#induction consideration

[uphill-battle-to-be-better]

How Gas Stoves Are Silently Polluting Our Homes

[heliobyandere]

Yandere Kinich Profile !

A/N: I don't read Cinnamonest's fanfics, but I was greatly inspired by her Yandere Profile template, even taking many of the NON-NSFW questions. It's my first time doing an Yandere Profile, sorry if any errors.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

You're a new person at Natlan, you came from another region or mayhaps another world like the traveler. You were walking past some trees and then you hear someone arguing in one of the trees and you found a light tan boy with black hair and yellow-green eyes, which by what that strange saurian he is arguing with he is called Kinich.

To catch his attention to he become obsessed with you I believe you should have any ties with Natlan by ancestors or something to do with khaenri'ah that you have anything to do with the Night Kingdom. You have to be really "outside the box", something he never saw.

After that you started having talks with Kinich and that strange saurian, which you discovered that it's name is Ajaw.

He started liking you and was genuinely interested in your ties, he starts being pretty much of a helper to you in this new region you arrive as I believe he is much of acts of service than any other. He is always there to help you in any case.

He doens't how to act sweet so he tries to help you by acts of service.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

When you get badly injuried by any enemy when he says to you stay with him.

He warned you but you didn't listen, you are so naive that you thought you could stay alone in a dangerous region. But maybe you aren't so naive and you're just stupid. I don't know why eould you be at somewhere.

Or maybe if you risk too much for too little. You are just stupid to him, but a stupid where he is obsessed with.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

Manipulative, Overprotective, Loneliness Induction and Stalker. He is somewhat more someone who uses his head to anything. It isolates you from possible "threats" by making them stay away from you.

He pretty much knows how to do everything quickly and easily. For him you don't need anyone else. As I already said, he is much more of an acts of service yandere.

Also he wants you to depend on him. Be it by don't making you do anything by yourself or just breaking your legs.

Also he is pretty of a stalker, it's easy to him to hid in any tree and he thinks you're interesting.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎, 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

He is pretty aware that he developed an obsession and that it is unhealthy, but he is pretty much liking this feeling and Ajaw don't stop bothering him about it.

He at first just wanted your friendship, you're interesting, you're pretty, you're someone kind, etc. He just wanted your friendship, until he wanted more and more about you. And when he realized it was already a little too late.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚊𝚙 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

After a life or death situation he will make you stay at his house and even when you get better he will still keep telling you that it is better for you to stay at his home. You know nothing about the terrain so everything is easy for him.

And he will always lock you in his house.

You'll be there so long that you won't even realize you've been kidnapped.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚑𝚒𝚖? 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

Easy at certain times of the year, like when he goes pro Easy at certain times of the year, like when he goes to the tournament and if you're lucky he wins, he goes to war against the abyss, and you'll have more time to plan an escape.

At first he leaves you tied up, for the few first escapes, after much time and consideration he will take off your chains. Everything will be babyproof, and everything will have to at least have thought about how to make everything inescapable.

After that he will just straight up break your legs.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔, 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

He is pretty much aware that you will try to trick him or even manipulate him. It's not that easy, but being not too good not too bad he will think you're being normal and not trying to manipulate him.

If you're either too good or too bad he won't be manipulable. If you're too good he will get it as a way of trying to manipulate him. If you're too bad with him he will be punishing you by breaking your legs or isolation.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚍?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

You have any privileges, except going out of his home. You can walk if you didn't did anything wrong, you can help him with some unharmful things at home such as do the dishes. It's pretty normal a life with him if it wasn't for hum being yandere.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚍? 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

Silent but aggressive anger. He will just be silent and ignore you, if you continue being a brat he will just smack your head against the wall.

But it's pretty rare his anger and it's not that easy. He's going to have to be in a bad mood and so are you, and you're going to have to be a brat.

ㅤㅤ 𓉸ྀི ִ ࣪ㅤ⋆ 𝙳𝚘 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖?ㅤ۫ ❤︎⎯ᛝ𐙚₊˚⊹

Equal, but sometimes beneath. If you got kidnapped definitely he will see you as a stupid because he need to protect you now.

But he sees you as an equal. Not less, not more. He will treat you like a normal person, but he wants you to depend on him.

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

#!! - 𝑰𝑵 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑴𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵 — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ; ᴀᴄʜɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ

CHAPTER ONE - CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Griffith X You (fem! reader)

𝖈𝖜: RAPE/NON-CON.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊:

Finally finished the fic after months of procrastinating.

This fic is not proofread or beta read.

Don’t try this at home, kids!

….And some rape down there. I don’t condone any of this irl (no shit). It is to note that it is part of the story’s progression and I only intend to explore such dark elements like the series always intended to do so in canon.

The “don’t like, don’t read” rule applies here. Kindly heed the tags one more time before proceeding.

“Griffith…I…” you paused as you caught your breath. You were failing to fake self-confidence at this point in time, your legs shaking as you could only watch yourself give into the fear that made its way through your head and heart.

“I…wasn’t expecting your presence here…I….”

Griffith’s eyes narrowed in response, letting out a low hum. He was getting closer this time, giving you less time to react and run for your life.

You took a step backward, pressing your hands against the dresser for some support. You knew you’d hit a dead end the way you clumsily hit the wall, groaning softly in response. You waited and waited for a sign to attempt running past Griffith and escape the palace with all your will’s might. You still had your bathrobe on, which made you partially vulnerable to him, but you didn’t care. You just had to run away from the man who has been invading your personal space.

“Worry not, princess. I came not to disturb your slumber. What I ask for is one simple thing that I believe you and I could share. If I’ll allow you to do so, that is.” Griffith said.

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my Kingdom? This is my lair, as bestowed by my father before me. The fact that you’re trespassing does not make you worthy of seeing me at my-“

Your words were cut off by Griffith, his cunning tone making itself clear in the dead silence. “And who told you that this kingdom was entirely yours? Remember, your induction to queenhood was only taken into consideration because of your father’s sudden death. Besides, it’s not as if you have any experience in leadership whatsoever.”

“Are you underestimating me?” you asked, slightly annoyed with his attitude.

“Why, of course not.” Griffith said as he took brisk steps forward, making it almost impossible for you to escape. “Want to know a secret?”

You nodded in response.

“I killed your father.” Griffith said, shamelessly. He walked three steps forward, caging the both of you within a small distance.

“You son of a bitch! Why….why would you do such a thing?! My father has been-“ you were interrupted once again.

“I had to do it. There could only be one way to test as to whether Midland is fit to be led by a Queen all on her own…..and turns out, the ‘Queen’ in question has no experience.” Griffith said.

“How dare you insult me in my own palace!” you exclaimed. “I’m leaving!”

“Not when you’re barely dressed like that.” Griffith smiled deviously. “Now…..come here….”

“What….what are you implying?” you asked, attempting to charge your way to the exit of your bedroom. “N-never mind….I’m fucking leaving.” As you charged your way to the exit, you felt two hands wrap around your waist from behind. No, it was too late. Griffith caught you. Pulling you backward, he lifted you to your own bed and started stripping down until he wore nothing but his Behelit.

You attempted to escape once more, only for Griffith to pin you down to the bed and press his lips into yours. You fought against the sheets and turned your head to break the kiss, but your attempts were rendered futile as it only prompted Griffith to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Griffith kissed you harshly, and it frankly felt like kissing an untamed beast cornering its prey. You never knew Griffith was ...quite an expert at this, his mouth slightly nibbling at your lower lip everytime he retreated.

After finally pulling away from you, Griffith latched his face onto your neck, positioning himself next to your right ear. “Give yourself to me, Princess. After all, your Kingdom….will soon be mine.”

“No…NO!!!!” you exclaimed.

“A little stubborn, are we?” Griffith asked, tilting his head. “Well, it’s not like you’ve stood a chance. We’re taking off this one, okay?”

You kept tugging at your bathrobe’s ‘belt’ to keep it away from the filthy man on top of you. “Griffith, I don’t want this, please…..”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Too stubborn.” Griffith said, his touch growing angrier as he grabbed your bathrobe by the waist, curling his hand to a fist. Using his other hand, he slid a sleeve of the wardrobe off your shoulder, revealing your bare shoulder and right breast. Griffith dug right in, his lips kissing your hardened nipple as he engulfed his mouth to suckle it whole. While doing the do, he used his right hand to slide off the other sleeve of your bathrobe, exposing your other breast and stripping you down to your naked form. Griffith pulled away from your nipple, impressed with how he rendered the Queen of Midland helpless under his touch.

“Mmmm……what a pretty little thing you make, just for my kingdom.” Griffith let out a satisfactory hum. “This will be a rather fun time showing them who’s deserving of the throne.” Next thing you knew, Griffith was about to go down on you, positioning himself around the area of your waist.

“Don’t resist, Princess. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs wide open.” You hesitantly obeyed, up until Griffith grabbed you by your inner thighs, spreading them wider and raising them. Finally, he slipped your legs up his shoulders. It felt dirty having someone’s face right up your pussy, especially since this was your first time. Your mind wandered as you closed your eyes, hoping everything you just witnessed was just a dream. But no, it wasn’t. You fought against Griffith’s clutches, tugging at his hair and pushing him away.

But this just prompted him to dig right in, lapping at your fluids as he used his hands to part your lips for better tasting. You muffled a moan from the pleasurable feeling, covering your mouth with one hand. Griffith’s tongue worked you in fast, yet practiced motions—the tongue moved swiftly and curled just the right amount to send you shivers down your spine, earning muffled whimpers from you.

Granted, vibrators didn’t exist in the Medieval Era of Midland, so you might as well indulge in that feeling of someone’s tongue right up your pussy.

Griffith withdrew from eating you out for a while, his breathing and humming loud enough to send you goosebumps. “Mmmm…. You’re already this wet from a little kissing and heavy sucking. I wonder how it would be like to have you sing while having myself fully inside you, to have you clench around me while I slowly take what’s rightfully mine.”

“L-let go!!!!” you screamed. “I don’t want this!!!”

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, Princess. After all, you’re something…..” Griffith said, strict and unwavering. “Magnetic.”

Griffith moaned as he dug right back in, his tongue hovered over your clit. He started tracing small circles in a slow pacing, which left you impatient and begging for more. You tugged into his hair trying to fight him off, but as previously stated, you were left with no defenses against his strong grip.

“Griffith!!! Oh God…..!!!! I’m gonna…..!!!”

The feeling gave you that guilt, guilt for enjoying this man’s advances on you, and guilt because you just couldn’t believe your sense of authority was being challenged by a man of common birth.

But Griffith refused to stop. No, he didn’t stop suckling at your clit gently to give you a break. Griffith was merciless in the bedroom, leaving you with no choice but to accept the fate you’ve been accustomed to.

“Agh! Griffith!!! Stop….!!!!” you moaned out loud.

Griffith’s tongue kept going, and it wasn’t long before he inserted two digits inside your entrance without warning. He just didn’t care. His tongue slowly picked up the pace, speeding up and finally making you reach that sweet, sweet climax you’ve been waiting for. You fucked back subconsciously against his tongue, riding out your orgasm until it was ready to subside. After coming down from your high, you suddenly realized Griffith was looking down at you icily with his bright blue eyes, his body towering over yours despite lying down in bed.

You were screwed. What was about to happen next?

“Hmmm…..perhaps you are ready to take all of me. I’m going to fuck you so good you’d actually forget being the Queen of Midland.”

“No…..NO!!!!” you exclaimed, attempting to get up and reach for the door. You were stopped dead by Griffith once again, leading him to push you back to the mattress and grabbing you by the legs. Spreading them wider, Griffith let go of your legs, only to stroke his length before initially inserting it in your entrance. Slight precum formed through a pearl-like shape at the slit of his cock, adding lubrication to the process of entering you. Before you knew it, Griffith made efforts to adjust and bury his length within your vagina, though you ached in retaliation.

“Aghhh!!! It hurts! It burns! Let go!”

“Hush, princess. I know what I’m doing.” Griffith said as he spread your legs open for a better view. He adjusted himself by taking slow yet sure steps in burying his length into you, filling you to the brim. You were at this point begging to be freed from his grasp, though your fainting strength was no match for him.

Placing his hands on your wrists, Griffith pinned you down and started thrusting his hips in a slow, yet ambitious pace. You bit your lip to hold back your moans, but it was all for naught. You let out a small “uh” while he rocked in and out, sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air as he leaned closer to your ear to speak.

“You don’t stand a chance against ruling Midland.” Griffith muttered at an intimate distance from you.

“What…..Huh…..?” you whimpered, your breasts being grabbed as it bounced from Griffith’s thrusts. “What….do you me-ngggh!” you grunted, trying to resist him by trying to get up. “I owe you nothing! Just please, let me rule my Kingdom in peace! I’ll do anything…..anything….but this…..!!!”

“Surrender your pride, little one.” Griffith said as he caught his breath. “I want you to dream of this.”

As a means of defending yourself, you attempted to grab Griffith by the hair to pull and tug on it roughly. However, your efforts to distract Griffith failed. You had to take responsibility for what had to happen next, and it was all because Griffith wanted a taste of your kingdom.

“I have every right to follow my dream, princess. And I want you and your kingdom surrendered to me. That is the pinnacle of achieving my dream.”

“You’ll…..you’ll never…..have my kingdom…..” you fought your way to speak in the midst of denying the pleasure Griffith gave you.

“You’ll take whatever I deem right to give you, princess. After all, your kingdom and this body will be mine.” Griffith said.

You screamed as loud as you could that the servants and every guest would hear you. The walls were soundproof, but you didn’t have a choice.

“Please!!!! I don’t want this! Please get off!!!”

“You do know screaming out for servants to assist you won’t do your kingdom justice, right? Mmmmm…..”

Right on the dot, Griffith stopped thrusting, pulled out, and aggressively flipped your body over that you were facing the bed. With one fell swoop, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pinned your head to the pillow to muffle every moan and protest you had up your sleeve. Without warning, he repositioned himself right up your entrance, taking you from behind.

“This is a far better idea to keep your mouth shut and do as I say.” Griffith commanded.

“Mmmmmhhhh…….mmmmhhhhh!!!!”

The sounds of lewd clapping resumed, Griffith’s cock milking every last bit of your pussy’s juices with fervor. There was no turning back now, and he was truly getting at it, without any form of warning or informing you of any discomfort felt. It was like Griffith only cared for his own pleasure and never left crumbs of remorse for your wellbeing. This left you scarred—physically, emotionally, and most significantly, spiritually.

“Mmmmmm……I’m getting quite close.” Griffith smirked as he leaned forward. “What are you going to do about it, princess? Squirm? Run away?”

Your eyes widened at his remark, your body telling you to escape as he was nearing his release. You certainly did not want to carry his child, nor want to do anything with the monster who pounded on you animalistically.

“Noooooo!!!!!!” your voice protested while being muffled by the pillows where your head rested.

“As I said, you’ll take whatever’s been given to you. Now….”

It wasn’t long before your body betrayed you. You felt your climax approaching despite being against the thought of Griffith fucking you. Subconsciously, you fucked back, trying to get Griffith’s cock deep in you before you could feel his fluids leaking straight from your soaked cunt.

Three.

Two.

One.

Your moans and grunts filled the pillow, adding to its warmth while Griffith bit down your neck out of extreme pleasure. His thrusts sped up as he began to feel ropes of cum shooting itself inside you before pulling out. And the feeling was mutually GOOD. You let out a groan as your muscles relaxed, Griffith moaning as his cum began to leak out from your newly filled cunt. You were soaking wet and drenched in sweat as Griffith stayed inside you for long.

You were now marked as his. You didn’t know what to do at this point as you were deflowered after your coronation day.

“Sleep well, princess. Provided you are to raise a child from our time together, just let me know. We can build a kingdom where you could rule by my side.”

You couldn’t respond, which prompted Griffith to flip your body back to lying on your back. It was truly a tiresome night, filled with intensity and passion as Griffith stole everything from you.

You just never stood a chance.

Your eyes suddenly admitted defeat, staring up at Griffith as he looked down at you with a look of an angel. He was charming, so to speak, but heavily dedicated to what he promised to achieve.

And he achieved it.

He achieved his dream.

[justwinginglife]

Promise

At the request of @zhileyn31, Kafka x Mina fic based off of the song Dress by Taylor Swift. Also side note- I did not intend to have Hoshina be an active part of this fic at ALL, which proves that I just never stop thinking about him, because somehow he slipped his way in.

After years of pushing away her feelings, excusing them as merely a childhood fantasy or an immature crush, and then later allowing them to fizzle out when Kafka was nowhere to be found, Mina Ashiro was feeling quite shaken to discover that the remnants of those past, suppressed feelings were still present -having been engraved into her very being- and now very much active upon seeing her childhood best friend once again.

At first, she shoved the feelings away, regarded them like strangers. They were just something she'd once known, and didn't have the time or energy to know again. She was strong but not strong enough to beg him to be better for her, and she was patient but not patient enough to wait forever. She couldn't count on him to stand by her side, that position had already been filled by her Vice Captain and she needed to be okay with that. She was tired of needing more, of needing him, of needing his promise to be fulfilled.

So as she watched Kafka struggling through yet another Defense Force Exam, she thought her heart might just give up on him. Thought it would learn its lesson.

He might not even remember her. He might not even remember his promise.

So what was she doing holding her breath, waiting in silence? What was she doing, tracking his every move through the cameras, hoping for his safe return, hoping for a triumphant victory? What was she doing? She thought she knew better than this. She was old enough not to cling to such childish notions. But here she was, clinging to him, clinging to her past, clinging to whatever future he might procure for her.

Even after the exam, when -against her own desires- she moved to dismiss him, to fail him from the Defense Force exam once again, her heart leapt in her chest when Vice Captain Hoshina spoke up for him this time. If she wasn't so in love with Kafka, she might've kissed Hoshina right then and there for being so considerate.

But there it was. There were the facts. She was already so far gone, so completely his, that there wasn't room for anyone else. And when he blurted out loud in the middle of the induction ceremony that he'd be at her side soon, she allowed herself to dream that maybe he was all hers too. Even despite the many officers crowded into the room, Mina felt as though, in this moment, it was just her and Kafka alone. The way he said her name, as if no time had passed at all, as if he'd always been right there beside her, holding her hand, comforting her, giving her light in her darkest of days, it made her cheeks warm. Made her hands tremble. Made time stop.

And she wanted more of it.

The next several days she had to actively stop herself from trying to sneak into the officers' practice drills, just to get a glimpse of him. And when she'd take meal breaks, she'd take them in her office because if she sat next to him in the lunchroom, she'd never get back up again. She'd never go to work, never run her division, just get lost in his familiar voice, in his familiar eyes, in his familiar smile.

One day, while she was burying herself in her work, trying to remember how to do her job, Hoshina stopped by to check on her. She didn't look up from her papers but she could feel his familiar smirk splitting the air.

"Yes, Hoshina? Something you need."

"So that new cadet. He's interesting, yeah?"

"Mmhm." She continued rifling through the papers, trying to appear only half interested. She was completely interested. She was dying to at least talk about Kafka with someone if she couldn't see him. If she couldn't watch him train, give him pointers, accidentally get pinned underneath him during a practice match even though she was stronger.

"Ah. Playing dumb, I see."

She swallowed. "And what do you mean by that, Vice Captain?" She wondered if she emphasized his lower status he'd leave it alone.

"Oh nothing, my dear Captain. Just didn't know you were childhood best friends with the little comedy act."

She froze. Then she cleared her throat and slowly rearranged the papers into a nice stack on her desk. Not looking away from the stack, she finally said, "And how did you come by this information?"

He chuckled and sank into a chair in front of her. Then he leaned on her desk, his chin resting in his palms. "Your bestie has a big mouth when he's in the bath. So tell me Captain, did you really promise you'd join the Defense Force with him?"

"Hoshina..." She warned. Her voice was even and firm, like always, but inside she felt like screaming. Just how much did Kafka tell everyone??

He grinned and sat back in his chair, holding both hands up in surrender. "Just curious, that's all. At ease."

She finally looked up at him, her gaze a stone cold glare.

His smirk just deepened. "Ah, c'mon Captain. It's just me." He winked. "But I won't push, if you don't want me to. Though I am interested in this brand new side of you. I'd love to see how this plays out."

Not wanting to test the limits of her patience, he showed himself out shortly after.

Mina sighed as she sank deeper into her chair. Hoshina was getting more and more ballsy the closer he got to her. But one thing he said stuck in her mind- she also wanted to see how this played out.

It seemed that Kafka was going around telling anyone and everyone about his past with her, did that mean he intended to keep her in the past? Was she just a best friend to him? She wanted to be more than just a best friend. More than just a scared little girl he once knew. Or maybe she was a stranger to him now. How did he see her? How did she see him? What was she expecting to happen?

He'd suddenly become her knight in shining armor and she'd run into his arms and let herself be saved by him? She was strong enough that she didn't need him anymore. So why did she need him every damn day, why did she miss his presence constantly? He was finally in the Defense Force, they were finally on base together, finally in the same place at the same time, and yet he was still so incredibly far away from her. She couldn't run to him like she used to. She couldn't let on what a schoolgirl he had turned her into, blushing and kicking her feet whenever he walked by. She had a duty to do, she had to run a Division. She didn't have time for all these mushy gushy feelings.

But still, they endured. She couldn't help her feelings, couldn't help how warm she felt, every time she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, or heard his laugh echoing across a room. She wondered how long she could hold out before her legs gave in and dragged her to his side.

It would be easier if she wasn't the Captain of the Third Division. If she was just Mina Ashiro. If he weren't an officer under her care. If he was just Kafka Hibino. But he was an officer and she was a Captain, and there was no reason for her to find herself alone in a room with him, hard as she tried to find one.

So days turned into weeks, and she still hadn't spoken to him. She wondered if he thought her cold, if he thought her indifferent. But it wasn't like he was running up to talk to her either. Maybe he'd accepted the way things were. The way things had to be. She hoped not. Sometimes, she hoped he'd just say fuck it to all sense of order and propriety, and seek her out. Speak out of turn. Say something, say anything. Acknowledge her. Just look at her. Was that so hard? Was that so much to ask for? Was that an impossible wish?

She didn't even bother wishing for things like his touch or his kiss. She knew those were out of reach. But she just wanted some part of him at all, some way to tell if he was hers to keep, hers to love, hers to dream about in the dead of the night, when only her feelings kept her company and kept her warm.

Then finally, fate intervened. If fate was a certain Vice Captain.

He'd grown tired of seeing his Captain's back stretching just a little too straight and tall, her face just a little too strained and solemn, her movements just a little too restricted and calculated, as she tried to keep playing the part of the picture-perfect leader. And he was tired of seeing Kafka too comfortable with his cohort, too at ease with the situation, too unbothered by the lack of progress in their relationship. Because Hoshina was bothered.

Hoshina thought to himself that even a blind woman could still sense the tension between them, but Kafka- he wouldn't know romance if it hit him in the face with a baseball bat. And Hoshina had contemplated hitting him with a baseball bat many, many times. Knock some sense into the guy maybe. Go get your fucking woman, he'd think to himself as he watched Kafka narrowly pass by Mina in the hall again, their shoulders almost touching as they adjusted around each other. 

As painful as that distance was for Kafka and Mina, it was even more painful for Hoshina. He had to watch this bullshit every damn day and he couldn’t take it anymore.

The very next day, he told Mina he had a hot date on Saturday (the hot date was with his couch) and he needed to trade their days off- her Saturday in exchange for his Sunday. He never asked for anything from her, so she obliged. Little did she know, Hoshina had also given Kafka Sundays as his designated day off. 

Now, Hoshina was not sure how he was going to make the two of them run into each other in such a large city on their single day off, but he was stubborn and if he was honest, he liked playing matchmaker. He would make it happen no matter the cost. 

He started out by giving Kafka a list of all the places he needed to try out on his day off, and the list was made up of Mina’s favorite places to go. Then he told Kafka that he needed to get his officer’s uniform dry cleaned (emphasizing that it looked atrocious and needed to be done this weekend so as to not embarrass the Third Division further) and gave him the name of the cleaner that was down the street from Mina’s place. He even went so far as to poke a hole in one of Kafka’s tires and then leave an advertisement in his locker for the closest mechanic in the city which just so happened to be next door to Mina’s apartment. He had backup plans upon backup plans, and if none of them worked, if Kafka and Mina weren’t together by the end of the weekend, Hoshina would pull all the hair out of his head. And maybe slap the two of them silly. And then do it a couple more times for good measure, as compensation for wasting his time and effort on them.

So finally, the weekend came. Hoshina took his Saturday off and just enjoyed lounging around. But then Sunday came. The big day. As he made his rounds at work, he wondered how the two of them were faring.

It turned out that Hoshina didn’t need to put in so much effort after all. 

Kafka liked to start his days out with a nice, refreshing, early morning walk. Mina did too. And the two of them, somehow, someway, on this random Sunday, gravitated towards the same trail. Fate didn’t bow to Soshiro Hoshina and it certainly did not take too kindly to him trying to take its job. Years from now, when Mina and Kafka’s relationship was thriving after running into each other on this auspicious day, Fate would claim the full credit, not Hoshina. 

And, as the sun began to rise, Mina thought to herself this couldn’t be anything but fate, as she saw the man of her dreams walking towards her, bathed in the sun’s golden glow. Kafka was too simpleminded to contemplate something as deep and as vast as fate, but he was happy to see her all the same. 

They agreed on a place to eat, Mina’s favorite cafe, to which Kafka commented, “Hey! It’s so funny- Vice Captain Hoshina told me to try this same place. What a coincidence.”

Mina was too overwhelmed by her sheer luck on this day to notice Hoshina’s meddling. “Yeah, it’s a good place. I’m glad I get to introduce you to it.”

And so, they bonded over breakfast, acting as though no time had passed at all between them. Mina noted that he was still as sweet and silly as ever. She, on the other hand, was different than she used to be. She wondered if Kafka resented just how much she’d changed, how much she’d needed to change to get stronger. Then, as she saw him grinning the same wide grin at her, offering her a bite of his food, she shook the thought from her head- Kafka couldn’t resent anyone, least of all her. 

Maybe things were different on base, different when they were on duty, but here, in her favorite place with her favorite person, she was allowed to dream. She dared to hope. And maybe it was that daring that finally made her ask, “So what does this make us? Long lost friends? Less than friends?” She paused, poking at her food with her fork, “More than friends?”

He straightened in his seat. “Mina. I’m sorry for making you wait so long. I ask, will you please wait for me a little longer? Wait for me to be who you deserve, to be who you need. And then we can be anything you want. I’ll be anything for you, do anything for you. I’ll be by your side soon, I swear. So please, wait for me.”

Her heart ached, but somehow, his words still brought a smile to her face. How very Kafka, she thought to herself. She had loved him when he first made this promise to her, and as he sat here, declaring his promise again, eyes brimming with determination, she felt that same love grounding her, giving her the strength to keep waiting for him. She’d wait as long as it took- that was her promise to him. 

And then, one day, they’d make all sorts of promises to each other.

[amimmy]

A critical component that is utterly missing from maths education is the understanding that correct proofs isn’t some arbitrary or aesthetic requirement for mathematics. Here especially I feel like some of the quotes of the great mathematicians about mathematical beauty is some of the worst and most unhelpful shit you can hear when you are starting out.

The principles of induction, deduction, logic and their correct application is a critical element of the scientific method - no beauty or metaphysical considerations are involved. If you are sloppy and not cautious, you will make a fool of yourself when you try to model something, it really is as simple as that.

But as a student your only incentive to be precise is so that the professor gives you a good grade, pats you on the back and gives you that academic validation. You have to sit there and fool yourself that you care about beauty or whatever just so you can justify that you aren’t so vain as to care only about a score at the end of the semester.

[zylphiacrowley]

I may or may not have stole the idea to do this from @sae-mian Original template by @7thastralera

I've been wanting to explain X'vahl's relationship to each of the scions for a while now, and this template is such a good way to do so at-a-glance. Buuuuuut because I fail to keep even the shortest story short, of course I've provided details under the cut

Tataru Taru [close friends]: Tataru was the first among the scions who made X'vahl feel welcome as a friend and more importantly, as a person rather than a solution to their problems. They remain close friends and she is incredibly good at reading him when he tries to hide his true feelings about things... She's also good at spurring him to action when he needs it.

Y'shtola Rhul [close friends/sibling-like]: X'vahl and Y'shtola might act like they would like nothing more than to see the other trip and fall on their face, but anyone who knows them knows that they would also be among the first people to square up against anyone who would threaten the other.

Erenville [romantic/wants to be closer]: X'vahl did not mean to fall in love with Erenville. I mean... no, he's not in love. It would be foolish of him to give his heart away to someone only to have it inevitably shattered once again... He definitely doesn't feel at peace whenever Erenville is around him... He doesn't feel his stomach do flips whenever he hears his voice, or his heart beat ever so slightly faster whenever they touch... No, he's not in love... That would be reckless... but X'vahl has been known to act recklessly from time to time... and maybe... maybe he could give his heart to someone again... maybe this time... maybe this time things could be different...

Yda er... Lyse Hext [friends]: Oddly enough X'vahl felt closer to her when she was pretending to be Yda. It didn't help that heartbreaking news from his past suddenly resurfaced shortly after she revealed herself to be Lyse therefor intrinsically linking Lyse to that sinking feeling of loss and guilt. Logically, he knows she has nothing to do with it and therefor it's not her fault but he cannot help the feelings. For those reasons alone he has trouble becoming closer friends with her, but for the same reasons he also still considers her to be a friend. Besides, she is still one of the people that he feels the most comfortable reminiscing about Papalymo with.

Estinien Varlineau [distant/wants to be closer]: Estinien's recent induction to the Scions has meant that he and X'vahl have gotten a chance to get to know each other better as friends after that whole business with Nidhogg left them with a rather strained relationship previously. He still wouldn't consider Estinien to be more than a colleague, but he's open to a friendship with him. Estinien is also one of the people who is able to make him laugh so hard he cries... even if he doesn't mean to.

Thancred Waters [friends]: X'vahl was closer to Thancred before meeting up with him again on The First. They weren't best friends before by any means, but they shared a drink or two and friendly banter from time to time. However, seeing him acting so callously towards Ryne soured their relationship considerably. They have started repairing their friendship, but not before X'vahl lashed out at him about it first which may or may not have ended in an out-and-out fistfight.

Ryne Waters [familial]: Ryne is one of several people that immediately sets X'vahl to "dad mode". He feels especially protective of her after seeing how Thancred treated her when he first met up with them on The First. He saw a lot of himself when he first met the scions in how he thought she was being treated and he tried to pay extra care to make sure he wouldn't make her feel like she was only being used like he did before.

Minfilia Warde [distant/wanted to be closer]: Unfortunately, with her being the de facto leader of the Scions when he knew her, she also bore the brunt of X'vahl's resentment over being treated like a weapon to be thrown at any manner of problem that Eorzea faced at the time. Looking back at it, he realized that she was in a position not unlike his own. He wishes he could've gotten to know her better so he would've had someone to talk to about the echo, but more so because he knows now that she would never have asked more of him than she would've done herself if she could.

G'raha Tia [close friends/familial]: G'raha is the one among the scions that X'vahl trusts implicitly, but not before they sat down and had a serious conversation about never repeating the secret keeping and self-sacrificing stuff ever again. Truth be told, they would still both die for each other, or kill for each other if it came to it. Along with Tataru, G'raha is the only other person who can easily read X'vahl, though G'raha is much gentler about coaxing X'vahl to express his feelings. He is also the only one among the scions that X'vahl has had a legitimate breakdown in front of after he confided in him almost everything about his past.

Alphinaud Leveilleur [familial/close friends]: X'vahl has all but signed the adoption papers to legally adopt both the twins (had both their real parents actually disowned them, he would've). He and Alphinaud have been through so much together that it would be difficult for them not to be close. The whole business with the Crystal Braves did put some strain on their relationship but that have more than repaired that bridge now and, at least in his heart, X'vahl considers him to be his own son.

Alisiae Leveilleur [familial/close friends]: X'vahl considering Alisaie to be his own daughter in his heart is not helped by the fact that his own biological children also happen to be twins and he can't help but think about them whenever he's around the Leveilleur twins. Alisaie has been known to call him "dad" from time to time, whether or not it's on purpose or on accident is something only she knows. X'vahl admires Alisaie's unrelenting dedication to protecting her family. It's a trait he wishes he shared. He thinks that if he did, maybe he would've been able to be there to see his own kids grow up...

Urianger Augurelt [close friends]: Despite all Urianger's eccentricities and proclivity to keeping secrets, X'vahl trusts now that he has his best interests at heart. Even if Urianger isn't willing to divulge everything to him, X'vahl knows that there's nobody who can brew a better cup of tea, or spend a more stress-free and enlightening afternoon with.

Krile Baldesion [distant/wants to be closer]: For as long as they've now known each other, Krile and X'vahl still haven't gotten to spend much time actually getting to know one another. He admires her kindness and knows that she and G'raha are close, and since he trusts G'raha's judement so thoroughly, he's almost certain that he and Krile could be close friends if ever they got the chance to be. Maybe a trip to Tural will provide them that chance?

[rosewaterandivy]

won me over in spite of me

summary: after having met at the 2020 rock n' roll hall of fame induction ceremony, eddie munson will not leave you be. keeps going on about this guy who'd be perfect for you, but you're not interested in another set-up.

a/n: long live rockstar!eddie and his meddling ways!

🎶 you are the bearer of unconditional things, you held you breath and the door for me, thanks for your patience 🎶

“I’m so sorry,” you say, badly covering yet another yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired today.”

A lie. Of course you knew, how could you not?

“Something keep you awake?” he asks, voice soft against the crashing tide.

You’re walking side by side in the fading light, the salty breeze tickling your nose. He’s holding your boots in one hand, insisting that they’re too nice for you to resign them to the sand, your socks tucked into his back pocket.

An amber glow cuts across his face, making him even more handsome, impossibly enough. You bite your lip, looking quickly away when his eyes meet yours— mossy green and flecked with gold.

“The jet lag, probably.” You huff and laugh, turning to watch the sunset.

He hums in thought, “We could’ve rescheduled.”

“What? like we haven’t done that several times over already?”

His bark of laughter is loud and brings a smile to your face. Steve Harrington, the talented and in-demand actor, laughing at your motor mouth. Who would have thought?

Well, Eddie Munson, for one.

“Eds,” you growl picking up your phone, “It’s 4 in the fucking morning.”

“… shit, sorry.”

You roll over onto your stomach, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Well, what is it? What couldn’t you possibly wait to badger me about?”

He sighs down the line, you can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Remember how you were drunkenly lamenting the lack of decent men in the dating scene?”

“I told you that in confidence, Edward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, “And apps are the worst, even if they claim to have a screening process like Raya— that’s not your scene.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Will you just lemme,” he lets out an exasperated huff. “I am trying to you a solid girly.”

A brief consideration.

“You know how I feel about set-ups.”

“Okay, but it’s me? I’m not gonna set you up with some creep who has like, a collection of Furbies or some shit.”

“Long Furbies or normal Furbies?”

“Was any Furby truly normal? More like demon spawn— but that’s beside the point.”

You sigh, smooshing your face into the pillow and mumble out something unintelligible.

“C’mon sugar, use your big girl words.”

God, you could kill him.

“I said,” you enunciate pointedly, “I’ll consider it.”

“Hell yeah!” he crows directly into your ear. “Only a year of bugging you and you finally see reason.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Munson.”

He ends the call by promising to send you the details. so, after your set in Munich you read through a few emails— put out a few fires your publicist expressed concern about, and check your texts.

eds: steve harrington

you: i’m sorry who?

eds: … are you fucking with me?

you: no??

eds: omg 😆 he’s gonna love that

you: the guy you’re trying to set me up with gets off on people not knowing who he is? not really selling it to me here, munson.

eds: no, that’s not— i’ll send you a pic

you: if there is a whisper of dick, i am throwing my phone into the isar river

eds: [IMG]

“Really?” you greet once he picks up, “That’s the pic? How is that supposed to be helpful?”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Shut up, nerd. I know you don’t sleep. Just answer the question.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs softly. “It’s his contact photo in my phone— whaddaya want from me? You said you didn’t want a dick pic.”

You take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Eds, why would you have seen this guy’s dick, much less have a photo of it?”

“Truthfully, it was an accident, both times.” You can hear him shuffling across the line. “But there is nothing wrong with dudes checking out each other’s rigs.”

“I—" your mouth is gaping open like a fish. “I need to drink myself to oblivion to forget this conversation.”

“I mean, it’s noice, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says unhelpfully.

“GOODBYE Edward!”

Thankfully, he calls not long after the disastrous text exchange. You were doing fuck-all lounging around the house since finishing your festival circuit. Technically, this was supposed to be a writing day, but the muse had not been kind to you lately. Studio time was booked for a few weeks out, and you were struggling to come up with the motivation to finish the last few songs for the album.

The buzz of the phone provided a needed excuse to pack it in for the day. Shutting your journal and tossing a pen onto the coffee table, you answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Uh, yeah. Hi." He cleared his throat briefly, "M'glad you picked up, considering how much of an idiot I was. Sorry, by the way."

Steve's voice is low and raspy, but warm and inviting. You lean back on the leather sofa, sinking back into the cushions suddenly not so nervous.

"Well, I'm a nice person, second chances and all that."

He laughs at that. "Very gracious of you."

"Though," you say, "You never did confirm that this is, in fact, Steve Harrington that I am speaking with."

"No?"

"Nope," you pop the 'p' for emphasis. "So, I'm gonna have to ask for some sort of proof because Eddie was less than helpful."

He scoffs, "Typical Munson."

A moment later your phone pings with a notification: s.h. sent an image. Opening it up, you compare it to the images that pop up when you Google his name, and, sure enough, that's him.

"Better?" he asks, after giving you a moment.

"I suppose it'll do. Not like I'm about to suggest facetime," you sigh, running a hand through your unkempt hair. "Especially when I'm rocking writer's retreat chic."

"Mmm," he hums, "Sounds comfy. I'm jealous."

"Yeah?" you laugh, "They not let you roll up in sweats and bleach-stained shirts for your shoot today?"

His laughter greets you, "Y'know, oddly they don't?"

The conversation flows easily from there. He tells you what he can about his current project and you regale him with tales from life on the road, including special appearances by one Eddie Munson. Steve is easy to talk to— effusive and funny, which you hadn’t expected.

You hate to admit it, but Eddie may have been onto something.

“And then he—" Steve stops short, mid-story about a prank gone awry onset of his last project, muttering an apology and you can hear him open the door.

"Mr. Harrington, they're ready for you on set."

Trying to ignore the sour pull of your gut, you heave yourself off of the couch determined to do at least one productive thing today. He had to get back to set, you needed to get something done today, and the conversation was coming to a close.

The door closes with a soft click, quickly followed by Steve's sigh. "So, I gotta get back to work."

"Yeah," you clear your throat. "I guess I should too."

"I, uh, I'm really glad we got to talk." His voice was softer now, "C-could I call you later?"

"Oh, sure." You swallow the nerves creeping up your throat and ignore the kick of your heart in your chest. "I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

You screw your eyes shut, feeling yourself growing hot. "Don't get a big head about it, Harrington."

He laughs, breath blowing in huffs down the line. "Might be too late for that honey."

Numerous phone and FaceTime calls, messages, and several reschedulings later, you were going on a date with Steve. A first date at that, and you couldn't recall the last time you'd been on one of those. His assistant and best friend, Robin had called to confirm with you and promised to drop a pin of the place in Malibu where you'd meet him.

You were lucky enough to fly relatively under the radar most of the time, but since releasing and touring with your sophomore album, it was becoming more difficult to pull off. Not that you didn't like being nominated and winning awards or receiving feedback from your peers— you did, it was just a cosmic catch-22.

Steve completely understood when you'd mentioned not wanting anything especially public for the date. Just said he'd take care of it and for you not to worry about a thing.

But here you were, doing just that staring at your closet trying to find something to wear. In a panic, you'd called Eddie who was currently rifling through your dresser and tossing things behind him. The only thing you'd been able to agree on were the denim shorts, laid out on the bed awaiting the rest of your outfit.

"Aha!" He tossed a red top onto the bed, turning back to face you. "Those," he gestured to the shirt and shorts, "With your boots— the Docs or Blood—"

“Blundstone.”

"Right," he nods, "S'what I said."

You appraise the articles of clothing warily. "Okay."

"Now the lingerie situation is where it gets interesting."

You scoff, "Absolutely not." And begin herding him toward the door, "Consider your services done for the evening."

Shutting the door to change, you hear Eddie talking indistinctly in the hallway. Tieing the hem of the shirt into a knot, you let Eddie back in to assess.

With a nod of approval, he ends the call. "What's up, hot stuff? Harrington's not gonna know what hit him!"

You smile and walk to the mirror in the bathroom to see what can be done about your hair and makeup.

"Speaking of which," Eddie trails after you. "That was him on the phone. Fashion emergency, would you believe?"

"Uh huh," you roll your eyes. "Okay, Miranda Priestly."

"Anyway, I gotta run." He gives you a quick peck on the cheek and a smile. "You're gonna knock 'em dead!"

And he's off.

"Hey," Eddie shouts from the first-floor entryway. "Keep your hair down and do a red lip with that, sugar!"

Steve meets you at the beach. He’s dressed down in jeans and t-shirt and a red bomber jacket— you try to hide the smirk creeping its way across your face; Eddie purposefully curating your respective sartorial choices to match. What a little scamp. You park the car, a vintage cream Mercedes convertible and give yourself a final look in the mirror— hair voluminous and wind whipped (shout-out to leave in stylers), red lip matching your top to a tee.

Well, here goes nothing.

“Hi,” he greets you, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Steve opens the door for you, allowing you to step out and put your sunglasses on.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“Hi,” you reply with a small smile, willing the nerves bubbling in your chest to stay at bay. You nod to the bundle of flowers, “Those for me?”

“Oh, right.” As if he’s just remembered them. “Yeah, your assistant said these were your favorite so.” He extends the hand holding the bouquet toward you, almost hesitantly.

“They are,” you say, fingers brushing against his as you accept the flowers, paper and cellophane crinkling in your grasp. Bringing them to your nose, you breathe in the fresh fragrance of the flowers. “You did good Harrington, thank you.”

He ducks his head and smiles, one hand coming up to run through his hair. “Uh, you're welcome. I’m glad you like them.” He jerks his head toward the beach, “We’re set-up a bit further down. You don’t mind a walk, do you?” You can feel his eyes on you, even as you look away to the shoreline.

A shake of your head, skin warming from the sun overhead and excitement at the possibility of this new thing between you and Steve. What might it be like? To put yourself through it all again, with someone new?

“No,” you answer, jarring yourself from any further lines of inquiry. “I don’t mind at all. Lead the way!”

He slows his pace to walk beside you, sunglasses hiding his gaze. You hold the flowers in your left hand, leaving your right— the one closest to Steve, free. He walks on the right, keeping the damp sand of the shore from you. It reminds you of something your grandmother said way back when you had started entertaining thoughts about dating for the first time: A gentleman always walks on the outside of their date, it’s a sign of chivalry and respect.

Your hands brush a couple of times, pinkies grazing one another. Steve is quiet, more so than you’d been accustomed to— he’s a regular chatterbox on the phone and a texting fiend, more often than not. Maybe he’s nervous? He certainly wouldn’t be the only one. Hands bumping against each other once more, you take it upon yourself make the first move.

“If you wanted to hold my hand so badly,” you laugh, twining your fingers together, “You could’ve just asked Steve.”

He looks at you, pink flush on his cheeks and a beatific smile. “Sorry,” he says with a squeeze of your hand, “Guess I’m a little rusty. And nervous,” he admits shyly. “You’re just so—“

“Intimidating? I get that a lot.”

Steve stops short, looking at you once more. “No— I mean, maybe to some but,” he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “You’re … beautiful.”

It’s an interesting phrase and you notice that it’s not the usual you look beautiful. But instead he’s said it as a declaration of fact— you are beautiful. Not in the way that relies on your looks or the clothes you’re wearing. And it’s nice— it’s sincere because that’s just how Steve Harrington is, as you’ve come to quickly learn.

“Sorry, was that—“

“Don’t apologize,” you say, when you’ve found your voice again. “I— thank you.” You duck your chin to hide your stupid grin. “You’re beautiful too, Steve.”

The walk resumes, both of you more at ease now. The conversation flows easily between you— work, friends, schedules— and you allow yourself to relax. First-date jitters subsided with the cadence of his voice and the warmth of his hand engulfing yours.

Maybe, just maybe this could become something real.

And, if so, Eddie Munson would never let you hear the end of it.

[autotopic]

Launched a century ago, the Bugatti Type 35 didn’t just make a single impact—it revolutionized the racing world with its innovative design and engineering. The car became legendary not only for its initial capabilities when it debuted in 1924 but also for the continuous improvements Bugatti implemented throughout its production. Ettore Bugatti was one of the first automobile manufacturers to grasp the marketing potential of winning races on Europe’s renowned circuits and road tracks, which brought considerable publicity to his brand. Confident as he was in the capabilities of his new car, even Bugatti could not have predicted that the Type 35 would become the most successful race car in history, achieving 2,500 victories during its active racing career.

The first Type 35, released in 1924, was equipped with a 1,991cc eight-cylinder engine, delivering 90 PS in race trim. By early 1926, Bugatti had increased the engine size to 2,262cc for the Type 35T, named after the famous Targa Florio road race in Italy, which it won, with two smaller-engined Type 35s finishing close behind. Despite this success, Ettore Bugatti realized that to stay ahead of the competition, he needed more than just increased engine displacement. He knew that the future of performance lay in forced induction, even though he was initially not a fan of superchargers, which were seen as inefficient at the time.

“It’s no secret Ettore Bugatti preferred naturally aspirated engines and was not an early enthusiast of supercharging due to its perceived inefficiency,” says Luigi Galli, Specialist for Heritage and Certification at Bugatti. “However, what’s less well known is that Bugatti was forward-thinking about the potential of forced induction, experimenting with superchargers even before the Type 35 debuted at its first race in Lyon in August 1924. In fact, Bugatti applied for French patent number 576.182 on January 22, 1924, for a ‘Compresseur ou pompe à palettes,’ a rotary vane supercharger design that could provide extra power on demand by forcing pressurized air into the carburetor. If Bugatti was going to use a supercharger, he was determined to innovate in his own way.”

As a result, Ettore Bugatti, alongside the Italian engineer Edmond Moglia, developed a unique three-rotor Roots-type supercharger, differing from the common two-rotor designs of the time. This supercharger was strategically mounted on the engine’s offside, which allowed it to warm up more quickly and improve overall engine cooling—a principle that remains relevant in modern engine design. The Type 35TC, where “TC” stands for Targa Compressor, was introduced in late 1926. It evolved into the Type 35B in 1927, featuring a larger radiator and cowling, known as the ‘Miramas’ design, which enhanced cooling capabilities. This configuration enabled the Type 35B to produce up to 130 PS, achieving speeds over 205 km/h (150 mph).

By late 1930, further refinements led to what many consider the ultimate version of the Type 35B. This final iteration featured a twin-cam, two-valve-per-cylinder engine, a twin fuel filler cap, improved suspension, wheels, brakes, and tires, as well as a lower-mounted supercharger relief valve. Bugatti’s relentless pursuit of perfection extended to optimizing every element of the combustion system, from sculpted pistons and cylinder heads to the use of aviation-grade fuel, which boosted the output to 140 PS.

Today, at Bugatti’s atelier in Molsheim, each Bugatti model is hand-assembled with the same meticulous attention to detail that Ettore Bugatti applied to the Type 35. A century later, Bugatti’s engineers and designers continue to push the boundaries of automotive excellence, upholding a legacy of innovation and performance that began with the groundbreaking Type 35.

[gnawingyou]

Ahh I speak English originally but I struggle to communicate clearly, sorry. In terms of paranoia induction etc, the responsiveness aspect is so gripping. I imagine even just walking in people’s blind spots to jab my fingers into their ribs, as a mild shock, even just a small jolt feels telling. The desire to destroy is equivalent to the desire to fix, for me - to understand a person with total efficiency and to crawl inside of his mind, that kind words and gestures, which feel backhanded but are delivered so sensitively, that he would gradually come to understand that there is nobody else who will ever see him with such attentiveness. If a simple gesture can spark fear, I wish it could walk the line of relief. A love of peeling off somebody’s skin and then caring for them indefinitely in such a vulnerable state. What saddens me the most is that I don’t anticipate finding somebody with such investment in their other, since it seems most people pursue pain or pleasure for egotistical reasons, and project a desire narrative onto those around them. Within a world of conceitedness, angels amongst men must appear in the form of those whose visions are unclouded by expectation, and in turn whose vulnerability may be torn apart, but who can enact such vicious retaliation to love and hate the same. Everybody wants to beat, or be beaten, with little consideration for what that achieves. If I could only remove his limbs but leave his teeth, he must be dependent yet has the autonomy to harm in return. Perhaps it is a very sterile notion.

I understand completely. When it comes to paranoia induction- or any kind of mental illness exploitation- the responses are the main appeal. I want to see how the human brain responds to different intense stimuli. Especially if it’s somebody I love, I want to see their reaction to everything I inflict on them, I want to be the reason for their crying, panic, hatred, delusions.

A lot of what I say comes with the desire to fix, too. Even if your aim is to break someone’s psyche, you can’t do it purely by breaking. You have to repeat some sort of cycle; for example idealisation before devaluation (ie. narcissistic abuse), or violent torture followed by sweet aftercare. The more trust you gain, the more opportunities you create. The more that they experience your attentiveness and compassion, the more they’ll open themselves up to be broken. Caring somebody in a vulnerable state is great for that, but like you said, it’s also a cute thing. Being someone’s source of comfort and support makes me happy; I want to be useful in a way that also makes them smile and laugh with me. Happiness is as fulfilling as fear.

I see how a lot of people pursue pain & pleasure for egotistical reactions, although I can’t fault them. It feels good and can be incredibly fulfilling, especially for someone who lack basic things from their life. They’re just another thing that makes you human, though it’s undecided whether that thing is good or bad. Most things are inherently neutral though, without context or mutual understanding. I will argue and say that wanting to beat/be beaten does achieve something, whether it’s simply pleasure or an end goal.

I really like how you phrased ‘If I could only remove his limbs but leave his teeth.’ It’s a beautiful way to phrase it. To force him to become dependent on you, but not helpless, because he will still have the ability to bite back. Albeit animalistic and primal, you reduce his reactions to something sub-human, unable to reason or react coherently. Only in a way his survival instincts will allow him. Strip him of his humanity. <3

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS PRESLEY'S INDUCTION IN THE ROCK AND ROLL HALL OF FAME (1986)

— A part of George Klein's speech explained by Elvis himself.

George Klein - 1986 Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Speech (accepting on behalf of Elvis Presley). During his acceptance speech on behalf of Elvis Presley, George Klein quotes the Jaycees Speech Elvis gave on January 16, 1971, during the Ten Outstanding Young Men of the Nation for 1970 ceremony, but the most special part to me was listening to George saying:

I never saw Elvis Presley refusing an autograph. I never saw Elvis refusing a handshake. I never saw Elvis refusing to take a picture with anybody.

This made me go back to an Elvis interview from 1962. EP was filming "It Happened At the World's Fair" (filming took place between August 28 to September 17, 1962 and the movie was released in early 1963) when he took some time to be interviewed by Lloyd Shearer. To him, Elvis told his reasons why he never refused an autograph or picture. He was only 27 years old when he said:

August 17, 1962: ELVIS INTERVIEWED BY REPORTER LLOYD SHEARER.

Lloyd Shearer: Elvis, people's opinions of you seems to have changed since back in the old days. Now everybody thinks you're a model fellow... you know, you're a good guy... epitome of a young man. Now I'm just wondering, is it by accident of by design? What do you think it is? EP: Well, I've tried to be the same all through this thing. Naturally, you learn a lot about people, and you're involved in a lot of different situations. But I've tried to be the same, I mean the way I was brought up. And I always considered other people's feelings. I've never... in other words, I didn't kick anybody on the way (laughs). And I've always treated people just like the way I would like to be treated myself. And I consider other people's feelings. I don't assume the attitude of 'get these people out of here', like I have heard of being done, because those people are sincere in their feelings. And if they want autographs and pictures and things like that, I don't just sign the autographs and the pictures and so forth to help my popularity or to make them like me. I do it because I know that they are sincere. And they see you and they want an autograph to take home. They got an autograph book, or they've got their little camera and everything, so you have to know that. And if you don't do it, it will make them mad at you, they don't understand, you hurt their feelings and you make a lot of enemies that way. And for no reason, because it's as simple as this. Once you get involved in this racket... er, business (laughs), your life is public. Regardless of what anybody says... 'my private life is my own'. Well it is to a certain extent. I mean, everybody has to have a certain amount of privacy. But once you get involved in this business and you're doing a public service, you're trying to entertain people, your life is not your own. Because people are gonna want to know what you are doing, where you are, what you wear, what you eat. These things are natural, are normal, and you have to consider that. You consider that the people are sincere. They don't know the kind of life you lead. They don't know what kind of person you are. And do I try to remember that, that's all. It's simple. It's no problem. It's no big effort that I put forth. I don't have any plans or anything. I just act on my own initiative. It's the way I feel that is the right way, like I have [done] with everything else. Thank God I've been pretty fortunate. I haven't made any bad, bad decisions... and everything. But it's the way I was brought up, you know. My surroundings, my mother and my father and the whole family. We're always considerate of other people's feelings.

Deep inside our hearts, we, fans, feel Elvis Presley deserved much more than life gave him, beyond fortune, fame or recognition, but since we cannot change the past, I will keep saying until the very day I die, with profound conviction, about how Elvis deserves all the people's respect. Also, it would be amazing if the entertainers around the world, from today and from the times to come, could listen to Elvis' words from this 1962 interview, get inspired and try to live up to it.

About the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction, well, George Klein did justice on his quick speech that day. One of the most important, special and unforgettable things about Elvis is how humble, down to earth and loving he was to people and this is something will always worth being addressed. EP may have changed his way of doing things but the important parts of him never changed indeed. There will never be another Elvis Aaron Presley, and the world wouldn't be the same without his blinding, bright shining light that still airs above us. ♥

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

The August 17, 1962 interview is one of the few one-on-one lengthy interviews of Elvis' career and it's full of great insights on the King's mind, a few precious glimpses with the way he truly used to think and feel about many aspects of life. You can (and should) listen to the FULL INTERVIEW HERE.

[psychic-refugee]

Make up of Nevermore Students

Anyone with sunglasses = Vampire

Anyone with a toque = Gorgon

Anyone with gem eyes = Siren

Anyone without a face = Silent Horrors (I call them Faceless in WGF, but I like this more and may edit).

Werewolves and Psychics have no discernible physical, everyday “tell,” with the possible exception if they’re rowdy and many have poofy hair, then that = Werewolf? Otherwise, we can only tell lycanthropy when there’s a full moon.

Let’s assume anyone with any kind of mental power is considered a Psychic. Example: Eugene has apikinesis, the mental ability to control bees. Rowan had telekinesis, the ability to move the physical world with his mind. Rowan calls his mother a “Seer,” but we know she had a book and writing. This could simply be a journal of her visions, like Wednesday. It could be psychography, psychic premonitions via writing. It could be the drawing, automatic drawing, and she wrote what she thought it meant. It could be a mixture of both.

Other Outcasts with no physical, everyday tell, would be Shapeshifters.

Enid is quoted “…to educate people like us. Outcasts, freaks, monsters…fill in your favourite marginalized group here.”

I think this opens up any type of being for consideration of being an Outcast, but if we can only use what is shown from the television show/source material:

Other Outcasts that may exist but are not canonically confirmed.

Witches – The Frumps and Addamses are mediums and necromancers. Mediums because they can speak with the dead. Morticia says they get guidance from their ancestors and Wednesday attempts to call on Goody Addams. Goody Addams’ book, a grimoire, had a curse to lock Crackstone in his coffin, and a reanimation spell that raised Crackstone. The Outcasts just never specifically say Witch, but Crackstone accuses Goody of witchcraft.

I consider Mediums and Necromancers types of witchcraft because they require a spell or ritual. If Wednesday could simply call a ghost to her or raise the dead with her mind, then I’d consider those Psychic powers.

Hydes are confirmed, but I don’t know if they’re Shapeshifters or a type of Were. The latter being any kind of being that shifts into a monster under specific circumstances while Shapeshifters can shift at will. Werewolves, under a full moon. Hydes when under duress or tapping into the worst part of themselves.

The canon states that Hydes are “unleashed” by a traumatic event, or via chemical induction, the latter more in line with the story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. So, are they Outcasts prior to their transformation, or are they Normies? Can anyone become a Hyde?

Tyler’s mother did attend Nevermore, but while Hydes are banned, they don’t question what kind of Outcast one is when applying…guess they really needed that tuition money. LOL. So, it could be that Hydes are any type of Outcasts, perhaps Psychics and that’s why Xavier had dreams of the monster, prior to being Unleashed. Perhaps the potential to become a Hyde is in everyone, or it runs in families. Or they could be their own distinct line of Outcasts that may or may not ever be Unleashed. We don’t know for sure. When was Mrs. Galpin’s Hyde unleashed? Was she a Hyde at Nevermore or was a regular Psychic and that’s why she was allowed in? Who was her master? If you traumatize or drug yourself, are you your own master?

If you’re looking at background characters and they’re not obviously a Vampire, Siren, or Gorgon, then your canonical options are: Psychic, Witch (implied), Werewolf, Shapeshifter, or Hyde.

[subliminalbo]

Introducing: the Subliminalbo Scale for Rating Mind Control In Media

I've been wanting to write analyses of various mind control scenes for a while now. It's actually something that I've done in the past, I'm just not that great at framing for it. A lot of these scenes are really influential for the stuff that I write though, and I love talking about writing and the reason people make certain choices.

So, I decided to give my series on mind control in media a framing device: The Subliminalbo Scale. Right now it's a work in progress, but currently it's a weighted average of three major criteria rated on a scale of 1 to 5. If anyone can think of more criteria that's essential to good mind control, let me know, but these three are what jumped out to me immediately.

Hotness: How sexy is the scene? Is it deliberately sexy or unintentional? Here I also consider, if the scene isn't sexy at all, if there are any major turnoffs inherent to the scenario.

Context: This one is a bit more intangible, but the biggest consideration is how well the scenario is established. Are we talking mind control that comes out of nowhere and serves little purpose to the plot, or something that's been set up early to payoff later?

Creativity: This one is self-explanatory, but how original is the scenario? Are we talking a paint-by-numbers swinging pocket watch induction or something really unique?

The criteria are weighted:

Hotness x .5

Context x .3

Creativity x .1

With hotness having largest overall impact on the rating and creativity having the lowest. Some quick scores that I mocked up:

Ghostbusters

Ho: 5

Co: 5

Cr: 3

Final: 4.78

Prince of Darkness

Ho: 2

Co: 4

Cr: 3

Final: 2.78

Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door

Ho: 2

Co: 5

Cr: 2

Final: 3

Truthfully I'm on the fence about whether hotness is the most important criteria, but for the purposes of this circle I feel like it is. Anyway, I'm open to thoughts.

I am such a ridiculous person

[loreleismusings99]

Two-Body Problem

Mark Watney x reader

Grad School AU, (academic) rivals to ??????

No use of y/n

[Masterlist]

Not Beta-read, we die like Spirit and Opportunity.

CW: networking, Inaccurate depictions of organic chemistry, probably riddled with typos, but that's all I can think of. Please please please let me know if I missed anything and I'll add it to the top of the list

The reader and Mark are both PhD candidates at Northwestern and both happen to be GTAs for an o-chem/bio-chemistry class. They schedule and meet up on neutral ground(a library) to get some grading done together and some unexpected feelings creep in.

AN: This is the first fanfic I've ever written; critique is always welcome and encouraged, but, uh, perhaps manage your expectations? Idk 😅 I'm not the best when it comes to creative writing, but there's a criminally low amount of fic for The Martian and even fewer fic centered around Mark imo. I might continue this into something more, if there's demand and if I've the energy and motivation 🤷🏾

Alright, I'll stop trying to lamp-shade; Enjoy, and thanks for taking the time out of your day to read this 💚💚💚

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Wanna meet up to put a dent in the pile of grading I know you also have? 

The two of you exchanged numbers at the beginning of fall quarter out of politeness, but it was still surprising to see the notification from Mark’s text. 

Leaning back in your chair, you considered your options, the soft sensor schematic in front of you now fully abandoned after an hour of rearranging thermocouples and resistors trying to alleviate a stubborn inductive noise problem.

Mark had been a thorn in your proverbial side since the day you met him; well, night, to be exact—your blood begins to boil at the memory. You were engaged in cordial and calculated banter with a researcher working in a lab you were gunning for before being interrupted by someone exclaiming “Dr. Hernandez!” to your left. You blinked and the fragile connection you just began to form had crumbled as the attention of the faculty member in question whirled to the side and greeted a stocky and stubbly man who Dr. Hernandez introduced to you as “Mark Watney, one of my PhD students!” This confused you since his name tag clearly said, Plant Bio and Conservation and this was a mixer in the electrical and computer engineering department; “I’m working with him and a faculty member in my own department on developing novel ways of monitoring soil properties in areas in Illinois hardest hit by industrial runoff” Mark says with a smile that oozes levels of confidence and hubris only considerable privilege can spawn. He gives you a quick glance before saying, “which actually reminds me-” and steering Dr. Hernandez away from you. Now, this certainly stung, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t get over. No, what made this a problem was Mark’s uncanny ability to draw the room’s attention to him and his work, making it a just a tad difficult to properly network without having to entertain talk and conversation surrounding the department’s charismatic new wunderkind apparent. This combined with quite publicly challenging a design of yours for a class you two shared had firmly placed Mark in your list of worst enemies. Which, admittedly, might be a bit dramatic, but after some quippy and well worded critiques and suggestions to optimize a C++ script he’d written for the same class it seemed you’d made your way onto his hit list too, if department gossip had any veracity to it—so at least the feeling was mutual.

Which brings you back to your confusion at this new development in your communication with him; Mark hadn’t exactly jumped for joy when, in some sick reversal of the infamous two-body problem, the two of you got hired as TAs for the same introductory o-chem class. You exchanged numbers, but neither reached out to the other to host joint office hours, or to work together to get through the ever-growing pile of completed homework assignments that you two need to finish grading—in fact, this is the first time either of you texted the other since the first text you sent confirming your number as yours. Staring at your phone’s screen you weighed the pros and cons of saying yes; on the one hand, it’ll help the two of you get ahead on the imposing pile of work that had accumulated just in the first 2 and a half weeks of the quarter. On the other hand, it meant that you’d have to breathe the same air as your infuriatingly handsome nemesis for longer than you were required to. Not that he was your type. Absolutely not. He just… had an objectively strong jawline…. Choosing not to think too hard about that and reasoning that getting grading done was more important than your pride, you typed out a curt sure. See you at Galter in an hour? And waited for his equally as curt sounds good before getting up to go change out of your comfy, at-home garb and head out the door with your half of the grading pile and your laptop tucked away into your backpack.

You’re chewing the last bite of a pop tart you got, realizing you unfortunately forgot to eat dinner before leaving, and scrolling through Instagram when Mark walks through the glass doors leading into the Galter Health Sciences Library. Under a mild windbreaker, he’s wearing what’s presumably a band t-shirt but with a worn-out and unrecognizable logo tucked into his cuffed light wash jeans. He"s carrying a clearly well-loved canvas satchel with a Cubs patch sewn onto the front. His hair was artfully tousled as he ran a hand through it while he looked for you in the spattering of students who occupied the library at minutes to 9 on a Friday evening. When his eyes finally land on you, he looks taken aback, the carefree look wiped off his face for a moment before he smirks at you through an obviously clenched jaw. “Glad you didn’t decide to stand me up. You reserve a conference room?” You returned his tension-filled smirk with a smile resembling a sneer and responded, “Of course. We’re on the second floor.” You stood up from your seat and started walking in the direction of the staircase, looking behind you to make sure he was following you only to find him in the middle of a light jog to position himself on your right side.

“So, how’s the dissertation writing going?” he asks over his shoulder. Scoffing, you respond with an incredulous “How’s yours?”, hoping he pics up on your clear annoyance at being asked that dreaded question yet again. Wincing at your retort of a question, he concedes with a “Fair enough” And the two of you are plunged back into the awkward silence that permeates the sparsely populated library.

after finally finding the room you reserved(the library is like a maze, capable of ensnaring even the most seasoned of academics), you shuffle into the study room together and set up your computers and piles of homework to be graded before settling into a serene flow with Mark working quietly beside you.

after about thirty minutes, you look over to Mark’s pile and notice that his “complete” pile is, unfortunately, larger than yours, which ignites a spark of competition in you. You start to try to work through your pile faster and Mark seems to pick up on your haste.“Worried about falling behind?” he scoffs with a shit-eating grin, clasping his hands together in front of his mouth. “Oh, not in the slightest; just trying to optimize my time, I've more work to get back to, you know.” you say, smirking back at him but with a glint in your eye, tacitly challenging him to try to get through his pile before you get through yours.

The two of you actually make some substantial progress in both of your piles before you encounter one of the more difficult homework assignments your students have been assigned. You’re stumped by the multi-part problem at the top of the page, trying unsuccessfully to follow the student’s work in front of you.

“... You on homework 15 yet?”

“Yep.” you nod.

“... You have any idea what Dr. C is asking them to do?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright, just checking.”

Mark sits back in his chair with a thud and runs a hand down his face. you stand from your seat and move to the small whiteboard on the wall opposite where you were sitting and start to list out the knowns and unknowns in the problem statement. You can feel Mark’s eyes on you the entire time, following along with your work and your movements as you draw out the reaction being described in the first part of the problem. You get stumped at the end of the problem, trying to piece together the end products of the reaction. You hear Mark shift behind you before turning around to see him walking toward the whiteboard to silently walk himself through your work, nodding at each step you took. He picks up a marker and starts adding onto where you were stumped and you watch intently, absorbing what he’s writing. As he finishes the problem, you get the chance to actually get a look at him while he’s working; he furrows his eyebrows and you notice a small crease he gets between his eyebrows as they cinch together, and the faint spattering of freckles across his nose becomes apparent with how close he is to you now. God, he is so close-"that should be it? I think?" He looks to you with an indiscernible look in his eye; first, a hint of shock as his eyes widen--looks like he noticed how close you are too-- then something else you can't quite identify. It takes more effort than your willing to admit, but you eventually tear your eyes away from his and look at his work on the board. It all makes sense, you also note how messily he draws his diagrams of the assortment of carboxyl groups created by the process at the center of the problem(and it also takes everything within you not to smile at that, thinking to yourself, when did this start feeling nice???). "It, uh, it looks all good to me. And the rest should follow from this too." you utter awkwardly and turn to face him again. "Yeah?" His state of mind is still elusive to you, and he responds with an almost dazed sounding "Yeah."

The moment doesn't last for long though, as a soft knock sounds at the door, startling you both out of your joint reverie. "Hey, you guys are the TAs for o-chem this quarter, right? Do you have time to talk about the homework due tomorrow?" The two of you exchange a glance and invite the exhausted looking undergrad into the alcove.

After helping your wayward student, the two of you start packing up your now completed piles of grading in silence, the awkward air from the beginning of the night settling back in now that the distraction from grading was gone. The two of you are about to part ways at the entrance of the library when Mark stops you with a "hey," and says,"uh, so, I know we have this…whatever this is? Between us" He gestures chaotically back and forth in the space between you, and you raise an eyebrow at him. "But this is the most work I've gotten done in one sitting in a while. Would you, uh, like to do this again? Maybe? But at more reasonable hour?" Mark takes a defensive steps back, and this throws you off for a multitude of reasons. One, Mark is acting nervous, which is something you've had the pleasure of witnessing mabe once in your time being around him. Two, he seems to be genuinely asking spend more time with you. And, to be honest, after the silence between the two of you was broken, that was also the most productive you've been in a while. And it probably wouldn't hurt to actually collaborate with him instead of trying to compete with him. Just as you began to fear you were taking too long to respond, Mark pulls his hands out of his pockets and puts them up in the universal "I'm harmless" pose, "you don't have to, I just thought I'd ask-" "sure." You cut him off before he can try to answer his question for you. He looks at you with what can only be described as gleeful shimmer in his eyes and smirked again; this time, though, it didn't have his usual venom behind it. "Yeah?" He asks hopefully. "Yeah." You smile in return, it reaching your eyes this time.

[aaliyahunleashed]

Congratulations to Cher being inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame last night.

DID YOU KNOW: Director Michael Rymer revealed that, before Aaliyah was cast, Cher was actually in consideration for the role of 'Queen Akasha" in the film Queen of the Damned.

Make sure you guys sign the 'Induct Aaliyah into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame" petition t ensure Aaliyah is NEXT to be inducted!

Let's get Aaliyah's name in there!

[pruning-the-minds-garden]

On Trust

Lets talk about trust in kink generally, and in hypnokink specifically. First, about Proximal Trust, then about Trusting me, and last about Accountability.

Something I want, I need people in the hypnokink space - and in general, really - to watch out for is Proximal Trust. This is when [Person A] gains a level of perceived trust or integrity in the eyes of other people, by being associated with (in proximity to) [Person B]. A concrete example: "I've seen HypnoDude being friendly with and sharing the content of SpiralChain for ages, and I trust SpiralChain, so HypnoDude has to be legit..."

Let me let Gen. Ackbar tell you what that is -

There are a lot of people I talk to in the hypnokink community, who exist in a space where... well... it's not that I think they're untrustworthy, but at the same time I cannot attest directly to whether they are trustworthy and respectful partners. That's not because I have doubts about them as people, but because I have never interacted with them in that specific way. They've never been sexually, kinkstually or whatever interested in me, nor I them, and that is a very different level of interaction to, "hey how's the weather? You like D&D 5E? Oh cool, so what's your favorite kind of induction?"

I cannot, and you should not, assume that just because someone is able to maintain a friendship with me without setting off alarm bells in my head, that they are a considerate, ethical, and compatible partner. It is just not a good or safe assumption to make. Yes, a lot of really skeevy people will squick me out and I will avoid them right off the jump... but a lot of others won't.

Cloaking one's predatory nature or broken stair-ness in order to get in the proximity of trusted folks is a great strategy to get access to a more steady stream of potential partners, and so it is one oft employed. And, it often works. I cannot possibly vouch for everyone I interact positively with, nor everyone who shares my content, nor everyone who upvotes or likes my ideas. I can only vouch for the small circle of people I've actually had intimate interactions with or whom I've directly seen interacting in that way for a long enough time to feel comfortable drawing conclusions from said observations. I wish predators and unethical actors and broken stairs came with badges, but sadly they do not.

If you have questions about individuals, ask me about them in DM. I will tell you what I know, and admit what I do not (which is often a lot). I will be as honest and forthright as possible, to give you the ability to make an honest risk assessment for yourself. I'm always here to help, too, should things should go awry, in whatever way you deem necessary. I limit the extent to which I publicly call people out to those people who have, in my eyes, repeatedly and unapologetically done things that cross serious ethical lines, and for whom there is sufficient and publicly-available evidence.

On a related note, everything I said above about other people applies to me, too. I know I make a lot of content on ethics and safety and consent and that might recommend to suspicion that I'm "automatically" a trustworthy person. I'ma let Gen. Ackbar take that one again -

Don't assume you can trust me. I really do appreciate that I've helped people, it means a ton to me. It matters. I am really, really, really super glad to have made the amount of difference - however big or small it is - that I have. I'm grateful for all of your support and accolades and all of that.

However.

No amount of difference, no amount of kudos, no amount of good a person could do, ever, makes them automatically worthy of your trust. That goes double in an intimate, kink context. Always, always, always vett your potential intimate and kink partners as best you can. Just because someone has a bunch of good friends, that does not mean that can't then turn around and be a consent violating asshole in the proverbial (or literal) bedroom. Just because someone talks a good - or great - game, that doesn't mean that when push comes to shove they aren't sus as hell. Vett. Your. Partners. Please. Not doing so does not excuse unethical or injurious behavior on their part - that's their doing and their failing, not yours - but it will help greatly to keep you safe. In an ideal world it would not be required, but we don't live in that ideal world, and until we do we have to live in the one we do.

That brings us to Accountability. I've said a lot here about not trusting the wrong people, so I want to make something absolutely, crystal clear: if someone does something hurtful to you, that is THEIR fault, not yours. Where you put your trust and how you vett people does matter but it does not, in any way, to any extent, make the things that happen to you "your fault." Accountability for those hurtful, abusive actions is 100% on the shoulders of the people who do them. It will never be anywhere else. All of the above - vetting, proximal trust, etc - is said with a mind to practicality and self-protection, to keeping you safe in the future, and not with even a hint of suggestion of blame or responsibility for anything. I know that when you are in the grips of something like that it can be easy to get into a blame, shame or self-hate spiral, wondering how you could let something like that happen and... you didn't. Things like that don't passively occur, they are actively pursued, and done so in ways that specifically overcome or bypass or evade the protective mechanisms that we all use to keep that from being done to us. It's. Not. Your. Fault.

Is this in response to a specific situation? Yes. More than one, honestly. Am I going to spill the proverbial tea? If I was going to, I would have already. I value given promises of privacy and even implicit ones far more than the social currency of naming-and-shaming and "✨#drama✨". If the time comes for that, though, rest assured it will happen. In the mean time, I'll do what I can to see that people are safe, healthy, and steps are taken to prevent future harm, as appropriate. I care about this community and I want to do right by it, and by all of you, as best I can.

[gothfoxgirlboy]

Hypnosis

Time for another Deep Dive, this time on hypnosis. This one is considerably longer than the previous two

So as with always I will start with explaining what hypnosis is. Hypnosis is a mental kink that involves placing someone in a trance where they are more suggestible and the hypnotist can give triggers. Odds are you have already been in a trance in your life, have you ever played a game and gotten so immersed you forgot the time, have you ever played a rhythm game and felt like your body was moving before you were thinking, have you ever read a book so good that you don't even see the words you just see images and scenes? Those are all great examples of trances.

Important words

Trance: an altered state of mind

Trigger: something that causes a particular reaction, set by a hypnotist.

Safeties: Triggers that are put in place to help protect one's mind

Hypnotist: The one controlling the tranced

Tranced: The one who is being hypnotized

I personally break the process of hypnosis down into a few steps.

The first step is always preparation, due to hypnosis involving an altered state of mind I firmly believe that every single part should be decided and consented to before anything else. Discuss triggers, wake-up, and any physical actions and terms being used during as well as who will be responsible for waking the one being tranced. Then both parties should do basic prep, drink, use the washroom, eat, get comfy etc.

Following this is the induction, this is the part where someone gets hypnotized. Usually it will involve a way to relax your body and mind, typically using a breathing pattern. Followed by a focus. Anything that forces you to focus on a singular thing, this could be the breathing pattern, or spiral, or a pendulum or perhaps even a mantra, a phrase that is repeated. The purpose of this is to remove distractions and keep your focus. After this part the tranced should be paying attention mainly to the focus, and only be aware of what the hypnotist is saying. In other words do not focus on what is being said, only listen and obey.

For a slight interlude, those of you who paid attention in English class may remember rhetoric, rhetoric is in my opinion incredibly helpful during hypnosis, build trust, use imagery, and use repetition to help with the induction and the next part.

After the induction is the Trance, usually this is started with a countdown using words that invoke the imagery of depth and falling or sinking to help open up the subconscious. Here is the meat of hypnotic play, this is where the hypnotist can set triggers or alter the state of the tranced's mind. Everything here should be decided before starting and during this section consent can not be given properly.

Finally, there is the wake-up. This is the part where the tranced wakes up from the trance. This can be done with help from the hypnotist or by using safeties. Afterwards provide aftercare.

So now to get more in-depth with triggers. Triggers are as explained something that provide a reaction. One of the most basic triggers is a trance trigger, these are usually words like sleep, or deeper that when said can push the tranced into trance faster which is helpful for repeated induction.

I believe that there are three different types of triggers; persistent triggers, instant triggers, association triggers.

Instant triggers are the most common, and are boiled down to when x do y. When you smell roses you giggle, when I say "mutt" you bark, when you touch your nipples you fall into trance. They are very simple action and reaction triggers.

Persistent triggers are triggers that tend to dictate behaviour on a longer scale. clothing and accessories tend to be really good for these. When you wear a collar you will act like a dog, if you have this plug in you will be a bimbo, when you wear the latex you will be a drone. They are slightly more complicated because the effects tend to be more involved.

Association triggers are triggers that are entirely subconscious and don't really have a solid trigger. This could be using hypnosis to get someone into a kink by associating that kink with pleasure. Or it could be used to break a bad habit like smoking by changing the craving with a desire to go for a walk.

The things that can be affected by triggers are almost unlimited. A quick list would be; actions, behaviours, reactions, memory, addictions, personality, sensations, skills, intelligence, etc.

If you think that that is most of what makes a person you would be correct. HYPNOSIS IS DANGEROUS. Never ever go under with a hypnotist that you do not trust. Before really getting into hypnokink I would highly recommend finding a hypnotist you trust and getting safeties put in.

I recommend at the very least having a safety that takes you out of trance when you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, a safety that lets you undo a session removing all triggers, a safety that lets you remove triggers whenever you need, and if you are into memory play a safety that lets you remember everything you had forgotten.

As the one being tranced there are things you should definitely be careful of such as; trying to bypass your safeties or make them not work, addiction, triggers that can activate accidentally, basic functions being locked by triggers and non-consensual trancing. These are all things that more experienced members of the hypno community have probably all heard abuse stories of. @safetyeyedlore is a new blog that is planning to help spread awareness.

Hypnosis is a beloved kink despite the danger because it truly is a kink where possibilities are endless. The ability to make people cum with just words or experience being fucked by tentacles are all possible with hypnosis.

Bimbofication is a kink that typically involves hypnosis that affects libido, intelligence and mannerism like style and speech patterns.

Dronification is a kink that involves hypnosis to create an alternate, non-persona, essentially a personality based on not having a personality, being a robot-like person who can only obey.

On top of that the flavor of your triggers and sessions can vary so much, from a standard stage hypnotist, to a succubus casting curses, to a programmer coding a drone.

Being tranced and hypnotizing people are both skills that take time and practice. Those who are experienced in both can even hypnotize themselves. It is a very unique kink that I would highly recommend to anyone.

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