#you have to love building skills first

[despair-tea]

"should fighting games remove motion inputs" has always been the wrong way of looking at things. Should there be different input styles? of course! diversity for the genre is a good thing... and there HAVE been games without motion inputs for a long time.

But you look at a game like SSBM (an insanely popular, well-selling game that's still played today*), and it turns out that that game is way hard to play at any competent level for reasons that have nothing at all to do with inputting a quarter-circle.

Even if the special moves are easy to perform, there are going to be techniques that are difficult. Even basic things like "dash into up-tilt" (you have to turn around and make sure you don't get dash attack or up-smash, both of which will get you whiff punished) or "shorthop into back air" (you jump a little and hit back + A. or back-C. but actually hitting a moving player with it is another thing entirely! and whoops, you accidentally did a full jump so silly) are barriers from controlling your character the way you want. Meanwhile more traditional fighting games like DNF Duel or Pocket Rumble get passed up by exactly the audience that says they want simpler-to-input fight games.

Ultimately, I don't think the ease of use alone will make for a lively game that "casual audiences" will get more invested in (and if they get more invested, they're not casual anymore, right?).

That said, I think games like DNF, MBTL, and SF6 are extremely fun to play with Baby Beginner** players. The rules are more clear, they can use more of the tools immediately, and it's easier to see how they can have fun the next time.

This part is the most critical, to me. It doesn't matter if they're hardcore or casual - the moment a player decides to give up on your game forever is the moment they stop growing and their part of the game stops growing. 'Coz fight games are living things. They only live while we play them; simply acknowledging their existence without getting your hands dirty and playing the game does nothing for the game itself.

Personally, I want every game to thrive. That's why I play everyone's game. If I want other people to indulge me and help keep my games alive, then I need to pitch in and help bring their game to life, even if it's just a little bit. Are you playing your game in the corner of your locals and no one wants to challenge you? I'll fight you. Hit me up any time.

I'll accept any challenge, especially the ones I'd lose. All is for the sake of the culture!

*: nintendo may have deleted SSBM from the culture so sorry if no one's playing melee tomorrow **: a player who has just gotten their hands on the game or who has never put any serious effort in. maybe they "just want to mash buttons" or maybe they're picking up a game seriously for the first time ever and have just started their journey. at any rate, an important part of the community. not to be mocked.

[umblrspectrum]

i got lazy in the second panel

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

True love is possible only in the next world. For new people. It it too late for us.

(Redraw for @pakhnokh's DTIYS post!)

[automatonknight]

id: a digital drawing of a blue engineer and walenty-an original character. walenty is pale, has long, black hair with horns, a tail and claws. he's wearing square glasses, fingerless gloves, a green, floral shirt over a black tank top and black shorts and shoes. kit is holding a fishing rod in kits right hand. engineer is wearing his hardhat and goggles, a blue shirt, dark blue overalls and brown boots. he also has a fishing rod swung over his shoulder. he and walenty are walking next to eachother, with walenty on the left and engie on the right. the background shows a pine forest. end id

[lunarharp]

“sorry i dont always get it” (from april) & “sorry i dont always understand” the sequel 🍷🍓

[volivolition]

Is the Wip game finished? Can I still ask for stuff? If I still can, can I get a snippet from the one that give me the most rot (meet the parts)? If no, then I'm just swinging by to say hi how are you doing? <3

HI RED!! thank you for swinging by, im doing better than earlier!! my ear is getting better and im eating pizza :]!

okay so TECHNICALLY it's no longer wednesday, but i LOVE spoiling my fics so of COURSE you can have a snippet from Meet the Parts hkjh <33 you are always free to ask anytime, i will always be happy to share bits of my stories <3 AND SINCE THERE'S NO RULES I CAN SHARE MORE THAN THREE LINES!! here's like, a whole React Speed thing i just wrote :]

LOGIC – Along with Coach and Sparks – Flighty and Fingers too, I suppose – they're why you have trouble sitting still for long periods of time. The attention deficiency disorder... Or are they exacerbated by it? I still haven't figured out which is the cause and which is the effect...

REACTION SPEED – Point is, we got zoomies! Can't sit still. Always more to do, more to see, more to say.

YOU – "Are you why my leg is always-"

REACTION SPEED – Bouncing, yep! Fingers tapping, hands flapping, feet moving, words flying- hey, if you had wings like me, we'd never be touching ground.

YOU – "You have wings?"

KIM KITSURAGI – He jots this down with an interested hum.

REACTION SPEED – Yes! Books, what- which animal–

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] – You have the hovering wing type of trochilidae – hummingbirds, colloquially – with their ability to rotate their wingspan at the shoulder and elbow joints to create maximum lift. However, though you exhibit some iridescent feathers associated with the birds, your wings also connect to membranes, which share the Voronoi tessellation of the species anisoptera, the common dragonfly.

REACTION SPEED - Yeah, exactly! I'm a hummingbird and a dragonfly. Both of 'em. :)

[mejomonster]

To get good at telling stories... writing stories... one must... practice by writing stories ;-;

[moe-broey]

I'm in so much pain.

[notasapleasure]

op kindly only screenshotted the tags where it looks like I'm saying because the castles were not designed and built by the welsh (a reasonable interpretation of what the original post said) I don't think the welsh should get a say, even though I go on to mention that I don't think any money from them *should* be going to the parasites in westminster! But hey it's much easier, as I was inferring about nationalist takes like this on tumblr, to make me a colonialist boogie man.

In any case, the deeper thing bugging me that I didn't have the confidence to articulate (*signs tumblr death sentence in triplicate* haha silly me instead thinking it was fair to point out that op made it seem like these buildings, icons of welsh repression, were rather built by the welsh for the welsh) was that I don't know what money you think is going to the crown from this! The famously cash-loaded heritage industry, ah yes, they will surely solve all our financial problems if only we didn't have to send their vast profits to the stinking pigs in crowns...

They are doing their best to keep the buildings up. Guess what? English Heritage also manages stuff owned by the crown. Guess what? In England their public services are also fucked by nearly fifteen fucking years of tory austerity. It's not because of the castles. I'm delighted that visitor numbers are going up for Cadw and I have been to many of the sites they manage and frankly they do a better job than many of the sites in Scotland and England I've been to. I simply do not know where the idea comes from that they're rolling in profits that are being sent abroad to the crown?? If the crown owns these properties still I just rather think your petition should be aiming to bleed the fucking royals dry and make then pay for their upkeep!

Also I still think claiming the Welsh built the castles is absurd. You don't have to have built them to justify them being in Cadw's hands. That is the heart of what annoys me here I think: not the nationalist sentiment but the unnecessary distortion so many nationalist arguments indulge in, which undermines their arguments rather than supporting them, from my perspective (having already said in tags elsewhere that I am agnostic on devolution: it is a decision for the welsh to make not me. If you want my answer about a border poll in NI where I live then you'll have to prove you can be serious about things like pensions and health care provision before we talk about the effects of a snap poll and which way I would vote depending on the wording and the offers made).

MUCH more interesting and alarming from my pov is the money you're paying to the crown for the use of the seabed under your wind farms. If Chuckie boy believes so strongly in green energy why doesn't he do all he can to support the green sector in Wales and waive costs, or even maybe give Wales its own seabed back?

I am absolutely disgusted to learn that crown owns our castles and the profits are sent to Westminster. Wales is struggling, our economy is struggling, our people are struggling, our health services are struggling, and that money could go to the betterment of our lives - instead it goes to England.

despite the fact we maintain the castles and land, we don't own them. they are in OUR country. ownership should belong to us, the people who built them. we maintain them. we work in them. theyre ours and we should be able to use the profits generated by them to help welsh people, not allow the money be funnelled into the monarchy.

the fact the crown owns so much of wales is such an outdated and medieval concept and has no place in modern society.

petition here:

please sign. I am disgusted.

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed���someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[bluefuecoco]

(character appearance entirely fashion sense mod.)

I finally made it to summer!! With not bad stats tbh. I have a silver pickaxe and axe, copper watering can and hoe, and the biggest backpack upgrade. I've only found 1 book so far, and haven't had the funds to buy any at the bookseller u_u But I have made good progress on the bundles (even got the 5 gold star parsnips for the quality crops bundle!!!) (also i unlocked minecarts on day 18, thanks to a lucky fishing chest)

The goals for summer are to upgrade my pickaxe to gold, buy the purple fishing rod, upgrade my axe to gold and finish cleaning up my farm, set up a tree area for tapping, finish the mines, pay off all the gold bundles, upgrade my coop, (build a barn??), and finish as many of the bundles as I possibly can

[inkoutsidethelines]

Thinking about how I would write an adult Scooby-Doo series, because I think it can be done.

The first thing I’d do is make the characters actually be adults.  Still young, but adults, in the mid to late 20s range.  Mystery Inc. is a private detective type business that they run together.  In this universe, the supernatural/ghosts/etc are real, but not necessarily common, so when they take on a case, the culprit might be a person disguised as a monster, or it might actually be a real ghost.  The stakes can be higher; sometimes a bad guy is legitimately trying to kill them.  Sometimes the mystery they’re trying to solve is a murder.  Sometimes they actually get hurt on their cases.

Fred: the core of Fred’s character should be that he’s incredibly kind.  Like, give a stranger the shirt off his back kind.  The “Fred can’t talk to potential clients because he might take a case for free and we need to eat” kind.  He’s an honest and good person and sometimes gets himself into trouble because he assumes other people are too.  While he’s not very good at reading people or noticing ulterior motives, he’s brilliant when it comes to mechanical or engineering type stuff, so he’s the one who keeps the mystery machine running, builds their gadgets, and of course, designs the traps.

Daphne: she comes from old money, and her parents absolutely despise her life choices, to the point where they haven’t officially disowned her, but they have basically cut her off, so she doesn’t actually have access to any family money.  Growing up wealthy has granted her a variety of skills, including speaking multiple languages, horseback riding, and fencing.  She’s very into fashion and jewelry (even if she can’t afford it anymore) and has extensive knowledge of both that can occasionally provide a vital clue in a case. And even though her parents have cut her off, Daphne still has a wide network of contacts she can ask for favors sometimes, because she’s personable, and people tend to like her.  Daphne is also very emotionally intelligent, and is usually the one who can spot when someone is lying to them.

Side note - I ship Fred and Daphne, so I think I would start them off as an established couple for this universe.  Dating, engaged, married, I don’t care.  They are stupidly in love, ride or die for each other.  There’s no will they, won’t they, no worries about cheating.  They are in a healthy, happy, loving relationship, and no one (not even Daphne’s disapproving parents) are going to mess that up for them.

Velma: she is the forensics nerd who sometimes gets super excited about the wrong thing at the wrong time (”He was mummified in seconds? That’s so cool!” “Velma!  His wife is standing right there!” “Oh.  Sorry.”).  She’s not purposely insensitive, she just gets laser focused on her work and forgets to filter herself sometimes.  She’s also the one who can get so fixated on solving whatever mystery they’re working on, she’s willing to bend or maybe break laws.  Is breaking and entering really so bad?  Not if it gets them answers.

Shaggy: he is still the comic relief, but he’s the comic relief by being the only person in the group that actually has common sense.  He manages the business’s finances, he’s the only one who knows how to cook, and the others tease him for being a coward sometimes, but Shaggy maintains that if a ghost with an axe is coming for you, running is the only sensible option.  He should also have a range of random knowledge that sounds useless, but sometimes saves the day (ex ventriloquism, origami, the history of spoons, etc).

Scooby: as this is a universe where supernatural creatures exist, Scooby is an ancient eldritch type being that took a shine to Shaggy when he was a kid, and took the form of a talking dog to befriend and hang out with him.  Aside from the talking dog bit and not aging, he never uses his powers in a way that anyone notices.  The audience is not told upfront that Scooby is an ancient eldritch being; it should slowly be hinted at throughout the series so the audience put it together, but the characters never realize it.  Scooby genuinely considers Shaggy to be his best friend, and cares about the rest of the gang too.

[tragicblondie]

thinking about the ending of dragon age 2 as a mage hawke who sided with the mages at the end of the fifth blight, the warden defeats the archdemon and saves ferelden. they are paraded through denerim to the sounds of cheering crowds. if they don't survive, their memory lives on in a tale of great heroism and sacrifice for years to come. the inquisitor celebrates at skyhold with the rest of their companions after they beat corypheus, the threat finally ended, the inquisition a success.

but not hawke. you can fight with everything you have to support the mages, but there is no grand fanfare when it is over. the villain succumbs to corruption and dies unceremoniously - you don’t even get the satisfaction of striking the killing blow. you can’t get a round at the hanged man to celebrate. it’s time to go. you and your friends can never sit around your table at the hanged man again. you can’t be seen here when the templars come to clean up the mess. nothing will be the same. you have given seven years of your life trying to hold kirkwall together, accepted your accolades and played the part of champion, and you watch it fall apart anyway. and how much of that is your fault? this city has been stained in your blood since before you could remember, since before the blood was your own.

you lost your sister when you lost your first home. even so, you tried to live by the advice you gave fenris - when you stop running, you build a life. the estate that you clawed your family back into stands looming and empty. it is the last place you saw your mother alive, and you still can't bear to touch her things, and you will never even see her room again. bodahn and sandal are making preparations to leave for orlais, orana will find other work with the skills she's learned, and the house will remain, a hollow testament to your family's legacy. gamlen will hear only the stories. your brother fought by your side when it mattered, despite everything. even so, he will stay behind, and you might never see him again.

no, there is no time for a celebration. instead you get a cautious acknowledgement from the templars, a tense goodbye, and then you can never go home again. for the second time. you thought you could build a life, and you tried. you held on as long as you could, you made friends, you fell in love, you clung to the last vestiges of your family, but most of them will be forced to leave your side anyway. you won, but even that wasn't enough.

[elumish]

I think that there's a feeling that, if you start writing something and don't finish it, it's a failure.

As someone who has far more unfinished pieces than finished pieces (sorry to anyone who reads my stuff on AO3), here are a few good things about doing this:

First, all writing is practice. Just like there are reasons to sketch and do practice drawings, writing even unfinished pieces builds your skills in drafting sentences, characterization, voice, tone, and even working in a variety of styles. If you start a story in a new style, even if you never finish it, you have some experience in that style now.

It can also tell you what you love or hate about something. Sometimes you don't finish something because you realize you don't like it. That knowledge is also valuable.

Second, you can always go back to unfinished work. The main novel that I'm querying right now is one where I wrote the first couple thousand words and then didn't touch it again for probably at least a year and a half. It's now a finished novel.

Sometimes you need space away from a story to make it work. Sometimes you need to improve your writing skills to be able to accomplish whatever you were trying to accomplish then. Sometimes you need a mental or physical health break or you just need more time in the day before you can finish something.

Third, writing is fun and you shouldn't hold yourself or your sense of success at writing to how many stories you finish. Did you enjoy yourself even for the period of time that you wrote whatever you wrote? Did you end up with something cool, interesting, fun, exciting, weird, or different? Great, that's all a victory.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑶𝒖𝒕

── mdni sexual content. l&ds boys and how they eat you out. inclusive of: oral (f. receiving), slight pet name usage, praise, cursing.

⁺₊ / an: your wish is my command anonie! 🥰

rafayel, out of all the boys, would arguably be the most eager, and arguably the most skilled. because first and foremost, he simply loves being there between your thighs. he loves love your smell, and your taste, altogether—so much so that he could definitely stay there for hours.

but he's also anything but nice about it. because the minute you give him permission, he'll be swirling his tongue, lapping at your juices, practically moaning against you with how good you taste...

... and rafayel knows how to use his tongue. he's so damn good at using it, never failing to bring you to your high; never stopping, either. the hours he can spend eating you out aren't soft and gentle, he'll keep up his pace in an almost desperate manner to drink you up. he doesn't mean to overstimulate you, really! it's not intentional, he just can't get enough of you!

"mmhfffuck— taste so damn good—"

xavier would be slow with his movements, just little easygoing, languid licks up your cunt, softly lapping at your entrance. he's also someone who would gladly go at this for house on end, but this is because he finds the process relaxing. comforting. so he prolongs it—he takes his time. he'll focus on the taste, wanting to savor every last drop, as much as possible... all with absolutely no rush, ao it allows you to feel, more accurately, all of what he's doing to you. and boy, would it feel good.

but. the downside of this is that he doesn't necessarily intend on making you cum. sure, he likes your taste, and he'll try to get as much of it as he can—much like rafayel, he won't stop until he's tired and satisfied! but the build-up to your release will definitely be slow. it's almost like teasing, unintentionally... not that he would edge you, or overstimulate you, but he won't actively try to bring you to an orgasm as quickly as possible, either!

"hm? s'okay, angel... you'll get there eventually..."

zayne would eat you out with purpose. he's precise, and very much intentionally wants you to cum. in fact, it's not just a want for him—it's a need. every swirl of his tongue and every suck on your clit is made with the drive to bring you to your high. he knows—he's memorized—all the spots that have your bck arching into his face, allowing the tip of his nose to brush against your clit so perfectly, it has you absolutely reeling.

and he knows exactly how to get you all worked up even more. because the entire time he's eating you out, he will be maintaining eye-contact with you. bright, piercing eyes gazing straight into yours, a hint of mirth in them as his tongue plunges into you.

you're not allowed to look away. you wouldn't dare.

"mm... look at me, sweetheart. need to see you."

caleb would be very much of a tease. he's also someone who knows exactly how you like to be eaten out, and arguably, he'd have impeccable technique—but he won't give you that. he knows how easily you cum from his tongue, that he would rather give all his attention to every other part of your body... before he'd dare to start licking your cunt.

you'd be begging, writhing, aching to have his tongue between your folds... but you simply have to wait. this is one of the only times caleb gets to have his fun in teasing you to no end, and he will, by all means, enjoy it.

"fuck, baby, you're drenched. all this for me?"

jeremiah would start out incredibly, incredibly shy at first. his hands placed tentatively over your thigh, starting with testing little licks because he isn't quite sure of what he's doing... he'd even have you guide his head, anything to ensure he's doing things the way you want him to—because he wants, needs, to make you feel good. he'll even look up at you every now and then with innocent little "was that okay?"s and "did that feel good?"s, always searching for affirmations from you.

and his eyes would be so genuine and sincere despite the act the both of you are participating in, that it's almost adorable, like a breath of fresh air. he'll eat you out with the most considerate prioritization of your pleasure, learning as he goes, until he can undeniably bring you to cum all over his tongue.

"oh... it looks like you liked that? should i do it again? like... this?"

⁺₊ / an: have you noticed i updated my character list for lnds..... LMAKDJSJFJHSHF

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[viaisms]

twenty questions

summary: penelope accidentally mentions that someone has a crush on you, she can't say who it is but you make it into a game so she can :) warnings: spencer reid x bau!reader, gn reader, mentions of drinking wine, pg-13 language, talk of bugs?? its a nickname,,, lots of use of pet names lol, fluff, no mention of y/n yeehaw, pining, you're completely oblivious about how much spencer wants you, not proofread </3 authors note: first fic!! i haven't officially written a fic in. gosh, years?? since the pandemmy :( i really want to get back into writing, so have this little blurb that i thought of! by all means i am here for any constructive criticism you may have<3 wc: 2.7k

The clatter of fingertips tapping against a keyboard filled the dimly lit BAU office. You sit at your desk, eyes fixed on the glowing screen as you scroll through reports, cross-referencing case files and taking notes. The quiet hum of the building has long since settled into a lull; you barely realize how deeply you've fallen into your work,

The distant ticking of a clock finally breaks your trance, but it wasn't until you feel the hairs arise on the back of your neck that you become fully aware. You slowly blink with a quiet groan, glancing at the time at the bottom of your screen.

10:58 PM. Shit.

You align your fingertips atop of your keyboard, the soft clatter filling the office once more before you hear the all-too familiar voice.

"Babes, what are you still doing here?!"

You turn and see nobody else but Garcia, finally emitting from her bat-cave. Her arms cross against her chest, a disappointed hum coming from her pressed lips. "You, my love, should be at home in a nice hot bath with a glass of wine."

Your lips splay a lazy smirk as you lean back in your chair, stretching your body with a quiet groan. "I was just about to wrap up, Pen, I promise..." You assure your colleague, feeling the strain of staring at a screen all day every time that you blink.

"Good deal my beautiful bug," Penelope chirps as her arms drop to her side. She's just as tired as you are, having spent all of her day digging through databases to find information on a potential UnSub. Her heals click as she goes to turn away, walking back towards her office.

"You know, you have to get your beauty sleep for your lover boy in the mor..." Her once confident words grow timid as she begins to trail off.

Penelope's breath catches in her throat as she realizes the words that so effortlessly flew off her tongue, her blood running cold at her grave error. Spencer is going to kill her.

"My what?" Your eyes narrow, scoffing in a confused manner.

She stills, yet she doesn't turn to you.

"Nothing! I... I didn't say anything..." She mutters with a nervous stammer of your name, the rhythmic clicking of her heels continuing as she speeds to her office.

You stand, the wheels of your office chair sliding out from under you as you feel a weakness in both of your legs. You stretch once more, trying to think of when the last time you even stood was.

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her hand is resting on the cold, slick material of the doorknob that has the potential to separate her from this deep abyss that she just dug herself into. Instead, she stills for another moment before turning to you once more.

Penelope has to think of a lie, and quick.

"Obviously... I was talking about Morgan!"

There is a reason why she does what she does for a living, and is rarely out on the field with the rest of the crew unless her technical skills are needed.

Your eyes squint with a tentative hum. You don't believe Garcia, not for a second.

"You do know I'm a profiler..." A grumble of amusement comes from your chest at Penelope's attempt.

"Right..." She murmurs, her voice quiet as she breaks your gaze. She's mentally kicking herself for blabbing, such a rookie mistake in the game of workplace gossip.

Your eyebrows raise as you await Garcia's confession. However, she stays strong, not uttering another peep from her velvet-painted lips.

"So...?" You sing after a beat of silence, stars of hope glistening in the pools of your eyes.

With a whine, Penelope's shoulders drop.

"Look... I love you, sweetness, I do..." Her lips droop into a frown. Penelope's eyes greet your own somberly with a shake of her own head. "But I promised I wouldn't tell..."

You feel a weight of disappointment on your chest, and with a sigh, you decide to drop it. Penelope sees the way the sparkle in your eye begins to dim, eliciting a whine from her barely audible to your own ears.

"But!" She chirps, trying to share some of her own light with you. Penelope shouldn't be doing this, and she knows it. However, she is far too nurturing to let a beautiful smile like yours falter for even a second. "If you guess it... it's not technically me telling you, right?"

"You know? I like the way your mind thinks," You hum, reveling in the fact that you got your way. "Twenty questions?" The cold sensation of the faux-leather hits you as you sit back in your chair.

The corner of Penelope's lips twitch upwards as a combination of guilt and excitement course through her veins. "You know I love a good game, hit me..." She murmurs, her voice self-assured as she pulls a chair from a nearby desk, her legs crossing as she sits next to you.

"Okay..." You mutter with a shaky sigh. The pounding of your heart fills your entire body, your stomach slightly cramping with nerves. "Is it someone I know?"

"Uh, duh?"

Your eyes flutter shut, raking through potential victims that fell for whatever love trap you didn't even intent on setting. "Male or female?"

"Acht! That's not part of the rules my curious friend and you know it," Her dark eyes narrow as she playfully scolds her colleague. "I'm totally counting it though, eighteen more questions..."

With pressed lips, you weigh out the obvious individuals who are least likely to be a contender. Penelope sees how deep you are in thought, and she can't help herself but quietly scoff.

How can you not know it's Spencer? She thinks to herself. Everyone around the office sees it -- everyone but you, apparently. As you think, her mind wanders to about two months prior, where Spencer came to her for love advice. Penelope, being herself, already knew he was fawning over you. She picked up on it the moment the genius somehow grew more awkward every time he were to speak to you.

However, also being herself, she refused to give him any sound advice until he spilled who the lucky contender was; which just so happened to be you.

The sound of your voice pulls her out of her own mind.

"Do I see them often?"

The corners of her lips prop upwards, almost tauntingly. "Very," she affirms.

Someone you see very often... you mentally walk through your day-to-day routine, retracing every step no matter how minuscule. You awake every morning to nobody in your apartment but your cat, besides the occasional sleepover with a friend every now and again. You ready yourself for work alone, your first stop in the morning being the local coffee shop down the street...

"Ooh! Is it someone from the coffee shop?" You chirp, your heart beginning to race at the idea of an unspoken stranger admiring your beauty from afar. Individuals you see there on a day-to-day basis flood your mind, although it completely falls empty for the exception of one person; a barista behind the counter, roughly your age who is not bad looking in the slightest.

"That would be a negative..." Her red-painted lips press together, a slight pang of disappointment hitting you in the gut that it wasn't the barista.

"Darn..." You tut, your mind trying to silently place the pieces of the puzzle together. Someone you know, someone you see often, not someone from the coffee shop...

Penelope can't believe how oblivious you are. How do you not pick up on the fact that Spencer follows you around the office like a lost puppy? Or the fact that when the two of you are on the field together, he insists you go with him or vice versa because he feels the need to protect you?

"No way that it's a colleague?" Your brows stitch together, your head slanting as you throw the inconceivable idea into the open.

Penelope's head slightly tilts downwards as she gazes at you through the top of her frames. She flashes you a sly, almost flirtatious grin at your not-so-far-fetched theory.

"And if it is?"

The feeling of your heart hammering in your heart is felt throughout your entire body, your cheeks warming as you feel blood rush to your brain.

"Who?!" You exclaim, completely forgoing the rules to the game. This narrows your options to about seven. Your hands fumble with the cotton on the hem of your shirt as you narrow your options down even further, a shuttering breath falling from your lips.

"How do you not know?!" Penelope is quick to match your energy, an actual pain shooting through her chest at your own naivety. Her brows raise as her eyes widen, her fists balling as she folds herself back from blurting it out.

Your lips part as you're about to exclaim something quick and witty back to your colleague when it hits you. Like a fish gulping for water, you feel the soft skin of your lips quickly snap shut.

The memories hit you all at once: the mornings you're in a rush and you forget your coffee - Reid excusing himself for a moment with a muttered excuse before returning with it minutes later, the nights you return home from a case and he offers to spend time with you because it pains you being alone after what you saw, the countless facts he will ramble to you on the plane because damn it, you're the only one that actually listens to him.

"Oh my god, Reid?" Your jaw drops as you gasp, your arms numbing as your nerves shoot past the roof and to the stratosphere.

With a relieved sigh, Penelope's palms slap against her thighs, planting her leg down onto the floor with her other one. "Finally!" She groans, almost feeling a sense of comfort that you know and the weird tension around the office while the two are around would soon come to an end.

"Since when?!" Your heart ticks against your chest so hard that you can hear it in your ears. Never in a million years would you assume it would be Spencer that would be silently pining over you. Reid?!

"Since like... forever, buttercup!" Penelope giggles. She can see the dots being connected in the pretty little brain of yours, and god, she loves it. Her voice softens, a warm, almost maternal intent behind them. "We really should be getting home..." She groans, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. "Since you two are totes madly in love already, let me know when one of you decides to make the move, okay?"

With a roll of your eyes, the back of your hand ever so gently strikes the side of Garcia's arm. She notices the way blush speckles across your face, a knowing grin playing against her own. You can't ignore the way your chest fuzzes over at the thought of Spencer feeling about you the way you feel about him, it makes your stomach ache with desire; you don't know if you love or hate the sensation.

"Goodnight, Garcia..." A mix between a chuckle and a sigh of contentment is emitted from you. She mumbles a quick 'good night' with a quick, playful wink before standing from her chair, returning it to its original home.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

The next morning you're in a hurry to get to work, oversleeping by a long shot as it took you forever to wind down last night due to your wandering thoughts.

You get to your desk with merely minutes to spare, a tired, overwhelmed groan falling from your lips as you place your bag in your desk and splay your jacket against the back of your chair.

"Long night last night, agent?"

You don't even have to look up to know who it is... your body freezes for a moment, not sure if you're prepared to deal with this; not yet, anyways.

With a soft sigh, your gaze is lifted and immediately greeted with Spencer's. His large, curious and caring stare. His hazel eyes almost bare into your own, causing a tingle to run down your spine. You try to ignore the butterflies that patter within the walls of your stomach, yet they're hard to confine.

"Yeah... I'm fine, Reid," You nod, your lips tentatively pressing together. "Just didn't sleep worth the damn last night... just... thinking about the case..." You trail, the sound of your voice growing softer and quieter like a beautiful decrescendo.

His lips part for just a moment, an inaudible 'ah' coming from him before giving you an understanding nod.

"I figured... Garcia told me you were here late last night and I kind of... presumed this may happen," He muses with an awkward chuckle. "Which is why... I brought you this..."

Reid's tall frame trails away from your desk for a moment, which draws out a soft hum from you as you tap your fingertips against the smooth, cool material of your desk.

His long stride is quick to return, your heart almost leaping out of your throat as he sees what's within his long, slender fingers.

Your favorite coffee.

You accept the gesture, your stomach doing flips as you take the cup within the confines of your own grasp. You mumble something quick and playful, telling Spencer that he is your favorite person in the world right now for such a small action.

The feeling of someone else watching you is burned into the back of your skull, a sensation churning in your gut that you can't shake. Your gaze flicks over to the side, in which you're immediately greeted by Garcia.

She not-so-subtly flashes two thumbs up at you, her nails painted a shade of dark purple. "Go get 'em!" She mouths in approval, your gaze quickly turning over to the male in front of you in attempt to hide Penelope's matchmaking attempt.

"Hey... do you um... maybe want to get coffee at this place together sometime?" You attempt to thickly swallow down your nerves, trying to soothe the heartbeat creeping out of your chest.

Spencer is silent a moment, his lips twitching upwards in a sign of approval at your suggestion. You see the thoughts shifting through his mind, the rates of his blinks increasing in a sense of disbelief that you're actually asking him this.

"I-- um... yeah! Let's do tomorrow before work? If... you're okay getting up that early, if not we can totally do a different time, perhaps--"

"Tomorrow it is..." You cut him off, something you rarely do. He nods in agreement, a quiet 'tomorrow' mumbled from his lips as he attempts to conceal his excitement.

You’re not sure how to shake off the butterflies in your stomach, but Spencer’s shy smile is enough to make you feel warm all over. You take a sip of your coffee, letting the moment linger. Before you can say anything else, Garcia’s voice breaks through your thoughts, louder than life.

"You two better not cancel on me! I want details!" she teases from across the room, flashing a mischievous grin your way. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips.

Spencer, now fully aware of the matchmaker’s antics, lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair, looking even more flustered than before.

You meet his gaze again, a new kind of tension settling between you—a mix of nerves, excitement, and something deeper that you’re not ready to name just yet. You take a breath, feeling that the next chapter of whatever this is has already started, and it’s thrilling.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you murmur, unable to stop the grin that’s threatening to split your face. Spencer nods, his smile small but genuine, as he turns to head to his desk.

As he walks away, you catch a glimpse of Garcia again, this time with an exaggerated wink. You shake your head, but you can’t suppress the warmth blooming in your chest. Tomorrow’s going to be interesting, to say the least.

And maybe... just maybe, things are finally falling into place.