

Ford studies her with a furrowed brow for only a brief moment before he stands up. He takes the book with one hand and lightly touches her cheek with the other. “Sure,” he says. “I’m at a decent stopping point for the night.”

He absolutely isn’t. Stan wouldn’t understand anything about his proposal if she picked it up to read it, but she knows that he’s lying and going along with her, and she’s so grateful for that. Ford neatens up his work while Stan arranges the pillows and blankets on her bunk. He crawls in after her, and they find a comfortable way to lie tangled up together. Ford opens the book and begins to read aloud.

They both loved this book so much as kids. It wasn’t on the ocean, but it was fantastical adventures fill with daring fights and golden treasure. It was odd, out of place, little people who were still heroes in a big, big world. Sometimes, Stan would read too, picking a couple of the characters that she wanted to voice, often sillily to make Ford laugh. But usually, it would just be Ford reading, them lying together just like this, his voice low, breath ghosting over the top of her head.

It’s soothing. It is. The knots in Stan’s stomach are beginning to loosen, but she still feels heavy in an unpleasant way. As the party reaches Rivendell, Stan decides that she needs more than this, and she hopes Ford is willing to give it.

“Ford,” she asks, and he stops. Stan knows that he can tell she’s about to say something important. She really doesn’t use his name very often.

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Can you do me a favor,” she asks.

“Of course,” he says. “What do you need?”

Need. Because this isn’t a want. She needs this, or she thinks she might shake apart, and Ford doesn’t have to know any details to know that much.

Stan shifts against him just a bit, changes the way she’s lying against him just slightly. Then she reaches up for his hand that was scratching lightly at her scalp. She brings it down her body, under her shirt, and lies it over her breast. Despite being a bit bigger in her upper body, Stan really doesn’t have large breasts. Ford’s big hand covers it completely, and the feeling starts to unwind some of the tension that his voice couldn’t cut through.

Under her, Stan can feel his breath pick up a bit. They haven’t done this outside of her periods before. For the past several months, that’s been the excuse. Ford touching her like that is just him helping her through the very real discomfort of what that week puts her through. And if—when—they do other things, well, they’re hormonal teenagers. Hormones can be such crazy things, overwhelming sometimes. Overwhelming enough to forget the very important fact that they are siblings. Twins. And then when the cramps and aches are over, they go back to being normal.

This isn’t normal. This is outside of that very specific set of parameters where they have decided it’s ok for them to act in ways that they never should have even considered. But Ford’s hand is on her now, skin to skin, and it’s warm and it’s safe.

After a moment, Ford squeezes at her, something questioning, and Stan, her hand still over his, squeezes back and says lowly, “No. Just this.”

“You just want me to hold it,” Ford asks, his voice just as low.

Stan nods. “I just—it’s comforting,” she says.

In a whisper, against her hair, Ford says, “I can feel your heart beating. More than usual.”

He doesn’t need to touch her to feel that, just like she doesn’t have to touch him. It’s always there, right alongside hers, has been for their entire lives. Two hearts beating side by side.

Ford sets the book down in his lap. He doesn’t take his hand away from her, doesn’t move it at all, but his other reaches for her cheek, turning her gently to face him. And then he does something that they also have not done outside of her periods. He brings his lips to hers. Stan sighs against him, lightly dragging her fingers over all six of his before curling around his wrist.

Ford pulls back just slightly. “Whatever Ma said, she was wrong,” he says, and Stan could cry, but his hand is resting directly over her heart, and it keeps her grounded. He kisses her again, a sweet, gentle thing, and then he picks up the book and resumes their reading. Stan melts into her brother, and his voice and touch drives away everything bad in the world.

[n0vazsq]

Immortal | Hector Fort x Reader

pairing . . . hector fort x gf!reader

summary . . . Taking care of sick Hector was ....something, especially when he admits that he's not used to it

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.2k+

warnings . . . sick hector </3

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i was thinking of myself nearly dead while i was sick so this is accurate yk yk <33 the coil thing was a physics spring extension refrence LMAO

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . Hector wasn’t one to admit weakness. Even as the slight shivers wrecked his body and his voice felt scratchy, he insisted it was just a cold. No big deal. But when his legs almost gave out from underneath him during training, you weren’t buying it.

You saw it coming. He’d been quieter than usual all morning, his focus slipping like sand through clenched fingers. His face, normally flushed with energy, was pale, eyes shadowed with tiredness.

Every movement looked like it took double the effort, as if he were wading through quicksand. Still, he pushed through drills, ignoring the sweat dripping down his face; not from exertion, but fever.

You’d been through it before, often being the one who caught whatever cold or virus was going around. Hector had taken care of you more times than you could count. Bringing you tea when you couldn’t get out of bed, forcing you to rest even when you fought it, making sure you didn’t try to push through things when you were running a fever.

You’d always felt guilty for relying on him so much, but he never seemed to mind. It was like he had a sixth sense when it came to taking care of you.

Now, the tables had turned.

When his knees wobbled and his balance faltered during a simple pass, you caught his arm, steadying him before he could hit the ground.

"You’re done for the day," you said firmly, staring into his glassy eyes.

He shot you a glare, more pout than protest. "I’m fine."

"No, you’re stubborn, not fine," you replied, not letting go. His skin was burning under your touch, like a fire barely contained. "Come on. You’re not staying out here."

He grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, too exhausted to argue properly. You half dragged, half walked him back to the locker room, then down the quiet hall to his room. His steps were sluggish, his breathing shallow, each one a struggle like climbing a mountain. He leaned on you more than he probably realized.

Once inside, you guided him to sit on the edge of his bed. Before he could protest, you grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. He tried to pull away, but even that took too much effort. He looked at you with soft, tired eyes, eyes that usually sparked with trouble or determination. Now, they were just worn.

"Don’t look at me like that," you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like what?" he muttered, voice hoarse.

“Like you’re miserable.”

A weak laugh escaped him, more of a breath than a sound. "I’m not… miserable."

"No," you agreed, sitting down beside him. "Just bad at taking care of yourself."

He leaned back against the headboard, eyes half closed, as if the weight of the world rested on his eyelids. "Didn’t want to skip training.”

"You should’ve. You’re not going to impress anyone by collapsing on the field. You act like you're immortal."

His lips twitched into a small, almost invisible smirk. "Maybe I was trying to impress you."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but feel your heart beat faster and warmth spread through your chest, like the first rays of sunlight after a storm. "You’ve already done that. Now let me take care of you, for once."

He didn’t argue this time. The silence stretched, comfortable and heavy with unspoken words. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "Hector, you’re burning."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch without meaning to. "It’ll pass."

You stood up, rummaging through his small stash of supplies. "You need water and something for the fever."

He barely reacted, too worn down by whatever virus had taken control. You found a bottle of water and some medicine, sitting back beside him. "Here. Drink."

He took the bottle without protest, sipping slowly. His hands trembled slightly, so you held them, steadying it for him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, voice softer now.

You watched him carefully. His usual walls were down, stripped away by exhaustion and fever. His eyes were dim, like a candle fighting against the wind, the warmth they once held barely a flicker now. He was vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before, and it hit you just how much he trusted you to see him like this.

"You don’t have to thank me," you said gently. "That’s what I'm here are for."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, in a voice almost too quiet to hear, he whispered, "I’m not… used to this."

"Being sick?"

"No. Letting someone… help."

Your heart clenched. You knew Hector was stubborn, but hearing him say it hit different. He was always the one others leaned on, never the other way around. Seeing him like this, letting himself lean on you, felt like something sacred.

"You don’t always have to be the strong one," you said softly. "It’s okay to need someone."

He didn’t respond, but his eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you. Gratitude. Trust. Maybe something deeper.

You stayed with him as the afternoon wore on. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and his occasional, raspy coughs. You talked about everything and anything. Training issues, favorite matches, old stories that made him smile, even if just a little.

At some point, he drifted off, his head resting against your shoulder. His breathing evened out, the tension in his body easing, like a tightly coiled spring finally releasing. You stayed still, not wanting to wake him, even as your arm started to go numb.

As the room settled into a peaceful quiet, you couldn’t help but feel a shift in the air. You watched him for a moment, his exhaustion still evident, but there was something else, something unspoken between the two of you.

You leaned in slightly, your breath catching for a moment as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering just a little longer than you expected.

"I love you," you whispered, voice barely a breath against his skin.

His eyes fluttered open for a moment, meeting yours with something unreadable. You felt your heart race, unsure if he’d heard you or if the fever had made him too drowsy to respond. But before you could pull away, he reached up, his hand gently touching your cheek, his fingers warm despite the coldness of his fever.

"I love you too," he said, his voice quiet but sincere, like a promise in the stillness of the room. Then, with a soft exhale, he closed his eyes again, the weight of sleep finally taking over.

You smiled faintly, admiring his sleeping face. And then you couldn't help but brush your fingers through his hair, exhaling slightly. Hector leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Slowly, you shifted and kissed his temple, then rested your head on top of his. His hand found yours, even when he was asleep, as if it was reflex. You squeezed it once, reassuring him that you were still there.

When he woke up a while later, he looked better, still tired, but more himself. "You stayed?"

"Of course I did."

He looked at you for a long moment, something soft and unguarded in his gaze. "Thank you."

And this time, you knew he didn’t just mean for the water or the blanket.

He meant for being there. For seeing him. For staying. For loving him like no one else did.

[10diamondz]

“But Father!"

~ When Alina has a crush on Chongyun, but... Capitano seems to be hesitant.

A/n: Ight, another father!capitano fanfiction, since all of you loved it hehe

The night in Snezhnaya was quiet. It was a peaceful evening, but in the Capitano Mansion (please recommend me what will the mansion be named) the atmosphere in there was anything but calm. Capitano,who's pacing back and forth, his thoughts clouded. His large frame would cast long shadows against the walls, the dim light flickering with his every movement and you who's just sitting there dumbfounded, but giggling inside. It wasnnnnn't often that capitano felt out of control, especially when it comes to his daughter. But today was different.

"Father, I told you, I'm going to spend the day with chongyun," Alina, said. Alina and Chongyun had met a year ago, when she wandered into the marketplace. It wasn't unusual for her to explore on her own, especially since she loved meeting new people. That's when she first saw him. Chongyung. He stood by a food stall, carefully choosing popsicles to replenish his energy in the warm sunny day. He looked so serious and focused that Alina couldn't help but giggle quietly. She awlays had been attracted to those people who carried a quiet strength. "Excuse me,‘ she said, approaching him. "Are you buying all the popsicles? Save some for the rest for us!" Chongyun looked up,startled, but his expression quickly softened. "Oh-, uh, No! I wasn't- I mean, I just like these because they help me.. um.., stay balanced." "Balanced?" Alina tilted her head. Chongyun awkwardly explained his condition. By the end of their conversation, Chongyun was holding out one of his popsicles to her as a peace offering. "For you," he said, his ears turning red. When Alina returned home that evening, there was an... unusual brightness in her step. Capitano noticed it immediately , she hummed a cheerful tone as she helped you set the table, a dreamy look in her eyes. "What's gotten into her?" Capitano asked you in his usual gruff tone, "She's growing up, honey," you replied with a chuckle, nudging him playfully."Don't tell me you're surprised." Capitano frowned but said nothng. The next day, Capitano decided to accompany Alina on her walk to the marketplace. You confronted about Capitano about what he was about to do, he listened... but still did it. He loves you... but also loves his daughter and her safety, and yours too. He disguised himself as an ordinary villager, donning a simple cloak that his his figure. Alina didn't suspect a thing,until she noticed him standing stiffly behind a stall as she approached chongyun again.

"Father? What are you doing here?" Alina asked, her voice a mix of surprised and embarassment."I was... in the area," Capitano replied,his tone betraying nothing.

Chongyun, who's oblivious to Capitano's disguise, greeted Alina with his smile. "Good to see you again, Alina." Before Alina could respond, Capitano stepped forward, towering over Chongyun. "and who are you?" he asked, his deep voice sending a shiver through him. Chongyun blinked, clearly intimidated, "I'm Chongyun, an exorcist from liyue. Alina and I met yesterday."

Capitano's eyes narrowed. "An exorcist you say? And what business do you have with my daughter?" "Father!" Alina interjected, her cheeks red from emberassment. "We're just friends!" Capitano crossed his arms , him just standing infront of the marketplace made everyone eerily silent. "I have no ill intentions," Chonyun said earnestly. "Alina is kind, and I enjoy her company."

The honest answer in his voice caught Capitano off guard. He wasn't used to people speaking so freely in his presence. Later that evening, your husband was sitting on his office while you we're roaming around to find a book you wanted to read.

You can hear the tap of his foot while he sits, making you ask him "What's wrong?" you asked, though you already had a good idea. "It's Alina... she's too young for this," he grumbled. You smiled knowingly. "She's old enough to meet people she likes... You can't protect her from everything."

Capitano sighed heavily, "It's not just that. She's our daughter. I don't want her to grow up too fast." You walked over and cupped his face. "She's growing up, yes, but she'll always be our Alina. Trust her to make good choices and from what I saw, Chongyun seems like a fine young man." The next day, Capitano approached Chongyun in private. "You seem like a honest boy," Capitano began, "But if you hurt my daughter-" "I won't!" Chongyun blurted out, his face red with embarassment. "I mean, I wouldn't. Alina is...special. I'd never do anything to hurt her." Capitano stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Good. Because if you do, you'll have to answer me." Chonyung gulped but nodded, "Understood, sir."

A/n: I never proofread my works lmao, but yea.. I hope you enjoyed this everyone!