#like what a wonderful time to be specifically me with these specific interests!!

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part thirty-five: normal people

word count: 4.6k

warning: just tooth rotting fluff? pls lmk if i missed anything!

thirty-four | thirty-five | thirty-six

She’s standing in the kitchen, barefoot on tile, a half-filled grocery list balanced on her palm and a pen tucked between her fingers. There’s a smudge of ink near her knuckle where she pressed too hard writing “milk (again)” and a half-eaten apple next to her elbow.

She tapped the pen against her chin and called out it in what she hoped was his general direction. “Anything you want? I’m headed to the shop today.”

The man didn’t even glance over. “Nah, don’t worry about me. I’ll eat at home.”

She blinked. “What home?”

“Mine?”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? Bold of you to act like you don’t live here part-time.”

“I don’t live here. I just visit. Often. And sleep on your couch sometimes. And eat your snacks.”

“Right. Like a polite, British raccoon.”

She could hear the dull thump of him flipping a cushion over and resettling. Y/N shook her head and capped the pen before turning, leaning her hip against the counter to get a better look at him. 

He was sprawled on the couch, hoodie slightly askew, curls crushed on one side from a nap he definitely took while she was in the shower. He was watching her lazily now, like she was some interesting artwork he still hadn’t decided the interpretation of yet.

He raised a brow at her, unbothered. “I’ve been busy.”

“Uh-huh.” She jotted something else down. “With my fridge.”

“Your fridge is elite. It feeds me. It listens when I talk. It’s never judgmental.”

“It’s empty,” she replied, dry. “Because you keep eating all my stuff!”

“That’s on you, really. For buyin’ food that tastes good.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes on principle. “So, again. Anything you want?”

He yawned, blinking the leftover sleep from his eyes. She tried not to stare at them too long.

“Don’t fuss, I’ll live,” he waved her off.

She looked at him over the top of her list, unimpressed. “Look, either you tell me what you want, or you come with me and pick it out yourself.”

That certainly got his attention. He blinked, propping himself a bit more upright against the back of the couch.

“You want me to come… grocery shoppin’?”

“No, I want you to stay here and text me cryptic things like ‘grab snacks’ and then complain when I don’t buy the right ones.”

He grined. “Hey, that was one time.”

“Three times,” she insisted. “And I still don’t know how you made that much of a fuss over cheerios. Cheerios!”

“They were sad circles,” he muttered.

“You’re a sad circle.”

He smirked. She narrowed her eyes, thinking.

“Fine. Come with me then. Pick out your own stupid cereal. Or snacks. Or whatever it is you pretend you don’t want and then steal from my cabinet.”

She expected some sarcastic brush-off, or a mumbled excuse about being busy. Instead, he stretched his arms above his head and yawned theatrically.

“Alright. I’ll come.”

That made her pause. She glanced up from the list, surprised to find him already looking at her. “Wait, really?”

“You said I could come.”

“Like, for grocery shopping.”

“Isn’t that what you just said?”

“Yeah, but you’re agreeing. Without protest. That’s usually grounds for suspicion.”

He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Now why would I deprive you of my wonderful company, hm, sweetheart?”

She makes a face and flips her notepad shut. “And look at that, he’s humble too.”

“I know! I’m the total package, really.”

“Oh, you’re something, alright.” She’s trying not to smile, but it sneaks through anyway. “Also you have to wear proper sneakers. Those fancy dress shoes of yours won’t save you from slipping in the produce aisle.”

“Oh?” He grinned, finishing the last of his morning tea before he got up to put his shoes on. “That sounds a bit specific. You gonna tell me the story behind that, or will I have to force it out of you?”

“It was a tactical slide,” she mumbled quietly, already defensive. “I was testing the floor.”

“You fell, didn’t you?”

 “...Into a stack of lemons.”

“Well, now we know they bruise easily,” he laughed, watching her cheeks turn pink.

She shook her head, turning away before he could see the way her expression softens. He was coming with her. Maybe that didn’t mean anything. 

Or maybe it meant enough.

The sliding glass doors of the grocery store swooshed open, and Lando hesitated on the threshold like he’d stepped into another country.. He stuck close to her side, trying to act casual, but his eyes flicked around like a tourist in a new city.

She, on the other hand, pulled her trolley with practiced ease. It was a little squeaky, but she simply kicked the wheel, and it was suddenly good as new. She started to throw a few basics into the cart — butter, milk, bread — before she had to turn back when she noticed that Liam was still frozen like a deer in headlights.

“...This is it?” he asked.

She looked over, eyebrow raised. “What were you expecting? A red carpet? Spotlights?”

He blinked up at the fluorescent lighting. “I don’t know. I guess I thought grocery stores had, like… more drama.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Dunno. Thought there’d be a big wheel of cheese or something. That’s what I imagined as a kid. This place is kind of underwhelming.”

“That’s because it’s a supermarket, not a Bond film.”

Still, she couldn’t help the grin pulling at her mouth as he trailed after her, pushing the cart with more focus than strictly necessary, eyes darting across shelves like he was trying to figure out the logic of it all.

“Why are the carrots all in bags?” 

Liam squinted at the wall of orange like it was a code he was supposed to crack, before he made a disgusted face. “And why are some of them hairy?”

“They’re not hairy,” she said, amused, nudging the cart forward. “They’ve just got roots. It means they’re fresh.”

“Right,” he says dubiously, poking at one with his index finger like it might bite him. “That seems fake.”

She furrowed her brows, shooting him a worried expression. “What, you think carrots come waxed and perfectly orange from the ground?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says honestly, and she glanced at him, more curious than judgmental.

She watched as he trailed behind the cart, gaze drifting over shelves like it’s a museum, eyes snagging on price tags and multipack deals like he’s never seen a grocery store before. He doesn’t reach for anything himself, just keeps pace with her, occasionally making faces at the labels.

Idiot.

He looked so serious standing next to the pasta.

“There are… so many kinds.”

She tries her best to hold back a laugh, but with limited success. He just looked so adorably lost.

Liam picked up a bag of rigatoni, turned it over like it might give him directions.

“What do you even do with these? They look like pipes.”

“Cook them, Li. Like a normal human person.”

He put it back, unimpressed. “Too much work.”

She rolled her eyes, already grabbing a box of fettuccine and tossing it into the cart.

They kept moving, and he noticed things. 

Little things.

The way she’d linger at one shelf and then trade whatever she picked for the store brand. Or how she’d turn something over in her hand — cookie butter, frozen berries, good Greek yogurt — look at the price, and then gently set it back down without another glance.

She never said anything about it. Just… kept walking, focused and practical.

But whenever he picked something — sugary cereal, overpriced fruit, dumb snacks that just looked fun—she never said a word about those, never even glanced twice at them let alone put it back. 

Sometimes she teased his tastes, sure – “That’s not trail mix, that’s a cry for help.” But she never once made him switch his things out for something cheaper.

It sat weird in his chest. He wasn’t sure why.

They were halfway through the produce aisle when he nudged her shoulder.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t grab that yoghurt you like.”

She blinked, then shrugged. “Maybe next week. Not this time.”

“What? Why not?”

She snorted. “Because I like paying rent.”

He opened his mouth to argue but she’d already turned to inspect a bunch of bananas. She looked over her shoulder and saw the furrow in his brow.

“Relax. I’m not dying, Liam. I’m just budgeting.”

Beside her, he went quiet for a moment, contemplative.

“You’ve really never done this, have you?” she asked softly, halfway down the spice aisle.

“I mean, I’ve been inside a grocery store,” he defended. “Just not… this part. Not with a list. Or a trolley. Or… the intent to budget.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she said, smiling faintly as she placed the store-brand cheese in the cart and put the fancy one back on the shelf.

But when she turned, he was still looking at her.

“Do you always do that? Swap stuff out for the cheaper version?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, when you’ve got six bucks left in your bank account, you do a lot of math in the cereal aisle.”

Lando furrowed his brow.

“That’s... that’s a thing? I mean, does it really matter?”

She shrugged, tossing something else into the cart. “If it’s only a few cents, not so much. But if you’re on a budget, it adds up. It’s the difference between getting snacks for the week or just dinner.”

He paused, watching her. She had the same neutral, measured tone she’d use when she explained the different drinks to a customer at the café — like it was all no big deal, just the reality of things. But to him? It was like he’s seeing behind a curtain he never noticed before.

“Weird,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Seems exhausting.”

She rolled her eyes, but there's a softness in her smile.

“You get used to it. Don’t tell me you’ve never had to budget for something.”

He gave her a look. “I... no, not really.”

She snorted, amused. “That explains a lot.”

She’d laughed of course, but for once, Lando’s mind wasn’t focused on that. Something flickered across his face — shame, maybe, or perhaps realization. But he didn’t comment on it. At least, not out loud.

Instead, he glanced into the cart again.“So why haven’t you told me to swap my stuff out?”

“You mean like the bougie almond chocolate clusters you added?”

“They’re elite, thank you very much” he said, clutching the bag to his chest in mock offense.

She laughed, shakes her head. “I figured if you're coming, you get to pick what you like. Budgeting is my problem, not yours, Liam.”

It landed heavier than she meant it to, but he didn't call her on it. He just walked a little closer after that, watching her more carefully. He let his arm graze against hers, choosing not to comment when she picked up avocados and then put them back because they were too soft. He noticed her pause at her favorite crisps, and then reach for a cheaper bag instead.

By the time they both reached the checkout, he’d gone noticeably quiet. Not in a moody way, just thoughtful.

She started pulling items from the cart onto the belt, muttering totals under her breath like it’s muscle memory, making sure each item was accounted for. He zoned back in only when she got to the end and started fishing for her wallet.

As the cashier continued to scan, she pulled out her card without hesitation. And Lando, just as casually, reached forward and tapped his before she could blink.

He stepped forward casually, card already out. “I’ve got it.”

She blinked. “No. No, you don’t– Liam– no, seriously–”

“I insisted on the elite chocolate clusters, yeah?” he said breezily. “Consider it my penance.”

“You can’t just pay for my groceries like it’s a takeaway. This stuff’s expensive—”

“Sure I can.” His tone was still light, but there was a hint of something else in it, a bit of quiet determination. “You feed me. Let me feed you back.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but something about the way he said it, like it wasn’t just about food at all – made her stop.

He went ahead and put in the security pin for his black American Express card, the register beeping once in confirmation. She exhaled, torn between touched and annoyed, but mostly just a little soft.

“Liam.”

“Y/N.”

“That wasn’t a competition. I can pay for myself, you know.”

“Wasn’t trying to win. Just figured if I’m gonna live in your fridge, I should at least pay rent.”

“You—” she stared at him, speechless for a moment. “You are so annoying.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

“Don’t care.”

She tried to frown but it came out crooked, somehow fond. 

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he liked having her look at him like that.

And when she looked at Liam, he just looked smug. But quiet, too – he didn’t make a big deal out of it. He didn’t expect some grand thank you or a gold star.

They walked out side by side, her bag slung over one shoulder, his hand casually holding the other.

“Fine,” she muttered. “But you’re still carrying everything up the stairs!”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dare think otherwise. Anything else, princess?

She rolled her eyes as they headed for the exit, but once again she couldn't quite bite back the smile tugging at her lips. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, she’d noticed ��� smiling like an idiot over stupid things, things she didn’t remember finding nearly as amusing before.

Lando noticed. There wasn’t much he didn’t notice when it came to her. She laughed, and this time, it was him who turned to look. Just for a moment. Like maybe, just maybe, this whole thing — shopping carts, pasta, her — was a dream that might not feel so far away after all.

“You’re impossible,” she huffed, shoving him playfully with her elbow since her hands were a bit preoccupied.

He looked over at her, his expression softening for a second as he grabbed the receipt.

“Oh, please. You love it.”

She smiled to herself, like a secret just for her

Maybe she did.

She stood at the counter, staring at the ingredients she'd just bought. Dried basil, tomatoes, a bottle of parmesan, and even fresh garlic, which was definitely a step up from the stale garlic powder she’d just finished using last week. A warm, homey feeling settled over her as she inhaled the earthy smell of the herbs. Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the quiet, but something about it felt tangibly comforting.

The rain had settled into a steady rhythm outside her windows, soft enough to be soothing, loud enough to justify a cozy evening in. Her kitchen, small and usually quiet, felt suddenly full—with the scent of fresh basil and garlic, and the presence of one very unhelpful young man.

“Do not touch that,” she warned, pointing a wooden spoon at him without turning from the stove.

Behind her, Lando froze mid-bite, a suspiciously square cube of cheese caught between his fingers.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You literally were already doing it.”

“I was testing it. For poison. Very noble of me, really.”

“Right. My hero.”

He popped it in his mouth anyway, shameless, and leaned back against the counter like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t just eaten a chunk of the cheese she needed for the pasta.

She grabbed the cutting board and started mincing garlic, her mind wandering.

"How does pasta sound for dinner?" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "It's been a while."

From across the kitchen, Liam poked his head around, looking a bit too much like an excited puppy, just without the wagging tail.

“You makin’ food? I can help.”

She glanced over her shoulder, met with his eager eyes.

“It’s alright, Li. I’ve got it.”

“Nonsense.” He drawled, his voice teasing, but his expression was dead serious. “I am a pro in the kitchen.”

She chuckled, turning back to the garlic on the cutting board. “Right. You’ve cooked before?”

“Uh... well.” He hesitated. “Here n’ there, you know how it is. Probably more than you though.”

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You want to bet?”

He walked over and leaned on the counter, watching her chop, completely ignoring the pan on the stove where the oil was already heating.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I could teach you a few things. Like how to avoid burning garlic,” he said, a smug little grin curling at the corner of his lips.

Before she could respond, she heard a faint crinkle, followed by a too-loud sizzle.

“Shit!”

He only laughed, while Y/N quickly scrambled to turn the heat to the lowest setting so that she wouldn’t end up burning dinner before dinner had even started. Once she was able to take a sigh of relief, she pressed a relieved palm to her chest, breathing deeply.

Maybe if he wasn’t so distracting–

Wait.

It was way too quiet.

“Liam!”

When she turned around, he was halfway through a slice of mozzarella cheese, the piece he’d swiped clearly meant for the sauce, his face lighting up with satisfaction.

“What? You said you were cooking. Thought that meant I was in charge of quality control. I’m bein’ helpful, you know.”

“That was for the pasta, dumbass!”

“It’s delicious, though.” He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “No big deal. I’ll just, y’know... fix it.”

She turned back to the stove just in time to smell the garlic before it could start to sizzle too much again. In a panic, she grabbed the pan, shaking it slightly to cool the oil, while Lando watched from the counter.

“You do realize, that was your fault, right? I was just getting into my groove.”

“Your… groove?” He pretended to contemplate for a second before shaking his head, a wide grin splitting across his face. “Sounds fake.

She shot him a look, but he was already back to the counter, grabbing another small lump of cheese.

“You really want to help, don’t you?” She sighed, exasperated but fond.

“Of course I do.” He came over, dropping a few more chunks of cheese into the sauce pot. “S’what I’m doing,” he said, in the same tone someone would say duh.

“You’re helping? That’s news to me.”

He blinked owlishly, with exaggerated innocence. “M’ taste testin’ everythin’, of course.”

Y/N glared at him, but that only made him laugh. “I’m just trying to help. I’m a good guy, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, reaching for a wooden spoon. “Yeah, I remember. You’re a ‘good guy’ who swipes my cheese and tries to burn my food. Useless, you are”

“You wouldn’t even know how good I am unless I helped, though.” His grin was teasing. “I mean, look at this sauce. It’s gonna be perfect, angel.”

She glanced at him just in time to catch him swallowing the last of yet another bit of cheese. She turned back to the stove with a muttered, “Unbelievable.”

I give up.

“You’re welcome.”

“For what? Sabotaging my dinner?”

“Enhancing it. With flair. Personality. Drama.”

“You’re about to enhance the floor with your face if you keep talking.”

“Aww, you flatter me.” He grinned and strolled over, peeking over her shoulder. “What’s this bit?”

“Garlic. I’m sautéing it,” she explained, her eyes flitting to his, the flecks of gold glimmering back at her as something soft and weighty settled over her. Like a nice comforter, she thought. 

“Looks like it’s about to catch fire.”

Shit. How does this keep happening?

“Because you’re distracting me!”

She hissed and quickly turned down the flame, stirring the garlic before it blackened. Lando winced, hands raised in surrender.

“Sorry. Sorry. Very serious chef business. I’ll shut up.”

He did not, in fact, shut up.

He was still talking as she chopped tomatoes, still talking as he offered to stir and then immediately flung sauce onto the backsplash. He was still talking when she asked him to hand her the pasta, and he held it hostage until she agreed to let him pick the playlist for dinner.

But eventually – finally, eventually – she softened. Especially when he leaned a little too close trying to smell the sauce and got tomato on his shirt.

“That’s what you get,” she said, the sternness in her voice not matching the care with which she dabbed his sweater with a damp paper towel.

I’d ruin a thousand expensive sweaters if it meant you’d touch me with such gentleness each time.

“Didn’t even flinch. You’re getting used to me.”

“Or I’m building a resistance, like a virus.”

“Romantic.”

She snorted, giving him a playful shove with her hip.

As she plated the food, the rain picking up in a gentle percussion outside, he watched her with a quiet curiosity. Something softened in his gaze. He noticed, maybe, how methodical she was. How calm. How she hummed without realizing. How this, all of it—dinner, rain, soft light—felt like a life.

Not something he’d ever known, but something he was beginning to desperately want to know more of.

She handed him a dish and flopped into her favorite armchair. He’d told her a thousand times to get rid of that ancient thing, that he’d happily take her to get something better, yet ho couldn’t count on two hands the number of times he’d found her curled up in that same spot, study or scrolling or dozed off unintentionally.

He liked knowing her favorite spot.

“My sister always used to ask for this when it rained,” she said casually, interrupting his thought as she swirled her fork in the pasta. “Said it was ‘good food weather.’”

“She’s right.”

“You didn’t even taste it yet.”

“I meant the vibe. But yeah, probably the food too.”

She laughed softly. The kind of laugh that felt like an exhale. Then:

“When I moved here, I used to cook too much. Like… way too much. Didn’t know how to portion for one person. Used to give the rest to the neighbors or just eat it cold the next day.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“It was,” she admitted. “But I like cooking. Makes the place feel… alive, I guess. Kinda like a real home, you know?”

Lando took a bite then, chewing thoughtfully. He looked up at her, eyes warm.

I wonder what it’d take for me to give you a real home.

“Well, this one’s perfect. Even with the distinct lack of cheese.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean, it could use a bit more cheese—”

She threw her napkin at him.

The TV flickered in the corner, casting slow, shifting light across the room. Some wildlife documentary murmured in the background—lions in tall grass, a monotone narrator talking about territory and belonging—but neither of them were really listening. They were stretched across the couch, tangled by comfort rather than touch: her legs curled under her, his shoulder tilted back against the cushion, her head resting against his chest.

Lando wasn’t even sure when they’d gotten like this. He just knew he hadn’t wanted to move. Still didn’t.

The room smelled faintly of garlic and basil from earlier. Rain still tapped gently against the windows. It was the kind of night that didn’t need much. Just presence.

She was stretched out across the couch, limbs heavy from the rain and pasta and comfort. He hadn’t meant to stay this long, but the hours had blurred into each other, soft and quiet and safe.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward. It rarely was. If anything, it was the kind of silence that felt rare — like the world forgot about them for a while. Like they could exist in this small pocket of space and not have to explain themselves.

After a long pause, she murmured, barely above a whisper, “Do you ever think this is strange?”

Lando shifted slightly, looking down at the top of her head. Her face was turned slightly toward him, half-lidded eyes catching his. He blinked, slow.

“No. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, fingers gently playing with the cuff of his sweatshirt. “Just… do.”

“We’re not strange,” he said, a little too fast. He tilted his head, brows drawn slightly.  “It makes sense.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “How do you figure?”

“Dunno. It just–  just does.”

She laughed, her whole body shaking gently against the weight of him. “Thanks, Sherlock.”

He smiled, that lazy crooked kind he did when he wasn’t trying too hard. “I just mean, like… we talk, right? And it, like, works. So, y’know…”

“Gee, just what every girl dreams of hearing,” she teased, poking him.

“I’m serious, though!” he insisted, shifting a little under her. “I tell you loads of things all the time.”

She turned her face into his chest slightly. “No you don’t, dummy. You like being mysterious too much for that.”

“I’m not mysterious,” he protested, offended in that fake way he knew would make her laugh. “I’m, like… normal.”

She laughed then—soft and a little wistful. “I’m not sure anything about us is normal.”

She laughed softly at her own words, but he didn’t laugh with her. He went quiet instead. And when the silence stretched a little too long, she shifted, heart thudding faintly at the idea she’d struck a nerve.

The room went still. The flicker of the TV washed over them in dim pulses. She noticed he hadn’t replied.

She blinked, worried suddenly that she’d struck something too deep. So she pushed herself up a little, reaching instinctively for his shoulder.

“Wait—I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that—”

“If this isn’t normal…” he interrupted, voice softer, smaller than she’d ever heard it, “…is that bad? I kinda like it like this. Not normal.”

The words landed somewhere deep in her chest.

She paused. Lando didn’t look at her. He was staring straight ahead, as if admitting that was hard. As if he wasn’t used to speaking things that close to the heart out loud.

“I kinda like it like this,” he added, voice quieter still. “Not normal.”

She couldn’t help it. Her heart melted at the honesty of it.

She settled back down beside him, this time a little closer as she exhaled softly, more a thoughtful hum than anything. Her features softened instantly, lips curling into a sleepy smile, her body resting back against him.

“Hmm,” she whispered. “I can do not normal.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She settled back down against him, head resting lightly on his chest now. His hand moved almost instinctively to her back, warm and slow and steady. 

She dozed off with her arm wrapped around his torso, her hand resting on his ribs.

Still, he stayed awake longer than he meant to, watching the way her face relaxed into sleep. He didn’t move – he couldn’t bring himself to.

A few minutes passed. Maybe more.

And when he was sure she was asleep — eyes fluttered shut, lips parted just barely—he dipped his head just enough to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Let it linger.

Then, quieter than a prayer:

And then, when he was finally absolutely sure she was asleep – her eyes fluttered shut, lips parted just barely – the room grew quiet and the storm softened outside. Only then did he lean forward, just enough to press the barest, most gentle of kisses to her forehead.

“I’m not a religious person,” he whispered, so low it felt like a prayer, “but sometimes I do think God made you for me.”

She didn’t stir. But his heart did something dangerous in his chest.

He didn’t stop it.

a/n: another chapter! i originally had this chapter plotted totally differently, but it felt too forced, so this happened instead. what do we think?

[sqgeism]

Hi! I hope you're doing well!

I have a bit of a specific Anaxa request: we all know this guy is prickly like a cactus, and probably wouldnt show any kind of physical affection/be overly affectionate whatsoever. maybe the reader can be lightly airing all their frustrations to an unsuspecting dromas/chimera they stumbled upon, and anaxa happens to walk right by when they say "I don't know why he feels he needs to keep me at an arm's length, in the end, all i want is to be loved; and i wish the same for him."

I just feel like that sentence would make anaxa flabberghasted and make him rethink some things.

ty for reading!!

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | anaxagoras x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; as tipsy as a boat on unforgiving seas, you rant your heartaches to a cute, clueless chimera. (that weirdly looks like your boyfriend) not knowing that the very man stands behind you, listening to you pour out every feeling he'd never want to subject you to.

love mail — say yes to me. i haven't done an event in a while, would people be interested in that (*ﾟーﾟ)? sigh finally anaxagoras solo post without the other two added LMAO this guy is so popular on my account its kind of insane. thank u anaxa... for reviving sqgeism in the big 25.. i thought this was long but it's acc kind if short forgive me anonnie LMAO

for all the good moments in your relationship with anaxagoras, there were still bad. and the bad.. could get really awful very quickly.

even if he was growing to be careful, changing, being better, he still had his 'demise'— as he called it. he was set on a mission long before you, and you've accepted that. it didn't mean that it didn't hurt when you knew he was trying to keep you away, though he says it's to keep you safe, you knew it was for another reason.

anaxagoras wasn't—for all his genius as a scholar and a teacher—very good at things that involved vulnerability. it was something he'd ripped out of his cold, dead heart, leaving it whatever remaining feelings he had left to rot. clearly not enough, he'd remark, if he could still feel it beat every time you came close. fingers brushing over his own, lips getting too close for comfort, despite being together—he was still afraid. very.. very afraid.

but you weren't angry at him for being so, how could you? for all the hurt he's faced, the terrors that follow him like his shadow, you just can't. but you feel neglected, left to freeze in an unforgiving winter. you craved warmth, but no flame could thaw your loneliness.

and so when anaxagoras, once again, locks himself in his lab for aeon's know how long.. you're off. you had the control to at least leave a note where you're going; a bar close by to let loose. but you clumsily throw it on the nearest table and walk out. the tears were becoming overwhelming, and you just needed to cry. it felt cruel to be mad, but your heart knew what it wanted. it wanted someone badly, drawn to a rose with far too sharp of thorns. but you didn't care. you knew it was a part of him, and you chose him regardless. you wonder if he knows that he's loved, and how much he truly is.

and he does. in a way that overwhelms him, that makes him be the way he is. he knows you care, and that's why when he leaves his study hours earlier, the note unseen by his sharp gaze, he panics. you're not in bed, nor the living room, you're not home. thunder claps break him out of his thoughts, and he realizes you could be out there, in the rain, for who knows how long.

he runs out without hesitation.

doesn't care if he's soaking wet, or his students that may see their half-gone professor running through amphoreus in the rain, he's afraid. for once, his cowardice it isn't of the idea of you, but losing you. he's beginning to realize that there will be something worse than his fears destroying him.

it's having you slip away from his grasp.

he's afraid of affection because he might lose you. he's afraid of everything about loving you because he might lose you. he's lost so much, it scarred him. that the closest thing to paradise surely should have been an illusion, that it was all just a ploy to put him back together and break him apart all over again. he thought it was stupid, the obvious plan set by the 'gods'.

but he was just in love, so very in love. and it could never be stupid if the center of his affection was you.

and there you are, thank goodness. you're laying against an elevated tile as you're on the floor, arms on the said tile, and underneath the bars cover as a chimera sits by your head. you're clearly drunk, cause even if his heels splashed against the puddles towards you, failing to notice. gaze fixed on the little creature as he hears you speak.

"i just don't.. understand." you slurred, your face pressed against your arms as the chimera chirps. i don't know.. why" hic "he feels he needs to keep me at an arm's length.. in the end, all i want is to be loved; and i wish the same for him."

you don't even know what those words do to him. a man of many words, brought to silence. you look like a fae in the moonlight, ethereal and breathtaking. and anaxa's sopping wet in the rain, refusing to be under the bars covers as he feels he doesn't deserve it. the harsh weather prickles his skin, but he feels nothing. nothing but the cruel twist of a dagger through his heart.

he falls to his knees, the water around him makes a large splash as you turn your head. in your dazed state, your eyes don't recognize him, but your heart does. and you move without even realizing. "anaxagoras, my love?" he feels something cover his head, and he looks up to see you fussing and using your jacket to shield him from the rain. even if you were frustrated, venting about him, you still had the heart to worry. you still tried to help him, and he's such a fool to only appreciate that now. "what did i tell you about calling me that? to you, i'm anaxa. stop.. stop forgetting."

he doesn't know what to say, and he's thankful for the conditions so you don't see the way he starts to cry. his lips are trembling as his hand slowly stops yours, guiding it to his cheek and leaning into your palm. it isn't flowery words, he's bad at anything that isn't statistical or academic, but it's a gesture of something more. "i.. i'm so sorry." he muttered sorrowfully. "i've been taking you for granted. i didn't mean to, but i did. and that's unforgiveable. you don't deserve this life, and i—"

you cut him off by pulling him in, away from the world, under the shelter and into your arms. you two probably look silly, two influential figures in your own ways in amphoreus, snuggling up outside a bar in the rain. but anaxa has long discarded the idea of caring of others opinions, all he can focus on is how your heart begins to race. like you're as startled as he is. that he isn't alone in taking this leap. and for once, he's okay with that. having someone.. to truly take care of.

you wake up in bed the next morning, your head painful and your throat dry, but you're warm. and that's when you notice anaxa behind you, arms wrapped around you securely and his head partially buried in your hair. he's.. fast asleep. which is a first, you can't remember the last time he chose the bed rather than his office chair.

but you don't complain, aeon's, how could you?

you choose to fall back into the gentle hands of slumber, looking forward to waking up next to anaxa.

[thatssofruity9]

Okay, could you guys imagine if the thing that finally got Ghost and soap together wasn’t some life or death situation where they’re forced to confront their feelings but rather Price's nosey, meddling wife?

F!reader X John Price and Ghost X soap

Authors note: This has been rattling around in my noggin for months.

“Hey, John?” you murmured as the two of you cleaned the mess left behind by the boys.

“Yeah, love?” John asks glancing up at you from the pile of dishes he’s working on

“You ever notice anything about Johnny and Simon?” you ask him in an almost cautious tone, these men meant more to him than he would ever care to admit.

“Yeah, drink their weight in liquor every damn time we have them over” your husband grumbled, you wonder sometimes if he’s willfully oblivious or just a man.

“No baby, like..” you thought for a moment. How exactly do you explain queer longing to your very straight husband?

“Okay like when Simon makes a joke he immediately looks at Johnny to see if he laughed. When Johnny has a question he only asks Simon. When Kyle says something stupid they look at each other like they have their language, like me and you do.” You do your best but John is all for minding his own business, he’s a pretty unproblematic guy overall, too old to care maybe.

“Lovie, mind your business, please. They’re grown men, if they have the hots for each other they can figure it out on their own.” John rolled his eyes at you and continued working. You didn’t love that, dismissing your want to gossip but it’s very John, makes you want to strangle him. You don’t bring it up again at least not for a few months, not until Kyle’s wedding, that was a very interesting trip as far as your snooping was concerned.

The moment Kyle and his beautiful wife said their ‘I do’s’ you glanced toward your husband in his fancy tan suit, remembering how that moment felt when it was the two of you standing at that altar. You can’t help the way your eyes drift from your husband to the blonde man behind him. Simon, much like you were looking at John, was looking at Johnny.

You knew from that point on you couldn’t let it go, they’re soldiers, they don’t talk about feelings, you know this, you sleep in a bed with one every night. The idea that they might miss out on potentially the greatest thing in either one of their lives because they’re either too stubborn or too stupid to realize what’s happening meant you didn’t have a choice, you had to meddle at least a little.

It started small, sitting in Johnnys seat when the group goes to a bar so he’d have to squish into the booth next to Simon, asking Johnny and Simon to watch the house while you and John were away for the weekend. Sure Kyle usually does it but he’s so busy with his new wife can’t you guys make the time? Asking Johnny, what is wrong with Simon when there is absolutely nothing wrong with him just so Johnny will have to pay more attention to figure it out.

You weren’t being malicious you were just trying to push them together, John was mostly unaware, although he occasionally gave you a look, specifically the time you asked Johnny if he thought ‘Simon’s haircut looked good’ (it did)

It eventually got a little more pushy. Not pushy in the sense that you were being mean or even trying to push them into something they didn’t want, because they want it. It’s just you knew soldiers, you knew these boys. They are dumbasses.

“Hey Simon?” you asked one Sunday afternoon. Simon had come over to watch some game with John, not unusual, although it is unusual for him to not have Johnny with him. This was your moment, John had gone to the bathroom so you wouldn’t have to hear “Stop being nosy, love!” You can just continue with your plan.

“Mm?” The quiet man asked you turning his head from the Telly to look at you. He’s not uninterested so much as he’s just quiet, you have known him for long enough to know that.

“How long have you and Johnny been dating?” You asked, you knew they weren’t dating. All part of the plan, all part of the plan.

“What?” He looked confused, you know him, maybe not as well as your husband but you know him. He can’t hide his facial expressions for anything, it’s probably best he wears a mask on the field.

“What?” You give the same facial expression as if trying to understand where his obvious confusion is coming from.

“We’re not dating, why did you think we were dating?” Simons interrogates you, it’s so rare that he says so many words you almost feel a little guilty.

“Oh, I’m sorry I just assumed.” Your tone is light, an honest mistake Simon, so sorry for the inconvenience.

“Why? Why did you assume that?” For the first time all the time you’ve known him he seems flustered.

“Oh, I just… you guys live together, always touching, talking quietly to yourselves, it’s just exactly like me and John. I just assumed dating, shouldn’t have.”

Your statement is made with kindness and a smile but one day you’ll tell him how you conned him into being in love.

“We’re not” Simon stated leaving no room for your argument. There was a long stretch of silence before he spoke again.

“Do you think he thinks we’re dating?” Well you didn’t expect that question, Johnny lacked common sense sometimes but he’s not stupid, no you did not believe he thinks they’re together.

“Yeah probably, I would.” LIES, one day you’ll have to confess to this but not today.

He left not too long after that conversation, and you kind of felt like you may have messed something up. But you shouldn’t doubt yourself, you know this, you’re like a wizard in the art of getting in other people’s business. Your self-doubt is as squashed the minute Johnnys' silly little contact photo popped onto your phone. A phone call, you answer.

“Hello?” You barely have time to start speaking before Johnny starts in. Poor guy.

“Si just texted me and said he talked to you bout somethin’ and it made him ‘realize some things’ that hell’s that about?” Rambling is funny on him, he’s always so calm and collected, now this is where you kinda hesitated, do you tell the truth or do you stir the pot? You settle on stirring the pot. For the greater good of course.

You ended up telling Johnny everything you and Simon spoke about, leaving nothing out, you simply just finished off your little story with a

“Who knows maybe it made him think hard enough he’s going to tell you how he feels.”

Johnny stays silent for a long moment on the other end of the line, mulling it over probably.

“So Si has the hots for me aye?”

You wish he could’ve seen your eye roll but you’re sure he heard your sigh.

“Just a hunch” you add maybe you could get him to make a move, he’s probably easier to work on than Simon anyway.

“Aye, good hunch, lass.” You are acutely aware that your husband still in fact doesn’t know you’re trying to convince his soldiers to break “no fraternizing” rules. But he will only be annoyed until he sees his mates so happy.

Your phone call with Johnny doesn’t last much longer. You feel like a Disney villain for a couple of minutes but then John put on his reading glasses so you kinda got a little distracted and ‘forgot’ to mention to him that you were psychologically manipulating his best friends for their good. You let fate do its thing now, you pushed enough.

Weeks maybe even months go by, and you haven’t seen the group in a bit, you and John are off in the kitchen making drinks while Kyle and his new wife make googly eyes at each other in your living room.

When Johnny and Simon finally decide to grace the group with their presence, you see it immediately, holding hands, nothing is different except for that. You and John rejoin the group at some point, talking and laughing like always, they don’t mention it, you don’t ask and neither does anyone else. But everyone knew something had changed, thank the gods.

You’re poor dumb husband looks at his two best friends after a while, once the food was mostly gone and the drinks had been flowing. He looks at them and then back to you before ducking down and whispering in your ear.

“Love? I know That’s your handiwork.” yeah NO SHIT, John. But they look so happy.

Horrifyingly years later once the whole story had been recounted they told that story at their wedding, which was, yes embarrassing but the thought that you helped bring these two beautiful souls together eased that pretty quickly.

[puck-luck]

Hi, Andy! Could I please get a cafe latte with cold foam for Quinn Hughes where he’s interested in trying something new, like a position or kink, I don’t have anything specific in mind but he’s very sweet about it. He doesn’t pressure at all but maybe it’s something he’s hinted to before.

hi! i chose "pussy worship" for this blurb because i think it's so quinn. this is very "kink negotiation" rather than tons of sex but i think that's just as sweet as sex can be :)

“Baby, are you going to stay down there all day?” you ask, running your fingers through Quinn’s hair.

He’s between shifts, laying with his head on your stomach instead of between your legs like before. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing steadily, rubbing his thumb over the inside of your thigh.

“I might,” he seems to wonder aloud. “I don’t know.” He blinks his eyes open and looks up at you, chin digging into your flesh. His facial hair rubs against your stomach, scratching you lightly. “Is that okay?”

His eyes are clear and sweet, somewhere between green and blue and gray in this light. It’s still early in the day, so he has plenty of time to stay where he is if he wants to.

“I knew you liked my pussy, but I didn’t know you liked it so much that you could stay there all day,” you jest with a smile on your face. Quinn has always been quite the munch, but there’s something in the air today that is almost palpable. He wants more than he’s letting on. 

He lays his head down again, this time on your thigh. “I don’t know,” Quinn mumbles. His fingers trail up your thigh and reach your folds, already sensitive from the previous head he gave you. His index finger parts them gently and he touches for only a second before pulling away. “Just appreciating you, is all.”

That’s his second ‘I don’t know’ in two replies. You touch his cheekbone, then his nose. “Are you still thinking about what you told me the other day?” you ask.

Quinn’s gaze flickers to you, then back down. “A little bit.” He seems almost shameful, although there’s no reason to be. 

“You can stay down there all day if you want,” you offer. “I think it’s sweet how you want to love on me, Q.”

He sighs. It's a big, heaving sound that deflates his whole body. “I don't think I explained it well,” Quinn says. “It’s not just wanting to eat you out because I love you. It’s deeper than that.” He continues toying with your pussy, feeling your juices start to coat his fingertips. He’ll spread your folds and let them fall back together, stroke his thumb over your clit and then remove his hand entirely. When he speaks again, he’s much more reverent. “I want to worship you.”

You quirk an eyebrow, waiting for Quinn to continue.

He doesn’t make you wait long. “It’s not about… making you come. It’s not about tasting you. I need to…” he trails off, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

Your heart flutters. He’s so beautiful, his face shining with earnestness. 

A kiss lands on your clit, with Quinn shifting so that your thighs bracket him. “I just need this,” Quinn finishes. He traces your folds with the tip of his tongue and you start to see what he’s saying– he’s mapping your pussy, taking in every single nook and cranny and ridge and valley just because it feels right. It calms him, it centers him. It vitalizes him.

It’s not about pleasure, but that doesn’t mean Quinn doesn’t make you come. It’s just another movement, reaction, and taste for him to categorize. He stays between your legs for hours– genuine hours– and you have no idea how he manages to do this so long. It might clear his mind and wipe the slate clean and satisfy him on a level that supercedes sexual pleasure. You don’t know, but the serene bliss on Quinn’s face is enough for you.

[raelemond]

Hi. I was wondering if you could point me to resources or forums that’ll help me explore kink. I’ve been holding myself back for a long time and now I don’t even know where to start or how to find community

hi anon, sorry it took so long for me to respond, I've been traveling!

there are a few things you can do. I'll start with what i did, but this is going to vary by country and location. I recommend you start by making a fetlife profile. fetlife is basically kinky facebook, but you don't have to put any information you don't want to on it - I'd just recommend not using a picture of your genitals as your profile picture, those tend to get autobanned from groups.

then, go look for "events" and filter by location - try nearby cities if your area doesn't turn up at first. what you really want is a "munch", which is going to be a group meeting in a public space for kinky people to mingle. you can also filter by education, but I recommend munches first, just to meet people so you can get an idea of what the community is like.

depending on your city, munches can differ by age (35 and under is typically called TNG/The Next Generation - I personally dislike what they stand for, but it's an option depending on your age), interests, gender/sexuality, and location. some are free, some ask you to purchase food from the venue, some ask for donations, and some cost money. the majority take place at bars, which can be an obstacle.

as someone new coming in, particularly if you're young and/or seem to be a woman at first glance, you might get a lot of attention. I'll just suggest that you do NOT play alone with anyone immediately, and people trying to encourage you to stay isolated from the community is a bad sign. anyone trying to say their way is the One True Way is a bad sign.

I played with someone at my first party, which I had been invited to via the munch. At the party, there were DMs who could help if anything went bad.

if searching like this doesn't get you results, I'd suggest going to a local sex toy store, or other adult store, and ask about local kink communities, if any exist. unfortunately my kinky student from Brazil stopped coming in, or I'd ask how to find a community there because she said it's much harder to find people.

I'd also think about what you're interested in and what your limits are. when I first showed up at 18, I freaked people out by saying "I'm up for anything" - in my head, that meant I was interested in discussing most things, or dipping a toe in, but I didn't know how deep kink could go. The boundaries of "anything" were spanking, flogging, and caning for me, along with D/s stuff I barely understood. so, to avoid my mistake, I definitely recommend having some specific things you want to try and ask questions about.

before the lacigreen weirdness happened, she was a really competent sex educator (if not the best for medical advice) so I'm going to point you to this video for a really brief overview. the only thing she gets wrong is that she misses one of the words in BDSM - it's an acronym that stands for six words: bondage, discipline, Dominance/submission, sadism, masochism.

the words kink and bdsm are often used interchangeably, and they mostly are, but you can be into kink without being into D/s, for example.

please feel free to send more specific questions if you want!

[mixelation]

i like the idea of you with a trainee. makes me wonder what tori would be capable of with a lab assistant who isn't actively trying to kill her. she'd go mad with power

fdhjfdlsa i've actually had a lot of trainees over the years! it's a really normal way to structure a lab. some of them are people i just trained for a couple days so they could go off and do their own stuff, some of them basically just a second set of hands for my own projects, and some of them were on their own projects that i helped them develop/oversee. i try to be very thorough with training and actively shadow people for a while, because i've seen a lot of poor training result in projects just not working or even being ruined. it's tough work but it's rewarding. also i try really hard to understand what trainees' goals are and work with them so they can do work they find fulfilling but also I don't force them to come in on the weekends or weird times. some people do that with students and i don't like it >:(

for tori i do think she might struggle working with others in a capacity where she's explicitly training them. however in reborn au specifically i have done some rotating about how she handles it ->

i think reborn au (and toxicity/reborn au au, etc) is the only AU where tori works in an actual, functioning research department. and it's also the AU where it's about her healing and sort of becoming a better person so she does actually eventually develop real leadership skills lmao

this will become more obvious when i push through the next plasticity chapter, but tori does actually feel a lot of empathy to people she considers similar to her-- so like civilians and, in reborn au, no-name low ranking ninja. she does want to help other people. she's just insane about it

i don't think i've actually explicitly blogged about this, but one of tori's evolving character traits is recognizing when someone else's skills are useful, especially mundane-seeming non-combat skills that a lot of ninja would dismiss. she's kind of a weirdo and randomly gets mean/dismissive when she feels like she's being disrespected, but tori is also not intimidating and most people like talking about themselves when someone shows interest. she doesn't have a hard time chatting up coworkers about what they're doing and their weird jutsu no one else cares about. also she might come back to you a year later to be like, "hey did you tell me you could do [minor jutsu]? yeah can we repurpose to do [insane thing]?"

this is something i DO think a blog about a million years ago, but i like the idea of ninja having mandatory training hours to stay fighting fit in case of emergency. so like the village keeps logs of how many hours you spend in training facilities and how many missions you take and stuff like that. so if you're an active mission-taking ninja you will barely think about this, but if you're a desk ninja or spend all your time in the lab, you might get to the end of the month and realize you're under par for mandatory training hours. so every few months tori is like "wait why are my hours so low? i went through the misery of training with deidara and everything!" and deidara is like "oh, lol, yeah i basically never actually reserve the training ground so probably those weren't logged." so tori has to go and sign up for training hours with other randos who need a training partner. the point of this aside is that tori does actually meet a lot of chump ninja and gets along with most of them alright

so tori is good at identifying skills that could be used for research that maybe others wouldn't recognize. and also because she does get some of her philosophies from me, she wants people she trains to be trained well enough that she can them leave them to do things independently without worrying they're going to contaminate all the stocks or whatever. she wants people to feel valued because SHE wanted to feel valued when she was just starting.

also, realizing that you now have a minion you can just let do tasks and they'll do them right is an insane feeling. tori is like "OMG kimiko can just do this!!! and i can work on this side project where i keep evaporating mice.......!" and she IS a little bit of a control freak so she might randomly show up to see what kimiko is doing but also now kimiko is an integral part of tori's workflow. if anyone even looks at kimiko wrong, tori will kill them herself. also she will be distraught if kimiko is transferred. like if kimiko makes it clear it's what SHE wants, then tori will let her go with tears in her eyes like dropping your kid off at college, but if a different part of leadership tries to snipe kimiko, tori WILL ruin that person's entire career

meanwhile kimiko is like "my weird boss is so supportive of me and put me on a cool project :) also she yelled at a jounin over trying to force umi-san to do a lot of overtime and now i feel Safe"

so.... i think a lot of higher ups actually don't particularly like tori. she talks back and doesn't necessarily respect hierarchy. she will get defensive about minor abuses towards low ranking nobodies to a degree a lot of people think is kind of weird. and also she will put in insane after hours to ruin you over something as mundane as "transferred a trainee to a lab that needs more hands"

BUT despite her being kind of a whackjob, as she climbs the ladder of R&D, tori ends up with a reputation of being a good boss? tori will put in a lot of effort training you and then will bite the head of anyone in R&D in your defense if necessary. believe it

(this has to happen in order for it to narratively make sense that tori becomes hokage LMAO)

anyway when minato finally demotes her and tori loses her lab for a while, what i think should happen is a bunch of people show up in his office asking when she'll be back. minato is low key baffled because usually when people show up in his office about tori it's because she's causing Problems but now there's a bunch of genin and chunin whose names he has to subtly check against their files who are like "um but experiments worked when she was in charge?" and "tori is the only lab lead that knows all the techniques we use in lab and that made me trust her" and "well i was only really there because she's the only CO i've had who made me feel like my work matters, so if she's not coming back, i'd like to transfer to a different department please"

minato: genuinely what the fuck

[azaharinflames]

So, looking ahead past Episode 15, what is the fallout of Bobby’s death going to look like for Tommy specifically?

“And I think that with Buck, I mean, that’s another phase to his growth as a human being in terms of committing or even just being vulnerable with someone and having something that’s true.”

This part is so interesting to me from Lou’s interview with Katey after seeing 16 and then reading the synopsis for 17. Lou clarifying before answering that Katey was referring to “post funeral” helped to piece it together after seeing that the funeral was at the very end of the episode. I think we will for sure be getting a Bucktommy scene next episode. I was thinking it could be 18 but after going back and reading this interview after the synopsis came out I’m very certain it will be 17. I

“But I also do think that he will, for the first time in his life, feel it’s safe to emote and open up to his fellow 118ers, to others in his life about how important Bobby was. So it’s bittersweet.”

Also we will probably get a scene of Tommy with other members of the 118 talking about Bobby (I wonder if is what we presume to be the Madney-BuckTommy scene. Maybe they’re more characters there as well).

https://butwhytho.net/2025/04/9-1-1-lou-ferrigno-jr-tommy-buck/

That interviewwww, my God. Lou created a beautiful yet chaotic world salad that had some actual hints thrown in there, and it's driving me up the wall to identify all of them.

The clarification of post funeral? now sees more pointed than ever. I had honestly thought the funeral would be at the beginning of the episode, so when he said that, I didn't give it much thought. But now, knowing it's at the end... my god.

I wonder if the scene of Tommy opening to the 118ers could be towards the end, when they're all feeling more settled and able to talk about Bobby. Perhaps post MCE. Regardless, I'm looking forward to it.

Right now, and considering that the MCE kickstarts next ep (and I doubt it'll be solved by the end of it), I do think that, if Buck and Tommy have a conversation, it might not be complete until 818. So I'm still betting for that 818 reconciliation.

But who knows! I certainly thought 816 was gonna be different, and 911 proved (once more) they'll do something we don't expect (this time I'm not complaining)

(I will also say that before we knew about Bobby's death I did think they'd reunite before the finale to give them one-to-three episodes together before deciding to move in together (because that has been a recurring thing, so I would be a bit surprised if it is just dropped).

[galacticwiseguy]

i fully agree that this is a good system at what it does! but i think there are downsides to what it does that aren't covered here. I know you probably know everything I'm about to say, O.P., but I want to talk about it anyway, please forgive me for doing so on your post.

You know how the game works in a set of fundamental structures, and then you work out from that centre of generalities to your specifics. You don’t need to know how Barbarians work if you’re not playing one, but the fact that Barbarians work like how Wardens work like how Fighters work means that when you do pick up any of the Barbarian pieces, they are pretty familiar.

I agree there are many players to which this is an asset. This was one of the biggest downsides to 4e to me. I read through and learned one class, with all of its toys and dice tricks and mechanics; what wonderful fun, learning the specific intricacies of how Wizard works this edition. and then I went and read Fighter and...it was the same??? The ability names changed, the stat dependencies changed, maybe the damage dice got slightly bigger and AoE/debuff effects got slightly less common, but the structure was the same, daily encounter at-will, it was the same structure with different keywords in the slots.

It's like finishing a level in a video game, and finding out that the next level is...the same level again, with a palette-swap. I wanted eleven classes to be eleven different little minigames with different rules because the variety and complexity and learning how each toy worked was the fun of it.

Clearly this is not what everyone wants from their DnD; I've never understood the people who just don't want to read the rules at all, but those people are many and they certainly don't want to have to read new, different rules to play a new class. But many of us do and did! If all the classes feel the same to play then it's much easier and faster to understand the game, which is bad, if "understanding the game" is part of what you enjoy spending time and effort on.

And also, of course, a DnD where every class plays different accommodates different levels of mechanical engagement from the players. Yes, people did absolutely complain that Fighter builds were too cool and interesting, in that they were too complex and intricate. There will always be players who don't want to spend time on system mastery and buildcrafting, who genuinely want fewer combat options because intricate tactical decisionmaking is not interesting to them. In 3e, Fighter was there for them, offering them a simple reliable playstyle with pretty obvious easy-pick feat and feature choices that would mostly just give then another +1 here or there, and basically one correct action in combat, "attack." while the folks who loved getting fiddly with it could be playing wizards.

Those people simply shouldn't play fourth ed, because it is not the game for them, it was a game primarily (almost exclusively) concerned with intricate tactical decisionmaking from every player; fair enough; not a knock on 4e, it has different design goals. But also, those players weren't wrong when they looked at 4e and said "DnD used to accommodate me, and now it does not, I liked DnD but now they've made something that is not for me, and i'm sad about it."

Primaries, Secondaries, Structure, and 4e DnD

Talking about Fourth Edition Dungeons & Dragons is challenging at times because I feel like I’m always coming at things from a preemptive crouch. My first draft of this started out describing a problem that people criticized, but realistically speaking, that was 10 years ago and it doesn’t really matter what people think about it now, especially because fundamentally it isn’t an incorrect thing to have noticed.

What I’m going to talk about here is structural form and it’s a thing that 4e has throughout. Honestly, you could make a reasonable model of the development of Dungeons & Dragons throughou

One of the areas where I would say that fourth edition really excels as a tabletop RPG is that its structure is rock solid. It’s not a game with tons of tables in it because most things that needed tables were instead handled by formulas and sometimes those formulas were very simple. This does make it sort of the anti-Rolemaster where, broadly speaking, you are managing a very small amount of information and the game doesn’t do a lot to generate things for you. This structure does mean that there are reliable ways that players can approach information with expectations and assumptions about how the game does work.

To be clear, I like this. It is not necessarily the best way for any game to be, but 4e is an enormous game that relies on its system being modular, familiar, and exclusionary. You know how the game works in a set of fundamental structures, and then you work out from that centre of generalities to your specifics. You don’t need to know how Barbarians work if you’re not playing one, but the fact that Barbarians work like how Wardens work like how Fighters work means that when you do pick up any of the Barbarian pieces, they are pretty familiar. This approach is a form of structuralism, and it’s really useful for making a big complicated thing handleable. Rather than having four or five versions of the same thing (like Spellcasting in 3rd edition), you can have a uniform structure that everyone recognises.

One example of a structural design in 4E is the way the game handles Primary and Secondary Stat needs for each class.

Real quick for anyone not familiar, in most of 4E’s class design, characters were making attack rolls against defenses. There weren’t any saving throws against magical spells being flung around, and for the most part enemies didn’t have a lot of opportunities to avoid things beyond specialized layered defenses like ending stuns or dazes early. You had your Armour Class, your Fortitude Defense, your Reflex Defense, and your Will Defense. This design puts agency on the actor rather than defense posture on the target, and since players are the ones enacting the things the players want, that means the die rolls that matter are the ones they make.

Now, you may not like this, especially if you like fudging die rolls like some kind of a coward I guess, but the point is for now, the fundamental structure of classes in 4E was you were powers were making attack rolls against defenses. Because of that, everyone needed to be good at making attack rolls. This was a break from third edition where it was pretty much expected that attack rolls were only for a very small set of things that were considered attacks (and which were, largely, not very good). If you were a wizard, you could build the whole character as if you never had to make an attack roll. You could, there were spells that did it, but you didn’t have to. There was no inherent assumption wizards would be good at attacking. You would be very likely expecting to meet characters that didn’t have a good attack roll.

A complaint about this design is that because everyone is making attacks, characters all feel the same. This is a reasonable complaint that if you ignore all the things that aren’t making attacks, everyone is only ever making attacks. It is true that this made 4E a game where everyone wanted to be good at connecting and therefore, everyone wanted stats that made you best at hitting. That meant that Wizards all wanted Intelligence, the stat that made you better at hitting with Wizard powers, and Fighters and Barbarians all wanted a good Strength stat because that’s how Fighters and Barbarians hit things more often.

This was, again, a complaint: The system made it so that wizards wanted high Intelligence, and Fighters and Barbarians wanted high Strength. It’s true that if you don’t like this result that this is a reasonable criticism, that this is a thing the game encourages. It’s not a criticism I much care about, mind you.

“Doesn’t this mean every member of a class will have similar stats, and naturally gravitate towards the same best powers?” you might wonder, and no! No, they solved this problem through Secondary stats. Powers came in two flavours; one, powers that only cared about your primary stat, and they were usually pretty decent, solid 8/10 kind of things. But then there were powers that could have some benefit based on your other choices, like a Pact or a Boon or a Style, and those things looked at a stat of yours that was very deliberately not the stat used to make the attack roll. These were commonly referred to as your ‘rider’ abilities, and therefore, that stat effect was the rider on the main ability.

For example, Dishearten was an attack that used Intelligence to hit, dealt damage based on Intelligence, but the penalty it could impose on an enemy’s to-hit was based on your Charisma. To that end, if you did want this power, you might want a good Charisma as well, or, if you already wanted a character with a high Charisma, you might pick this kind of power to reward that build.

There’s another structure that lives parallel here. It’s not as common, but it’s still there; there were some classes that had one secondary stat for their powers, but had two different primary stats for their powers. That meant that the class might approach hitting with stats like Wisdom or Strength, but the followup to that hitting was always going to be (for example) Charisma. This meant that there was a common thread across all members of that class, but it was never their best thing; all Clerics had some people skills, but they might be a holy smiting, mace-swinging Cleric who had people skills, or a laser beam blasting Cleric who had people skills.

4E clerics were so cool.

The other classes that did this in the Player’s Handbook were the Warlock (Charisma and Constitution) and the Paladin (Charisma and Strength). The Warlock was a bit of an orphan child at the best of times, but the Paladin was so well serviced and ate so well that it wound up with multiple fully-fledged ‘standard package’ builds you could pursue with plenty of feat support under the names of Straladin (Strength Paladin), Chaladin (Charisma Paladin) or Baladin (Balanced Paladin). The Ranger also had the opportunity to be a Strength-based or Dexterity-based attacker, though the powers were mostly all the same powers, with ‘Strength or Dexterity vs AC’ kind of attack rolls.

Sometimes for some classes that weren’t super well developed, this meant that you effectively had one primary stat and two secondary stats. There aren’t any I can find that only have one secondary stat, even the most malnourished classes I found like the Vampire have two, and some classes like the Fighter and the Warden seem to have almost every possible stat supported as a secondary stat. Your best stat was probably going to be the one that you used to hit with and your second best stat was going to be the one that gave you secondary effects you liked, which meant that most of the characters in a particular form would have similar stats and probably express a similar-ish character. If you were a wizard who liked moving things around, you probably were very intelligent and pretty wise because those were the two stats you wanted the most.

Now this does create variety within a class, but you can probably just complain it kicks the can down the road. After all, if you’re playing a Bard, are you the Charisma-Intelligence Bard, the Charisma-Wisdom Bard, or the best Bard? It’s still narrowing options.

Thing is, to me, complaining about this seems dumb when I point out the Fighter. Because everyone seems to think it’s okay that all fighters are strong and hit things hard, because that’s what being a Fighter is. Suddenly that is okay when we’re talking about limiting the options of the poor Fighter, who had people back in 4e complaining their builds were too good, too interesting, and they did too much cool stuff, when the players would much rather than two combat options, have one.

Oh and fourh the May be with you or whatever.

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

[ipwarn]

I should be asleep. It's 4:45 in the morning and I've been awake for hours.

But there is so much fun fandomy things happening. I can't be mad that for once I'm kept awake by excitement - instead of existential dread.

Happy Wheel Of Time/Maybe Happy Ending OBC for everyone who celebrates!!!! (probs just me now I think about it)

🎊🎊🎊

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[egophiliac]

Final manifestations for Book 7?

I'm trying REALLY hard not to build up any solid expectations, because I wanna go in ~fresh~! they're already so far away from anything I thought would happen (not in a bad way, I'm just accepting that I'm on Miss Yana's Wild Ride at this point and we're seeing this thing through 'til the end, by gum). so it's nothing too major, but:

they've been handing new crying expressions out like candy lately, I want to see some delicious Malleus tears.

honestly I want everyone to cry buckets. their tears sustain me. the more Silver angst specifically I get the happier I am.

SILVER!!!! 👏 VANROUGE!!!! 👏

just let him have this. the poor boy's been through so much. let him have his big "I'm proud of you, son" moment with Lilia.

I'm 100% expecting Grim's arc (and probably whatever's going on with Crowley) to be its own episode, but a nice hook to leave us hanging on would be good!

a nice hook though, please, I don't think I can take another "Grim is attacking us! now wait eight months to find out what happens :)" cliffhanger...

some Meleanor? as a treat? just a little bit, a tiny quick flashback or something, please Twst I just, I just want to see her again. let her have a little ghost cameo like Dawnathan Knight got. Lilia and his kids are all having their big group hug or whatever and she can gently fade in to be all like

(turning asks off until I'm done playing, SEE YOU ON THE OTHER SIDE Y'ALL)

[franollie]

superhero fashion dolls is such an untapped market. well not untapped because they’ve tried before. its just that they’re often designed by people who A. don’t understand the appeal of fashion dolls or B. don’t understand the appeal of superheroes

[sysig]

VUXPet (Patreon)

[faksyan]

Want to actually write out my idea of why John isn't Snake's real name now because I remembered about it yesterday and it's awesome. Like that would've made it an actual cool narrative decision that has some meaning instead of whatever the Jack/John thing is. Holding mgs names to any real-life standards to begin with is kind of wild tbh but to each their own. why is he named Adamska can anyone tell me where that's from (it's nowhere they made it up). who is Nastasha why is it spelled like that (they made that up too. babynames.com or whatever might tell you it's real and they're LYING). Shoot Gunner.

[winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts]

thinking about.... the egos project!! Thinking about Damien/Sylvia, spirits of nostalgia- and thinking about my own feelings (and suddenly remembering the characters that uh didn’t quite make it-)

[slaps desk] Benny/Nathan. Dude I am so so sorry for forgetting you uh, spirit of.... well I think I believe it was loyalty? Oops.

I think it would be a neat idea, now or sometime soon, to fuse the duos! Specifically Benny and Sylvia, and Nathan and Damien- I think my uh. Thoughts on loyalty. The virtue has warped a bit, taking loyalty to the extreme- and with nostalgia, that being used as an escape- (gah it’s really interesting to see virtues shift. don’t think about what this means in me (or do, why not!))

As for what that means for designs... I’ll be aging Sylvia/Damien up slightly, probably mid/late teens, and giving them civilian identities!! (And I guess uh- day jobs??) (I’ll show you when I can draw later-)

Now for the big question, could they de-fuse?? Maybe rarely? But Probably Not. I can’t see loyalty and nostalgia separating Right Now, unfortunately. Not unless one virtue changed a lot to break them apart-

[asvidema]

henry of skalitz really was tasked to serve a young lord and then gradually wanted to help him more and more until it stopped being about duty and it started being about loving him and wanting to love him by his own accord in all his flaws and through all his tribulations, huh