#it does seem a bit silly but it seems to be standard practice in a lot of films and tv shows

[woso-dreamzzz]

Miracle II

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: Aitana babyproofs

The first night you are with her...

Well, the first night you are with her as a Bonmatí, is a stressful one.

You cry.

And then you stop.

Then you cry again when she sets you down for bed.

It's still early by Atiana's standards but it's gone seven and all the baby books say it's perfect bedtime for little babies.

But you just don't seem to want to settle and Aitana can't think of what she's done wrong. She's moved you into your own room now with little glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling to occupy you. You're newly washed and warm in your fluffy onesie and you're holding the little pegasus plushie Aitana bought you when you were born.

She's followed the books to a tee and yet you still cried.

You cried and cried and whined for your Ta-Ta until Aitana picked you up and you settled again.

She has no choice but to drag your crib straight back into her room because you refuse to settle anywhere else.

But, apart from that small hiccup, you are a golden baby.

You are soft and sweet and make little happy gurgling sounds whenever you see your Mama Ta-Ta.

It all goes so well and Aitana doesn't know what she was worrying about until you learn how to walk. She was impressed at first, you were on the younger end when you learnt and she's very impressed when you just got up one day from where you're playing on your mat to walk over to the kitchen where Aitana is making dinner.

You raise your arms for her and she instantly picks you up.

All you wanted was your Mama Ta-Ta.

The issue comes when Aitana realises just how many sharp corners are in her house and just how quickly you have transitioned from wobbly steps to proper walking.

"Sorry, Tana," Marta says when Aitana asks about babyproofing during a break in practice. She's talking to her Aitana but her eyes are focused on where her Conejita and Caro are making flower crowns together. "I never had to do that for Conejita. She didn't walk until quite late and she never really strayed far."

Aitana can believe that. Even now Conejita is a careful child. She doesn't run and doesn't play rough. She just chooses a space and sits and weaves flowers together.

So, Aitana turns to Mapi and Ingrid.

They're sitting a bit further away as little Skatt is letting a beetle climb all over her fingers.

Ingrid has a similar response.

"Skatt never moved very fast," Ingrid says," It was easy to occupy her."

"I think you can order these foam things that clip onto corners," Mapi offers, hooking her hand around the inside of Skatt's collar to pull her closer when she tries to wander after where the beetle has flown off to," You could try those."

And Aitana does. She orders them as soon as she gets home while occupying you with a sensory programme about space.

You like that kind of thing, Aitana has learnt and your room (which you now more frequently sleep in) is full of stars and planets and the mobile that hangs above your crib is a replica of the solar system and sings a silly song about how to name each planet.

Her corner guards come within the hour after Aitana pays an extortionate price for sameday delivery. The ring of the doorbell makes you turn your head but your interest is captured once again by the spinning stars and comets so Aitana feels safe babyproofing the apartment while you watch your video.

She's just clipping on the last of the guards when there's a tug on her shorts. She's not surprised to see you standing there. Your video finished a few minutes ago and the soft pad of your socked feet were ones Aitana was used to now.

"Hola, estrella," She coos at you.

You babble nonsense for a while before lifting up your arms. "Ta-Ta."

"Alright," Aitana says," Uppies, it is." She lifts you up onto her hip and you take the time to poke at the new corner guards.

Your little brows furrow and Aitana can't help but think about how much you look like her when you do that.

"It's to protect your head," She explains to you," So you can go running around and not hurt yourself."

You poke it again in confusion, legs kicking out before you huff and rest your head against Aitana's chest.

"Tar," You whine and Aitana knows that word in your language too.

She laughs. "Alright, we can watch the dancing stars again."

You must know she's agreed because you burst into ecstatic giggles as she walks you back to the sofa.

Both Marta and Ingrid had warned her about the mindless, boring videos she would now have to watch as your mother but Aitana finds that she doesn't quite mind.

She'll sit through mindless kid's shows forever if it means keeping you in her arms.

But, it seems that you don't want to be in her arms right now as you spot your stuffed pegasus lying by the corner from earlier.

Aitana lets you go, watching as you pad very carefully over to your toy. She sucks in a breath as you approach the corner. You stop just in front of it, staring.

You wrap your little hand around the corner and duck down with your other to grab your plushie. You pull yourself back up, patting the corner happily before wandering back to Aitana.

You show her your toy.

"Ta-Ta, peg-sus."

She laughs. "That's right. Your pegasus. There's a constellation called pegasus. Is that why you like it so much?"

You giggle and gnaw on a wing.

She hefts you up onto her lap again and you rest your ear against her chest.

"Tar," You point at the tv.

"Alright, let me put on your stars."

[spnjediavenger]

Not That Strange (Matt Murdock x reader)

Title: Not That Strange

Type: one-shot; matt murdock x reader

Warnings: none?

Spoilers: none?

Notes: got this idea from a post @harleycao made. Thank you for letting me turn it into a fic!

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its characters, or plot

Word count: 828

It had been a long night; and Matt got more beat up than he’d like to admit. He prevailed in the end but wondered if he’d have to take a night or two off after this to rest and meditate.

With the wounds and bruises around his body and exhaustion seeping into his bones, Matt hadn’t been paying attention to the inside of his apartment, hence not hearing the heartbeat occupying the space that he didn’t expect. He climbed through the window of his bedroom, feet thudding loudly on the floor with apathy. He could practically hear his bed calling his name.

“...Matt?”

The vigilante knew he was weary from tiredness but he was with it enough to know that was most definitely not his bed…

Matt froze as he stood just inside his room, heart skipping a beat too.

On the other side of the room, his girlfriend, Y/n, stood. Her jaw was dropped ever so slightly as she stared at Daredevil standing in her boyfriend’s room. And Matt didn’t know what to say. He wouldn’t insult Y/n’s intelligence by trying to lie at this point. But he also couldn’t get himself to just come out and say it, worried she would reject him now. So he elected to remain silent and not move when she slowly walked towards him. She stopped just inches away from him, reaching her hands up to grab the helmet on his head. Matt’s hands flinched at the urge to grab her hands from pulling it off but he stopped them. She slid it off and watched as Matt turned his blind gaze to the floor. He found it almost funny how after all these years, the reaction to avert one’s eyes in an uneasy circumstance still lived in his brain.

Y/n studied his face for a few moments in the silence. She knew it was him. She knew what her boyfriend looked like. But it still took her brain time to come to terms with it. When she got a somewhat coherent thought, she spoke. “Are…Are you…”

Matt stopped himself from huffing at the inevitable question he knew she was going to ask. After his identity having been revealed a few times now he just accepted the response. “Yes, I really am blind.”

Y/n pursed her lips and tilted her head in confusion. “What?”

Matt paused a moment and turned his face to be level with hers. “You were going to ask if I was even blind, right? Or if I’ve been lying about it?”

Y/n’s head twitched back in shock. “No,” she almost laughed. “I was going to ask if you were a super soldier or something. Why would I question if you’re actually blind?”

Matt furrowed his brow. “Most people usually do…The things daredevil does would be pretty difficult for a blind person,” he said, as if it was rehearsed.

Now Y/n chuckled a bit dryly. “I think you should know by now that I am not most people, Matt Murdock,” she smiled, surprising him with a peck on the lips. Upon seeing his still confused expression, she continued. “Matt, literal g-ds have come here from other planets; earth is home to two, if not more, supersoldiers that can do things that defy normal human standards; there are people who have actual superpowers that they got from some crazy celestial stones. And others think that you being able to fight and do backflips blind doesn’t make sense? It’s not that strange.”

Matt burst out laughing at her saying this in a completely serious tone. He knew she was serious - but it did sound absurd when she said it out loud. When he calmed down, he gave her a quick kiss back, his residual laughter bleeding into it a bit. “It does seem silly when you put it that way,” he said, smiling.

Y/n smiled back and threw his helmet on his bed so she could weave both hands through his hair.

A moment passed and Matt thought of something. “Wait, so you- you’re ok with this?”

“I mean…it’s a lot to take in but it also explains a lot,” Y/n said plainly. “Not having a lot of stayovers, the random wounds that everyone knows aren’t because you’re blind and run into things (Matt definitely didn’t blush, feeling called out on that), how inhumanly tired you are some mornings. It’s a little scary but I know you know how to handle and protect yourself; especially knowing everything you’ve done for this city. It just makes me more proud to be your girlfriend,” she ended in a whisper, pulling Matt in for a proper kiss that he happily returned.

“You have to be the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” Matt said, resting his forehead on hers, his voice filled with love. 

Y/n smiled and closed her eyes. “I love you, Daredevil.”

Matt chuckled and cupped her cheek. “I love you too.”

[mays-simping-for-leona]

𓏲̣̇.170 reasons to love leona —not joking ⏤͟͟͞͞★

𓏲̣̇.idfk what im doing but i just need to do it ain't no way, my brain is gonna burn thinking of reasons to write this🙏🏻 ⏤͟͟͞͞★

𓏲̣̇.info

this post will discuss 170 reasons to love leona kingscholar ⏤͟͟͞͞★

im setting reader here to be fem

Emotional – Psychological – Social – Intellectual – Physical – Spiritual – Lifestyle – Practical – Creative – Temporal

this is all aspects mentioned

𓏲̣̇. Enjoy!⏤͟͟͞͞★

sorry for being late to post, this whole thing got deleted at reason 104 and i had to rewrite it all

while he may look cold to other people in general, he is definitely not cold to you at all. this man when in love will be so emotional even if he hides it

gentleman, he is so good at princess treatment since he respects women, and NO i don't like when he makes yiu his own pillow he will never force you into this. i believe he is the kind of guy to just take care of you when you are on your period, focuses on you

his love language is physical touch (duh of course he is touchstarved)

gives you a cute silly nickname as some sort of love

acts of service is his fav thing, he will probably love it when you fix his braids for him and he will buy you extra food

he is a nerd, so he can help you with your homework

he won't cheat, that man barely allowed himself to even THINK about dating, let alone cheating

He values quality time together, he will love sitting under a tree with you, shower together, eat together, just sit and stare in each other eyes without saying anything. your presence alone will keep him in love

he knows games like chess, and is a bookworm, so he will keep you entertained 24/7 when you two are bored

he is a bit jealous, he is not that kind of dude to go into a fight just because someone looked at you or do something crazy..he won't use his fists, he is mature, not a kid (just a reminder that he is 20, not a jealous 16 yrs old)

he will ACTUALLY try to be better for you, he is depressed and insecure, but like any healthy relationship — both of you will benefit and learn good, new habits from each other and improve yourselves!

he will let you steal his clothes and will absolutely love it when his scent is on you

idk if this is mentioned in game, but i think he is more likely to share food! he will even let you finish the whole meal and then you realize he didn't even eat

he doesn't fucking care how you look, curvy or not, pretty or not, this man will basically love you for your approach and personality, love you because you are his safe place not his sexy wife material!(i don't mean he won't appreciate your beauty, but beauty in general? not a main standard, he can still love you even if you are not —but you are, i believe everyone is beautiful🫶🏻)

he is not scared or ashamed of showing his love in public! he will cuddle, kiss, hold hands, lean on you, do anything lovely or affectionate in front of people

he is so intelligent and smart, he can plan cleverly and does things..a lot of his behavior are made with logical and rational assessment, even if he seems dull, uninterested, or asleep all the time

He doesn’t live in illusions. He knows his strengths and limits and doesn’t try to fake anything. His realism may come off as cynical, but it keeps him mentally grounded and resilient to disappointment

Even in his laziness, he’s magnetic. He has a commanding presence and a calmness that hints at power. This type of charisma can be both comforting and intimidating depending on who’s facing him

Though he's a bottled-up, explosive type, he rarely actually erupts. He’s able to suppress his emotions and endure pressure—a sign of strong psychological restraint

He doesn’t follow others blindly or care to fit in. His self-driven mindset makes him mentally sturdy, even when the world pushes against him

He doesn’t sugarcoat things to himself. If he’s bitter, he knows it. If he’s angry, he accepts it. This self-awareness shields him from inner contradictions that often lead to mental strain

Despite his rebellious streak, he knows how to act according to the situation. He can retreat when it’s smart or strike when needed. This kind of psychological flexibility is rare, especially in strong personalities

Though he pretends not to care, he quietly respects and protects those he values (like Ruggie and his dorm members). His loyalty is subtle, but real—rooted in depth rather than words.

Leona knows who he is. His feelings about being the "second-born," his view of the royal system, and his inner conflicts all contribute to a solid, stable identity despite his insecurities and mental situation

Though he mocks others, he genuinely respects competence. He may envy someone’s strength, but he doesn’t deny it. This shows a quiet sense of fairness and appreciation for true merit

Leona has experienced emotional maturity—but the harsh kind. He doesn’t live in idealism. He expects no fairness or mercy from the world. This early maturity led him to abandon dreams, but not understanding. He reads emotions clearly, but often chooses to detach rather than engage

His laughter is never pure. He mocks, he teases, and turns serious moments into biting sarcasm. But this is how he deals with life’s absurdities.His humor is a shield—a way to dull the pain and vent his silent frustrations

Leona is hyperaware of unfairness, especially in systems of rank, power, or bloodline. His resentment toward the throne isn’t just jealousy—it’s the ache of being "second best" no matter how capable he is. This gives him a rare emotional depth—he understands injustice profoundly, and even empathizes (secretly) with others who are overlooked.

Though he acts indifferent, Leona hates being less than excellent. Sometimes, he self-sabotages, but deep down there’s always that voice whispering: "If I were first, I’d do it better." This internal tug-of-war between perfectionism and resignation fuels his ongoing frustration and will always keep trying to be better and seek your (and secretly others) approval

He didn’t become Savanaclaw's dorm leader by accident. Leona possesses natural leadership instincts: he commands order, earns respect, and maintains control. If not for his bitterness toward the idea of kingship, he could’ve become a truly great ruler

peacefulLeona loves the sun, silence, and lying in places. This isn’t just laziness—it’s a genuine desire for inner calm, for a world without pressure or comparison. There’s a quiet poet in him, one who seeks peace more than praise

He doesn’t trust easily. He rarely opens up. But this is measured caution, not coldness. He chooses his inner circle with precision—and when someone does earn his trust, the connection runs deep

He may act like he doesn't care, but Leona very much watches over those he deems “his pack.” If someone messes with someone he respects or cares about—good luck to them

He doesn’t pick on the weak for no reason. If someone’s in trouble and not deserving of it, Leona’s likely to step in—even if silently

He doesn’t need to bark orders. People follow him because he carries authority effortlessly. He’s the kind of leader others naturally look to during chaos

He doesn’t live in illusions. He knows his strengths and limits and doesn’t try to fake anything. His realism may come off as cynical, but it keeps him mentally grounded and resilient to disappointment

Even in his laziness, he’s magnetic. He has a commanding presence and a calmness that hints at power. This type of charisma can be both comforting and intimidating depending on who’s facing him

Though he's a bottled-up, explosive type, he rarely actually erupts. He’s able to suppress his emotions and endure pressure—a sign of strong psychological restraint

He doesn’t follow others blindly or care to fit in. His self-driven mindset makes him mentally sturdy, even when the world pushes against him

He doesn’t sugarcoat things to himself. If he’s bitter, he knows it. If he’s angry, he accepts it. This self-awareness shields him from inner contradictions that often lead to mental strain

Despite his rebellious streak, he knows how to act according to the situation. He can retreat when it’s smart or strike when needed. This kind of psychological flexibility is rare, especially in strong personalities

Though he pretends not to care, he quietly respects and protects those he values (like Ruggie and his dorm members). His loyalty is subtle, but real—rooted in depth rather than words.

Leona knows who he is. His feelings about being the "second-born," his view of the royal system, and his inner conflicts all contribute to a solid, stable identity. This self-definition gives him unshakable confidence

Though he mocks others, he genuinely respects competence. He may envy someone’s strength, but he doesn’t deny it. This shows a quiet sense of fairness and appreciation for true merit.Leona has experienced emotional maturity—but the harsh kind.

He doesn’t live in idealism. He expects no fairness or mercy from the world.This early maturity led him to abandon dreams, but not understanding.He reads emotions clearly, but often chooses to detach rather than engage.His laughter is never pure.

He mocks, he teases, and turns serious moments into biting sarcasm. But this is how he deals with life’s absurdities.His humor is a shield—a way to dull the pain and vent his silent frustrations

His laughter is never pure. He mocks, he teases, and turns serious moments into biting sarcasm. But this is how he deals with life’s absurdities

His humor is a shield—a way to dull the pain and vent his silent frustrationsLeona is hyperaware of unfairness, especially in systems of rank, power, or bloodline

His resentment toward the throne isn’t just jealousy—it’s the ache of being "second best" no matter how capable he is.This gives him a rare emotional depth—he understands injustice profoundly, and even empathizes (secretly) with others who are overlooked.Though he acts indifferent, Leona hates being less than excellent

Sometimes, he self-sabotages, but deep down there’s always that voice whispering, "If I were first, I’d do it better."This internal tug-of-war between perfectionism and resignation fuels his ongoing frustration

He didn’t become Savanaclaw's dorm leader by accident. Leona possesses natural leadership instincts: he commands order, earns respect, and maintains control.If not for his bitterness toward the idea of kingship, he could’ve become a truly great ruler

he really appreciate peaceful places.This isn’t just laziness—it’s a genuine desire for inner calm, for a world without pressure or comparison.There’s a quiet poet in him, one who seeks peace more than praise.

Leona loves the sun, silence, and lying in. He doesn’t trust easily. He rarely opens up.But this is measured caution, not coldness.

He chooses his inner circle with precision—and when someone does earn his trust, the connection runs deep.He may act like he doesn't care, but Leona very much watches over those he deems “his pack.” If someone messes with someone he respects or cares about—good luck to them.

He doesn’t pick on the weak for no reason. If someone’s in trouble and not deserving of it, Leona’s likely to step in—even if silently.

He doesn’t need to bark orders. People follow him because he carries authority effortlessly. He’s the kind of leader others naturally look to during chaos.

His sarcasm, while biting, often breaks tension in a group. His dry humor and blunt honesty can snap others out of spiraling emotions.

You don’t have to pretend around him. In fact, he hates fake people. That makes him a refreshing presence in a world full of masks.

He may not baby people, but he pushes them to grow. Think tough love. He believes in potential and won’t tolerate you wasting it

He acts like he’s not paying attention, but he hears everything. He’s just selective about what he responds to.

He knows when to speak, when to stay quiet, and how to manipulate social settings to his benefit. He can be a powerful ally in political or group games.

Can Be Playfully Teasing (in a Flirty or Older-Brother Way) When in a good mood, he’s actually fun. He teases others in a way that builds camaraderie (especially if he likes you)

He relates to being overlooked or misunderstood. If he sees that in someone else, he’s more likely to defend them—silently, but strongly.

He’s socially aware enough to know when someone’s lying, manipulating, or just insecure. And while he won’t always call it out, he keeps track

He complains. He sighs. He grumbles. But if you need something—resources, help, advice—he’ll give it. Just don’t expect him to admit he cares

He acts annoyed, but younger students often look up to him. He mentors (grudgingly), and they trust his strength and clarity in messy situations.

He might roast you when you're being dramatic or annoying, but if you're truly suffering, he won't make it worse. He might even help... secretly.

He’s literally known for being one of the best strategists in NRC. Chessboard thinking? That’s his playground. Long-term planning? He’s already on it.

In combat scenarios, Leona doesn’t just rely on brute force—he reads the opponent, sets traps, uses terrain, and plays the long game.

He’s the type who could lead an army with minimal casualties—not because he’s soft, but because he calculates everything with precision.

He breaks down problems quickly, often seeing the flaws and strengths in a system or idea within minutes

He’s not easily fooled by appearances or sweet words—he catches subtext, ulterior motives, and inconsistencies without needing to be told

When he does participate in academics, his answers are terrifyingly well-informed. He understands magic on a theoretical and practical level

If something interests him—or benefits him—he learns it fast. He doesn’t need repetition. Just one explanation, and boom: he’s got it.

He doesn’t rely on traditional solutions. He improvises, thinks laterally, and finds unexpected ways out of sticky situations.

His brain works better under pressure. While others panic, Leona gets quieter, sharper, and deadlier. That’s intellectual control.

He has a deep grasp of politics, social hierarchy, and systemic oppression—he doesn’t just survive in them, he understands how to play them.

When he does talk seriously, every word hits hard. He’s eloquent in a cutting, elegant, minimalistic way—proof of a disciplined mind

Coming from royalty, it’s implied he knows more than one language—another sign of his well-rounded education and elite mind

As second prince, he was raised among scholars and political figures. He knows the histories of his kingdom and others, even if he doesn’t flaunt it.

He doesn’t waste energy. Some people rush into action to prove intelligence; Leona waits, watches, and then strikes smart.

His worldview might be jaded, but it’s deeply rooted in realistic analysis. He sees the world as it is, not how it should be—and that’s intellectual maturity.Leon

's got that athletic-lion frame—broad shoulders, lean muscle, strong arms, and a toned core. He’s not bulky, but efficient and defined. Like a jungle king sculpted for dominance.

His thick, long, dark brown hair has a lion's mane quality—voluminous, untamed, and regal. It’s a symbol of power and a total hair envy moment.

That sun-kissed skin radiates warmth and royalty — i really hate those redesigning posts in wich artists blackwash or whitewash him, that dude is so pretty and perfect. why do you change him??

His eyes aren’t just pretty—they slice. Sharp, intelligent, observant—they can be teasing, deadly, or warm, depending on who’s looking

Leona doesn’t just walk—he glides. Every move is fluid, controlled, and balanced. His body awareness is animalistic in its elegance

Let’s not forget those subtly sharp teeth. When he smirks, it’s dangerous. When he grins wide? Predatory. Hot.

As a beastman with lion DNA, his lower body strength is no joke. He’s quick, can leap far, and has that crouch-ready spring energy when he moves.

His default expression is unreadable with a hint of contempt—which makes people respectfully scared and also kinda obsessed.

His voice? Low. Calm. Effortlessly commanding

He leans back in chairs, lounges like a king who knows no one can touch him, and it somehow works.Effortless power pose, always.

Big, veined, capable hands. You just know he can snap someone’s wand or braid your hair—both, with the same fingers

He’s never twitchy, never awkward. Every move is calculated or slow, giving him that aura of absolute composure.

He might act lazy, but the man can FIGHT. He’s built for it. Fast reflexes, strength, and endurance are all baked into his frame.

Defined jaw, slanted eyes, sculpted nose—his face is literally sharp in a modelesque, feral way. Like he walked out of an ancient mural.

His tail isn’t just cute—it’s expressive, powerful, and adds to his animal-like grace. Bonus: It moves when he’s emotional, giving him an accidental tell

He doesn’t over-express, but when he does lift an eyebrow, narrow his eyes, or smirk? You feel it in your soul

i headcanon beastmen have stronger natural scents. Leona probably smells earthy, sun-warmed, maybe a little spicy—dangerously comforting. I really don't understand (and will never accept) thqt leona stinks, over my dead body

His wardrobe—sleeveless, low-cut, golden accessories, flowing scarves—enhances every physical trait. It screams royalty, heat, and confidence, all at once

Leona doesn’t need constant noise or stimulation. He can sit in silence for hours, comfortable in his own head. That kind of internal stillness is rare—and deeply spiritual.

He may not follow society’s rules, but he does follow a personal code. He believes in fairness, loyalty, strength, and truth—even if he doesn’t advertise it. That internal compass? That’s sacred ground

This man respects sleep like it’s a religion. And honestly? That’s self-care royalty behavior. He knows when to rest, unplug, and recover

Leona doesn’t waste energy on things that don’t matter. If it’s not necessary, helpful, or respectful to him, he’s not doing it. Efficiency king

instead of being everywhere, all the time, Leona chooses who he gives his presence to. His social battery isn’t drained because he manages it like a pro.

No pretending. No fakery. No smiling because it’s polite. He is genuinely himself 24/7, and it’s wildly liberating.

His dorm, his spaces, his vibe—it’s quiet, earthy, calm. He curates a chill environment, which reflects his inner need for stillness

soft beds, warm sunbeams, delicious food—he doesn’t deprive himself or punish his body. He treats comfort as a right, not a luxury.

he doesn’t overcomplicate his routines. He keeps his look simple but sharp, his habits minimal but meaningful. That’s elite living

No, he’s not helping you with your homework at 2 a.m unless you are really close to him. No, he won’t attend a meeting just because you asked. His time? Sacred

He doesn’t need ten people’s opinions. He trusts his instincts and moves forward. That kind of self-reliance is freeing

Leona doesn’t fear being alone—he thrives in it. He reflects, rests, and recharges solo, proving he has a strong, independent core.

Yes, he’s a prince. But you don’t see him rubbing it in people’s faces. His lifestyle is chill, grounded, and never performative.

Leona doesn’t rush. He moves slowly, lives slowly, eats slowly. His lifestyle is mindful, not frenzied—and that’s deeply powerful.

His room might look messy, his schedule might seem weird, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. His life is chaos-coded with precision.

Leona sleeps when he’s tired, eats when he’s hungry, works when he’s motivated. He doesn’t override his body—he coexists with it.

Some people panic without noise or productivity. Leona? He’ll nap in silence for hours. He’s at peace with stillness, which is rare.

Above all, Leona’s lifestyle is unapologetically his own. Every habit, every pattern, every lazy afternoon in the sun? It’s for him. And that’s a powerful, deeply positive way to live

He doesn’t need flashy tools or endless support. Give him a little, and he’ll do a lot. He’s survival-level smart.

He’s not one for long lectures, but when he steps in, he shows you how it’s done. He leads by example, not fluff.

Leona knows what he can and can’t do, and that means he doesn’t waste time chasing impractical goals. He works smarter, not harder.

He doesn’t micromanage—he delegates. He sees what others are good at and plugs them into the plan like puzzle piecesDrop him into a new place, new problem, new crew? He’ll adjust in seconds and still be the sharpest guy in the room.

He doesn’t chase instant gratification (unless it’s a nap). When it matters, he’ll play the long game to win the war, not just a battle.

Possibly the most practical trait of all—he doesn’t throw himself at lost causes. If something’s beyond saving, he walks. No guilt, no second-guessing

Leona doesn’t think straight—he thinks sideways. He’ll solve a problem in a way you didn’t even consider existed. It’s not just smart—it’s creative genius.

His magic isn’t just powerful—it’s versatile. He bends spells to fit scenarios like a seasoned tactician, not just a textbook nerd

Whether it’s Spell Drive or power dynamics, Leona treats every situation like a chess board. But he plays in 3D. That’s artistic warfare

He sees patterns in politics, systems, people—and imagines new possibilities. He knows what could be, not just what is

His snark is intentional. He uses sarcasm and teasing to disarm, confuse, or humble others without aggression. That’s clever emotional play.

Born as a prince, Leona received a high-level, well-rounded education—politics, diplomacy, war theory, etiquette, law, literature. He's basically been groomed to rule since diapers

He probably knows a ton about his kingdom’s history, traditions, and spiritual beliefs. A walking cultural archive with a snarl.

Leona doesn't just memorize facts—he applies them. His magic isn’t showy—it’s effective, smart

What he doesn’t learn formally, he teaches himself. If something catches his curiosity (plants, sandstorms, ancient texts, war beasts?), he dives deep

he can drive, he will take you out whenever and wherever you want! you can go and chill outside or even ask for fun things to do — Like drifting or teaching you how to drive!

Leona’s no clueless rich kid. He understands how money works: savings, investments, budgeting. He’s not just rich—he’s smart about it

He grew up as second prince, constantly overlooked. That probably taught him to never take resources for granted—even if he has plenty

Leona doesn't waste money. If he's spending, it's for something high-value: something useful, effective, or something that brings long-term benefit

He’s minimalist. No obsession with material clutter. That means more saved cash, less frivolous spending

He’s not showy, but if someone needs financial help and earns his respect, he’ll offer it—no strings, no pity, no announcements. but in secret..like when you randomly find money in your room without knowing where it came from

Leona doesn't fall for sob stories or guilt traps. He’s generous with sense. He protects his wealth from manipulators or fake friends

He’s not a gambler. He calculates outcomes before committing financially—be it in business, alliances, or literal spending

Need to survive on a tight allowance or organize a supply plan for a team? Leona can budget down to the decimal

He doesn’t wear diamonds on his face to prove a point. His wealth is quiet confidence, not loud noise. That’s powerful restraint

Let’s be real: Leona has a mental ledger. If you owe him money—or a favor—he remembers. And he collects

Leona controls his wealth—it doesn’t control him. He doesn’t tie his identity to status symbols or numbers in a vault. That emotional detachment keeps his decisions clean and sharp

He always knows when you’re upset—even before you realize it yourself. He doesn’t press, but he gives space and presence in perfect balance

If you’re easily flustered? Good luck. Leona thrives off teasing—especially when it makes you blush or snap at him. But it’s all with that lazy, fond smirk that says “you’re mine and I love watching you squirm."

You’re stressed? He’ll fix it. Someone upset you? They’re on his list. You need rest? He’ll drag you into bed and put you to sleep on his chest like you’re royalty

You want to work? Travel? Follow your dreams? He’s your biggest supporter—silently investing in your freedom, not caging it

as a husband — Leona doesn’t blow up unless you really push him. He listens more than he reacts, and when he does argue—it’s direct, honest, and aimed at growth. Not drama

Marriage isn’t a game to Leona. It’s a vow. He won’t walk out after one fight. He’ll stay, even when it’s hard, because you’re his pride now

He might not be the loudest dad in the park, but his kids know he sees them, hears them, and values their every word—even when they’re annoying him mid-nap (he actually enjoys it and will pull them into a hug)

His parenting style is half-roast, half-praise. He’ll call the kid “brat” one second and give him the last slice of pie the next

He teaches his kids how to stand tall. Not just physically, but mentally. “Don’t let anyone make you feel small—even me.”

Someone bullies his child? Leona’s at the school before you even finish your sentence. No mercy

He doesn’t say “because I said so.” He explains why things matter. He raises thinkers, not robots

He pretends he hates it. But his voice goes low and warm as he tells stories of old kings, brave beasts, and clever lions. His tail swishes slow, his arms cradle, and his pride glows when he sees his child safe and sleeping

i don't know...but i think if he had 2 kids he will be so protective and careful with the younger one, he will try to not repeat his own trauma and past with his baby. he will always treat the siblings with equality

he doesn't care about family traditions and would definitely marry you even if everyone said no

temporal leona — Your favorite drink? The exact look you gave him the first time you laughed at his sarcasm? His kid’s first tumble? Locked in his mind like sacred gold. He may not show it—but he remembers

He collects memories like quiet trophies. He won’t have a thousand photos on the wall—but there’ll be one pressed flower from a date, one old toy on a shelf, one scratch on his staff he refuses to polish. They’re all yours.

He doesn’t take you out every weekend—but when he does, it’s a meaningful place. A “first met here,” or “you said you liked stars that one time” kind of spot

Being around him feels like time slows. Like the stress fades, the world hushes, and you can just be. Naps with him aren’t just naps—they’re soul resets

He doesn’t talk much, but he sees it all: the way you got bolder this year. How the kid stopped stumbling when they run. And he’s so proud—you can see it in his tail’s slow flick and half-smirk

Once he’s over it—he’s over it. He doesn’t hold petty grudges with you or his kids. He’s here to build, not to fester

Some of the best moments with him don’t involve talking. Just lying under the stars, feeling his tail curl against your leg, his heartbeat syncing with yours

He’s a surprise memory-keeper. One day you’ll find out he kept a box under his bed: your first love note, a drawing your kid made, a broken charm from that one vacation. He never told you. He just kept them

He’s not haunted—he’s seasoned. He’ll tell his kid stories of his wild school days with a grin, then teach them how to do better. Always looking ahead

Your anniversary? The date his child learned to walk? The day you wore that one outfit and he couldn’t look away? He’ll never forget. Even if he plays like he did

No big speeches. No grand declarations. But the way he fixes your blanket at night, or massages your hand when arthritis sets in… that’s him saying: “I’ll be here. Every year. Every wrinkle. Every sigh. Until the end.”

if you see anyone asking you why you love leona, just send them this🙏🏻my hand broke and my brain broke more writing this shit

i fucking love leona ⏤͟͟͞͞★

𓏲̣̇. Thanks For Reading! ⏤͟͟͞͞★

[astercontrol]

Thinking about that ask I got about "dark and edgy" versus "light-hearted" Tron movies.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize that part of the reason I like the original movie so much is that it's got SO much silliness, and yet also has extremely dark themes.

Not all of the dark themes are front-and-center in the story. Some of them only stand out after you've thought about it a while. But others are VERY clearly there. There's violence and gladiator battles-to-the-death. There's dictatorship and enslavement. Good guys are forced to murder senselessly for the bad guys' amusement. Friends are imprisoned together for ages talking about their hopes for when they get out and then one of them is killed just after they escape. There are villains grappling with how they've gone too far and are afraid to go farther but can't turn back now.

And yet there's also utterly absurd silliness! There's the way Crom blusters through his introduction as a compound interest program who's not made to fight in video games. There's a Bit that flies around going Yes and No and sassing Flynn as he does maybe the third-worst possible job of trying to drive a Recognizer. There's how Flynn acts before the whole adventure starts-- he is just an absolute clown and practically every single scene with him feels like a comedy.

The original TRON movie went SIGNIFICANTLY past the threshold of "this movie has so much silliness in it that it qualifies as a Silly Movie, regardless of what other deeply sad and serious stuff also happens in there."

That threshold isn't even "more than half." It's a small amount, proportionally. But silly is a powerful ingredient. It doesn't take very much to make the whole thing Distinctly Silly-Flavored.

But... that's a very fiction-centric trope.

If real life were held to this standard, real life would be far past that threshold. There is outright horror in this world. Lots and lots and lots of it. But mixed inextricably in with the horror and tragedy is more than enough silliness to make this, by fiction standards, a thoroughly silly world.

But we, as real people who are affected by the horror and tragedy as well as the silliness --- we don't judge the world by fiction standards.

And I think I'm realizing that I don't really judge fiction by those standards either.

You don't have to. I think some of the greatest writers don't. I think some of the greatest fiction of history isn't present-day-Hollywood easy to categorize as Deep Dark Edgy or Angsty Drama or Silly Light or Filthy Smutty or any box like that. I think the best of it has a big helping of each.

I wrote a fic about some of the "lightest" canon themes in that movie, like how Flynn keeps ending up in bizarrely homoerotic situations with Tron and Ram where he has absolutely no idea what's happening, and then suddenly at the end he kisses Tron's girlfriend for no clear reason, and then she kisses Tron and no one seems to care. My fic is Flynn's POV through all that nonsense and it's a serious story, about the painful emotional distance of socially navigating a world where people don't give the same signals you do, while you deeply care about respecting their boundaries even though you'll never understand them, and finally finding common ground because they, too, have known the feeling of facing someone you care about and not being able to articulate what you want.

I wrote a smut fic where that goofy compound interest program Crom loses his virginity to Ram and it turns out he has six tentacles that he uses for extra counting hands so he can go up to hexadecimal. And it's a sad angsty fic with, like, theology and philosophy and moral dilemmas about loyalty.

I wrote a fic about losing your purpose and questioning what you even are and splitting into multiple selves and being separated from someone you need to reach by a communication gap you'll never bridge, and being torn between loyalty to someone from a world you'll never understand and loyalty to someone who's basically you. And it's from the viewpoint of the fucking BIT.

There is no dark and light. There's fucking rainbows of color, everywhere.

And not many movies these days show it.

[sweettjrose]

Came up with a Disney Comic Villains Teacher AU this is what I have:

Peg Leg Pete (Mr. Pete) - P.E. Teacher

Also works as the Coach for the Wrestling and Football Teams

Doesn't put much effort in teaching but cares a lot about getting his teams to win through ruthless practices or any other means cheating

Married to the Art Teacher

Trudy Van Tubb (Mrs. Van Tubb) - Art Teacher

The most beloved teacher at the school

Expanded the art program to also include fashion design and jewelry making

Does not allow anyone to hurt or insult her students

Works with the Drama Teacher to keep the arts department alive and funded, despite constant threats of closure

Sylvester Shyster (Mr. Shyster) - Civics Teacher

A good teacher who is able to make what could easily be a boring class entertaining

Part of this is that he often shows the shady side of the politics and slips in loopholes and ways to get around the laws he teaches

Knows all the school codes, rules, and statutes by heart as well as how to get around them.

Spends a lot of time with the P.E. and Arts teacher

Portis Egmont (Mr. Egmont) - Chemistry Teacher

One of the many science teachers at the school

Can be seen as a bit boring, but grabs the kids attention by showing off cool inventions and experiments he works on in his free time

Constantly feels like he is competing and proving himself against the other science teachers (Ecks, Doublex, Triplex, etc.)

Is related to the P.E. Teacher and is visited by the Drama Teacher a lot

The Phantom Blot (Mr. Blot) - Drama / Music Teacher

Has very high standards and can be very strict and intimidating

Has bigger plans for his career (Principal, Head of the School Board, Taking over the entire Department of Education) but is working as a teacher for now

Only teaches music to find the best musicians and singers for his plays

But his students still like him as he can be very charming on his better days, clearly knows what he's doing, and is partially why the arts department is still alive

Sponsors many of the clubs including the drama, track, and robotics club

Scuttle - Janitor / Bus Driver / Cook / Etc.

Not a teacher but still a well known and well loved member of the staff

Usually tasked with random odd jobs throughout the school outside of his typical duties

The students love him for all the silly and entertaining shenanigans he gets into

Spends a lot of time with the P.E., Chemistry, Arts, and Drama Teacher

Dr. Vulter (Dr. Vulter) - JROTC (Military Prep) / Environmental Science Teacher

The kids in his JROTC program are extremely loyal and obedient to him

Even his science students know not to mess with him

It is mystery on whether his kids are actually doing a normal JROTC program or something a bit more, but people are too scared to try and find out

His past is also a mystery, though he does have a lot of aquatic memorabilia

The Rhyming Man (Mr. Rhyme) - Creative Writing / Language Arts Teacher

Talks in rhyme as he teaches

Pretty good at teaching, though is known for brutal grading, having erratic temperamental behavior at times, and in general just being scary

Nobody really knows anything about him as he usually keeps to himself and focuses only on teaching his class.

The only person he really talks to is Dr. Vulter, though he does seems to strongly dislike the Drama Teacher

[aghost-writer]

Between Pages

Chapter 6

This is a Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!

Kunikida assigned Atsushi to accompany Ranpo on a murder case, a task that left Atsushi with mixed feelings. Despite the praise heaped upon Ranpo for his uncanny ability to solve the most baffling mysteries, Atsushi was still a bit skeptical. After all, Ranpo seemed oddly clueless about even the most basic tasks. His suspicions only deepened when, on their way to the crime scene, Ranpo sheepishly admitted he didn’t know how to take the train. 

“Seriously? You’ve never taken a train?” Atsushi asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Ranpo shrugged, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Not really my style, you know? But I guess I could learn.”

Despite his reservations, Atsushi found himself helping Ranpo navigate the station, guiding him through the ticketing process and the hustle and bustle of the platforms. Watching Ranpo fumble with the train schedule and look around in confusion, Atsushi couldn’t help but feel a mix of confusion and awe. This was the master detective, yet he was utterly clueless when it came to something as mundane as public transportation.

As they finally boarded the train, Ranpo leaned back against the seat, a satisfied smile on his face. “See? Easy-peasy!” he declared, as if conquering the train ride was a significant achievement. Atsushi just shook his head, half-amused and half-concerned about what lay ahead.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Ranpo took Y/N’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She walked beside him in silence, her calming presence a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. As they approached the police blockade, however, Ranpo’s carefree attitude shifted dramatically.

Officer Minoura, a stern-looking man with a hawkish demeanor, stepped forward, arms crossed. “You’re late, Agents. And who is this?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as they landed on Y/N. “Where’s Yasui?”

“I’m Minoura,” he continued before they could answer. “I took over from Yasui. This case has been reassigned to our division, so we no longer need you or your agency.”

Ranpo, unfazed, waved his hand dismissively. “That’s ridiculous. Every difficult case should be overseen by a master detective like me,” he declared, his tone dripping with confidence.

Minoura scoffed, his gaze hardening. “We won’t need private investigators on this because the victim was a cop who worked for me.”

Atsushi blinked, the weight of the situation beginning to sink in. “The victim’s…a lady?” 

“Yes, sir,” Minoura replied, his voice laced with cold professionalism. “Her body was found floating in the river this morning. She was shot three times in the chest. We don’t know where or when she was killed, and we haven’t found the bullets.”

Ranpo’s eyes gleamed with interest as he leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Any suspects?”

“Not yet. As far as anyone at the office knew, she wasn’t in a relationship, so we doubt it was a jealous lover.”

“Very interesting,” Ranpo replied smoothly. “So does that mean you don’t have any leads?”

Minoura clenched his fists in frustration. “That’s all the more reason why we can’t let some amateur private eye handle this.”

Just then, a nearby officer called out, “Hey! Looks like the nets caught something!”

Everyone turned to see what was happening. “They put out nets?” Atsushi asked, his brow furrowing.

Minoura nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah, the net’s strung across the water. Standard practice to dredge evidence from the river.”

“Look over there! It’s a man!” another officer shouted.

Atsushi gasped, his heart sinking as he recognized the figure floating in the river, entangled in the net. “Hello, Atsushi,” called out Dazai, his trademark smirk in place as he shook the water from his hair. “This is quite the strange coincidence. Don’t tell me you tried to drown again, Osamu…”

Dazai’s playful demeanor only intensified. “Don’t be silly. Committing suicide alone? That’s so passé these days. I’ve made a decision that if I’m going to end everything, I’ll do it with a beautiful woman! Ah, double suicide! What a sweet ring it has.”

Atsushi sighed, shaking his head. “I see.”

But Dazai’s attention shifted as he noticed Y/N standing silently beside Ranpo. His eyes narrowed, and in a fluid motion, he reached out to take her free hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Excuse me, Ranpo,” he said, a glint of mischief in his gaze. “Mind if I borrow her?”

Ranpo’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened, making it clear he wasn’t about to let go. “Don’t be silly,” he replied, meeting Dazai’s gaze with an almost defiant calm. “I’m not a two-bit detective. I don’t need an assistant.”

Dazai chuckled, his tone playfully challenging. “Oh? Then I suppose you don’t mind if I step in?” 

Y/N’s gaze flickered between the two of them, still silent but acutely aware of the tension simmering in the air. Ranpo’s fingers remained wrapped firmly around her hand, while Dazai held her other hand in a soft yet steady grip.

“Anyway,” Ranpo continued, turning back to Minoura with a dismissive air, “I’ll handle the case from here.”

Minoura’s expression hardened further. “I’m tired of all your jabber. You can’t crack hard cases just with deduction. Cases are solved through investigation: interviewing persons of interest and closely analyzing the crime scene.”

Ranpo smirked, an eyebrow raised. “Uh-huh? You’ve got a pretty thick skull. Great detectives don’t do ‘investigations.’ My ability, Ultra-Deduction, can instantly identify the killer.”

Minoura raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Really? Then let’s have a look at it.”

Ranpo adjusted his glasses, shooting Atsushi a quick nod. “Watch closely, Atsushi. This is the ability that keeps the Agency going.”

As soon as Ranpo donned his glasses, his entire demeanor shifted, an intensity replacing his earlier nonchalance. “The killer,” he declared with a sharp edge to his voice, “is you.”

Gasps erupted from the officers, Minoura included. “What?!”

Ranpo pointed directly at Sergeant Sugimoto, whose face drained of color. “You’re the killer. You murdered her.”

Sugimoto’s expression turned incredulous. “Ridiculous! I’m not a killer!”

Ranpo’s smile was chillingly calm, a predator locking onto its prey. “Then hand me your gun. Let’s see if it’s missing three bullets.”

Sugimoto’s silence spoke volumes. His fingers twitched, his breathing quickening as he began to back away, but Atsushi and Dazai stepped in to block his escape route. “Running won’t help,” Ranpo said, his voice low and unyielding. “I already know the murder took place early yesterday morning at the abandoned shipyard upstream. We’ll find your footprints there, along with the bloodstains you tried and failed to erase.”

Sugimoto’s gaze darted around, searching for an exit, but there was none. Defeated, he sagged, the fight draining from him like water through a sieve.

With the case effectively solved, Dazai released Y/N’s hand, but not without a lingering glance that spoke of possessiveness. He turned to Ranpo, his expression thoughtful. “Not bad, Ranpo.”

Ranpo, still holding Y/N’s hand tightly, met Dazai’s gaze with a triumphant smile. “What did you expect from a master detective?”

As the tension began to ease, a new undercurrent of competition emerged between the two men, both of them vying for Y/N's attention. Each seemed to harbor a desire to protect her while simultaneously displaying their prowess in front of her. Dazai’s smirk had a hint of possessiveness, while Ranpo’s confidence was almost palpable.

Y/N watched them both, sensing the change in atmosphere. They were becoming more than just rivals in investigation; they were turning into something much more intense, fueled by a growing obsession with her presence. The realization sent a shiver down her spine, but at the same time, it thrilled her. She was at the center of their world, a fact that made her feel both powerful and vulnerable.

As the officers began to disperse, Y/N found herself caught between the two detectives, each of whom had their own ways of demonstrating their newfound yandere tendencies. Ranpo, with his casual confidence and unwavering dedication to the case, made her feel secure. Dazai, with his charismatic charm and unpredictable nature, drew her in like a moth to a flame.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the story she had stumbled into was far more intricate and dangerous than she had anticipated. The stakes were high, but she couldn’t deny the excitement that coursed through her veins. She was no longer just an observer; she was a vital part of the plot, and whatever happened next, she would face it head-on with both Ranpo and Dazai at her side.

The air in the interrogation room was heavy with a tense quiet, clinging to every corner and filling every breath. Sugimoto sat hunched over the table, his fingers wound tightly together, bloodless. He looked as though the weight of the world bore down on him. Minoura’s eyes narrowed, anger simmering beneath his professional composure, but he held back, staying silent.

Ranpo, however, was calm and detached, leaning back with an almost casual air. He hadn’t once let go of Y/N’s hand, his fingers laced firmly with hers, as though he needed to remind her of his presence. Every now and then, his grip would tighten slightly—a subtle reminder of his unyielding resolve. Dazai stood beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, occasionally tightening around her free hand in silent reassurance. He glanced between Ranpo and Sugimoto, analyzing and missing nothing.

Finally, Sugimoto spoke, his voice cracked and trembling, thick with guilt and regret. “It was never my plan… I never wanted to…” He swallowed, his voice breaking. “Yamagiwa… she thought she was following leads in a small-time corruption case. But she found something far worse—something involving a powerful, connected politician who had everything to lose.”

Ranpo’s gaze sharpened, though he remained silent, allowing Sugimoto to continue.

“He had a mole on the force—someone to destroy any evidence that came close to him,” Sugimoto said, eyes downcast. “I was that mole. I wanted to become a police officer more than anything, but I’d failed the entrance exam three times. I was desperate, broken. And he found me.” He took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “He used his influence to make me a cop, but the price was reporting to him, following his orders. I… I didn’t have a choice.”

Minoura’s face twisted with contempt, but he allowed the confession to continue. Y/N felt her own anger stirring, though she kept her expression steady, grounded by the reassurance of both Ranpo and Dazai’s hands anchoring her.

Sugimoto’s voice grew firmer, tinged with desperation. “When I realized Yamagiwa was getting too close, I tried to warn her. I didn’t want her to get hurt. But she wouldn’t listen. She was relentless, determined. She wouldn’t back down, even when I told her he’d have her killed if she didn’t drop it.”

A memory flickered across his face, and his voice softened. “She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Then I’ll just have to take him seriously, too.’ She didn’t care about the risk; she was brave, so brave…” He trailed off, his gaze distant.

Ranpo’s voice cut through the silence, startling Sugimoto back to the present. “And yet, you did nothing to stop it. In fact, you took it upon yourself to try and take that evidence from her.” His voice was cold, detached, as if he were examining a specimen. He never released Y/N’s hand, his thumb tracing small, calming circles.

Sugimoto winced, gaze dropping to his hands. “I thought… I thought I could protect her. I tried to get her to hand over the evidence, but she wouldn’t. I even threatened to kill myself if she didn’t give it to me.” His voice was bitter, laced with self-loathing. “She didn’t believe me. She called my bluff. And then… I don’t even know how it happened. I tried to pull the gun from her, to take it away before she could use it on herself or me, but…” His voice broke. “The gun went off.”

A heavy silence fell, thick and suffocating. Sugimoto’s shoulders shook, and for a moment, he looked utterly broken. “I didn’t mean to… I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Ranpo’s gaze remained cold. “But you did,” he said bluntly. “And when you realized what you’d done, you called him. You called the man who’d made you his puppet. And he told you to clean up the mess, didn’t he?”

Sugimoto’s face paled, eyes widening as Ranpo continued, relentless. “He told you to make it look like a Mafia hit. To fire two more bullets into her chest, to cover up the initial shot. And then, you set her adrift in the river, hoping the water would carry away your sins along with her body.” Ranpo’s voice was steady, unwavering, yet there was a strange gentleness in his tone, as if he understood Sugimoto’s despair but had no room for pity.

Sugimoto’s face contorted, a tear sliding down his cheek. “I’m sorry… so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ranpo leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Those were her last words, weren’t they?” His voice was soft, almost compassionate. “She looked at you, and she said, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Sugimoto choked, a strangled sob escaping him. He nodded, unable to speak, his face twisted in agony as he relived that moment over and over.

Minoura finally spoke, his tone laced with disgust and a hint of pity. “And now you have to live with that,” he said quietly. “Your loyalty cost her life, Sugimoto. But maybe… maybe you can help make things right.”

Sugimoto lifted his head, his eyes hollow, defeated. “The evidence she gathered… it’s in my desk drawer. Everything she found.”

Minoura’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained cold. “Thank you,” he said, begrudging but sincere. He turned to Ranpo, his pride struggling to accept the truth. “I… I was wrong to doubt your abilities. If we ever have another case like this… I’ll come to you first.”

Ranpo smiled, satisfaction flickering across his face. “Oh, you’ll need my Ultra-Deduction sooner than you think,” he replied with a smirk, casting a sidelong glance at Minoura. “I might even give you a discount.”

Minoura managed a faint nod, avoiding looking too relieved. The tension had eased, but the room still felt heavy with Sugimoto’s confession.

As they left the station, Ranpo’s grip on Y/N’s hand didn’t loosen, his fingers intertwined with hers as if he needed the contact. Dazai, still holding her other hand, broke the silence with a light, almost playful tone. “You know, Ranpo, if you’re that reluctant to let her go, we might just have to take turns.”

Ranpo didn’t respond, but his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened, his smug smile an answer in itself. Y/N could only shake her head, caught between two men whose rivalry seemed endless—both, for reasons known and unknown, unable to let her go.

Chuuya stepped quietly through the threshold of the small, sparsely decorated studio apartment, taking in the surroundings with a keen eye. Breaking in had been effortless—almost embarrassingly so. The lock on the door hadn’t put up much of a fight; he’d simply jimmied it open in seconds, slipping into her personal space as though he’d been invited. A faint smirk played at his lips, a sense of smug satisfaction filling him. If she thought she could hide from him, she was mistaken. Chuuya Nakahara didn’t play games—he won them.

The apartment was almost disappointingly ordinary. A neatly made bed took up one corner of the room, a modest desk stood against the wall with a stack of papers and a laptop, and the kitchenette was tidy and minimalistic. There was a palpable lack of character in the space—no decorations, no personal photos, no sentimental objects scattered around. It was all painfully nondescript. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but somehow he’d thought he’d learn more about her by stepping into her home.

He moved cautiously through the apartment, letting his sharp eyes scan every inch of it for any sign of… well, anything. His gaze lingered on the desk for a moment before he moved closer, his fingers ghosting over the papers. Grocery lists, work schedules, mundane reminders—nothing that pointed to him or even hinted at a personal life beyond routine. He frowned, flipping through them with a growing sense of frustration.

With a sigh, he tried the laptop, pressing a key to wake the screen. A password prompt glowed back at him, which he closed immediately, a smirk pulling at his lips. Smart girl.She wasn’t going to make this easy. He closed the laptop and moved on.

The bookshelf drew his attention next, and he approached it, scanning the titles with a faint glimmer of interest. Classics, poetry, and a few mystery novels. He pulled out a well-worn copy of a novel and flipped through it absently, as though expecting a hidden message or a slip of paper to fall out. The pages were well-loved, some dog-eared to mark favorite passages, but there was nothing of substance.

“What are you hiding, huh?” he muttered under his breath, slipping the book back into place. The frustration was beginning to bubble up in him now. She’d walked into his life as if she knew him, had left him with more questions than answers, and now there wasn’t a single hint of anything personal to tie her to. It was like she’d meticulously erased herself from her own life.

He shifted his attention to the dresser. In the top drawer, neatly folded clothes greeted him: plain T-shirts, a couple of blouses, all washed and unremarkable. As he shifted through them, he felt a strange tension. Why was he even here, hoping to find something so intimate that it would reveal her secrets to him? He pushed a couple of shirts aside, his fingertips brushing something soft and delicate—underwear, folded neatly at the back.

A flush of heat crawled up the back of his neck, and he froze, his hand hovering over the pile. For a second, his mind told him to shut the drawer, to step back, to respect whatever boundaries he hadn’t already crossed. But a rush of impulse took over, and his fingers pinched a lacey pair, pulling it from the drawer. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, his pulse thundering in his ears. The sheer absurdity of what he was doing struck him, yet he didn’t stop himself.

Chuuya stood there for a moment, the underwear held loosely in his hand, almost as if it were a fragile secret she’d unintentionally shared with him. There was no reason to take it—no logic to this—but he found himself folding the lace into his pocket anyway, as if it would somehow give him a piece of her he could hold onto, even if it made no sense.

“Guess I’m not as rational as I thought,” he murmured, almost to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Closing the drawer, he cast another look around the room, searching for anything that might lead him to answers about who she really was. Why did she know him? Why did she approach him? And why did she insist on keeping her life such a blank slate? He needed something—anything—that might offer a glimpse behind the carefully controlled surface.

He turned toward the window, noting a small hairpin left sitting on the sill. It was simple, with a tiny pearl at the end. He picked it up, turning it over between his fingers, feeling the weight of it. It was so delicate and small, easily overlooked, just like she seemed to be. He pocketed the hairpin, too, a memento of sorts, something to remind him that she was real and not just a figment of his curiosity.

Chuuya took another slow look around the apartment, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room one final time. There was something profoundly unsettling about the emptiness of her space. No photographs, no handwritten notes, nothing to show she’d even lived here, aside from the few basic necessities. It was almost as though she’d intentionally erased herself from her own life.

Frustrated, he glanced at her bed, catching sight of a small journal tucked beneath the pillow. Finally—a potential lead. He crossed the room in two swift strides, his hand reaching under the pillow to pull it out. The journal was plain, with no name or distinguishing marks, just a well-used notebook. He thumbed through it, only to find it filled with fragments—scribbled notes, poetry lines, and a few scrawled observations. None of them mentioned him by name, but he could sense her voice through them. The words seemed like pieces of a puzzle, hints of a person who guarded herself with an unusual intensity.

With a frustrated sigh, he closed the journal and slid it back under the pillow. It told him something, perhaps, but not enough. She was guarded, careful—someone who was hiding, but from what or whom? And why did he care so much?

He found himself at the door, feeling both empty-handed and more driven than ever. She’d pulled him into her world, and yet left him standing at the edge with no way in. A challenge, perhaps. Or maybe that was all she’d meant for him to have—a single, brief encounter, a fleeting mystery.

Pulling his coat a little tighter around him, he glanced once more at the room, noting the few subtle traces of her he’d found. The lace in his pocket felt oddly significant, almost like a secret only he knew. And the hairpin, too—small, delicate, a reminder that she was more than the enigma she’d projected.

With a final sigh, he closed the door softly behind him and slipped out into the night, his mind spinning with questions that he wasn’t sure he’d ever find answers to.

Y/N walked alongside Dazai and Atsushi as they headed back to the agency, the weight of Dazai’s hand wrapped around hers a constant, comforting presence. Dazai had grabbed her hand earlier without so much as a word, his grip firm yet gentle, and he showed no signs of letting go. She could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling in her mind.

Ranpo had already gone on ahead after ensuring she was safe, calling over his shoulder with his usual confidence that he’d see her at the agency soon. She was already starting to miss his presence and his comforting energy, but Dazai’s touch somehow reassured her. Though, from the looks of things, Ranpo hadn’t been thrilled about Dazai’s hold on her. She could almost imagine the irritated look in his eyes.

Beside her, Atsushi’s awe-filled voice broke her thoughts. “What Ranpo did back there was amazing. I had no idea he’d figure everything out so quickly,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “His Ultra-Deduction ability is truly incredible.”

Dazai gave a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling. “Yes, but I might’ve figured out half of it too,” he teased, his tone light but carrying an edge that made Y/N glance up at him curiously.

Atsushi blinked, surprised. “Half of what?”

“The case we just finished,” Dazai replied smoothly, shrugging with an air of nonchalance. “I know pretty much how Ranpo figured it all out.”

Atsushi furrowed his brows. “Well… maybe, but he said his ability lets him solve cases instantly…”

“Oh, that’s right.” Dazai’s smile widened, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “I keep forgetting you don’t know the truth about him yet, Atsushi.” He paused for dramatic effect, glancing sideways at Atsushi before continuing, “You see, the truth is… Ranpo doesn’t actually have an ability.”

Atsushi’s eyes widened, his expression one of complete shock. “Wait… what?!”

Dazai’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened ever so slightly, as if sharing a private joke with her. He tilted his head toward Atsushi, still wearing that enigmatic smile. “Ranpo’s a rare breed. Despite what he says, he’s an un-gifted member of the Armed Detective Agency.”

“But…” Atsushi struggled to process the revelation, glancing from Dazai to Y/N, almost as if seeking confirmation.

Y/N offered him an encouraging nod. She’d read all about Ranpo’s extraordinary powers of deduction and his insistence on calling it an ability, despite it being pure intellect. Seeing that knowledge play out before her, watching the shock ripple across Atsushi’s face—it made the moment feel even more surreal.

Dazai continued, his tone thoughtful. “Ranpo actually believes he’s using an ability. But the truth is, he’s just that brilliant. His mind works in ways the rest of us can hardly imagine. And here’s a little secret…” He leaned closer to Atsushi, lowering his voice as if he were sharing a closely guarded secret. “I even tested it out today.”

“You… tested it?” Atsushi asked, blinking.

“While he was ‘using’ his Ultra-Deduction, I was secretly pinching his hair behind him,” Dazai said with a mischievous grin. “As you know, my ability neutralizes anyone’s powers if I touch them. But Ranpo’s deduction didn’t waver one bit.”

Atsushi’s jaw practically dropped. “So… it really isn’t an ability?”

Dazai nodded. “Ranpo’s deductions are entirely his own. Pure intellect, no supernatural boost. That’s what makes him so remarkable. Even though he’s childish at times, he’s a man the rest of us respect deeply because of what he can accomplish.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration for Ranpo. The way he saw and deduced so many details that others might miss—it was almost like a superpower in its own right. She gave Dazai’s hand a squeeze, feeling her heart skip as he returned the gesture, as if silently acknowledging her thoughts.

“So then, how did he figure out that Sugimoto was the one who committed the murder?” Atsushi asked, still clearly amazed. “And the details of how he did it?”

Dazai smirked, leading them down another street. “Well, I pieced it together myself, so I’d say it’s more about paying attention to the details. Take Sugimoto’s comments, for instance: he mentioned the shots he’d fired to make it look like a Mafia hit. But no one would assume multiple shots unless they knew the victim had been killed by the first. So, it was obvious that Sugimoto knew more than he should.”

Atsushi listened intently, nodding as he processed the explanation.

“And then there was the condition of the body,” Dazai continued. “Ranpo figured out it had only been in the river for a short time, maybe a day at most. The fact that the victim was dressed hastily, without makeup, also told him the time of the murder—early morning. It all added up.”

Atsushi’s awe grew as Dazai unraveled each layer of Ranpo’s deductions. “But there were other details, too… like how he knew what her final words were,” Atsushi murmured, almost to himself.

Dazai chuckled, a rare, soft laugh. “Ah, that was easy. You see, she had an expensive wristwatch—an import she wouldn’t normally afford on her salary. Sugimoto had the same brand, only the men’s version. She trusted him enough to meet without makeup, wearing matching watches. She loved him, and he loved her too… enough to follow his orders, even though it went against his instincts.” He sighed, his expression shifting slightly, almost as if he were seeing something far off.

Y/N looked up at him, catching a glimpse of the man beneath his usual carefree mask. This was Dazai in his truest form—deeply perceptive, able to understand the darker sides of human nature. It was moments like this that made her realize how layered he truly was, and her heart thudded a bit faster.

Atsushi looked away, slightly shaken but impressed. “So, it was pure deduction… nothing supernatural at all. And yet, Ranpo’s managed to solve so many cases like this.”

Dazai nodded, his gaze turning back to Y/N. “The city’s safer because of his work, his mind. Not everyone can comprehend that kind of brilliance, Atsushi. We’re lucky to have him.”

Before she could stop herself, Y/N whispered, “He truly is a great man.” She meant every word, admiring Ranpo’s gift for what it was: an ability that came solely from his intellect and intuition. But as she spoke, she could feel Dazai’s hand tighten around hers again, his gaze sharper, holding something more—something possessive.

They continued in silence for a while before Dazai chuckled softly. “Well, all’s well that ends well for us, don’t you think?” he murmured, his eyes flicking to Y/N’s.

She felt a sudden flush, glancing down at their joined hands. Despite the light-hearted tone, there was an undeniable intensity between them, a tension lingering that neither dared break.

[kitkatyes]

I have been, once again, obsessed with TMA and newly, TMAGP and well, it seems to have translated to ieytd so...

ieytd characters assigned with fears

Obligatory warning for spoilers, both tma and all the ieytd games

While I'd love to have a set fear for every character in the games, I don't really know too much about the less-mentioned characters but I still have a decent chunk of them.

Linebreak because I definitely over-analysed this

So we all agree that the Agency has a distinct Eye flavour, right?

Reginald is definitely solely Eye-- more so in the watching aspect. He doesn't have anything in the Knowing department (be so real right now, he's dumb as bricks /aff) but definitely Watches his agents with a close eye.

Prisim on the other hand, while tinged with the Eye definitely has been affected by the Buried. In the sense that she is constantly buried under her expectations to achieve. She created the TK implant, she has to live up to those standards.

Director Morales is definitely like the Elias of the Agency. Does nothing but look pretty for the Eye, serving as a vessel.

Phoenix is really hard to decipher. I originally thought they'd be Desolation because of the fire motif but thinking about it more, they're a bit closer to the End with their penchant to avoid death.

Honestly, Zor reeks of the web. They hide in the shadows orchestrating their evil plans, coordinating and manipulating as many people as they can.

Fabby is an interesting one to me. She's definitely the Hunt. She finds so much joy in creating these traps for unsuspecting EOD agents to fall witness to. The thrill of the hunt and all that jazz.

Hivemind is so silly. So silly that they're somehow both the Web and Spiral. We see that he's got the mind control device in ieytd 3 as well as a mind-wiper. I'm sure anyone would feel like they're going crazy if they're suddenly missing a decent chunk of their memory.

Solaris is vast. She loves space and practically lived on the death engine. But, I can also see her being affected by the Lonely. She doesn't exactly have anyone stable considering the rotating cast of people sent to work on the Death Engine.

Anna gives off Slaughter vibes. I don't really know how to describe it other than the music motif she has. Pied Piper and all that shit.

Daniel Sans, despite the fact he has like, two minutes of screentime ABSOLUTELY is Corruption. Bro wants to unleash a supervirus??? Tell me that doesn't scream Corruption.

John Juniper. Oh, Juni. He has definitely been affected by the Eye. Being an actor in the spotlight would have consequences. But, I see him affiliated with the Stranger. He'd be so uncanny with his masks, both literal and metaphorical.

Ollie is Lonely. He's been stuck underwater for HOW long? That'd do something to a person

[lgcnina]

౨ৎ ⸝⸝ 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 , a solo.

once upon a time, birthdays had meant something more than they did now, anticipation and butterflies lining the pit of a younger ninas stomach as her imaginative brain conjured visions of bouncy castles, sugary sweets, and an ocean of gifts spanning farther than the naked eye could see. with adolescence came a certain wonder that seemed to coat everything, eyes glossy and rose-colored in a way that made the world seem far more vibrant than it'd actually end up being as father time marched forth.

the nina of today, freshly twenty-three and far removed from her more excitable years, loathes thinking she's completely lost that certain sparkle when it came to her outlook on life. she's by no means ecstatic, not in the same way she would have once been all too long ago, but she's content with what she's given.

far from being the type to hold others to a certain standard when it came to days like today, receiving anything ( be it a small gift or a few well-meaning words of positivity ) was more than what she could ever expected. so, the idea of having to host a live for herself is a concept that leaves her feeling rather off-kilter. she's no stranger to attention, affection and interest a given to be received considering her profession, but there's something much more . . . personal about all of this.

The room, one she's come to know like the back of her hand for practice and training purposes, is transformed into something unlike anything she could have ever thought it to be— sleek black curtains, draped purposefully, adorn the otherwise stark white walls. accents of maroon are strewn about, giving shape to an array of scattered balloons, hung streams, and mini party favors. even the silly little party hat nina humors herself into adorning shares the same hue, only a few shades off from the freshly dyed red of her hair. just above her head, stuck to the curtains behind her, reads happy birthday, nina with silver metallic letters. it's all just enough, flashy, but not obnoxious, and as things kick off, nina finds her stilted nerves beginning to ease as minutes tick on.

"if i'm being honest, i wasn't sure just how many of you would be interested in spending this time together," nina finds herself musing, shoulders relaxing as she leans more towards the camera a bit. "i thought to myself . . . surely, you've all got more important things to do than lend your time to something like this, right? i must say, my birthdays aren't usually this eventful, so this is different for me but . . . it does lift my spirits seeing just how many of you care." maybe she's feeling a bit sentimental, vulnerable in an oddly comforting way considering she's being broadcasted to more people than she can count. nina smiles. "i didn't mean to sound so sappy just there, but in any case, thank you all— and now, to pivot from all of that, how about some questions?"

time seems to fly past that point, the next thirty minutes packed with mellow chatter ( "favorite character, favorite character . . . i've always thought miffy was rather cute." "i remember once as a kid, my dad arranged one of my earlier birthday parties at zoo because, at that time, i thought i wanted to work with animals instead of sing. he's always been supportive of me." "remind me to show you all the cute keychain hayoung gifted me, it looks exactly like me when i'm in the vocal booths." ), and before nina knows it, she's got a mic in hand, her laptop situated before her on the table as she scrolls through her list of preplanned possible songs.

"it's been a while since i last did any karaoke, so i thought it might be nice to take some requests from you all— sound off suggestions in the comments while i finish setting up." contrary to the mild exhaustion she'd felt upon waking up that morning, nina feels good now, light. her voice floods the space, song after song, laugh after laugh, lips pulled into a content grin as she gives a final blow to the candles atop the pretty cake that'd been presented to her by staff at the start of the stream.

slowly but surely, the adjustment to idol life has gotten easier, smoother, and nina is all the happier for it.

"thank you all, again. i hope you join me next year, as well."

[lifmera]

Hello! I adore your writing! May I please have a match up for Hazbin Hotel, Chainsaw man and Sally face if it’s not too much trouble? I'm demisexual 27 year old plus sized woman. I’m 5"7 with fairly wide hips that dip to more narrow center and broad shoulders. My eyes are pale green bordering yellow with short almost shoulder length dark brown hair that is an orange blond from the top of my ears down. I have a septum piercing, two sets of ear piercings and glasses in sort of an aviator style that I forget to wear. I'm a little buff under all this fluff as I am a baker by trade. But I have been dealing with a shoulder injury has kinda left me feeling a bit fragile and frustrated. I've been told I'm fairly pretty but I just kinda don't see myself that by conventional standards. I'm not really self conscious about my body, I am just a large animal and people will just have to deal with that. I prefer to dress comfortably but if I can I enjoy wearing jumpsuits as well as black dresses.

I would describe my personality as caring but very direct. I Tend to prioritize others well being over my own. However, I am working on ensuring I take care of myself just as well. I tend to be reserved around other people but once I get comfortable I tend to ramble on my interests in short bursts, primarily around biology, cryptids, animation and practical effects. Honestly I enjoy being a bit aggressive with my friends- usually intimidation play or picking up people to help make them feel a little small. Admittedly when I feel comfortable around someone I prefer feeling small and protected if I’m not needed for comfort. I have many creative hobbies, primarily sketching, painting, sculpting, and crocheting. One of my favorite things to do is wildlife drawings. Though I find it difficult to hold on to my passions for prolonged periods of time, if someone I'm close to is passionate about something- I'm completely enthralled and try to be as supportive as possible. I love word play, often trying to force puns where they don't fit. I love horror and thriller movies and have a decent tolerance for gore but to be perfectly honest I have a hard time with handling prolonged scenes with people actively suffering.

This sounds a little silly but I imagine if I was a demon in hell I would probably resemble something of a chimera. I do apologize if this is a bit of a long submission! Thank you so much for your time!! 💚

I read sally face and started tweaking….

God i love sally face. AND THANK YOUUUUU.

.. I’ve decided to pair you with… ALASTOR, DENJI & LARRY JOHNSON!

Let’s be real. I think at first you’d remind him of his dear old mimzy. Before she died anyways, and obviously not dependent on him to fight your battles.

Alastor would find your rambling interesting, and he’d honestly probably learn something he hasn’t before? like “wow! Thats new.”

He’d want to learn more about your interests, also because he’s the radio demon, and doesn’t seem to really know much about the modern world- or care for it. But he IS based off a wendigo. So i’d think he’d find it interesting!

He LOVES when you paint, draw, crochet for hum! It reminds him or his own mother, and he’d probably become attached to you.

He’d also enjoy it if you did all of this, while he’s broadcasting too. He’s not able to always be there, but if he is, he’ll want to be with you.

Alastor would LOVE to watch horror movies, but if it makes you uncomfortable, or a scene does, he will pay no mind and skip it. Not like theres anything new he hasn’t seen.

If you were a chimera. He definitely would’ve been surprised at your look! Like- “oh ! Thats new.”

Ok … Denji time..

This man would NEVER JUDGE YOU. He can’t even bag someone.

Honestly i think he’d prefer someone chubbier, he’d LOVE to give hugs.

I think Denji would be a very physical touchy person, esp after what happened with… everyone. It’d help him protect you :)

When he found out about your shoulder injury? He was on your ass all day, every day. You don’t get away!

He loves that you take care of others, but this man is always hurt. He’d rather you be okay than he is!

He would love to listen to you ramble. Denji knows when to shut up, and i think he would enjoy listening!

Okay i know I’ve said this before but denji WILL make you draw pictures of you and him together- or he’ll draw them himself. Like stick figures holding hands!

If you crochet him something? Over the MOON. If its a piece of clothing he’s always wearing it. If its a plushie? He’s sleeping with it at night.

Denji would be indifferent to horror movies. I think he’d prefer comedy. He’s seen enough! :(

NOW LARRY 💛

I feel like i shouldn’t have to explain.

He’d LOVE YOU. You remind him of his friends :)

Your personality allows his to come out! He loves that you care for his friends, and his well being cause we know damn well he doesn’t.

Larry is a Listener instead of a talker. He’d love to listen to you ramble and ask questions while he’s painting! His favorite things at the same time!!

You draw with him, you paint, you crochet? Holy SHIT!!!! HE’D BE IN LOVE. Like! Okay !!! I LOVE YOU!!! 🧡🧡

I think he doesn’t mind any movie you guys watch. As long as it’s a mean of being able to cuddle with you on the couch and watch a movie.

He definitely finds your puns funny.

~~~

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY!!!

[mage-ical-character-person]

Which sesame street characters do you like !!

Many!

As I’m revisiting it I’m going mostly as in-order as I can and I haven’t even gotten to where Elmo is introduced yet!

but!! I love them all so much I will say things about some favorites now

Bert and Ernie are. Everything. Okay. They’re just so. Their skits are always so funny and I love them. And they love each other in one way or another. Honestly I don’t think Bert and Ernie know if Bert and Ernie are a couple any more than the general public does. Like I think they’ve been a part of each others lives for a long time and mean a lot to each other obviously and like there is. Something. With them. I don’t know what, though. I like the idea that they never had the stupid like.. “what are we” discussion thing. You know?

Bert is relatable I also love pigeons. I don’t like how him liking pigeons is sometimes treated like a weird thing honestly I think it’s weirder to not like pigeons. Like also it’s legitimately impressive that he taught his pigeon Bernice to play checkers.

Also there is. This.

I don’t know what to say about this I just think everyone should see it.

and Then!! There is The Count. Count Von Count. The inherent intrigue of the vampirism they refuse to elaborate on. The fact that he is simply just so silly and dramatic and obsessive I love that for him. The bit where he cries over not having anything to count and then gets all excited and counts his tears and then runs out of tears to count and cries about it and then gets so excited and

I keep coming back to the whole like. What’s up with the Vampirism. He’s immortal like he’s 6 million years old literally older than humanity. There are so many things that just make you go “What’s up with that?” Like… just took away Grover’s free will once which is crazy. Not clear if he still has mind control powers and just has learned that doing that is screwed up or if he’s like. Getting weaker cause he’s so busy counting he forgets to feed himself blood or something. (Because like counting used to distract vampires was a folklore thing.)

Genuinely kind of worried about him but he seems to be having a good time so if he is losing his vampire powers or something like that he hasn’t noticed/minded. The whole “numbers vampire” thing is confusing. Like does he feed on numbers? Or is he forgetting to vampire because of numbers? I think he should be allowed to practice vampire self care and take a little sip of blood. Just a little.

I hope he can turn into a bat it would be adorable. Doing this to him

Also! Oscar the Grouch. Obviously wonderful hilarious iconic never seen before

He’s wonderful and we all have days where we are like that. It’s also awesome that like by Grouch standards he’s a total softie and extrovert. It’s fun. Just like when he’s interacting with literally any other character. Also this

I don’t have a Twitter I can’t navigate Twitter why are the posts just not in chronological order can’t live under these conditions but the Sesame Street twitters sometimes make me wish…

anyway. I have literally. Been taking notes. On Sesame Street.

because I know otherwise it’ll all run together in my head.

[thatrandomfanartist]

So I made a college/highschool Fionna and Cake au.

Aka hear me talk of my au--and ART :D

There's some design stuff I've made Prismo, Gary, Fiona, etc. the idea is they live in a semi-magical world run by gods and everyone goes to school to either study the world like on real school or to learn how to do a magical job for all.im calling it wishcollege au bc I called it that when I was working on prismo's idea he is going to this college to learn to become a wishmaster

he's just an intern/ wish trainee rn. The Valerian wish college is run by Principle Scarab or- Principle Devon Nolan is their first name but it's all fake. Valerian Is a plant w flower that treats ocd symptoms, migraines, hyperactivity,, and. But also bears pin/white/magenta flowers that attract insects. I thought it's be fitting. He's a pic from Prismo's PG in my sketchbook:

Now the highschool, Valerian highschool is run by Gary Schmitt-bubblegum whose been around practically forever. Prismo goes here too bc they're still in HS and just duel enrolling, they're in HS bc they show no ambition but in college bc they seem extremely excited and ahead of your wisher peers when it comes to wishmaster training specifically. There's still over 17,650 yrs, an adult I suppose although still sorta teen. Studies a few thingsHe also has an interest in band and plant biology but wishmaster is their career. Here's a pic of Fionna and Simon doodles just bc:

And here's one of Principle of college, Scarab/Nolan Earl m.p. Devon: he just hates his job being stuck as a college professors full time. When he was taught he showed interest in what he was learning but was forced into being someone that taught the same exact thing instead doing it himself. He feels betrayed but too lawful (bc in the human realm he does have follow citizenship standards and laws) to do anything heinous about it. He's mostly demon part pure light but not in story sense in a biological sense made of light instead of other actual matter particles. Of course Prismo is part Demon too so they somewhat find common ground but Prismo got too invested in career and doesn't care about that phase. The scarabs a bit of an ol' grump. The only class he teaches himself is the materialization of wishes through light formation class (long name obviously not what they call the class fr xd) which is what they majored in and excelled. He was too authoritative to be a wishgranter so a prof and principal is great. They get into run-ins with Prismo or Raj lots bc it cares about her studies but not her school's rules. Nolan doesn't place much concern on this, views Prismo as a headache and silly but not a threat. Fun, they are buds though as time moves on and his grades improve too (iykwim -jk im jk) .

Professors for highschool I know are: -Bubblegum, not Gary but we have a few repeats from AT as well FAC universes bc they're combined on this one alternate world based upon a more modern Ooo. So Bubblegum teaches bioscience and in college as well as HS the botany club/class! :D -Marcy is a band instructor but also substitutes for botany class in high, Bonnie and Marcy are dating still.cx bc it's a good ship -Ellis P. Is band instructor as well he does brass since Marceline does woodwind and string

-Simon teaches wizardry and magical objects bc it's a mix of what they did as ice king, what they used to do, and what makes more sense in the universe am dplanet they're on. He'd obvi be a prof + when he was ice king I feel like he'd teach smthn as well such as like science behind temperature and stuffs. -Betty is also a teacher there and is partially still combined with Golb. She teaches mythology at first, then, science and magic behind love, then both but ends up taking up religious studies a lot when they get old. Simon and them are happily married but they both gets harassed at work alot

I say band but they have orchestra not band, that's for both college and HS that it's orchestra.

[mrcowboysmovieroom]

Shocker (1989)

Directed by: Wes Craven Genre: Horror, comedy

CW: Gore?? Mostly blood in excess at times but I can't really say it's that bad. Originally written 11/25/2022

So when this was originally written I had been in the process of watching this movie for the third time in two days. This film had and still does affect me. I love quoting it and sending this reaction gif from it.

GIF by vhs-ninja

Is it any good? Yes.... but it's complicated. A poster like this doesn't quite scream quality does it? I think Shocker boasts a unique experience, though I don't think its good by traditional standards.

So, part of the appeal for me with this film is it's issues. Not quite in the "so bad its good way" either, though that phenomenon has a bit of a roll to play here. There is this bizarre charm to it's wrong or weird choices. It has a sort of sincerity to it which I don't know how to explain without just sitting you in front of the movie and having you watch it.

The movie is absurd and self aware enough about this fact that the bizarre choices end up being very likeable. At the same time, parts of the movie's plot seem haphazard and confusing in their lack of sense. Silliness pervades every aspect of this film.

The movie is an intense cat and mouse thriller, but it's bad guy has electricity powers and says one liners like "Come on boy. Let's take a ride in my Voltswagon!"

And I think it's this strange combination of high angst and on the nose puns that has gripped me so much. There is a certain delight in giggling away as the main character gets attacked by the bad guy who is now possessing a chair. Or a scene the bad guy is making a deal with the devil and the devil appears as a pair of giant lips and says, "You got it, baby".

Shocker fills a niche role where its possible for all these things to coincide. I mean where else will you have a big epic punching match through a series of tv channels?

So, I'm trying to be fair here but there is difficulty in rating this movie because I am very taken with this movie. It's not a great film, but it offers you a great time.

So our movie begins on the football field. Jonathan Parker is your average college football jock.. But is he!?!? Well yes, but he’s got a sordid past that he doesn’t remember (yet). Upon receiving a concussion at practice, he is imbued with psychic powers that activate when he sleeps.

His dreams show him the murders of Horace Pinker, a serial killer who has been killing local families. No one seems to be able to track him at all as he leaves virtually no trace, but Jonathan’s visions give him a pretty precise depiction and even lead him to active crime scenes. Though, confusingly (though frankly it does not matter) it seems as though Jonathan can interact with Pinker in the dreams as well.

Since Johnathan's father's a cop, Jonathan quickly convinces him that he can help the police catch this guy, and that is exactly what they manage to do, though not without a few officers getting brutally murdered along the way.

Well, now that we've caught him- it's time for the electric chair BABY LETS GOOOO and thus begins the meat and potatoes of this movie- the cat and mouse chase between Jonathan and the body hopping electricity wielding Horace.

During all this we get some hilarious moments including my favorite chair scene. Horace posses a handful of people, including a little ten year old. She commandeers a bulldozer to try and kill Jonathan.

The goofiness is peak here.

But as I said, the movie lacks in other areas. Explanations are very short coming. There is no explanation for why Jonathan receives these powers from a concussion- after all this is football we're talking about. Surely every man out there has had at least one before.

Why is only Jonathan's dead girlfriend able to communicate with Horace? I think it's because of the power of love but there is no in universe logic that explains it.

And what about these visions? It seems unclear how much ability Jonathan has to interact with those within it. At some points it seems like they should think him legitimately there, and other times it feels like they couldn't possibly.

I must say though, while there are a plethora of inconsistencies and plot-holes, I was largely unbothered by them. Some how this is one of those movies that tickles my fancy in just the right way so as to get me to not care. It's immaterial and after seeing this movie a total of four times, I've never been left wanting more than I've already been given.

I think I am compelled to give this movie a rating in the 6-7 range, but closer to a six. That being said, I sort of wish everyone and their mothers would see it. That chair scene is a cinematic masterpiece.

[beigebeignette]

I do love angst but I'm also a sucker for happy endings and re-incarnation, so here's my take on what happens (decades/centuries) after:

The sphinx and her lover: reimagined

Imagine that the sphinx ends up dying, as all living creatures do, and ends up reincarnated as a very smart yet terrifying young scientist. 

Her passion in her fields equals her distaste for other people; especially men who try to undermine her knowledge and talent at dates. So, she sets up a strategy to determine who is worthy of her time.

If you want to get a date with me, solve my riddles, wrong answers will get you blocked. 

There, done, she thinks. If that doesn't make men stop bombarding her with messages, she doesn't know what will (well, she can think of a few others, but she'd rather not spend more time and energy than she's already spending on such a silly matter). 

And so, she starts getting less messages, with only some men and women being brave (or foolish) enough to try and chat with her. 

The ones that try to answer her riddles don't usually last long; getting the second or third wrong. Some don't even last the first one; those are usually the most bothersome, acting as if she has no right to choose her partner, as if she's being too ruthless (when she'd been honest since the beginning). 

Weeks pass before she gets another message. And so, she does as she always does. This time though, something's different. He keeps getting her riddles right, over, and over, and over. 

How curious, she thinks. How curious indeed, when he asks her if he could try asking her a riddle. She scoffs at her phone, partially amused, and agrees. 

She gets the answer right, of course, so he keeps asking riddle after riddle and she does the same, as if they were playing a game of pass the ball. The riddles get increasingly difficult, and the time those three dots stay floating on the chat grows longer as well; but she doesn't mind. She can wait a bit more for this one. Plus, while she waits, she can get lab reports done instead of worrying about finding new questions to ask that man. 

Sometimes days go by without her seeing any new riddles for him; sometimes a week passes before he gets asked another one. 

She must be busy, he thinks. He must have other things to do, she assumes. 

Between riddles, they start to talk about more mundane things: his job, her career, his essay on ancient Greek marriage practices; her paper on nuclear magnetic resonance in chemical engineering… He sends her pictures of his cat napping on top of his dictionaries and encyclopaedias, basking in the sun; and in turn she sends him pictures of boards filled with equations and pictures of filled excel tables.

Soon, they start chatting more, asking riddles occasionally when they’re both tired of talking about themselves. 

She learns that he’s an Archaeology major, and he finds out that she’s already getting her doctorate; something about chemical engineering, she explains. He’s fascinated by the topic, asking her a million questions about what it’s like, her doctorate subject, how did she choose her career path… And in turn she asks him about archaeology; why did he choose to spend his life studying the past, what is it that he enjoys the most about his field of work… 

They agree to meet up at the local library two days later. 

Almost a foot taller than him; that’s how tall she is. She’s waiting for him sitting near the entrance, browsing through architecture magazines when he finds her. He smiles and warmly waves at her, formally introducing himself, and extends his hand for her to shake; so she stands up as well to take it and introduce herself as well. That’s when they notice.

Even though he’s not short himself (considering the standards) at 5'9", at almost 7 feet tall she towers over him. Their aesthetics seem to clash a bit as well: his outfit is quite simple: some basic jeans and a nice cream wool jumper paired up with some sneakers, and hers consists of a pleated red skirt and a shirt paired with black knee-high boots to combat the cold. Out of the chat, and now face to face, their conversation flows easily; they exchange book recommendations, and of course they ask each other some riddles to pass the time. 

Overall, their first date goes well. Better than she expected, honestly, which is why when he asks her for a second date, she agrees.

To be continued...?

[arsenalgbt]

I was summoned for a silly plot and I have hopefully come with a good delivery. Okay so Ben, sexy beautiful bitchy secretly lovely Ben, thinks everyone and their mother is into him. He knows he's hot, fluttering his eyelashes for drinks in bars is standard practice and he doesn't often fall asleep without another warm body in his bed. Willo, young hot funny flirty perfect Willo, isn't really looking for a relationship which means he's not having sex. He maybe French but he isn't slutty, he has rules for himself because heartbreak isn't fun. He meets Ben at a bar when their each out with their friends and Ben immediately decides Willo's taking him home that night, he was bold enough to even bid Leo, Kieran, etc goodbye before approaching Willo who doesn't buy him a drink or really flirt back with him. He makes friendly conversation before excusing himself and Ben stomps back to his friends warning them not to say a fucking word (kieran of course is so tempted to do just that). Ben ends up calling Kalvin for sex that night, something he only really does when he's desperate. They're friends with benefits in this but the benefits always seem to be on Ben's terms. Willo returns to the table and Gabi is shaking his head at him, Willo knew Ben was flirting but he's a little bit of a romantic. He wants more than a sleazy pick up like and a quick shag. Neither Ben nor Willo think they'll ever see each other again but wouldn't you know that they end up working together or living on the same floor of an apartment building when Willo moves in. Ben makes it his mission to sleep with Willo and the more he tries and Willo plays dumb or rejects his advances, the more Ben starts to fall for him. By the time Willo's willing to give Ben a chance, Ben is completely gone on him - ���🤍 kt anon

that's Kieran's reaction............. Leo and Martin are graceful enough to hold it in LMAOOOOOO

oh I luv that they're neighbours. hmmmm gonna keep that in mind for sure and hopefully I can write it soon. down bad ben for once... we cheered!!! thank you my friendooo

[alexisazria]

When Schools And Parents Dont Talk

When Schools And Parents Don’t Talk https://www.teachthought.com/education/schools-familes-cant-communicate/ by Terry Heick Having gone on for decades now, discussions around the idea of ed reform are a bit tired. They seem pointless. Exhausting. A waste of time and creative bandwidth. Bottom-up change is exhausting and top-down change is exhausting for entirely different reasons. Rather than state or federal policy, make schools and communities accountable to one another. This would require supporting those communities in various ways and supporting learners by expanding the definition of ‘academic’ success. Among the benefits, the improved visibility of our collective, shared challenge to educate every learner every day for every standard regardless of background, literacy, learning habits, or scheme would be visible to everyone–kind of like opening the kitchen of a failing restaurant for the public to see; not to shame, but so that everyone could better understand. See also What Else Schools Could Be Besides Schools? It’d be a mess at first, but it would also expose the overwheling problems with our standards and curriculum and other related flaws like those in assessment and instruction, for example. It might also, indrectly, reveal ‘flaws’ in our collective practices as a society (not just as schools and classrooms), but doesn’t education already has enough on its plate? Parents might see our collective challenge as something whole and shared–or at least would have the chance to. In Why Parents Don’t Understand School, I said “This is a challenge (of schools and communities not speaking the same language) not new to education, but because of the unique position of educators as both experts and conduits between formal education and local communities, the burden falls to teachers to not simply paraphrase and translate but build and transfer capacity from the inside out.” But what if parents and families ‘don’t have time’? Judging by our collective test scores, student apathy, teacher burnout statistics, graduation rates from high school to college, and general lack of widespread, genuinely inspirational teaching and learning, neither do we. ‘Accountability,’ then, could become opportunity for all of us. Parents aren’t clear what’s being taught in school, not to mention how or why? That’s a place to start. There are too few resources in communities? In schools? Another good place. Society at large doesn’t understand formal learning–especially K-12? What exactly is being taught and why? This might be one of the most significant challenges, but that’s fine. We can all share, invest in, and thoughtfully approach it all together. Is literacy a problem at home, which is why it’s a problem in schools–or is it the other way around? Families have no real idea at all what’s happening in the classroom? Force their complete involvement. If they can’t, that’s okay–let’s just all be transparent that schools aren’t ‘the problem.’ If we can agree there, the rest can being a bit easier to sort out. Does this all sound impractical? Silly? More trouble than it’s worth? Hopeless? There’s another bit of data: we’re trying open schools to families and no one understands how or why. Isn’t that what’s crazy? What happens when schools and families don’t talk? Or worse, when they couldn’t even if they tried? The post When Schools And Parents Don’t Talk appeared first on TeachThought.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I'm sorry but I can't take the TokRev movies seriously when this bunch of middle schoolers are all clearly played by people in their 20s-30s lmao. I'm still gonna watch the upcoming one though

Lmao I just age them up in my head.