#Can you predict the lottery

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[ckret2]

Chapter 52 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: the Pines get their hands on a book that, they hope, might explain Bill's entire history.

And Ford, Dipper, and Mabel debate the ethics of executing a wanna-be tyrant who recently saved their lives.

"Hey, hey you with the inner eye! How'd your show go, inner eye?"

"Did you read anybody's mind?"

"Did you get next week's lottery numbers?"

"Yeah! Did you predict when anyone's gonna die?"

Brag one time about identifying somebody's cancer and nobody lets it go for years. As the triangle stuffed his bookbag in his locker, he tried to ignore the square and rectangle laughing at him down the hall. Every time he missed a few days of school so his parents could haul him to a speaking engagement several states away, he got this when he got back. They knew he couldn't read minds and they knew he couldn't tell the future. They didn't care; they just wanted to make him mad. If he tried to correct them, they'd just laugh at him for caring about what they said.

"How come your inner eye's on the outside, inner eye?"

"Yeah, shouldn't it be in your stomach?"

"Can you see the ghosts from in there?"

He slammed his locker and turned toward the square leading the harassment. "You know what, I did have a vision at the show," he shouted. "I saw who your real dad is! Hey, did you mom ever get that mutt fixed?"

He didn't need to tell the future to know he'd better run for it. He bolted for class.

He'd missed the last three days of school so he could wow the crowds by telling them what was in their pockets, while his parents talked about cleansing negative energy from their spirits or some junk like that; and he'd come back just in time for a history test he hadn't studied for.

He wasn't worried. He was sitting behind the smartest line in class. On test days, the teacher set up cardboard barriers between everybody's desks to prevent them from reading each other's tests, and he took it on faith that this worked on the other students; but for his own part, the barriers were so thin that sometimes he walked into them without noticing they were there. He just looked straight past them as if they didn't exist. He had a clear view of the smart line's test.

As he bolted for his classroom, he could see through the walls that the line was already in there, talking to the teacher. He slowed down his mad dash before reaching the doorway and came in at a stroll, just in time to hear her quietly say to the teacher, "Just for this test, can I switch seats? I don't want to sit by..." She trailed off when she caught the triangle coming in; she and the teacher both stared.

He stared back, irritation flaring up, and snapped defensively, "What?" What did she care if he copied her test? It didn't cost her anything and it didn't make her do any extra work. Wasn't it considerate to help a fellow classmate out? Why should she be selfish about her test?

The square and rectangle tumbled into the room, advanced on the triangle, saw the teacher watching, and shoved past him to get to their own seats. They glared at him as they passed, but didn't say anything. Yeah, that's right, look who got the final word in.

To the line, the teacher quietly said, "Don't worry about it, just get ready for the test." She raised her voice. "All right, settle down, everyone at your desks. Put your notes away. This is a long test, so we're starting immediately." Several students grumbled in dismay.

The triangle couldn't be more delighted. The teacher didn't believe in psychic abilities—to his benefit, since so far it had let him get away with copying other students with impunity—but she also didn't like him. He'd been sure that she'd agree to let the smart line switch seats to get away with him. But apparently she'd rather dismiss the class pet than admit that maybe it was possible for him to psychically cheat. He smugly headed for his desk, ready for the easiest test of the class.

The teacher put a hand on his arm before he could pass her. "Not you," she said. "Get your stuff from your desk, you'll be taking the test at the front of the class. At my desk."

"What!" He whirled to stare at her indignantly. "Why?!" (The rest of the class fell silent. He could feel a dozen eyes on his base.)

"Because, your last few test scores have been... unusual. I want to keep my eye on you—"

"Unusual how! My grades have been great! You should be thrilled I'm keeping up with my absences!"

"Your test grades haven't been consistent with your classroom performance," she said tersely.

The other students started to titter. His sides flushed in humiliation.

His classroom performance was abysmal. He never finished his homework (he rarely started his homework), he never had an answer when he was called on in class and usually substituted with something sarcastic that'd at least make the other kids laugh, he never did the readings, and he wasn't even sure which town he'd lost his history textbook in. Studying was boring! He had better things to do! He was a busy guy! (And why bother, when he wasn't any good at it anyway.)

"What, you think I'm too stupid to make A's?!" He planted his fists on his corners. "If I'm cheating, how!" She had the privacy walls between students on test days, she'd searched his desk twice, and during the last test she'd passed behind him like a dozen times as he filled out the answers. Sarcastically, he asked, "Am I psychically reading the other students' minds? Maybe looking at their tests through the walls with my laser vision?"

The class giggled again, but at least this time it was with him. Everyone in the school knew about his family's traveling show and the performances he put on. And everyone in class knew that the teacher thought his family's shows were scams and that he was a fraud, and she'd made that clear from the first week. The other kids believed in his abilities. He'd been in class with most of them since they started school, and his default reaction to being called a liar about his abilities had always been to do something to prove them wrong—and he'd kept doing that even after he realized that telling kids what they were hiding in their bags only creeped them out. 

But it didn't matter if all the kids believed. As long as the teacher didn't, he could get away with anything—and everyone else in class knew he was making a fool of her.

She narrowed her eye. "That's enough. Just get your pen and come to the front."

"This is stupid! You can't prove I've done anything wrong!"

"I'm not going to fight with you."

"You just hate my family, you don't have any proof I—"

"Get. Your. Pen. Or you'll be taking your test in the office."

He shot her a dark look; but stormed to his desk, snatched up his pen, and returned to the front. Times like this, he really did wish he had laser vision. He could, just, grow a laser gun out of his eye, shoot her in half...

As he passed the teacher, he muttered under his breath, "I'm telling my mom," but apparently not quietly enough, because the square who'd been bothering him all morning announced, "Hey, he's gonna tell his mommy!" and half the class laughed.

"Behave," the teacher snapped; then said tiredly to the triangle, "You can tell anybody you want, just—take your test."

Sure, she said that now. She didn't know what his mom was like when she thought her golden child was being mistreated. He'd go home whining and moaning about how unfair his teacher was, and tomorrow morning his mom would be in the front office ripping into the principal over the terrible teacher slandering and humiliating her perfect little triangle. And she was shrill. The whole hallway would hear it. Wielding his mom was a double-edged sword (or maybe double-edged whip would be a more apt metaphor): the other kids would make fun of him for weeks; but he'd definitely get what he wanted. Either his teacher would shape up, or he'd get a new teacher.

Assuming he did convince his mom he was being mistreated. His confidence waned as he waited at the teacher's desk for her to finish passing tests out to the rest of the students. What if calling in his mom backfired? What if his teacher graded his test tonight? What if his mom got there in the morning and the teacher could show her that he'd gotten almost perfect grades on his other tests, but flunked the one where he'd been forced to sit at the teacher's desk? The teacher didn't believe he could see through walls, but his mom sure did—and he wasn't sure whether she'd care that he'd cheated, but she'd sure care if they could prove that he'd cheated and make her look bad. But now that he'd said he'd tell his mom, he'd look like an even bigger loser if he didn't...

The teacher set his test on her desk last. He filled out his name and stared miserably at the first question. Who was the first triangular president. How was he supposed to know? There'd been like, seven. It was a multiple choice question; he looked at the options to see if any names sounded old-timey, concluded they all sounded old-timey, and sighed in frustration. Now what? He'd heard a kid say once that if you didn't know what to guess, you should always guess C. Would he get enough right answers to pass...?

He let his all-seeing gaze drift past the test to snoop through the teacher's desk—sheets of stickers he'd never earn, eye drops, coupons to a movie theater, spicy novel... and then stopped in wonder. She'd left the answer key to the test inside her desk. Every answer, right there. This would be the easiest test he'd ever taken!

As the teacher watched in increasing frustration, he cheerfully highlighted answer after answer, pausing between each question to read a couple paragraphs from the novel in her desk to make it look like he was actually thinking.

The line at the top of the class and a couple other kids had turned in their tests by the time the triangle had finished his performance. With a flourish, he turned and presented his test to the teacher still standing behind him. "Well?" He gave her his most innocent look. "So how'd I do?" He'd almost asked her, so how'd I do it?

She glowered at him, seething; but simply took his paper and snapped, "Go back to your desk."

"Whatever you say!" Cheerfully, he sauntered back to his desk. As he passed Miss Perfect Grades, he said quietly—but not so quietly the other nearby kids couldn't hear—"You got question 7 wrong, idiot." She groaned.

Nobody would get the best of him. He was making it through this class with flying colors. Maybe the teacher was right, maybe he was stupid—but he certainly wasn't a loser.

####

As soon as he'd dressed, Dipper ran downstairs to get the phone book in Soos's office and call the library. This was it. He was rested, his schedule was free, and he was ready to read. Today, he was buckling down and reading Flatworld. He was gonna crack Bill's secret history wide open—and on top of that he'd get a leg up on a year of math, and he'd learn something big about Bill before Mabel.

Which he felt guilty for being excited about; but he figured it wasn't wrong to want to be the better twin at paranormal investigation, right? That was his whole thing. Anyway, Mabel might be grateful for it—she'd seemed annoyed at the prospect of reading a hundred year old book on math; maybe he could summarize the important parts for her, it was just like when he'd help her study for big tests...

The librarian on the phone said, "Flatworld by Edward Bishop Bishop? Sorry, our only copy is checked out."

There went Dipper's plans for the day. "When's it due back?"

"In twenty days. Do you want to put it on hold?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Dipper hung up. The Gravity Falls Library let you check out a book for twenty-one days; so somebody had grabbed Flatworld yesterday. Who else would want it?

####

Absolutely aghast, Mabel cried, "They banned colors?!"

Bill and Abuelita, sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast, stared at her. Mabel was standing in the doorway, still in her pajamas, hair unbrushed, bags under her eyes, distraught. Bill said, "What?"

"On Flatworld!" Mabel dragged her hands down her face in distress. "They made colors ILLEGAL?! It's ILLEGAL to have COLORS?! That's as bad as—as—I can't actually think of anything as bad as banning colors!"

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Oh, you're reading Flatworld!"

"Bill, you've been through so much!" Mabel grabbed his shoulders. "What a traumatic childhood!"

"Mabel."

"No wonder you turned evil, I'd be evil if I grew up without coloring books—"

"Mabel. Kid."

"What!"

"Colors weren't illegal," Bill said.

Mabel paused. "They weren't?"

"They weren't. I was even born gold. I drew my house, remember? You saw the rose bushes?"

"Oh." Mabel thought about that. She planted her hands on her hips. "Then I take it back, you've got no excuse for being evil!"

"I'm devastated."

"What is Flatworld?" Abuelita asked politely.

"Book inspired by my home world," Bill muttered. "Loosely."

Abuelita nodded, puzzled. "¿Pero tú no eras del infierno?"

Bill laughed. "¡Puede ser!"

Mabel asked, "So if colors weren't banned, why did the book say they were?"

"Ahh, Eddie was a writer." Bill shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. "He took some creative liberties to make the story more exciting. He wasn't writing a history textbook."

"Which parts are true?"

Bill gave her a sly sideways glance. "Which parts pardon me from being evil?"

Mabel blew a raspberry.

In the entryway, Dipper said, "Mabel? You checked out Flatworld?"

She jogged over to him. "Yes! Augh, Dipper, you've gotta read it after me! There's some crazy bonkers stuff in here!"

"Yeah," Dipper said, mildly deflated, "sure. When did you pick it up?"

"Yesterday! I biked to the library after Bill fell asleep. I had to find out what it said. Did you realize we don't know anything about where Bill came from? I don't even know if he had dirt."

Bill had avoided looking at Mabel as she talked to Dipper, focused on eating, mouth set in a flat line; but without glancing over, he said dismissively, "Sure, of course we had dirt. It was cheap to import."

Mabel turned back to Dipper, her eyes bugging out. "He had to import dirt. I didn't know that!" 

"Okay, I get the picture."

"Here!" She dragged Dipper into the living room.

Bill looked at Abuelita. "Ask how cheap it was to import dirt."

"No."

"It was dirt cheap. Ha!"

Abuelita shook her head.

Mabel picked up the book from the end table by the sofa bed. Out of range of the kitchen, she whispered, "All that talk about the Axolotl and prophecies just kept bugging me until I read the book. I stayed up half the night! I thought maybe it'd help us remember more of the poem."

"Did it work?"

"Not yet. But I think I feel something percolating in my brain! It's coming, I know it." She pushed the book into Dipper's hands. "We've gotta talk as soon as you read it."

It was a much smaller book than Dipper had anticipated; a cover about the size of a paperback novel, but it was only as thick as one of those easy chapter books for new readers that Dipper had started devouring in second grade. Even if the text was dense, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to read.

"By the way, who put me back in my bed?" Mabel asked.

"Oh. Bill d—" The hairs on the back of Dipper's arms stood on end as he realized something he'd been too tired to notice last night. "Bill did."

"Aww, that's sweet of him," Mabel said.

"But Mabel," Dipper hissed. "I don't know how he got through the bedroom door."

####

Ford shut his journal and turned his desk chair to face the children. This was serious enough to warrant his full attention. "You're sure you didn't prop the door open last night?"

"Positive," Dipper said. "We talked about it. We decided it would be safer if Bill was stuck in one spot and had to ask to leave."

"The doorknob's been busted since the tooth fairy broke in," Mabel said. "Maybe Bill just pushed it open?"

Ford said, "Under the terms of the curse, he shouldn't even be able to do that much. It's supposed to magically prevent him from remembering or imagining any way to get through a door." Still, he made a mental note to ask Soos to repair the door as soon as possible. They ought to at least remove the possibility that Bill might have found a loophole.

"Could the curse be wearing off?" Dipper asked. "Maybe you just need to do it again?"

"This isn't a curse that should wear off. It was originally designed to keep hidden treasures guarded for a thousand years—and as far as I know, the only way to remove it is for the person who placed it to lift it," Ford said. "If Bill's getting through doors, either he knows a way to break the spell that he never told me, or he's found a way around the spell. Both mean bad news. For all we know, he might already be able to get through any door and is just pretending he can't."

Dipper thought back to the pitiful performance he'd seen in the bathroom. "I... don't think he's faking." Unless that wasjust a big act? Bill flung himself down staircases and stuck forks in his arms for fun; what was stopping him from writing on the walls in his own blood?

"Well, he can get through at least one door." Ford got to his feet and began pacing up and down the length of his study. "On top of that, by now he's revealed he can see through walls, see the future, see in the dark, and see who knows what else in other dimensions... He's trying to befriend Wendy, he's already befriended—" he cast a guilty look at Mabel, "... one of us, and I suspect he's getting into Stan's head... He has a standing weekly appointment to network with the mayor, the sheriff, and the deputy... He could be up to almost anything by now. I'm afraid he's right on the verge of slipping through our fingers. If only we could get that blasted fuel! We need to destroy him before he finds a way to escape for good—"

"Wait," Mabel said. That alone was enough to make Ford flinch. "Didn't he just save you guys' lives yesterday?"

Dipper winced, but Ford didn't seem surprised that Mabel knew; he just averted his gaze and sighed. "I know. And I'm..." he wrestled with his words until he reluctantly conceded, "grateful that he did. But even so—"

"Grunkle Ford! How can you still hate him after that?!"

Ford pressed his lips together to avoid saying pretty easily. "It's not about hatred, Mabel. It's an issue of the greater good."

"The gr—pbbbt!" Mabel blew a raspberry and flung her arms in the air. "Come on!"

Dipper said, "Grunkle Ford's right. Even if Bill isn't just trying to manipulate us somehow... if he had a chance, he'd still take over the world."

"Exactly," Ford said. "Two lives isn't a sufficient down payment to let him purchase the rest of our reality. We must put the safety of the universe first, and... put our consciences second."

Mabel looked between them in disbelief. "It's not a down payment, it's—it's progress. It means he's changing for the better! Guys, you don't know what the world he came from is like!" She pointed at the book Dipper was carrying. "Of course he's evil after how he grew up! Maybe he just needs some people to be nice to him and he'll learn to be nice back!"

"He grew up more than a trillion years ago," Ford said. "That's over seventy times longer than our entire universe has existed. He's had plenty of chances to outgrow his upbringing. I'm sure somebody's been kind to him in that time." He'd been kind to Bill.

"Then why is he being nicer now? First he was nice to me, now he's been nice to you two—if he keeps getting nicer to more and more people..."

Ford shook his head. "He could be nice to the whole world and it wouldn't mean he's any different."

"How do you know?!"

"How often does he talk to you about his plans for Weirdmageddon?"

Mabel fell silent, thinking uncomfortably about all the times he'd freely told her what boring animals he planned to upgrade once he'd conquered the world, or which fun places he wanted to destroy with his alien friends, or which laws of physics and spacetime he planned to change. She thought about all the times he'd expressed his gratitude by swearing to shed blood or rearrange stars on her behalf.

"He doesn't see befriending his future victims as a conflict of interests. So why wouldn't he start Weirdmageddon again?" Ford asked. "He doesn't feel remorse over a single thing he's done."

Mabel thought about Bill offering to put back the stolen ring at the mall.

Dipper thought about Mabel's Fault.

But did that really prove he felt remorse?

"But—doesn't he ever get a chance?" Mabel's voice was thick. "How do you know if he'll be selfish next time if you don't let him try? He can do better, I know it! He just needs a chance to prove it!" She looked pleadingly at Ford, then at Dipper. "What if he could be good this time? What if he could help?"

Dipper had to avert his gaze. "If we were talking about shoplifting or vandalism, yeah, but... if we give him a chance and he lets us down, it's the end of the world. We can't risk that."

Ford knew Bill would be just as selfish this time, because Ford knew Bill. Because Ford had heard, throughout the multiverse, on world after exploited world, just how selfish Bill had been for billions and billions of years. Because as far as Bill was concerned, he didn't have any reason to change outside of the fear of death—and fear never made anybody better. But Ford said, "His second chance is whatever he can do between now and whenever we find or make a fuel that will let us destroy him. But once we can..."

Mabel's face scrunched up as she fought not to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut, crossed her arms, and lowered her head.

"Mabel..." Dipper reached for her shoulder.

She shook him off and shook her head; but she said, voice muffled by the collar of her sweater, "I know. You're right. He's too dangerous." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry," Ford said.

"It—it's fine." She wiped her eyes and turned away. "I'm gonna get breakfast."

"Mabel, wait," Ford said. "You... know not to mention any of this conversation to Bill, right? Even if you want to help him, it might just make him pretend to be better long enough to fool us—or escape entirely, if he's found a way how yet..."

She turned to give him a teary-eyed frown; but she said, "I won't. I promise." She got into the elevator to head upstairs.

Ford sighed and sank back down into his chair. Should he have done more to keep her from Bill? Used his summer guardian privileges to ban her from talking to him, and dealt with the relationship fallout? What he and Stan really should have done was just send the kids home. He'd thought this would all be over weeks before now.

He didn't think Mabel would betray them for Bill. He hoped not.

But this was going to break her heart.

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper said. "About the fuel we need to power the Quantum Destabilizer..."

Ford sighed. "The impossible-to-synthesize paradox fuel?"

"Actually... I think I have an idea."

####

In order to generate NowUSeeitNowUDontium, Fiddleford had said, they needed a paradox: someone to simultaneously both observe but not think about and think about but not observe the miniature particle accelerator as the experiment was run. Fiddleford had tried to cheat by using a pair of twins, hoping they'd be similar enough that they could still generate Dontium, albeit at a much slower rate; but to no avail. Which left them at a road block. How could one person both observe and not observe and think about and not think about the experiment at the same time?

Dipper thought he might have found away.

Bill had made a comment last night that stuck with Dipper, about how his body stared at nothing while he was outside it. (He'd called him "stupid looking." That was the real reason it had stuck with Dipper.) Would that meet the criteria of the paradox? A body that was looking at the experiment, but not thinking; and then if his soul was thinking about it but not looking...

Ford thought it was worth a shot. He could call Fiddleford and propose it. "As long as you're sure you want to try?" he asked Dipper. "You only just figured out you've been slipping out of your body—and too long a separation without anything occupying your body might kill you. And who knows if there's more risks we don't know about yet?" Ford put a hand on Dipper's shoulder. "We can still look for other possibilities first. You don't need to be a hero."

Dipper scowled. All he could think of was Bill capturing Ford, laughing at him as he turned him into a statue, burning up his journals in front of Dipper's eyes: Don't be a hero, kid. This is what happens to heroes in my world!

"I'm going to do it," Dipper said. "And we should do it now. Before I lose my nerve."

Ford frowned. "I'm serious, Dipper. If you're afraid—"

"I didn't mean that," Dipper said. "I mean—about Bill. He did just..."

"Ah," Ford said. "Yes. There's that."

It had been easier to treat the issue like it was black and white when Mabel was in the room—when she saw it all in black and they needed to balance out her perspective with white. But when she was gone, and the muddled shades of gray crept in like fog?

Dipper could still see Bill gloating as he kidnapped his great uncle and burned the journals; but at the same time, he could also see Bill angrily muttering under his breath as he delicately reeled in Dipper's body by a thread, and then rushing to the cliff's edge to drag Ford to safety. Safety of the universe aside—it felt wrong to plot to kill the guy who'd just saved them.

After an uncomfortable silence, Ford said, "But it doesn't change anything else he's done."

"Yeah," Dipper said, "it doesn't change anything." All the same, his stomach twisted with guilt. He wondered if Ford's did too.

Ford sighed heavily. "I'll call Fiddleford."

####

Fiddleford was wary about trying a new strategy, although for different reasons: he didn't want to change their method to create Dontium before he'd spent several days calculating how the new variables would affect the experiment. But desperate times... He agreed they needed to do whatever they could before Bill found a way to escape.

Dipper went upstairs to grab his backpack. He didn't even unpack all his camping equipment; he just shoved in his journal and Flatworld, and headed back downstairs.

Meanwhile, Ford tracked down Soos in between tour groups to ask him to fix the kids' door.

To Ford's surprise, Soos looked uncomfortable at the request. "Dude, are you sure that's... y'know... necessary?"

"Even if Bill weren't a threat, it would need to be fixed sooner or later, wouldn't it? I can help when we get home if it will take too much of your time." Or maybe Stan could help, he didn't seem too busy; last Ford had seen, he was hunting through the house for a missing remote control.

"It's not that." Soos fiddled with his hands uncertainly. "It's just, I know Mabel and Bill have been getting along really well lately, and I think that's probably a good sign for Bill; and I thought, if Bill can use their door, maybe Mabel would like it if Bill can visit her a little easier?"

Ford stared at Soos, bewildered. He'd expected this out of Mabel, but Soos? "And I think Dipper would like it if he couldn't."

"True," Soos conceded.

"Not to mention ensuring he can't sneak in during the night, or snoop when they aren't home..."

"Okay, okay. You're right." Soos sighed. "I'll fix it after work."

"Thank you."

A tourist family came in, and Soos went to greet them; Ford watched him a moment. Where had that come from? Soos rarely interacted with Bill; if anything, Bill seemed to steer away from Soos, and certainly never had anything kind to say to him when they did interact.

Maybe the pet geodite had won him over. Ford shook his head and returned to the living room.

Dipper was waiting on the couch, adjusting the straps of his overstuffed backpack. Ford glanced in on Mabel having breakfast by herself in the kitchen, picking at a waffle, lost in thought; but they left without saying anything to her.

####

(Took two weeks to get the next few chapters cleaned up, but finally here it is! Hope y'all enjoyed—and we'll be hearing a lot more about what's in that book next week.)

[nenoname]

Details in Stan's letter that still haunt me

(how long will I continue thinking about a two page letter that's technically not even that long because Stan's handwriting is fricking large? .....you don't need to worry about that.)

The bro code only shows up in the Lost Journal pages, and to me Stan's message feels like it purposely echoes Ford's "miss you" in the college photo (and for some reason the message doesn't appear in the website version of the photo?) ....or alternatively Stan simply noticed how distressed Ford was about this entire thing and wanted to support him in a way so he can be sappy but without the kids knowing, or both!

Stan's claim about the Oregon lottery contradicts what the Lost Legends website said about Tate McGucket's ability to predict the winning numbers!! ...but also breaking into the Lottery HQ is definitely a very Stan thing to do and it's not the first time small gags have been retconned

Despite spending most of his letter nonchalantly destroying him, the taunt about ripping a dollar bill in half is the only part where Stan is directly responding to Bill. Maybe it's the two of them having similar ways of thinking but it's rather specific considering Bill taunts the reader about it...

And after Bill spends an entire book calling Ford Sixer despite normally using a pretty wide range of nicknames for him, Stan then spends his letter mainly referring to Ford as Sixer, even though post-Weirdmageddon he tends to use a mix of nicknames. And it's not like he'd gotten to see Bill himself for long, let alone see him steal that childhood nickname (that is only used twice in the actual show btw!). Did Ford tell him what happened or...?

With all this and the website's "still on your mind" message, what I'm getting at is my tinfoil hat theory of Stan somehow seeing some of the pages the irl readers saw, even when it should be personalised to the specific reader, and he's been lying about it for some reason. Considering that the book flat out doesn't make an attempt at convincing Soos, I find it a stretch that whatever Bill was telling Stan via the book was an attempt to convince him either.

Wouldn't be the first time Stan's skimmed through a book and lied about what it meant to him.

(...Now I kinda wanna see a story about the family reading their versions of the book and making fun of it while Stan is improvising every single one of his pages and blatantly ignoring Bill's attempts to mock and taunt him)

But also I'm fascinated by the letters that only showed up on the website (aka the Soos+Wendy+McGucket+Pacifica ones). I'm assuming that Mabel had stuck them on after Stan's letter... but they were basically eaten by the book itself because seeing Stan's letter kick-started Bill's breakdown which takes up the rest of the book

[kalki-tarot]

COLLECTIVE SEPTEMBER PREDICTIONS 🎀 ♡

using tarot and intuition, may not resonate with everyone <3

Some situations which took place in the month of August gave you a reality check, you will go in the hermit mode in September to work on yourself and come back 10x times better and improved. You will do some internal reflection and try to understand deeper parts and aspects of your life and personality.

A new job offer, a love offer, an email or sudden communication which you were not expecting or waiting for since a long time will come to you in September. Communication blocks will be released.

Your hard work will pay off and will be rewarded in this month. Some of you may get a promotion or increase in salary. Also, some of you can win a lottery or prize.

Some of you will finally speak up for yourself and release all the baggage that you've been carrying behind your back since so long. You will take bold steps for yourself.

Some of you may go through periods of self doubt and isolation but remember that this is just a lesson for your growth. Thrive outta it. It's for your own benefit.

[nunca205s-art-gallery]

[Enters the room pushing a mobile white board full of words, drawings and sticky notes.]

Ok, so. I've been working on something for the past few days... It's a Gravity Falls AU I called "The magic of sight AU" and this is the premise: "Stan gains the hability to predict the future when he has been around 4 years in the streets by a spanish witch in Colombia."

But before I say anything else, I'll show you the last drawing I made about it.

Ok, this will be a semi-long post explaining the base that I have planned already (because I'm a lunatic and I've made three alternate timelines for this AU, but I'll make a separate post about that).

How does it work?

Thanks to what is technically a curse Stan gets suddens glimpses of the future. It usually has to do with him, but sometimes he sees other things (that he can take advantage of, like, a lottery number or someone hiding something valuable somewhere he's close to, etc). The info is always useful, one way or another, but it can be misinterpreted (or acted bad upon). They can be about immediate danger or something that'll cause a chain reaction that'll affect him (negatively) in weeks/months.

His first vision was about being run over by a car two days after getting the power.

When he gets the visions his pupils shrink like crazy and a mark appears on his chest.

(This one's the mark. It doesn't glow, it looks more like a tattoo than anything.)

At first it was very noticeable that he was getting a vision by the way he acted right after. But with time you wouldn't be able to tell if not for the eyes and mark.

– Some fun-facts:

Every time he tried to end it all he got a vision about his next happier time. (That, or the poor disturbed soul that would find his body.)

He got the ability right when he got to Colombia (it hadn't been even a month). The witch gave him that power because he helped her with something and she saw how miserable he was.

This ability has saved his life more than once, but it has also put him in danger (better don't think about that cult he started).

• STORYLINE

After he finds out he's been blessed he's kind of in denial and thinks nothing of it. But after it happens a few times with insignificant stuff, and then wins the lottery (not much, maybe like 500 dollars from a scrape) he finally accepts that maybe something's up.

After that he tries to "control" it for a bit, but quickly realises that it is at random.

He's already a bit involved in iykyk (drogs), but thanks to his new power he manages to avoid bad people's attention.

After some time he lets himself get carried away thinking that he's untouchable. That's when he hits his head against a wall (metaphorically). He misinterpretes the vision and fucks up in a deal, making someone important mad at him (not Rico though). He has to flee and hide for a bit.

And that's mostly how he spends the next few years, he manages to live comfortable for a while, amassing money and meeting people, sometimes the good ones others the bad ones. Then something happens and he has to leave, sometimes he can take his money with him, others he can't (cuz he had to use it to pay back to someone, or to escape).

Most of the times things go wrong because he misinterpreted a vision, but it also is because there was nothing he could really do.

One time he got involved in some messy stuff (houman traffic) by mistake, and the only way he found out he was taking kids to somewhere horrible was thanks to, you guessed it, his power. He called in some favours and got the kids to a safe place, then he ran away from South America for good (he just crossed someone really powerful), but not before tipping off the police about that particular gang, with luck that mess would distract them from him getting back to the US, and if the universe feels generous, get them in jail for a while. Even though if it probably meant that they would look after him after they sort everything out (they did).

After some time back in the US he, unintentionally, really, joined/reformed a cult (it was more like a bunch of people adored him cuz of his power). It started because he decided to help someone after getting a vision, and then he realised he had just saved someone important in the weird church of a small town (practically everyone in there was involved in some dark stuff already thanks to that church). He got invited, and since he was on hiding he thought that this could be a good hiding spot for a while (and he was offered a high position in the "church").

He realised pretty quickly that something was off, but it took him longer to realise what exactly (he knew he was in some kind of cult, but not how bad it really was). And when, a year and a month after he joined, he came across some kind of basement destined for very disturbing rituals he flew the hell out of there the same night. (And he obviously called the cops on them.)

(They hadn't proposed him to join them yet cuz he was a newbie, he had to have at least five years of experience in the church to join the heavy rituals.)

After he got involved the church, he started using his visions to maintain his status, everyone there started seeing him as some kind of Messiah. So they respected him a lot, that's one of the main reasons he didn't leave earlier.

(He may or may not have eaten human meat on his time here. If he has, he has no idea.)

After that he went form place to place, amassing money again. But this time he kept himself away from the drugs stuff (at least for a good while). He mainly went to fight rings to bet or participate in illegal boxing fights.

He pulled some more scams, this time on individual people instead of making products. He learned his lesson.

He was living good, or as good as one can. But then he mistakenly interpreted a vision and fucked up big. The guys he crossed back in South America had send a few people after him after they escaped out of prison and managed to regroup. And they found him.

He almost dies and had to lay low again for a good while. He was almost out of money when Ford asked for his help.

He got there, and before he knocks on the door he gets a vision of Ford getting sucked into the portal. He doesn't know what the hell that means, but he says to himself that he has to keep his cool and, even though he doesn't understand how the hell that vision could happen, he'll try to make it not happen.

He can't keep his cool. It's hearing Ford send him away and crash out.

The fight goes the same until Stan sees the open portal. He gets a flashback to the vision (but not a vision) and stops mid speech. Ford realises that the portal is open and goes to close it, he trips (cuz mf is fucking sleep deprived) causing him to start getting pulled. And Stan tries to save him.

–—–—–—–—–

Aaaand, the would be all for now. I'll post the timelines tomorrow, because I'm falling asleep as I write.

Also, here, have some drawings I made.

(I made the little doodles in class, just so you know how obsessed I've been.)

[therightrighthand]

SCP-8883

SCP-8883 // Ketter Class / Containment Breach // ZK-Class Reality Failure Scenario // 'Goldchild' Protocall in effect

--------

"Greetings, my name is Doctor ██████ from the ███ ██████ ██ department of the SCP Foundation, universe designation ██ ████ ███ ███ ███.

If you have received this documentation, it means SCP-████ has successfully entered your reality to deliver this message to an SCP Foundation member or an organisation of a similar kind. I guess, greetings from across the multiverse [Chuckle] ... anyway.

Sadly, this message is not one of the good tidings but a warning of an anomaly we have designated in our universe as SCP-8883, which has developed as a potential Keter Class threat (Uncontainable depending on your classification system) or invoked a ZK-Class Scenario (Reality has broken down and our end is imminent).

In the event this does happen, we have enacted the 'Godchild protocol', where we reach out to known neighbouring universes that have a high probability of having their own SCP-8883. The goal is to share our findings and research on SCP-8883 so that you may be ready for the coming threat.

If it happens, I mean. This documentation is merely a precaution for something that hasn't even happened yet, so it may just be a waste of time-" [REDACTED] "This documentation will come in two parts, Pre and Post ZK-Class Scenario so there is ample time to properly per pair our findings before it might be 'too late'.

PRE - ZK

"SCP-8883 is a young female girl, (as of █████) around 25 years old, though her age and identity may vary. There is nothing overly anomalous about SCP-8883. In her un-interfered state, she is just a normal human. What allocates her as an anomalous SCP is that she will one day become god, or a god, so to speak. We discovered this during a fact-finding mission with SCP-████ that uncovered this supposed proficy they referred to as the 'Sirpyn Paradox'. It is believed that SCP-8883 will, in some nondescript way, develop into an entity so strong it cannot reside within the walls of reality.

The details on how or when this happened were not provided, but we believed her to be relatively safe. What drew our attention was our attempt to apprehend SCP-8883, and various anomalies interfered with the process. There were 15 attempts to bring her in, and over 48 recorded anomalies one could describe as 'godly intervention'. Flat tyres, floods, lottery wins, sickness, pregnancy, even a meteor destroying a highway. To many around SCP-8883 to be a coincidence.

It's at this point we humoured the theory (now proven) that their future god-self (designated SCP-8883-B) is manipulating fate to stop our efforts. Interestingly, this has only ever been the case in regard to capture; we've never been stopped when our operatives have engaged with SCP-8883 undercover just to 'talk'. We surmised that direct capture of SCP-8883 was in conflict with their 'fate', leading them to become SCP-8883-B, so they intervened. Meaning we had to get creative.

In the end, we had to use SCP-████ to create models, based on the probability, to predict a course of action that would allow us to secure SCP-8883 that would not interfere with their fate. This presented us with an interesting possibility, how much can SCP-8883-B intervene, and how far can we force their intervention?

With the approval of ██████ we orchestrated a series of tests. The first test gave us obvious results, harmless intervention, but by using the probability modules, we were able to, in a sense, corner SCP-8883's fate to a full manifestation of SCP-8883-B and aggressive confrontation. The only visual confirmation we can conform from SCP-8883-B, which hasn't led to an immediate brain aneurysm, is a close likeness to SCP-8883 in shape and form, with a face covered in shadow and piercing green eyes.

With this discovery, we're putting together a proposal to utilise this incredible opportunity. We have the power of a god-level SCP at our disposal, one who is inert and who we can contain and control through predictive model data. If their abilities is as strong as we believe it is, we can use SCP-8883 to destroy other SCP threats.

It's all very exciting!"

POST - ZK

"Mother of god ... what have we done ... W-what have I done ... I hope there are enough analogies about playing god- or tempting fate in your universe ... clearly there wasn't enough in ours" [REDACTED]

"As theorised ... SCP-8883 has been elevated to a Ketter Class SCP, a ZK-Scenario is in effect, and Protocol Godchild has been initiated... I only wish I had more time to better compose myself ... or even amend my last fucking entry- I.... fuck. god I can't" [REDACTED]

"As I mentioned at the start of this documentation, the Godchild Protocol has come into effect and you have received this warning that SCP-8883 has caused a Reality Failure Scenario.

Before I carry on... whoever you are, you must stop this recording IMMEDIATELY and escalate this to the highest level of Authority. If you are part of a SCP Foundation, then this must be taken to The Administrator, or at the very least, The Council... otherwise, you pose a risk not only to your own life but to your universe's too"

"........................................"

"Ok ... if I am talking directly to who I think I am ... kill the person who handed you this documentation, them, and anyone who has any knowledge of this information being passed to you. As we speak, my reality is falling apart because of the information in this document. Whilst we could not contain SCP-8883 we could prevent it, by Leaving. Her. Alone. By knowing someone's fate, you risk intervening with it, and intervened with Del- erm, SCP-8883's fate led to our demise.... I ask- no, BEG you, destroy this documentation, stop the recording now and erase everything. Let them live their lives untested and let fate take its course...

"........................................"

"If you're still listening ... I hope you know what you're doing and the risks with this information. Know, I'm only sharing this to appease curiosity, so you do not give into the same temptation we-.... I did...

After discovering we could control SCP-8883-B's focus, we began to escalate our testing to harvest residual energy created by SCP-8883-B and eventually use them as a weapon. We found we could manipulate SCP-8883-B to destroy other SCP's. I'm not going to list each SCP, but- we had a 100% success rate, and we were able to remove over 80% of our most hostile SCPs. They were everything we ever wanted. And with SCP-████ models the risk was next to 0.

However...

SCP-████ was unable to account for a variable we had no measurement for. Put my fucking trust in that AI-" [REDACTED] "It seemed that every time we coached SCP-8883-B into acting on our behalf, we frayed the fabric of time and space ... like running a blade across a rope, slowly eroding its threads until it eventually snapped.

That's when everything fell apart and SCP-8883 entered a ... I don't know what to call it, demi-god state? A defense mechanism? Whatever- SCP-8883-C, let's just call it that... We've tried to capture as much footage as we could, but we lost every power station across the globe the second shit hit the fan. Any and all attempts to stop SCP-8883-C were met with the same effect, immediate destruction on a cellular level. We don't even have any SCPs to throw at it to slow her down ... But that's only the tip of the iceberg, as SCP-8883-C has weaponised SCP-8883-B against us in a form we've not seen before ... some sort of giant lizard entity the size of manhattan... Apparently, you can see it's destructive trail from space...

The crippling blow wasn't the girl or her knock-off Godzilla, but the sheer power emitting from the two of them that began to tear space and time apart. Past and future are starting to crumble into one another as SCP-8883-C's slow destructive path seems to be echoed simultaneously in every moment in time, all at once.

The effects are ... indescribable ... yesterday I shared a cup of tea with my grandfather, who's been dead for 8 years ... and an hour ago, I rang up my grandson and told him I loved him ... I don't even have a family- or I won't yet , or ... ever will? ... and then there are parts of time that have been completely eviscerated... members of staff have even began to forget their names...

Everything is falling apart...

Now the responsibility lies on your shoulders. You must carry on the Godchild protocol. Not only do I know there is an SCP-8883 in your universe, but in every conceivable universe. The Sirpyn Paradox isn't just a rare freak anomaly, it is a FACT. And if it cannot be contained or destroyed, then it must be maintained...

Gods speed..."

[MESSAGE END]

-------- The winner of this month's Del-veres vote! SCP Foundation Del! I was really looking forward to seeing how this could work because I figure the SCP Foundation would be the only group able to contain/utilise the Sirpyn Paradox, or their universe's Del. Or at least for so long

-- Follow my socials and art discord on my Link.tree Do not use, repost or claim (rp) my art/character Art © @The-Red-Right-Hand

[stevierogersbabygirl]

What No One Sees

(Dark?)Professor!Steve Rogers x reader

Run-through: Steve was that one popular professor that everyone liked, and you were closest to him. You'd never predict that he'd be the father of your future child.

Themes: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst, absent father

Dr. Rogers was why every girl wanted to go to attend college. He was around 40 years old, handsome, tall, jacked, with pretty eyes, and he seemed very likable too. Not a single person on campus disliked that man.

Every student knew him as that one hot and perfect stranger unless they were in his class, which was like winning a lottery. Girls secretly fangirled him, and he'd even get the female professors to be all shy next to him.

That's what they all saw him as, you knew him as Steve.

When you moved here for college, you coincidentally booked the same apartment on the same floor as him, making you see him a lot. He'd sometimes even offer to walk you to college, and lent you things whenever you needed. He'd even sometimes tell you to visit his apartment to study, and you'd always visit him happily. You weren't sure why he wanted to be closest to you, but you sure were happy with it, especially when you noticed other girls getting jealous.

All those events have made you closer to him, earning you the privilege to call him Steve.

You loved being "Dr. Rogers' favorite student", as your girlfriends labeled you. They noticed how close you were with him and teased you about it, but you just knew they were jealous of all of it.

You've had a small internal crush on that man for how attractive he was, but you knew you couldn't do anything about it because of how wrong it was.

Life was going great overall, as you worked hard and gained good grades in college, and Steve's presence made it even better,

until one day everything changed.

It was Saturday night, and you didn't have anything on your to-do list, meaning you were lazily slouched on your couch in cozy pajamas, binging the latest Netflix series, until you heard a knock on the door.

You sighed, lazily got off the couch and walked towards the door, and opened it, your eyes widened in happiness and when you saw Steve standing there.

"What's up?" You'd ask him, looking into his deep blue eyes.

He looked slightly nervous and didn't reply, instead, he surprised you with flowers which he hid behind his back. He'd take a breath and said shyly, "Bought you flowers."

You looked at it in surprise, and that little happiness was slapped by your common sense. Professors can't engage in a romantic relationship with their students.

"Steve, I'm sorry, we can't-" You said until Steve cut you off closing the door, moving forwards, making you subconsciously walk backwards. He moved towards the wall, making you trapped between him and the wall. Your faces were so close to each other that you could feel each others breaths. Two words, sexual tension.

"One night, Y/N. We can keep it a secret." He said, his ocean blue eyes looking deep into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I can't." You said, backing further into the wall nervously, expecting an angry response.

He sighed, backing his face away as you felt the tension loosen. "I've been interested in you since the first time I met you, you're just so beautiful, Y/N."

He paused to look into your confused eyes.

"I know you want me too, doll, and I know this gets past so many boundaries, but what if it's all a secret? One time chance, Y/N." He said, making you pause to think.

You sighed. "But if someone finds out I don't know what I'd do." You'd say with fear in your eyes staring deep into Steve's eyes.

Steve smirked, leaned in on your ear and spoke, "And that makes it even hotter, doesn't it? The thrill of being caught."

You blushed at the thought and smirked a bit, and in a few seconds, you'd cup Steve's face with both of your hands and had a deep kiss with him. He'd lift you by your ass as you both kissed. He moved both of you onto the bed and broke the kiss as he gently placed you on the bed. You'd both quickly undress, and by the time you saw his size, you knew you wouldn't be regretting all of this.

You were lying back-first onto the bed legs on Steve's shoulders, and Steve was on the floor, crouched down onto your pelvis, and stuck his tongue out to lick your clit, all while staring at you deep into your eyes.

He'd lick up and down your slit, until he eventually went in, using his skillful tongue to pleasure you. You grasped on the bedsheets and did so even tighter when he'd hit the right spots.

You eventually came, and he smirked as he got up, crawled onto the bed, and kissed you deeply. He'd use his hand to position his cock onto your entrance, and in no time he'd be stretching you out deeply. None of your previous partners have quite had a size like him.

He started with slow thrusts, his head on the side of your face, occasionally kissing you. When he knew you could handle it, he went faster and rougher, occasionally choking you.

The sounds of moans in the room were horribly sinful. You eventually came violently around him, and he came next, coating your womb with his seed.

Your mind went into a blur and you could only remember being in a deep sleep afterwards.

The next morning, you woke up naked beneath the thick blanket and Steve was not beside you. You could not believe you just fucked your professor last night and had to live with that guilty feeling.

Every time you and Steve saw each other, you both knew you had to keep a distance from each other, so you did not really interact for a while. People noticed this, raising some questions from your girlfriends, but you'd always give random excuses that you didn't really think of. You wondered if it was obvious that you and him did it.

A few weeks later, you were terribly ill. You skipped a few days due to these symptoms, which consisted of puking and missing a period. Oh my god, the realization came.

You took a pregnancy test, and it came positive, so that secret went from being small to a ginormous one. You did not want to abort and tried to accept the fact that you were going to be a mother soon.

You told your closest girlfriends and they promised to keep it zipped, always trying to assist you while you skipped many days of college. Somehow, rumors went out and eventually, the whole campus knew you were pregnant. People would either text you supportive messages, or ones calling you a "slut" or "whore." The only thing they didn't know is who the father was.

Then, you heard news that Steve resigned and moved away.

Just what the fuck is happening?

You wondered how life would be, your studies in risk as you'll raise your new child with their biological father far away.

Pt. 2 is out!!

[nowimjustastranger]

Now that you mention it, where *does* Stcmo!Ford get his money from?

With his ability to predict the future, he can easily win lotteries and play in casinos to rake in cash at a rapid rate. He spent the first 2 years in the multiverse getting as much cash as he could to fund his mission, then he spent 13 more years collecting an even bigger sum of money. The guy has so many stashes from a variety of eras, he always has currency to just throw around.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hi there, hello😊💜 I have a rather self-indulgent J question. If that's okay. But do you think he'd be protective of his s/o if he found out that they live and work in a super sketchy neighborhood? Stuff like not a single quiet night. Theft and other safety and health issues are always on the agenda, next to being worked to the bone. I'm just wondering because yeah🙃 Sending you all of my love and hugs, you're incredible🫂💖💕

Hey hi hello Sue🥺💖

Self-indulgent J questions are more than welcome, it's been a while since I got sent one!👀

I think J would be very protective of his s/o, even if they lived in a wealthy area with a low crime rate. He takes care of his possessions, his plans, so he takes extra care with you (perhaps it makes up for the lack of care he pays to his men and to himself).

With sirens blaring on almost every street, with the distant sound of smashing glass and running feet, the odd scream and frantic yell, it's not unusual for a stray car to go blazing down your road, waking you up from your threshold consciousness as distantly you wonder where your clown is. You're exhausted, worked to the bone at your job, overworked and underpaid (as are we all), and then you go home to worry about having your home broken into (by someone other than J; he likes to keep you on edge with that sometimes), to be kept awake by all of the aforementioned noises... but J protects you, even and especially when you think he's far away or disinterested or anything else you tell yourself to cause yourself displaced pain late at night. You internalise your frustration with your life, and J is often the focus of such destructive thoughts.

But he does protect you. He knows most of the plans that go on in your area; all of his men are trained to spy on the lower-class criminals, while J spies on the upper-class criminals (they're the most boring ones, extremely predictable, which only makes it too easy for J to blow up one of their cars just for fun). Between he and his men, there is always a car stationed a block or so away from your workplace. A different car every shift, and every morning you wake up with a number plate drawn on the condensation of your mirror or scrawled in lipstick across the shower tiles or on your fridge. Always erasable, and never the same number plate twice.

Twice is a choice, predictable, an almost established pattern - dangerous. Only too easy for harm to come to you. Unthinkable.

The car will take you home before it's sent to be destroyed, the man will be killed later on. You never travel home in the same car, and you never have the same driver. J does not trust his men. They are dispensable. He always sees to their death himself; he's the only one he trusts, because someone else could say they killed the man who drove you home, but actions and words are different. J only trusts the former. The latter is mere decoration; it's nice, but it isn't necessary.

You walk yourself to work, or you take the bus or catch a taxi, but you are always delivered home. Anyone who gives you grief at work is mysteriously a winner of the lottery a week later and then they're inspired to travel the world or whatever it is people who suddenly come into an obscene amount of money do (J doesn't care, he just wants them to go. away), or they're gotten rid of in a messier, but much more fun way. Your rent is always somehow paid - J doesn't want you worrying about that. You can get your own groceries and whatnot, but the rent is always paid for you. When a night of crime is on the horizon for where you live, J 'advises' you stay home and men are posted around your entire neighbourhood to make sure that harm doesn't come close.

A good dose of fear is healthy in moderation, but it's everywhere for you because of where you live, and J tries to minimise it if you want him to. You wouldn't even need to ask for him to do it, he knows what you want and need. Reading you is easy for the man who spends the majority of his time with you, and he has a detailed knowledge of your many intricacies. You're always so tired from being kept awake by the noises outside your home, and J does what he can to make sure that word gets around about your neighbourhood being a, uh, ba-ad place to cause chaos in. It ain't much fun since there's not much to do there.

In truth, J is protecting you. Quieter nights, nicer co-workers; he does what he can. He never takes credit for it, he never tells you what he's done for you. But you know. You know how quiet J's love is, and yet you can hear him yelling it at you. It's loud and clear so there's no misunderstandings between the two of you and your place in his life is concrete, just as his place in your life is.

He is the chaos, and you are the every day. Mundane, but not boring. J is the fireworks in the sky, green and purple so you know it's him thinking of you and letting you know in one of his favourite ways. Red if he's telling you to stay home tonight, blue if he's telling you it's safe. Secret, careful ways, but you've learned them well across the time you've both been together.

You are the safe and warm home that J can get cleaned up in, rest in, you provide him with a reason to do what he does - not that he needs one, of course, J does what he does because he can and it's fun and he's good at it. You are the stillness of the night, the solace, the peace and the one thing J is extremely protective of.

Nothing and no one harms you. Nothing and no one can even get close, they die before they so much as think about it because J knows. He always knows.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

[its-yours-truly]

Predicting Lunchly's downfall and why.

There's a lot of reasons why Lunchly's downfall will happen. From the 'beef' between the creators and reviewers, to the controversies, and to the ridiculous advertising, I'll lead you through all of that today.

So what I'm first going to talk about is the 'beef' going on between the creators of Lunchly -KSI, Logan Paul, and Mr. Beast- and other big YouTubers -Dan TDM, Tommyinnit-. A lot of people have ruled out buying Lunchly because of how KSI was treating Dan TDM over valid criticism, saying this is like a money grab. KSI then posted to X -formerly Twitter- a YouTooz of Dan TDM as if to say he's 'money grabbing' as well. KSI as well has a YouTooz made. A video of Dan was also linked onto X of him reviewing snacks as if to say he was a hypocrite. It was revealed the video was sponsored and he never told his audience to go and try these foods. A lot of fans thought that it was bullshit that KSI was trying to find ways to 'call out' Dan TDM because he made a valid point. The three stooges made a product that child fans can buy and buy again, which is something you can't do with merch.

A few weeks or so after the KSI vs. Dan TDM drama, Tommyinnit had mocked Lunchly, and Logan Paul was not having it. So he began to pull out screenshots from past conversations, and tried to find things on him people would 'hate' Tommy for. The internet sided with Tommy in this, including Jacksfilms.

I also think this product will eventually flop because of the controversies surrounding Mr. Beast. Parents and adults are not blind to what's going on. If you don't know, Mr. Beast is facing multiple allegations, from having child predators hired onto his team, from treating people's safety on the set of 'Beast Games' horribly. A YouTuber by the name of DogPack404 has been covering this drama along with 2 other platform creators, Rosanna Pansino and Jake Weddle. They've come out with their experiences, as well as reviewed videos, proving parts are faked. Mr. Beast not responding to these allegations is not smart because it shows he must be guilty of some -if not all- of these allegations, or are trying to make them go away.

Lastly, the design and creativity is horrible. It's an exact knockoff of Lunchables, with little to no difference besides a Prime and a Feastable. They have no new or fun products, the designs on the packaging are bland, and the colors contrast too much. If you look at the Lunchables packaging, they have warm and bright colors, and sometimes have characters on the packaging, like Transformers One characters. Lunchly has red and blue packaging with big text. Nothing cool. And they only have 3 products while Lunchables have at least 4, with multiple pizza, nacho, and stack'em variations. They also have other products, like dip'ems, kababels, and even grilled cheese and sub sandwiches. I will admit, having 'actual cheese' rather than a cheese product is great, but the marketing is awful. Mr. Beast, KSI, and Logan Paul did not know what they were getting into when they started to make this product. No amount of 'Thick Of It', marketing, or 'Lotteries' will get me, and many others to buy this product.

[fallen6253]

*Clever title*

The entire Failure Test for Cale just boggles my mind because I thought about the line from the beginning of the novel, where he says he doesn’t make wishes or have high expectations.  In his head he compares winning the lottery with low or high expectations:

“It feels great if you scratch a lottery ticket hoping for $1 and end up winning $5, but if you scratch it hoping to win the grand prize and only end up with $5, you are bound to get annoyed.”

I sort of compare that to how he feels about failure and success.  It really seems like all or nothing with him.  If one failure equals another, then there are countless times in which he considered a mission a total failure, whether the objective was completed or not.

He was constantly thinking about every mistake he’s made, and every time that mistake turned into failure which, in his life, resulted in loss of life more often than not.  So no, he wasn’t lying here (for once).  He believes it really is easier to live without high expectations, because if you’re confident in your plans; if you’re confident in yourself, then you believe you can prevent someone’s death. Until the time comes and you fail, and those expectations and all of that confidence shatters into smoke and you’re left with whatever you can bury.  To prevent this, instead of even thinking about expectations in a hopeful or dreading sense, he turns himself into a makeshift prophet.  His expectations turn into an endless stream of hypotheses and predictions about how something will go, what he can do about it, how others should or should not act on it, and how he can best prevent loss of life in each case.  His expectations are not hopes or aspirations, but predictions, and those do not come with wishes.

I like rambling about this little man, how about you guys? Also, how many times have you reread this novel, because I've lost count by now

[randomthefox]

Why do so many Sonic fans hate the developers? Why do they think they are stupid? "Uuuh why is Chaos island here? It takes place in the future! Are they stupid!. Why are they trying to piss me off!?" Dude. These are Japanese people. The second country with the highest IQ in the world. Whatever the reason may be, it was was not done out of stupidity. At first, Sonic x Gen 'saved the franchise' but one week later it sucks because it didn't feature levels or elements that you SPECIFICALLY wanted to see? Wtf is wrong with you???

Oh but when Ian Flynn does something similar to this, it's not his fault. He's peak, and everyone that disagrees is stupid. Because SEGA ARE THE BAD GUYS

Wtf

"They're japanese people, they have a high IQ" is a bit much, but I understand where you're coming from and what you're trying to articulate. People have a bad habit of seeing something they don't like or agree with in a piece of art, and then jumping to the worst possible explanation they can think of for why it was included. Just being as bad faith as they possibly can, imposing malice or ignorance onto someone because of a personal subjective feeling they have to what was included in the artwork.

It's not unique to Sonic but since it's trendy to hate on the Sonic video games and Sonic Team and SEGA, it is amplified through that filter of culty mass hysteria.

I don't normally resort to doyalist explanations but in this case it really is the only one you can use - there weren't levels from Sonic Forces and Sonic Frontiers in the original Sonic Generations because those games hadn't been made yet. It's not like it makes any sense whatsoever to lump Sonic 2006, Sonic Unleashed, and Sonic Colors together as if they're a coherent era of Sonic. But that's a retroactive conclusion. Sonic Generations was made in 2011 (probably under a VERY short development time) and they worked with what they had. Shadow Generations was made in 2024 (also probably a short development time) and there were three whole new games worth to pull from in the time inbetween.

The idea of people being upset about its inclusion is so dumb and silly to me x3 For reference, this was my initial reaction to that level

When people ask why was Chaos Island included from Frontiers, they're asking the question wrong. They're asking "Why was a level from Frontiers included?" When the more interesting question is "why was THIS level from Frontiers included?" Why Chaos Island instead of any of the other Islands? There's probably multiple answers to that. I find it very conspicuous that they included the volcano erupting in the background during the level.

Meaning that during Shadow's level, Sonic was playing pinball. So the question of "why didn't Sonic see Shadow on Chaos Island?" is answered because we know where Sonic was during this part of Shadow's game. There's no lingering wonder about it. They didn't just throw Chaos Island into the game willy nilly, they spared the time to think about how they would make it make sense to say that Shadow was running around in that location during the events of Frontiers without causing a time paradox or contradicting what happened during that game. They didn't just throw an erupting volcano in as a set piece for no reason. They were not thoughtless in how they implemented this level.

The idea that Chaos Island being included took away a spot that could have gone to another level from Shadow 2005 or something like that is just silly. It reminds me of when people would get angry at Piranha Plant being added to Smash Bros. "THEY'RE TAKING AWAY A SLOT THAT COULD HAVE GONE TO DANTE!" That's not how it fucking works bro. This isn't the divine lottery. They're MAKING the game. Chaos Island being cut from Shadow Generations wouldn't mean that it would be replaced with a level from Shadow 2005 that you would want to be in the game. It would just mean the game woulda had one less level, lol.

But yeah I predicted people turning on Shadow Generations. I gave them too much time if anything, I predicted it would take at least a couple months. They didn't even make it one. Like I said and have said and will keep saying: these people HATE Sonic. The people who were saying "I've never been this excited for New Sonic stuff before! We are so back!" during the preview hype around Shadow Generations? They HATE Sonic. They are tourists. Scavengers who will pick daintily at the game and then leave it bleeding and gaping, unsatisfied.

And yeah naturally they are blatant hypocrites. More than half the reason they were initially so slavish about the game was because of Ian Flynn's name being in the credits. These people are absolute fucking cultists.

lunatics.

I have no doubt that the reason they're starting to sour on Shadow Generations is because Katie made a tweet which basically said "dude, this game isn't bloom fully formed from the singular mind of Ian Flynn alone" and then ABT had to latch on like a male anglerfish being absorbed into a disembodied pair of gonads saying that Ian Flynn didn't do nuffin and everything bad about the games writing is everyone elses fault and comparing Flynn to Jesus.

As soon as the memo started getting passed around that Shadow Generations isn't Ian Flynn's Sonic game after all, that's when the wave started to turn. It's very transparent.

They are a cult of haters pretending to be fans. Wolves in sheeps clothing. Naturally everything they say and do it insincere and psychotic.

[daisynik7]

A Bento For Kento

Chapter 1: The Very First Bento

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.7k

cw: mention of a tragic accident (does not go into detail)

Summary: You make the very first bento box for your dear brother, Ren. You also find out some surprising news. Nanami hasn't found a new bakery to buy his typical ham and cheese sandwich. He eyes his new student's bento box with envy.

Notes: The first bento box is inspired by this: Cute Octopus Sausage Bento! I mean, how cute is this?! Let me know in the comments, chat, or in a private message if you'd like to be tagged in the next chapter(s)! And thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated :)

ao3 | Next Chapter

A Bento for Kento Masterlist

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

White rice, check. Chicken gyozas, check. Spring mix salad with a side of creamy miso dressing, check. Hot dog pieces shaped like little octopi, because why the hell not, check. All in the bento they go, you think, in a sing-song voice. 

It’s the beginning of summer and the temperature is finally starting to warm up. This season always puts you in a lazy mood, more so than usual. Hearing the neighborhood kids play joyfully outside makes you wish you had a mandated break as well. But no, you are an adult! Almost thirty in fact. Unfortunately, you haven’t had a vacation in years, so you will continue to flow through the mundane cycle of adulthood until you’re retired or, fingers crossed, win the lottery. None of which you predict will happen in the near future.

Thankfully, your job allows you to work from home most days of the year. This is especially nice because this summer, your dear younger brother, Ren, is living with you. Your parents originally planned a long family vacation overseas with him, having never had a chance to travel before. You were excited for him to see the outside world, explore his horizons. Since you couldn’t go because of your responsibilities to your 9-to-5, you were planning to live vicariously through him as he enjoyed the sights, sounds, and most importantly, the delicious food.

When he decided last minute that he did not want to go on the trip anymore, you were shocked. Your parents, being the saints they are, waved it off casually, not even attempting to convince him to reconsider. You questioned them to discover the reason for the sudden decision. They simply said, “He has his reasons.” No further explanation. After pestering them a few more times, only to receive the same answer, you stopped, leaving everything up to your own speculations. 

Maybe it was cold feet? Anxiety? An awkward phase? Overseas trips can be stressful, you can understand that. Still, you can’t help but wonder. It’s probably a hormonal teenager issue that you can’t comprehend, but your parents can, so you leave it at that. 

Because your parents couldn’t get out of all the deposits they made, they chose to go on their big trip without Ren. Not wanting your brother to be alone, you offered your place for him to stay, which he was just as excited about as you were. You’re happy for this opportunity to spend time with him. It’s been years since you moved out and you missed hanging out with your family. You also feel guilty about putting minimal effort into visiting them, despite being less than an hour train ride away. This is your chance to make up for lost time, especially with your brother, who you’ve always felt a special bond with. Before they left, your parents made it a point to tell you, “Take care of him while we’re away.” As if you needed to prove to them, and yourself, that you are capable of being the best older sister you can be. 

Truth be told, it’s been lonely living on your own, a revelation that you sense more and more each year you get older. Having Ren here, someone in your life who loves you unconditionally, is a welcome change. This summer is going to be exponentially better than the last five since living alone. You’re sure of it. 

The first Monday of vacation, fueled by a single coffee’s worth of caffeine, you greet your brother happily in the kitchen. “Good morning, sunshine! Look what I made for you!” You cradle a precious bento box in your hands, slowly lifting it up like Simba, imagining “Circle of Life” playing in the background. 

Ren, fresh out of bed and still drowsy, stands in front of you, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Huh?” He yawns and stretches his arms out. “What is it?”

“It’s a bento box!” You lower it and open the cover delicately. Your eyes sparkle as you imagine a golden light shimmer from within. “I put this together myself! TikTok has a plethora of bento box content, so I took a lot of ideas from there.”

His eyes widen, gazing at the food as if it’s valuable treasure. “Gyozas! And hot dog octopi!” A bright smile on his face, he takes his phone out to snap a picture. “I’m putting this on my story, this is too cute.” 

You almost tear up hearing him praise your creation like this, but it’s too earlier for those shenanigans. Calming down from your excitement, you say, “I’m still practicing. And I’m sure I’ll run out of ideas soon, so if you have any special requests, let me know.”

Closing the bento and setting it back down on the table, you ask, “What do you want to do today? If you’re hungry now, you can dig into the bento. But I was thinking we can go for a walk at the park before we eat! What do you think?”

His smile slowly turns into a small pout as he shifts his feet guiltily. “Well, actually, I forgot to tell you. I start summer school today.”

“Huh? Summer school? But your school is so far from here! It’ll take us at least 45 minutes to get there!” Is this the reason why he didn’t want to go on the trip? All because of summer school? And if he knew that, why would he agree to stay here, when it’s so far away? You start to panic slightly, taken aback by this sudden news. 

“It’s not exactly for regular school,” he begins to explain. “It’s…uh, for this other program I’m applying to.”

You stare at him, brows furrowed, arms crossed, waiting for more of an explanation. 

He speaks a little faster now. “It’s a summer program for this school called Jujutsu High. A big opportunity came up and I took it. The lessons are three days a week for the next two months. That’s the reason I didn’t want to go on the trip anymore. I have to attend these lessons so I can officially get in next semester. I want to go to this school from now on.”

Pausing to take a breath, he continues. “Mom and Dad know all about it. I explained it to them. They support me 100%, which is why they didn’t make a big deal when I backed out of the trip. They know this is important to me.”

Your mouth hangs open slightly, still confused, waiting for it to make sense. Jujutsu High? Why is this the first time you’re hearing of this? And Mom and Dad know all about it? Why didn’t anyone tell you? 

Ren walks towards you and puts his hands on your shoulders, giving you a firm squeeze. When did he get so much taller than you? Weren’t you supposed to be the adult here?! “I know this doesn’t make sense, but it’s important to me. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. It’s just…hard to explain. And I can’t really tell you everything yet. You just have to trust me.”

He’s being weirdly cryptic, but you start to realize how odd your parents were also being the other day. 

He has his reasons. 

Take care of him while we’re away.

Is there something they all know about that you don’t? And why are you the only one being kept in the dark? 

You snap out of your thoughts when he starts speaking again. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being strange about this, but I don’t know how to explain everything right now. Just trust me. It’s not sketchy or dangerous, I promise.” He flashes you a reassuring grin. 

After contemplating for several seconds, you sigh. “You promise it’s not some creepy cult, right? I’ve indulged in my fair share of true crime podcasts. I can see the warning signs!”

He laughs. “If it is a cult, then I’m already screwed, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. I’m going to pretend that this is perfectly normal. I trust you. And I trust Mom and Dad. If they’re good with it, I’m good with it too. You don’t have to tell me everything right now if you don’t want to.” You pause, then reiterate, “I trust you.”

He wraps you in a big hug, “Thanks sis. You really are the best.” 

You return his embrace, still concerned, but ultimately deciding not to worry so much about it. It can’t be anything too nefarious, right? “Anyways, Jujutsu High. Is it close by?”

“Yeah, it’s walking distance from here, about 10 minutes. But I’m doing my lessons at a nearby office building. I actually have to head over there now to meet my teacher. Our first lesson is today.” He scrambles to pack a few items into his backpack.

How strange, an office building? This really might be some weird cult thing. You grab the bento from the table and hand it to him. “Well, take this. You’ll need food. Are you skipping breakfast?”

He packs the bento carefully into his backpack. “Yeah, I’ll just save my appetite for this. This looks so good. Thanks for making it.” He zips up his bag and swings it over his shoulder. “Well, I’m off! I’ll see you later.”

As he walks towards the door, you yell out at him, “Be careful! See you later!”

You take a deep breath and look around, sighing. All alone once again. 

~~~

“Nice to meet you, Nakamura. My name is Kento Nanami. I’ll be your mentor the next few weeks.” 

Ren Nakamura, aged 16. Gojo recruited him when they found him wandering around the abandoned building they were investigating outside of Tokyo. This is a trial run before officially offering him a spot as a student in this upcoming schoolyear. He has no history or knowledge of Jujutsu Sorcery, having been raised by a family of non-sorcerers. However, according to Gojo, he seems to have an eye for curses, having the guts to take them head-on with no experience whatsoever. And clearly, Gojo has his own eyes on him for a reason. 

“He’s adopted. His parents were killed in a tragic, mysterious accident and these family friends took him in.” Gojo gave Nanami a brief background last week. “It seems like since then, he’s had a habit for exploring haunted houses and chasing curses.” 

Gojo paused, then smirked. “The kid’s got guts, that’s for sure. He was taking on this ugly looking grade 4 curse with just his skateboard as a weapon. Luckily we found him before he could get hurt.” Gojo laughed and said happily, “He’s pretty twisted, so he’ll fit right in.”

That’s how Nanami ended up here, his summer dedicated to guiding this rookie. He still owes Gojo a favor, so they settle on this as a way to pay it back. Nanami actually doesn’t mind training young prospects in Jujutsu Sorcery. Teaching is one of his hidden passions in life. It gives him purpose, something his last job couldn’t fulfill for him. Plus, it’s fun and he’s proficient at it.

Him and his new student spend the first few hours going through the history of Jujutsu Sorcery and the school, Ren interjecting often to ask questions expected from someone who’s life suddenly changed upon realizing this unique ability. Gojo even made a surprise appearance to check-in, adding a bit more chaos to the mix.

After Nanami feels like he’s overwhelmed him enough, he decides it’s time for a lunch break. He looks at his desk and remembers too late that he did not pick up lunch for the both of them, which he intended to do. The local bakery he frequents stopped selling his favorite ham and cheese sandwich. He had put off finding a replacement for a while now. After running errands all morning, the thought of providing lunch slips his mind completely. 

“Nakamura. I’m sorry, but I did not bring lunch for us. I’m just going to make a hot tea for myself, but if you give me a few minutes, I’ll run out and quickly buy – ”

“Hey, no worries, mentor! I actually brought a lunch.” He pulls out a bento box out of his backpack and opens it. 

Nanami’s eyes widen behind his thick glasses as Ren removes the cover. It almost seems as if a dazzling light radiates once the food is revealed. Gyozas, white rice, salad, even hot dogs shaped like little sea creatures. He would never admit to anything being “cute”, but that is the first word that pops into his head, seeing this charming work of art. Ren stares lovingly at his meal, rubs his hands together, and begins to eat.  

As he digs into his gyozas, Nanami heads to the breakroom down the hall to make himself a cup of hot tea. Damn, that looked good. Need to remember to find another bakery that has ham and cheese sandwiches, he thinks to himself, waiting for the hot water to dispense into his mug.

He comes back to the conference room, freshly brewed tea in hand, and finds Ren pointing at his bento, mouth full as he muffles, “Want some?”

Shaking his head, he declines. “No thank you. I’m fine with my tea.” He pauses to think. Then he adds, “Looks good, though.”

He swallows before proudly announcing, “My sister made it! It’s something new she’s trying.” He hums happily as he bites into one of the meat octopi. The salad has been skillfully avoided, causing Nanami to smile for a fraction of a second before he catches himself.

He watches his student, all while taking a few sips of his tea. “Do you live with your sister currently? I heard that your hometown is outside Tokyo.”

“Yeah I do. She lives 10 minutes from here, so it’s convenient. I know I’ll have to move into the dorms on campus, if I get accepted that is. It’ll be nice to have my sister nearby, though. Even if she doesn’t know about any of this.” Ren frowns slightly. Perhaps it’s guilt? Nanami assumes that his sister is a non-sorcerer, based on what Gojo told him about his family situation. He also assumes that she isn’t fully aware of what her brother is now involved in. 

He takes another sip of his tea, unsure how to respond since he has little experience explaining Jujutsu Sorcery to non-sorcerers. In fact, he’s made sure to keep his personal life completely separate from his work. That’s how it was when he was a salaryman, that’s how it is in his current profession. He even swore to himself that he wouldn’t get married while he is still working as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Maybe this is also an excuse to avoid the awkward dating scene that he finds so tiresome.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Ren asks, pointing at the remainder of the meal, which is just leafy greens. 

Downing the rest of his hot beverage, Nanami replies, “No thank you. I’m fine.” He looks at his watch. “Actually, let’s call it a day. I don’t want to overwhelm you on your first lesson. We can continue tomorrow.”

Ren stands up from his seat and rubs his belly. “Sure, sounds good! I’ll review my notes tonight and ask any other questions tomorrow.” A burp escapes his mouth, and he looks nervously at his mentor. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Nanami rolls his eyes, still hidden behind his spectacles, ignoring the crude belch. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 9 AM. Please don’t be late.” He remains seated as Ren stuffs his belongings into his bag and waves goodbye out the door. 

Removing his glasses, he leans his head further back on his chair and closes his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his left hand. It’s been a while since he’s taught a lesson, and he’s not accustomed to talking so much. Human interaction can be just as exhausting as fighting off weak curses. Frankly, it’s overwhelming for him at times, being a man of few words on a regular basis.

He opens his eyes and sighs deeply, looking around at the empty room. All alone once again. 

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

Tag List: @liliorsstuff-blog (appreciate you! ❤️)

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Gift ideas!!

Psychic abilities that can slightly influence others’ thoughts and emotions. Like an extreme version of smooth talking. They can influence someone to be slightly more friendly or open to suggestion than they otherwise would be, but can’t make them act totally out of character. If someone’s dead set on fighting them, they can’t do much about it, but, if the interaction can be calmed down in any way, they’re more likely than most to be able to achieve the peaceful option.

Slight future prediction. Think Garnet Steven universe. They can vaguely see some possible futures and can sometimes influence where they’re headed by taking or not taking certain actions. However, they can’t change events that are already very likely to happen or dictated by the actions of someone who won’t listen to them, and they have trouble telling the difference between anxiety over possible outcomes, nightmares / night terrors and genuine predictions of the future, so they’re not always accurate.

Ability to pick up skills quicker than average. They may only need half the lessons their peers do to master a hunting technique or fighting move. However, they do still need to practice their skills regularly, or they’ll get rusty like any normal person, and the lack of effort they need to achieve the same things as their peers could lead to them becoming overconfident or developing an invincibility complex, which isn’t a good thing when dealing with a supernatural threat you may or may not be immune to.

Knowing things they shouldn’t. Think John TMA. Some examples: looking at tracks and instantly knowing they were made by a taker, despite them looking normal to everyone else; knowing someone has gone to a specific location without seeing them leave or talking to them prior; being able to tell things like leaves or berries apart without any training; knowing people’s names, ranks and/or clans without having interacted with them previously; knowing about events they weren’t there for; knowing about the existence of things they had no way of discovering; etc. They don’t know everything all the time, but they know too much to be normal. Could be fun if they also habitually eavesdropped to compound on the amount of things they shouldn’t know.

Extreme luck. Not like winning the lottery every day luck, but, somehow, they always manage to avoid dangerous things, even if the danger is right in front of them. They step over twoleg traps without realising they’re there. They decide they don’t feel like eating rat today, and it turns out that all the local rats had been in contact with poison. They take a left turn instead of a right, avoiding a nest of venomous snakes by total coincidence. Sometimes it’s just good things with no strings attached; prey occasionally runs right into them while escaping something else, and they end up with an easy catch. But, most of the time, their circumstances were beyond dangerous, and it gives their peers constant anxiety for their wellbeing. They can still be hurt, they’re just less likely to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

PS I am so honoured that two of the kit names I suggested were picked!! I love your stuff hehe.

Oooooh juicy!

Ngl been looking for an excuse to use Knowledge as a gift, this is all I need to justify throwing TMA ideas into this bitch,,,

Also no way which names did you suggest?

[domaystic]

Domaystic 2023 is back!

link to bigger image: click here

[Image description: a blue clothes hanger with clips where socks are drying under the sun; among the socks the word domyastic is separated in three parts and hanged as well. On the right side: the list of 31 prompts and 5 alternatives.]

Hello! This is THE post for DOMAYSTIC 2023 :D

Domaystic is the combination of “domestic” and “May” and it's a prompt event run on May based on the domestic trope: anything inside, outside, beside the house or that has that normalcy flavor of everyday life.

If any of these prompts inspire your muse, please, don’t hesitate and join!

Text prompts

01 Housewarming   02 A stash of...   03 List   04 Packed lunch    05 Learning something new   06 Under the same umbrella    07 Stained clothes   08 The things in that drawer    09 Mistaken identity   10 Bath   11 Volunteering   12 Crisis    13 Taking turns   14 Parade   15 Junkmail    16 Sleeping habits   17 Marked date on calendar    18 Discount at favourite store   19 Police at the door    20 In the nearby park   21 Handmade gift   22 S/o on the local news    23 Small couch   24 Secret language   25 Misdialed calls    26 Sounds from above   27 Passage through a fence 28 Recycling   29 Lottery   30 Feeling of doing nothing    31 Midnight snack

Alternatives

A. No, no, don't lift it!   B. There's a ... in the room! C. Stop the car, now!   D. Look, I made it work! E. Oh, I can't wait to do it!

Text prompts in German: click here Text prompts in Spanish: click here Text prompts in Italian: click here Text prompts in French: click here

Lots of text under the cut!

General rules and guidelines

All fandoms or original content are welcome.

Any kind of media is welcome: fanfiction, fanart, fanmixes, puzzles, diy art, quizzes, podfics, edits, fic recs or whatever it is you feel like doing. That’s all good.

No restrictions in ships, size, min/max word count or the language you want to write into.

As last year, feel free to mix the domestic prompt with anything you like: more drama and lots of crying? YES! The thrill of an investigation for the disappearance of your characters’ fave socks? YES!

There's one prompt for each day for a total of 31 prompts + 5 alternatives with an exclamation point at the end (predictable!).

You can share your work on any platform you like. If you share it on tumblr and tag the blog, I’ll reblog it.

Combine more prompts together? That’s fine but I will reblog the entry only once here on tumblr.

Combine these prompts with another event? Fine too.

You don’t have to do all the prompts to join the event. Do the ones you enjoy.

The event is consistently checked upon during the month of May, but in case you want to share your creation at a later date, you can. I just reblog on a lower pace after May is over.

As for the reblogs, last year I gave myself a bit of an headache, so this time I’d like to try it this way: once the day of the corresponding prompt comes, people will post their work and then I’ll reblog it when that day comes for me too. Does it make sense? I hope so. I’ll miss the world clocks but let’s just trust each other.

AO3 collection

The domaystic2023 collection is open from May, 1st: click here - all the info and prompts are also on the profile page of the collection.

In your tumblr post I ask you to:

Mention the blog in your post @domaystic - tracked tag: #domaystic2023

State clearly the fandom name or if it is original content

State clearly if it is sfw or nsfw

State clearly which prompt you used

In case of lengthy posts, use the “read more option”: ctrl-shift-k on rich text; [[*MORE*]] on html (remove asterisks)

Please, TAG PROPERLY. If there are any trigger warnings, I will base my own reblog on your tags so, please, take even a moment longer to carefully tag it. I hope all participants to stay safe in this event.

Here’s an example:

blablabla my story is beautiful, look @domaystic ! 

#domaystic2023 #day1 #[extraA - E if alternative prompt is used] #[fandom name or oc] #[sfw or nsfw] #[trigger warnings that I get from your post] tw

If you have any question feel free to send an ask, inbox is always open. :D

Hi, @thebigbangblogproject​ can you reblog this?