#but it only works if it's from this one specific guy

[castillon02]

Jason and Tim have similar competence standards and end up swapping employees sometimes.

---

"Boss, I'm outta the game with this hip---"

"You're outta the beating-up-traffickers game. I got a guy who can get you into the scaring-the-rich game just fine."

"You mean, like...?" A fist into an open palm, quirked eyebrows.

"Nah, verbal intimidation only unless someone steps up to the plate. Mostly you got good eyes and this Wayne kid values having people around who can observe things that aren't spreadsheets."

"Hey, you said I did pretty good at that Excel thing!"

A pointed look.

"Ohhhh. I'm gonna get to learn spreadsheets and threaten people? Oh, man. Thanks, boss!"

"They've got the same insurance, too, so that'll roll over automatically."

---

Meanwhile, on Tim's end of things:

"I noticed that you tend to get impatient with slow results, that you're happy to yell at people for safety violations, and that your plan to remediate the company's incompetence in these areas involves 'firing every single one of them who can't get their head out of their ass.'" Tim smiled.

His employee smiled back. "I mean, that's why you hired me as safety supervisor, right?"

"Of course; your proactive attitude is one of the reasons we chose you. However, I also noticed that a lot of your frustration stems from employees whose work is being impacted by personal issues, often ones stemming from attacks by prominent local criminals."

"Listen, I'm from Minnesota. I know from cold. And I also know that you can't let a little hypothermia from Mr. Freeze screw up your numbers, especially not when those calculations impact lives." Squared shoulders, hands on the hips---yeah, definitely more of a cultural fit with Jason's organization.

Tim nodded and continued his pitch. "And you're competent with a firearm, correct?"

"Hey, I'm not about to go postal just because---"

"No, no, you misunderstand me. You're a skilled employee. I'm just wondering if you might benefit from transferring to a work environment in which you can shoot some of the people who are actually causing these problems."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have a dartboard with Leeds's face on it because he screwed up so many times after that Ivy incident put his kid in the hospital."

"...Okay, I admit that's not my best look."

"The organization I'm recommending you to has a printer next to the firing range; it's sized specifically for target paper."

"Oh."

"It's also an organization that works specifically to keep kids from needing to be in the hospital."

"Oh. You mean---" There was really only one group it could be.

"They need someone with your eye for logistics. Hood's work isn't 'legit,'" Tim made careful air quotes because the dorkiness tended to put people at ease, "but your insurance would roll over to them automatically. And you can rest assured that they take safety very seriously."

[well-of-silence]

OK, but imagine this is more like researching a tech issue.

-useless magicOverflow post where the top answer is "use this ingredient" and it hasn't been made/available in 30 years

-niche issue that you have found 3 results for, 2 had 0 answers and the last one was "nevermind guys I figured it out"

-recipe-blog style and once you get through them talking about their life changing travel with their pet golem you finally get to the spell and it turns out the author decided to put "flair" and "their own twist" into magic missile and now it isn't very magic nor a missile

-there's one place you can consistently find your spells but their tagging system is awful and search doesn't work at all (hi [tumblr])

-great spell but it only works with jerry-rigged wandwood from 1978

-my fireball isn't working for a very specific reason but I don't know what it is. All the results tell me to update/get fresh parchment. That was the first thing I did, and now the internet is out of ideas.

Ive seen people be like in modern fantasy like "oh the pritagonists can just look up spells on their phone how do you solve that"

Imma be honest most people who go on recipe websites and book every recipe they see don't even use them lmao why would with be different

[dunmeshistash]

I've been having a bunch of ideas kinda float around my mind like little screensavers that I didn't feel like putting on paper, but one of these ideas just so happened to hit a corner, and it gave me an idea for what might perhaps be a bit of a silly (and oddly specific) question, but one I was very interested in asking nonetheless. Especially after reading your long post on the Demon's perspective of Laios' backstory. I really hope you don't mind.

While my memory's a tad blurry on how the scene played out in detail, I still find Laios' confrontation with the demon to be one of my favorite scenes. Definitely top 5. It's the one where Laios secretly orders Izutsumi to execute him at the slightest hint of suspicion. That one. I think that scene is among my favorites because it's both a perfect demonstration of Laios' remarkable cleverness hidden underneath all that lack of social skills, but it's also the perfect demonstration of how utterly terrifying the demon is.

At first I was under the assumption that Laios had it all under control, but the Demon's frighteningly gentle with how he twists Laios' very thoughts in a way that frames him as some sort of misanthropist, and the Winged Lion's words seemingly foil whatever plan Laios may have had. It made me think that Laios had failed, and Izutsumi's orders to lob his head off may have been a fail safe because he didn't know if he could successfully thwart the Demon's plans.

However, after finishing the story, extras, etc; I started thinking that perhaps failing was all part of Laios' plan, too. At least partially. Perhaps he realised that the only way to outsmart and ultimately best the Demon, was to let the Demon win. Perhaps he concluded that the only way for him to stand a chance against the Demon was to lose, to be at the Demon's mercy, to have his words utterly twisted; because he couldn't just make the demon "think" he had won. The only way for the Demon, the embodiment of hunger, to think he had won, was for him to actually win.

Maybe he ordered Izutsumi to… how do you put it… "artificially shorten his lifespan" because he knew the Demon would use his love for monsters against him, and would manipulate him into wishing to become the Ultimate Strongest Monster. His recent addendum (that the Ultimate Strongest Monster can eat desires) seems to support this theory, if I remember correctly. However, I can't remember for certain. Maybe his plan was to trap the Demon in his body and kill it that way? I genuinely can't remember.

So, I was wondering if you'd be interested in answering this oddly specific and mildly stupid question: How much of Laios' interaction with the Demon was planned, and how much was him fucking around and finding out? I'd love to know your thoughts on this!

PS: Laios rocks the swag he dons as king. Would happily serve under him. PPS: I hope you have a wonderful rest of your week, Mr. Morbius! Thank you for this awesome blog. You're cool.

Hello!!!!! Yeah!!!!!! The question Kabru himself would rather not know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Same as Kabru I decided not to think too hard about but Kui definitely gave us hints that this could be the case, I don't think Laios "planned" to fail from the start, he strikes me as a very optimistic guy (as you can see with how he first thought the confrontation with Thistle could go and how he STILL tried to talk to him instead of fighting) but I think he did "prepare" somewhat for the worst case scenario, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst?

Like I don't think this part of his plan was a misdirection I think he really hoped it could be this simple? So this was plan A (although he realizes this is too optimistic I think he hopes it will work)

This part tho I'm pretty sure was partly a misdirection for his teammates, since he asks them to help him get his mind back only to tell Izutsumi to kill him at the smallest hint he lost his mind, so I think this was plan B as in "If I become the lord of the dungeon kill me so there's no more dungeon lord" which was the original canary plan

Which again is kinda confirmed by this thought bubble

I think this was plan C

He knew he no longer wished for a country where humans and monsters could coexist (because of what he saw) so I guess he had *some* idea that becoming a monster was his other wish and added that as a fail safe if plan A and B failed? I don't think he could have guessed the Demon would use his body but maybe he thought he could use the nature of the demon against him (granting his desire to become a monster even tho the monster can eat him)

As Marcille and Kabru realize tho, that might all be a coincidence and he really thought plan A or B would work lmao. WHO KNOWS Laios' mind is a mystery

I'd recommend rereading chapter 88 if you want to go thru Laios' whole plan and how the demon manipulated him, it's a great chapter (87 too with the demon origin story)

[rinachains]

this is a life

wc: 4.7k

contents: no curses au; geto x fem!reader; angst, fluff; brief mention of diets, implied child abuse; mental illness, smoking, alcohol consumption; reader is in an established relationship with someone else, geto is an elementary school teacher; he's lowkey giving reader a therapy session here; very loosely inspired by *that* scene from fleabag

a/n: this turned out way longer than i originally planned, lol. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/saradika

“And guess what happened after that?”

The woman across from you leans against the table, all eyes on her, waiting for a big reveal.

“She thought he was her friend’s father and not her boyfriend!”

Laughter erupts, a song of shrieks and booming echoes, and in the midst of it all, you sit with your mouth shut, wondering if their reaction is a product of consumed alcohol or an inside joke you weren't allowed in on.

Your boyfriend puts his hand on your knee – nearly slaps it – as his body shakes from laughing, swiftly glancing towards you.

You meet him with a strained smile.

“We’re talking about an old classmate,” he explains to you between labored breaths after he calms down.

“Ah, really?”, you say, dryly. Your voice is distant, lacking the interest he was hoping you’d respond with.

The red wine you’re sipping – an expensive one that your boyfriend specifically bought for this occasion – leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you believe it might etch your tongue away. You don’t like red wine, or any alcohol in general – you drink it more out of obligation than out of true enjoyment. It always leaves you with a wave of nausea the next day, no matter how much or how little you consume. There was at least the hope that the alcohol would loosen the tension in your body, make you open up; however, to your luck, it appears to have the opposite effect.

You’ve never been more aware of your body and your surroundings before; the clatter of dishes and the breaths you take through your nose ring in your ears.

There are only five people at this table; your boyfriend and his three friends from his old university days. And you.

You’re already familiar with two of them, but the third one, the other man sitting to your right – Suguru Geto – is someone you’ve just met for the first time tonight.

(‘By the way, another friend of mine will join us tonight,’ your boyfriend told you this morning as you got ready for work

You held back a tired sigh.

‘Another friend from university?’

‘Yep. Suguru Geto is his name. Cool guy, pretty close friend, we used to hang out a lot. He recently just started working as an elementary school teacher. Good for him, I guess,’ he explained as he buttoned up his shirt.

You didn’t miss how his tone dripped with the slightest bit of condescension when he said that last part.)

“By the way, my cousin dropped his new major,” his other friend says between bites, as he chews messy.

The noise makes your skin crawl.

"Again? Didn't he say this major was going to be 'the one'?" your boyfriend scoffs. 

"Yeah, some people just don't have a plan in life, it's kind of pathetic. Right?"

For some reason, his friend decides to look at you for confirmation. You don't respond, and your boyfriend puts his hand over yours before things get uncomfortable.

"Excuse her, she's just a bit shy."  

He laughs, again. The other two join in. Geto doesn't.

I'm not, you want to say. Your boyfriend always says that you're shy, but you're just quiet, more reserved, and he just keeps mistaking your reserved nature for shyness. You hate it; you feel the need to defend yourself, but you'd feel like a child, annoyed by your parent and overreacting.

However, he does talk about you as if you were his child or his pet, reluctant to interact with other people, still learning what it means to socialize properly, and he guides you on your shaky legs.

It’s no big deal, the voice in the back of your head whispers, you should be more grateful.

Yet you’re dealing with a clash of gratitude and buried guilt; guilt for that hidden monster of resentment that lurks somewhere deep inside of you, underneath the muscle tissue and ribs, waiting for the perfect moment to burst forth, tear through your body and cause terror.

It’s easier to blame this feeling on your inferiority complex - after all, you are your own worst enemy.

Your boyfriend leans in from his seat next to you, his lips brushing your ear as he mutters, “Let’s relax, okay? Tonight’s going pretty good so far.”

“Right,” you mouth back. Your voice not strong enough to vocalize that singular word. You try to muster an enthusiastic smile, you really do, but the corners of your mouth seem stuck, unwilling to rise any higher. They ache, and your cheeks begin to cramp. Your boyfriend gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheek – seemingly pleased with your response - before resuming his conversation about the past.

(they do a lot of talking about the past while you try to remove its bonds from your hands and feet.)

As your boyfriend turns away from you, you sense a tingling sensation, burning into the side of your face. Discreetly, you try to peer out of the corner of your right eye, only to be met with a piercing stare from Geto. You freeze, like a deer caught in the headlight, even though he’s the one who’s been caught. He leans further back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, not breaking eye contact. You avert your gaze after what feels like minutes.

A feeling of awkwardness rushes through your body as you take another sip of your drink.

What’s his problem? Did he hear what your boyfriend whispered to you?

Ignore it, the voice says again. So you do. Or at least you attempt to.

Despite your aversion to alcohol, your glass empties quickly, so you have a second, and before you know it, you're on your third.

The others continue to discuss their jobs, finances, families, future plans, politics - this is what normal, functioning people must talk about, you muse as you swallow a big gulp.

Once a layer of fog has settled over your vision, you realize the effect everything has on your body - it's as if you're not quite here.

You're in your apartment, the place where you live, at the table where you eat every day, and yet somehow you feel as if the place you're sitting in is reserved for someone else. An intruder - maybe that's what you are for tonight.

(but is it really just for tonight?)

You sit there, taking in the spectacle around you, until the image in front of you begins to swim, a blur of colors and shapes; now you're a background character, nameless and following the instructions of the script, watching the main characters interact - with their lively attitudes, ambitions and achievements, and overly complicated problems - while you do as little as possible. Your only purpose is to emphasize how important and memorable they are. Easily replaceable. Not worth paying attention to, not worth remembering; what a cruel role.

Then, with a painful blink, you're back in reality. But you realize that it wasn't some oddly vivid dream and that you weren't actually transported to another reality - you were here, at this table, in this seat, all along.

"Yes, I'm currently following this diet and workout plan," one of your boyfriend’s friends announces with an exaggerated sigh, and she quickly turns to you, giving you a half nod, "if you want, I can give you some details about it."

The look you give her is blank. Your raised glass lingers against your lips as you are about to take a sip.

Before you have a chance to answer this time, she turns back to the others and babbles on about some other topic.

You put the half-filled glass back on the table, your thirst now gone.  

"Ahh, I really don’t know how you can stand being around children every day, Suguru. I almost lost my mind watching my niece for only three hours!", she practically whines as she addresses the man next to you.

Geto answers with a chuckle, though it sounds strangely empty, as if something is missing.

"I also deal with a lot of adults, you know, other teachers and parents. And I can say that there isn't much difference between them,” he replies, “At least children don't know any better yet. Adults, however, choose not to do anything about their lack of…competence."

Again, a repeated round of laughter. Geto wears a mere placid smile.

"You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong. God, some of our clients are so incompetent, I sometimes wonder how they’ve made it this far in life.”

In the last two hours, you’ve learned: Geto isn’t particularly talkative, at least compared to the others.

However, he seems fine with it, sipping his drink unhurriedly and responding smoothly when spoken to. He exudes a confidence and carries a casual demeanor that a small part of you can't help but envy, for how often do you wish you weren't the way you are?

So you just sit there, lost in your own thoughts, accepting defeat for the situation you're stuck in.

“Have you heard about–“

Another clink.

“No way, that’s actually sad–“

Another loud chew.

“Guess who decided to contact-“

Another giggle.

At this point, the conversations have turned into a hectic game of tennis, the ball going back and forth between them, and you’re trying to follow it, maybe even graze it with your fingertips, but you can’t seem to catch it, it’s too fast, too-

"So, what do you do?"

You blink. Once, and then twice.

You turn your head to the right; Geto’s eyes are focused on you.

They're purple, a deep, gem-like shade, you note. You’ve never seen eyes like his before.  

His brows raise slightly and you realize that he’s expecting an answer.

"I…I work in a library. And I write. Or, well, at least I'm currently trying to."

A grin tugs at his lips; saccharine and foxy. For a moment, you fear he might eat you alive.

You’re not even aware that the other three have halted their conversation and are now paying attention to you and Geto.

"Oh? What are you planning to write? If you don't mind me asking."

You don't.

"Just a bunch of short stories," you answer with a shrug as you pick at the skin around your nails, "A big story is kind of intimidating, to be honest. I want to start small, it’s easier that way and I don’t have to put all my focus on one idea..."

Your voice loses its volume towards the end - a force of habit. Geto tilts his head and you believe to see a small frown appear for a second before it vanishes quickly. Replaced by his thin smile.

He shifts his body towards you, cheek resting against his fist. A flutter of his long lashes.

"You know, I once considered writing a book too.”

One of your brows lifts in wonder, "Really?"

“Hmh. A children’s book – for my students.”

“Are you still considering it?”

“I haven’t had the time for that yet, so I haven’t really done something for it.”

“Maybe you should have a mental breakdown too. ‘Gives you enough time to get real creative.”

Of course, right in this moment, your tongue decides to get loose. Surprise flashes across Geto’s features, clearly caught off guard, and you hear your boyfriend inhale sharply. You don’t even have to face the other two to know that they exchange looks.

What you said is wrong. It's always either right or wrong, right or wrong, and your teeth grit together, because why can't you just simply say things without them being right or wrong?

Suddenly, a low, muffled chortle reaches your ears. It grows louder, bordering on a genuine laugh, and you stare silently at the man next to you, the source of the sound.

Geto’s eyes form into crescent moons, and you become a shooting star, seen by chance, admired for the special moment you provide.

“I think I’ll pass. But many famous writers did create their works during hard times.”

You scratch along your neck, unsure of what to do with your fidgeting hands.

He continues, "Maybe we should switch roles for a day - I'll try writing and you can try teaching my class."

"Ah, I could never be a teacher, I'm not patient enough, I'm afraid," you say sheepishly, the tension in your face softening.

"I admit it's not always easy, but it's worth it to see the result of your patience. Besides, I had some practice before I started my job."

Your mouth opens, ready to ask another question, but then your boyfriend places an arm around your shoulder and squeezes it hard, as if he’s warning you. You have to stifle a yelp, his fingers digging a little too deeply into your skin.

“Maybe you should go easy on the wine, huh, babe?”

The thought of shaking his hand off flashes through your mind, but your body doesn't listen. Instead, you allow his grip to remain until he withdraws of his own accord.

His face screams jealousy – and maybe he is jealous, but he probably just wants everyone, including himself, to think he’s a protective and possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t have enough care in him for that.  

You used to believe that he did. Or at least you told yourself that – because he was the one who has pulled you out of the deep hole you were stuck in.  

He was the one who shook you awake and made you stare at yourself from a third-person perspective - and all that ran through your head was the word 'pathetic'.

Almost two years ago, you dropped out of university. You were at your lowest point, your mental health non-existent, and you had nothing and no one. And out of the blue, he showed up - with his sweet words and boyish charm. You had never received attention before, and suddenly there was someone, this handsome man, showering you with it.

He embodies the definition of ‘normal’, an average man - not someone with a dark past, a tortured artist, or a menace to society. He oozes the stability you needed during that time.

But you couldn't do anything about the doubts you had from the beginning of your relationship, because why would a man like him be with someone, a nobody, like you?

Sometimes he'd give you disappointed looks when you did something you usually did instead of what he thought was better. Sometimes being with him made you even more aware of what was wrong with you. Sometimes the normalcy you so desperately seek makes you feel like an abnormality.

You couldn't help but see him as your savior, someone who has achieved something so painfully average that you could only dream of. And he gives you that normalcy - at least you're on your way to it. However, the path seems endless, littered with ditches and spikes and numerous other obstacles that make you reluctant to continue.

Perhaps he thought of you as a fruit, not yet ripe, attracted by the potential sweetness, able to satisfy a certain hunger. But every fruit eventually begins to rot, no longer edible, and quickly discarded.

‘I don't deserve this,’ you told him once as you packed your things to move into your new shared apartment.

(one he'd picked out, claiming it was perfect for both of you).

Your confession tasted like honey in his mouth. He just gave you a little grin, nothing too big, so as not to show how his pride was swelling in his chest.

He didn't disagree with you.

After a few minutes, you feel a familiar itch in your hand. You start to get up, your boyfriend gives you a questioning look and you nod towards the balcony. He eyes you with disapproval, but you grab your jacket before you can change your mind and comply.

Every time you smoke in his presence, his nose wrinkles in disgust and words of complaint come out of his mouth. You’d take it more seriously if he didn't smoke himself.

Once outside, you put on your jacket and sit down in front of the steel bars of your balcony, next to some empty flower pots.

You haven't done anything, but you're exhausted.

The cool breeze on your face reminds you of drinking a cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night. The pain in your head is simmering.

The nicotine intensifies the bitterness in your dry mouth as you pull out a cigarette and take a long, long drag. A light, pleasant burn that awakens your senses in a non-overwhelming way, sobering you up a bit. Your shoulders slump, a pleasant shiver runs through your body. You needed this.

The sound of the balcony door opening makes you jump, the cigarette between your fingers almost falling down. You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting to see your boyfriend, preparing yourself for a scolding; but it's Geto. You can't tell if the emotion boiling in your chest is disappointment or relief - at this point, they've merged.

“I hope you don’t mind the company.”

You shake your head. Not too eagerly, you remind yourself.

One corner of his mouth lifts up, his gaze sweeping discreetly over you without you taking note of it, and he places himself on the other end.

There’s a good distance – intentionally - between the two of you, neither of you daring to cross it. A wall, set in stone, and the temptation of climbing it to peer over the edge lingers in the back of your head.

“Are you enjoying dinner?”, you ask him, scratching your cheek with your nail. You suppose that’s what a good host does.

Something you can’t quite identify glints in his eyes, and you can tell that he’s suppressing a chuckle. You feel the tips of your ears warming.

“I am. It’s more entertaining than I expected.”

You raise your brow at his answer.

"Hmh?" you see him pulling out a lighter and gesture to your pack of cigarettes, "Oh, you want one too?"

Geto dismissively waves his hand and takes his own pack out of the pockets of his black coat, "No need, I have my own.”

The way he lights the cigarette and brings it up to his lips paints a graceful picture, a fluid sequence of quick, minimal movements, and you can’t bring yourself to avert your stare.

He's handsome, you think. A unique but pleasant kind of beauty, a mixture of feminine and masculine features. This thought came to you the first time he appeared in your vision; you could admit it, but you don't allow your thoughts to go any further. You can't tell if it's out of compulsion or out of respect for your partner.

As he blows out the smoke, he says, "To get back to what I said: I wasn't sure what to expect tonight. The thing is, I'm not, or wasn't, that close to your friend, so I was surprised when he invited me... I guess some people just have different perceptions.”

“He claimed you’re his friend,” you retort, confusion laced in your voice.

“Then he must have a lot of them, if that’s all it takes.”

You press your lips together, swallowing the grin that threatens to break across your face.

Geto clears his throat, "I was surprised to meet you, though.”

You cock your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

The expression he carries is a strange combination of hesitation and determination, "He didn’t mention you when he invited me."

Oh. Right.

"He hasn't?"

The answer is written on his face, you don’t need another verbal confirmation. 

Your back straightens, your shoulder rolls back as you exhale heavily.

"I mean, why would he? It's not something he has to say."

You don't know why you're defending him. Maybe it's because you want to defend yourself, too.

"I just find it interesting that he didn't tell me about you when he invited me. I mean, if I invited someone to my house for dinner, I would definitely mention my partner. But maybe we have different views on that.”

Your headache begins to return.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say instead of lingering on the subject, trying to distract from it, eyes flickering between his face and the balcony railing, “back there. You mentioned something about already having practice before becoming a teacher.”

A that, his face brightens subtly, something you’re able to catch in the dim lighting. He sits up and brushes a silky strand of hair from his face.

“I did. I adopted two daughters before I started working there – Mimiko and Nanako are their names.”  

“Those are pretty names,” you say, hiding your surprise at the fact that he’s an adoptive father – seems like your boyfriend truly isn’t that close to him, “not that there’s anything wrong with it, but why did you decide to adopt them?"

"I interned at an elementary school before I knew what I wanted to do. It was fun, exhausting, but I learned a lot. But it was there that I noticed something wasn't quite right," Geto tells, a frown beginning to appear, "there were these girls - well, they're my little girls now. Mimiko and Nanako were quiet, well-behaved, but too docile for my taste. I found it strange, and when I asked around, the other teachers just told me to be happy about it, that it's a good thing. But then I started noticing the bruises on their arms and the way they would flinch when someone got too close or raised their hand. You can probably guess what that means.”

You swallow, subconsciously mirroring his frown.

"Anyway, I reached out to them and although it took some time, they finally opened up to me and told me everything. I went to the police and luckily they took action and got them out of that hellhole," the words spit from his tongue like venom and you're not sure if the sickness in your stomach is from the alcohol or what he just told you.

“How old were you?”

“I was 17 at the time.”

The way your eyes grow in size and your brows shoot up must be a comical sight for him.  

“17? That’s so young!”

“It is. But it felt like the right thing to do,” he runs his hand through his dark locks, an exhaustion that is more than familiar to you, "I mean, I couldn't take them in right away because I was a minor. They put the girls in a children's home where I visited them regularly. When I turned 18, I didn't wait a second to sign the adoption papers."

Your lips purse, "It must have been a complicated process."

His eyebrows draw together, a melancholy weariness settling over his sharp features, "Oh, it was. I came pretty close to losing my mind. But it was all worth it; if I had to, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."

The way Geto talks is soothing. Comforting, like a blanket being laid over your shivering body, and you sink into it, relishing the warmth it provides.

“You really are a good person, Geto.”

He leans his head back against the wall, “Funnily enough, you’re the first person to tell me this. Most gave me weird looks for it. Even my friends berated me for being too impulsive, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

“It’s admirable. And other people’s judgement doesn’t have to be the final one,” you say, pointedly, “…So that’s why you decided to become a teacher, huh?”

He nods, “I believe it’s our responsibility to teach children everything. Not only the basic subjects, but also how to behave, how to socialize. And how to ask for help.”

You wonder what Geto would have done if he had met you during that time. Would he have helped you? Would he have given you words of encouragement, taken care of you?

Without even closing your eyes, you can picture him in his classroom, drawings and inspirational quotes adorning the colorful walls. He stands behind his desk, greeting his students with a gentle, welcoming smile, laughing softly at their antics, answering questions with ease, giving praise when someone gives a correct answer, motivating a student when he notices their grades improving.

You'd have enjoyed to go school with someone like Geto as your teacher.

"I'm not sure if I could ever do something like that,” you admit.

"That's okay. We all have our own roles in life. I simply chose this one."

Are you happy with the role you've chosen? With the change you have made? Or have you inadvertently dug yourself a deeper hole instead of getting out of it?

"Do you ever regret your choice?"

"Of course I have tried to imagine how different my life could have been if I had made a different choice. But there's no point in dwelling on that - I chose what felt right, and looking back would do me more harm than good," Geto points at you with his chin, “how did you end up working in a library?" he asks you now, with no hint of judgment or disdain in his deep voice. Just pure curiosity. 

You don't, can't, answer directly. Coming up with an appropriate answer while your mind is still clouded by alcohol proves to be a difficult task.

“I also studied at a university“, you start, carefully. “Medicine. That’s what I studied.”

He waits patiently, giving you time to figure out what you want to say.

“I stopped last year,” you continue. ‘Stopped’ – what a great euphemism for ‘gave up’', “I realized it wasn’t for me. I didn’t do anything for a while, and then finally got a job at the library. It’s only a side job, though.”

Talking about it – even solely scratching the surface -creates a lump in your throat.

“Is that what your joke was about?”, he muses. You mumble a quiet ‘yes’. Geto hums, seeming to be deep in thought.

"There's nothing wrong with starting over," Geto eventually proclaims into the night, and you follow his words, "If you ask me, it's stupid to choose just one path in your early years and then think you have to stick to it for the rest of your life. We've only lived a small part of our lives so far, so why not consider trying other paths? Ones that also promise less suffering."

You nod, slowly. Let the weight of his words sink in, absorb into your body and mind.

“But how do I know which path is right and which one is wrong?”

This time, he lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no such thing as a wrong or a right path – you can learn something from every path you take, even if you think you’ve failed.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, a white cloud appearing in the cold air before you, only to dissipate in a few seconds.

“I guess you’re right.”

"I know," he smirks, and you let out an amused snort. Then, "Perhaps you should try a different path. One that is the opposite of what most people choose and expect. You might find some peace in a place that is not so crowded".

You have to say something back, something good, but you're too stunned to express any of the thoughts and emotions running through your head. 

"Do you regret stopping your studies?", Geto breaks the brief moment of silence.

Teeth dig into the inside of your cheek.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm happy for you. Do something with that."

You find something swirling in those purple shades that you have been looking for so desperately, fruitlessly in your partner: understanding.

You don’t know what to do with it.

As Geto finishes his cigarette, he glances back at the door before turning back to you.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A strong gust of wind rustles through the air, a whistling sound from the night sky, like a siren alarming you.

You listen to it.

“…Let’s wait a little longer.”

[yanderefarm]

I need me a silivan request, like vampire reader is at one of those vampires parties, silvan was sitting on reader’s lap all dolled and pretty, and then one of a high statue vampire would be memrized by silivan and would ask reader to buy silivan fron him, and at that time reader was getting confused by his feeling, he got attached to his pet, and acted jealous on the other vampire.

cw;; dehumanization, fluff,

this is such a cute idea. thats your pet!!!

this was your first party with silvan as your pet after centuries of seemingly looking down on the practice of pet humans. you still weren't sure about keeping him, he seemed fragile and delicate and stupid. even now at a party where he should be passed around and adored by every hungry horny vampire in the place he was clinging to you. his little hand gripped the back of your shirt tightly like a child afraid of getting lost. was it cute? maybe.

you decided to be generous to the frightened human and grant him permission to sit with you while you talked about work. he sat in the chair next to you and you pulled him back up immediately.

"humans don't sit there."

"im sorry... where do i sit, sir?"

that's how he ended up in your lap. it attracted many eyes to you but they still kept to themselves. they were smart.

the bold idiot who approached you wasn't.

you were minding your own business when this fool came up to you. you recognized him as someone who had recently came into ownership of a large human farm, he was still only a baron though. he smiled at you and then even wider at the pretty thing on your lap.

"did you get a pet, my lord?"

you let out a heavy sigh. "i haven't decided yet."

"how much would you sell it for?" the other vampire reached out and grabbed one of silvan's curls. silvan tried his best not to move but he pulled back into your chest slightly.

".... i don't know."

"it looks pretty high quality! where did you get it?"

this guy's voice was uniquely grating on your nerves. how he kept referring to silvan as an it, how he looked at him like an object. there was this feeling in your stomach that he wasn't just seeing silvan as an object but as an object that would increase his own value. he didn't even like silvan properly! he only cared because silvan was with you.

"i had him bred specifically to be beautiful. if he were for sale I'm sure he would be worth more than anything you own."

you could tell you hurt his pride with that. "that's... I'll have you know I've come into a lot of wealth recently, my lord!"

"oh?" you feigned ignorance. "oh i did hear about you acquiring some land."

"the 5th largest farm in your territory and 3rd in quality." he puffed out his chest in pride. like you don't own number one on both of those lists. god this guy is annoying.

"then you can have him if i can have that." you smiled smugly watching his face immediately falter.

"h-huh? but that's..."

"you don't want my specially bred pet?"

"he-he's certainly beautiful!! if-if you get into the breeding market you should let me know first thing!!!" he scurried off.

you hugged silvan's small frame tight against your body without thinking, wrapping yourself around him like a protective blanket. the silver haired boy was blushing in your arms his entire face red while you were pouting.

"sir... are.. am i.. yours..?" silvan asked tepidly his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

you felt his warmth from his embarrassment seeping into your body and you held him even tighter. your cold heart yearned to beat.

"yes. you're mine. no one else can have you."

[lacefuneral]

hi. guy who works adjacent to this field as a day job here. typically these are three documents. specific laws vary by state (so some of what i say here may differ). prices of these documents vary by practice. but never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever do one of those "easy online docs" because in most cases they aren't legally valid and do not permit you to write specific clauses.

lawyers are like doctors in that they specialize in different fields of law. you are looking for a "wills and estates" or an "elder law" lawyer. all of these documents will need to be notarized (by a notary) for a small fee. most law offices have notaries in-house. shop around if you can - ask what different offices charge for a set of three docs and compare prices.

only the original document, on official letterhead, with a notary seal is a valid legal document. you can have copies of a document for reference purposes, but copies alone are not sufficient for actual legal purposes. always keep your originals somewhere safe, like a safe deposit box at a bank. i'm serious. not a drawer, not under your bed. these documents must be kept safe from fire, water damage, theft. because if they are destroyed or missing, the state rules that you never had documents at all, and it defeats the purpose of having them made in the first place. unless there is a local law in your area that prevents it, insist upon taking your original documents so you can decide where and how they are stored, rather than being trapped in some lawyer's office

always go to a lawyer for updates on documents. hand-written addendums (like last-minute wills scribbled on napkins) are not recognized by law in most states, and even in states where they are, the validity is often contested because these are not witnessed/notarized, so it's hard to know if they are authentic or staged.

Power of Attorney - A person (or persons) of your choosing has access to things like bank accounts, real estate, business stuff, medical records, etc. while you are still living. Often, elderly persons seek out POAs (usually their adult children) to help handle their affairs, but generally it is good for a person of any age to have one for emergencies so they can advocate on your behalf. POAs can be fired by you at any time, and are held accountable by law should they violate this document.

Medical Directive (also called "Medical Power of Attorney" or "Living Will") - This is a document that grants power to a person (or persons) of your choosing to make medical decisions for you if you are unable to communicate (example: coma, brain death). You designate whether or not you want to donate organs, whether or not you consent to life support, etc. - and it is up to your agent to ensure that your wishes are respected.

Will - The document most people know about. It determines who inherits your estate after you die, who your executor is (person in charge of estate), any distribution of material objects/properties/money, etc. - also if you have any specific requests.

your documents can be updated as many times as you deem necessary. and, in fact, should be updated throughout your life depending on circumstance. your ex husband should not be your Medical Directive agent, for example. maybe you don't want to leave a generous donation in your will to such-and-such organization because they turned out to be bigots. but if your documents hold up five, ten, twenty years from now... if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Before January 2025:

If you are a USAmerican in a relationship that might be affected by legislation that dissolves same-sex marriages, who may no longer be recognized as next-of-kin, especially if you have children, get your rights in writing!

Your marriage certificate may not be enough to prove you have rights to make medical decisions for non-biological children or for a same-sex spouse or partner.

Go to a lawyer, get it spelled out as clearly as possible that you have a voice in emergency medical and legal situations.

[fuck-customers]

I work as an auto shop receptionist. Not even a big, like, chain company (like Jiffy Lube or the like), just a little shop that you'd drive past and not even realize it's there unless you were looking. And we get some of the most entitled customers, I swear. To list a couple of the most memorable ones:

1) A customer's vehicle totaled out by his insurance company. They would not pay for the repairs. The vehicle was in absolutely no condition to be driven (missing the whole front end, front axle busted, etc). The customer showed up at the shop, demanding his vehicle back, demanding to know why we weren't fixing it, and then called the cops on us when we would not just give the vehicle over without him paying checkout costs. He was complaining about needing his car back to drive Uber. My guy, you are not driving Uber in that piece of shit. Even the cop looked at the guy like "this isn't a 911 emergency, stop wasting our time".

2) A customer was told her vehicle would be done on XX date by our automated system. We explain, in great detail throughout communications, that the automated system is not a guaranteed date, but an estimated date that can fluctuate based on any number of variables (deliveries get delayed, wrong part comes in, additional damage gets found, insurance company twiddling their thumbs), and as a rule we cannot release a vehicle to a customer without some form of proof of payment. From insurance companies we get a pay screen (a screenshot showing payment is being issued) that gives us the okay. Well, she shows up at our shop on XX date...vehicle not only is not done, but we also don't have the payscreen. She proceeds to flip out like the raging Karen she is (she even had the haircut) and said we were "holding her car hostage". No amount of explaining that the vehicle was not fucking done yet would appease her, not even from the manager. When she came back when the car WAS done, she was unbelievably bitchy about it.

3) A customer who apparently thought he could just leave a completed vehicle on our lot for over a month and that storage charges were just a bluff. Needless to say, he got particularly irate when he came in and had nearly $2000 in storage on top of the cost of repairs because we called him and left him more messages than I can count warning him "hey, pick your shit up, you're accruing storage". Every vehicle that just sits here means one less spot for a vehicle we can work on.

4) A lady called our shop bitching about us not diagnosing her car properly. She neglected to tell us that her car was a diesel engine, and our system is not calibrated for diesel engines, so it would need to be taken up to a dealership for them to calibrate and we'd sublet the bill. She AND her dad then proceed to harass not only us but the dealership every hour, every day, demanding to know when her vehicle was going to be looked at. It got so bad the manager at the dealership called us like "you need to tell this bitch to chill".

5) Lady brings in a van that was damaged because a mouse got into the vehicle and chewed the hell out of the seats. We cannot get replacement seats (vehicle's like a 2011-2012, with specific colored seats, and they just plain don't make that shit anymore), so we arrange to get the existing seats reupholstered since the vehicle is getting detailed. She proceeds to call screaming "I DON'T WANT THEM REUPHOLSTERED I WANT NEW SEATS WHAT IF THEY STINK". Can't fucking win.

Posted by admin Rodney

[korya-elana]

Your doctor isn't always right.

This'll be a long one. No tl;dr

I see a lot of rhetoric about "doctor shopping" and "your doctor is obviously right, quit trying to claim an illness that isn't yours" and other such nonsense. So I'm here to tell you why these guys suck and why they're wrong.

I'd like everyone to keep in mind that I am studying brain science, I readily admit that, due to my health issues, I could have died without my doctors. I am firmly pro-science and pro-medicine. However.

I was actually going to type up this post a few weeks back and then the universe smacked me with a relevant situation. For some context, I recently moved back to Ohio. I had lived in NY for the past few years due to traumatic circumstances and had not received any care for my disabilities at the time. Considering one of my issues is Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (my joints and connective tissue are loosey-goosey and don't work right) and EDS causes me severe pain from constant rib dislocations/subluxations, I went to go get pain management from a specialist as soon as I was back.

This "specialist" (literally the head of the relevant department) told me there was no way that I had EDS despite my relevant testing and family history, started testing me for the WRONG illness (Marfan's, which you can tell by looking at me I do not have) and then, despite his admittance he doesn't know much about EDS, proclaimed I don't have it and it wasn't worth seeking any help. And he obviously did shit for my pain. He also said this about my proven autoimmunity.

Fast forward to two weeks ago. At the ripe old age of 30 and relatively good health despite my disabilities, I had a real stroke. Not only is this highly unusual for my age and health, it was a very, very specific type of stroke that is highly indicative of a much more dangerous type of EDS than my previous specialists had ever thought. And now I need extremely expensive and hard-to-get approved genetic testing. I have therapies several times a week and in a month I see a neurologist. Specifically, a stroke specialist where I will likely be the youngest person in the waiting room by at least 20 years.

This doctor could have killed me. He could have permanently crippled me beyond repair due to his advice. I legitimately thought I was dying. I have lost parts of my life and activities vital to my sense of self that I will never get back and I am very early on a very long road to recovery. Because my doctor was wrong. And I'll sure as shit be suing him.

So if you think your doctor is wrong, I want you to ignore every single asshole tumblerite telling you that your doctor knows best and knows better than you do. Seek that second opinion. Or your third! Or your fourth! I went through five doctors before I found one that actually knew what he was talking about and could help my dysautonomia symptoms for real. There is merit to talking about diagnosis hunting and being more sure than you should be. But doctors are not perfect. Malpractice kills people. Follow your gut feeling and find someone who knows how to talk about it. Shutting up and ignoring that feeling could get you hurt.

[laura1633]

Oh wow i have a serious problem i just went over what i wrote to you and i probably should have stopped at the first two sentences but it gets me upset the abuse lando faces i dont even like the guy i perfer oscar, max, charles and carlos but even i know that sending death threats to someone is not okay, and it upsets me that people almost always take his words out of context like when did lando say he actually had a chance at winning the wdc this year? I've seen people bash on him for the latest race where max raced incredibly, but what they dont seem to understand is that the race's terrible race conditions could have actually seriously injured him, we all seem to forget that the guy is younger then max, less experienced, and has huge problems with self-worth that actively seem to affect the way he race's. the fact that max won in the rust bucket that barely seemed to work in favor of the guy is incredable, but bashing on another driver for seemingly not wanting to take a chance with the awfull race conditions (*please note that this is what it looked like to me on what lando was doing that race where he did make mistakes but the weather wasnt helping ether* also note that that franco, oliver and others commented ether on the weather being dangerous, their cars 'Presumably the cars not agreeing with the weather ether', or the fact they couldnt see for shit and out right stated that someone should have a talk with the fia *i couldnt watch the whole race but ive seen snippets of driver radio's and the like, so i cant say with 100% certainty that this is correct*)

So yeah i think that, if i as someone who doesnt like lando, its really concerning what some people say about the guy and as a side note none of the other drivers seem to notice the hate from what ive seen but this last part might just be me. What are your thoughts on the hate lando's been getting seeming to increase anytime he seems to actually want to enjoy racing with the other more popular (equally popular?) Drivers?

🍑anon

Hi anon, 

That’s okay, I will respond to this ask rather than the previous one (but just for context for anyone else the previous ask was about fan fiction so wan’t anything mean). This ended up being a really lengthy answer because I have lots of thoughts!!! 

I’ll put the answer under the cut and tag as anti Lando despite this really just being my opinion and I personally don’t think I am being particularly harsh here but maybe people will disagree.

Firstly hopefully to most people it goes without saying that sending death threats is not okay, that goes for any of the drivers (and various other individuals that I have seen targeted over the past few years). I also have never understood people specifically going to an individual’s social media page just to spout negativity or abuse at them, if you don’t like someone you don’t need to follow them. 

However, I am surprised that people seem to be shocked that Lando is receiving hate online as this is absolutely nothing new and, if I am being honest, I have seen worse (not that this is a competition!).

I will speak from the perspective of being a Max supporter and say that the abuse he has received both online and at track has been appalling over the years. After Silverstone 2021 there were plenty of comments from people saying he ‘deserved’ such an awful crash or that they wished it had been worse. Even this year there were memes going around saying that maybe we needed a repeat of Silverstone 21 (a meme liked by Lando’s dad no less, not that I think we should be blaming children for their parent’s actions!). Not only that but there is rarely a week that goes by that I don’t see jokes online about how Jos is the only one that ‘can beat Max’ or people posting memes about Max being left at a gas station when he does badly. Max needed a bodyguard in Mexico last year because there were concerns over death threats, he’s been booed up on the podium, had people chanting cheat at him in the fan zone, every comment section on his social media includes comments telling him he is a cheat or that his achievements mean nothing. The British media are like vultures any time there is even a hint of controversy. I don’t know why everyone is suddenly up in arms about Lando receiving hate, perhaps its a case of only caring when it happens to ‘their’ driver. 

It doesn’t just happen to Max either. I don’t follow Lewis on social media but I still know the type or racist abuse he has faced over the years. Other drivers also receive abuse - Lance for example has vile things said about him, Nicholas Latifi was sent death threats after 2021. I am sure most if not every driver has experienced some level of hate. Social media can be extremely toxic. 

Do I think any of the drivers should have to deal with such toxicity? No, but Lando is nowhere near the only one to receive hate and I don’t think someone like Max who appears ‘strong’ should have to put up with things because people get the impression it doesn’t bother him.

Whether the other drivers notice, well probably they do but its not happening just to Lando. Did Lando realise how much toxicity was being thrown at Max after Austria or Mexico? Did he try and calm things with the media or did he double down and make things worse for Max? 

As for taking Lando’s words out of context. That definitely happens from time to time, the same as with any driver. Media goes for clickbait headlines and run with them. The problem is that Lando has also said things that haven’t been taken out of context and that people still find distasteful. The comments about it not being talent and being luck did not come across well. I was tempted to give him the benefit on that one and assume he was referring to himself and saying it was not him being untalented but unlucky but then he doubled down by saying nobody deserved to win the race more than George - how can I take that any other way other than the fact he was saying Max didn’t ‘deserve’ to win the race. 

As for Lando saying he thought he could win the WDC, if he didn’t think he could win it this year then to me that would be more of a concern. He has a championship winning car and has done for most the season, if he can’t win it now then when?! He should have been confident that he could win or at least put up a good fight. I would have had no problem with him openly saying he is going for the championship. Look at Charles who is not afraid to say that whilst it is still possible he is still fighting. I think part of the problem here lies with Mclaren because they should have been fully backing Lando and hyping him up but seemed to flip flop back and forth about whether they thought he was truly in the fight. It’s hardly going to give Lando confidence when his team don’t seem to be backing him as strongly as they could be. 

As for Brazil, Lando didn’t have a great race. George got past him at the start. He made too many errors. Charles finished in front of him despite starting behind him. Max, Esteban and Pierre took a risk staying out on those worn inters, they gambled on the fact the race would be red flagged but also on their abilities and confidence to keep the car on track under those conditions. They all did extremely well and deserved their podium spots. The most important thing though is that all the drivers came away without serious injuries because over the course of that weekend there were numerous occasions where entertainment was put over safety. If a driver felt they had to pit for safety reasons then I am glad they took that step.

Lando is younger than Max but I don’t think we need to baby him in terms of his racing or in terms of giving him a free pass with what he says in the media. He is 24 years old, the same age Max was when Max won his first championship under very intense pressure. 

I think you are correct about confidence or self worth affecting him. Whilst I wouldn't like to comment to much on his mentality, to me (and I don’t tend to watch too many of his interviews so I could be wrong) he seems to flop back and forth between being overly critical of himself and then also not taking accountability and saying someone else just had the fastest car or were lucky. I think it would be really good for him to be able to look as objectively as possible about where he has actually made mistakes and can improve but also being able to pick out the things he has done well and be proud of those things. 

Overall I don’t think any drivers should have to put up with the amount of hate that they have to put up with but Lando is not the only one to receive hate and, dare I say it, I don’t even think it has been as vicious as some of the things I have seen over the years. Social media is toxic and people should be more mindful and realise these are real people - all of them!! 

Also, once again lets be thankful that nobody was seriously hurt over the weekend and lets hope the Fia take steps to act more swiftly when safety cars and red flags are needed and that they put safety above other concerns.

[starfire1408]

Omg, just had a thought.

Assuming that this is still taking place in a different dimension (ie. DP and DC are not connected), imagine that it was the work of the Court of Owls. Like, all the 'evidence' and things made to look like Danny is bad (free our boy! he's inno!) was all the work from the CoO. Idk what or why they' would've wanted *those specific* kids (yk, the ones under protection program or smth?), but they wanted them, and badly (maybe some were meta's or had the high chance of becoming one?). Pissed that this guy had stopped them, time and time again. So, they planted the 'evidence' and waited until he was alone and vulnerable and took him.

(this is me copy/pasting/paraphrasing my comment here too)

Imagine the angst of Dick finally finding Danny, but he's already either vivisected or is part way through a vivisection, body still twitching, pools of blood and ectoplasm (lazarus water to the dc folks) forming around the table that Danny is on (been debating on whether Danny has had his eyes gouged out or not). He very well could be 'wearing' a muzzle that is/had basically sewn his mouth shut, yk, with tiny needles being used to keep his lips together. He can't scream anymore, both due to the muzzle (if used) and because he doesn't have anymore energy left. Faint tear stains/strains are on his face.

It can be turned into the 'fact' that Danny could've become a meta throughout this whole ordeal (we really know it's because he's a halfa), and that is the ONLY reason (to everyone else) on how he survived long enough for Night Wing (Dick) and maybe someone else that was with him, to find him.

But now, his reputation is in tatters because of the false evidence and how he was hurt and betrayed by Dick, Danny is gonna basically almost never trust anyone else ever again. He *might* forgive Dick for what he did, but sure as hell isn't gonna forget. And now, Dick is going to have to grapple the fact about all the pain and torture that Danny had gone through, the man he thought he loved, he might as well have killed Danny himself.

Just, ALL the potential ANGST.

Me sitting here rereading the adopted son looking like the try not to cry meme waiting for you to absolutely wreck me with the next part

Dick wakes groggy, every part of him sore like he was one giant bruise. It didn't make sure. He doesn't think he was hit recently, but the urge to stretch his arms and legs is almost overwhelming with the desire to ease his pain.

He had not felt stiffness in a very long time, having always been able to move and control his body however he wanted. The last time he felt like this was when Bruce introduced him to a fighting style that was more stationary and went against his natural reflexes.

He might have to do basic morning stretches to get his flexibility and help with the weighted feeling.

He goes to do just that when he feels the restraints on all four of his limbs hinder his movement. Dick's head loads to the side, staring down at the metal clasp tightly against his wrists. He blinks owlishly at it, static blurring in his mind as he tries to compute what the hell is happening.

Slowly gazing around, he concludes he's in a dark room, with the only light hanging over his head like a makeshift spotlight. Usually, his eyes would work rather well in the dark—years of running around the city at night as Robin and Nightwing helped condition them—but the bright light over his head put enough of a strain on his pupils that he couldn't make anything else around him in contrast.

He was wearing his pajamas, the ones Raven had switched him into, using her magic to avoid his skin as much as possible.

She had Kori hold him up because Dick hadn't had the strength to do it himself. Did that explain the soreness? Why had he felt so exhausted? What had he been doing?

It's all a blur for a few moments when an image appears in his mind with utter clarity.

It's Crowne crying in a police cruiser.

It all comes rushing back like a breaking dam, including his depressed state of rotting away as the world moves on and the mysterious intruders who broke into the Manor.

Oh crude.

It takes a moment for his mind to catch up to his situation. Sadly, by the time he realizes he was likely kidnapped, the door to his room opens.

The light emanating from the hallway is brighter than the spotlight on Dick, which makes it hard to make out any details about the person who walks through, but he does pick up the fact the tile is pure white and the wall behind him is pained in black.

Standing in the doorway, just observing him, is the very same figure Dick was thinking of. The same all-black clothing, half-covered face, and burning blue eyes stare back at him. This time there is no anger in them, though; all Dick can make out from those blue iris is cold indifference, studying Dick like a bug stuck underneath a needle during a scientific study.

Dick's eyes flicker to the hallway again, attempting to gather more information from the environment than the stranger. Usually, that wouldn't narrow anything down, but Bruce had always advocated that any clue was helpful, including the decor of his kidnappers.

One never knows when a seemingly innocent wallpaper could pinpoint a location because of its uniqueness. The fact the door slipped up and down to close indicated that whoever had taken him was likely more technically advanced than an average grunt.

It did make sense, seeing as they had snatched Dick from the middle of the Wayne Manor surrounded by not only the Bats but the Teen Titans too.

Sadly, with the door closed, it plunges the room into more darkness, effectively shadowing the small figure. Dick feels a lick of unease as the sound of footsteps echoes throughout the room.

He was circling Dick, walking around him like a shark ready to pounce.

"Finally, you are more aware." The person says, voice shockingly young. Male and, if Dick concentrated enough, somewhat familiar. "Good. The whole pathetic, sad bit was getting old. Especially with the fact you were the one who caused your downward spiral."

"What would you know of the pain I went through?" Dick demands, not paying mind to the odd things they are saying. He knew villains rarely, if ever, made sense, but he needed more information.

"I know plenty, seeing as you were the one who stole my brother from me!" The disembodied voice snaps, sounding a little closer than before. He's on Dick's right side now, which meant he had redone his loop.

"What, brother?" Dick asks, eyes shifting through the darkness. He makes out a darker blur just to the left of him and keeps it within his provisional vision, aware that if he turns his head or follows with his eyes, then the perk may be agitated into aggression.

"Don't play dumb with me, Nightwing," The boy hisses, sending a shot of alarm down Dick's spine. He's not in his vigilante gear, which means this person knew who he was going in to take him. "We both know the truth now. You were lying to him for months, telling him you loved him and making him think you cared before you took him away!"

Dick figures out who it is just as the blur finally steps out of the shadows to slam his hands on the arm handles of his chair. He fights a wince as the open palm slaps sting around his wrist but refuses to show the crazed little boy an inch of weakness.

A healthy response to all of Bruce's training, including his other teachers over the years, was how to keep a level head in hostage situations

Tim Drake glares at him with near-manic eyes, his black cloth doing nothing to hide his sneer. "Where is Danny? Where have you taken him!?"

A flash of hurt burns across Dick's chest; the near-crushing weight of heartbreak would have brought him to his knees were he not tied to a chair.

As he meets Drake's eyes, it takes everything to cover up his reaction to that name. "He's locked up where he will pay for his crimes."

"He didn't do anything wrong!" Drake sneers, pushing away from Dick to pace back and forth. He's half hidden in the shadows now, only his feet visible, but Dick does not take his eyes off of him. He doesn't want to know what else he could do if skilled enough to break into the Manor. "Danny was just trying to help."

"Human trafficking was just help? He's a menace!" Dick snaps and is rewarded with a slap across the face. It stings, but it's not as alarming as the speed at which Drake moved.

Dick hadn't even seen it coming until seconds before his palm touched his cheek.

"Danny wasn't selling kids! He was rescuing them, moving them from dangerous situations because you and the government couldn't be bothered to help those without voices." Drake spat, hate dripping from every syllable. "If any of you had bothered to even look for the kids, you would know that!"

"He kidnapped them. He used corrupted CPS agents to move them out of city bounds, changed their names, and placed them in homes that gave the highest bidding. That's the very definition of trafficking!"

Drake hisses something under his breath; it's in a language he's never heard before, but it doesn't sound entirely human. Shit, did Drake have extraterrestrial allies?

"What other options was there? You, of all people, know there is no more room in Gotham. Or did you forget your time in juvie just because there was no space anywhere before Brucie Wayne felt the need to take pity on the local circus freak?" Drake spits, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Having heard the same thing from various people since he was nine, Dick did not react to the taunt. He is a bit uncomfortable that Drake knows of Dick's placement the first few weeks following his parent's deaths.

There should be no public record of that, as he wasn't sent to juvie for any crime. It was just the only place available with space. In his file, the only thing that indicated his stay there was the sentence "Emergency foster house twenty-three nine-teen," which happened to be the cell number they stuck him in.

Bruce had made an effort not to let that information leak since it embarrassed Dick and had buried it in piles and piles of legal actions. Not even Jason or Barbra could find it, even after they actively went looking for Dick's information. Just how much did Drake know?

"Whatever. It doesn't matter. Your government dogs can't get to the kids; Danny had a policy in place, and everyone involved knew the risks. They may spend the rest of their lives in prison, but they helped children, and they all would do it again. Those that age out are untouchable, and those that escaped will be hidden until their eighteen birthdays." Drake sighs, moving back to stand in front of Dick. His voice is unnervingly under control as if the fit he just had never happened.

This wasn't a boy with a regular imbalance; this was one who could and would think logically when hurting others. A sociopath, and worse, a dangerous one.

Drake's cold, emotionless eyes suddenly overwhelm Dick's sight as the boy leans in very close to hiss. "What matters is where you have Danny. Tell me where he is."

"He's in jail while they get his Blackgate cell nice and warm for him-"

Drake slaps Dick again, voice hard as steel but not raised. Not screaming. Just even, almost soft, were it not for the threat that lingers in each word. "Don't lie. Danny was never sent there."

"What? Of course, he was. After his arrest, he was taken to jail pending his trial." Dick insisted, watching as Drake's eyes ran over his face as if searching for fault in his words. "Everyone saw his arrest on TV!"

"You don't know," Drake mutters, leaning back and rubbing his chin. He isn't looking at Dick anymore, not really, but his eyes are trained on Dick's face. "Danny vanished a few hours after his arrest. There is no indication he was moved to any jail or police holding unit. There was a shift in guard, seeing as Officer Black was too emotionally compromised to finish. He hit Danny too many times not to count it as police brutality. I thought the Justice Leauge had taken him during that change in gaurd, but if it wasn't you, and it wasn't the government, then who has Danny?"

What?

"The hell are you talking about?" Dick demands, but Drake isn't listening anymore; he walks back into the shadows, his footsteps somehow louder than before as the door reopens.

This time, there is a small group of figures on the other side, each varying in size and gender, but one thing is clear.

They are all children.

The missing children from Crowne's ring, Dick is sure of it even if they all have half of their faces covered to protect their identity. A few of them send glares at Dick, but most are staring at Drake with anticipation.

One brave little girl, based on her voice steps forward.

She addresses Drake with an odd little salute, one closed fist smacking her chest before she twists her wrist, causing her fist to move forward and drags her hand down. "Leader?"

"He didn't take Danny," Drake announces, and a few shoulders drop in disappointment. "In fact, I'm starting to think no human did. Someone or something else is at play here."

"But…what about the Parkers?" A boy, older, maybe later teenage years, demands. He sounds worried, angry and frantic all mixed into one."They got sent to prison because of me!"

"They did not. They knew the risks and still chose to give you a good home. Don't worry; once we find Danny, we will be able to save the Parkers." Drake assured.

One of the children gestures at Dick, voice dipping into disgust. "What do we do with him?"

"Leave him be for now. We don't know when Grayson will come in handy for a hostage trade." Drake answers, not even bothering to glance in Dick's direction. "For now, we move as planned. Are the videos set to go?"

"Yes, Leader, they will broadcast over every open screen in the whole city. Everyone who ever talked bad about Danny is going to eat their words." Another boy, younger than Drake, it sounded like, announces holding up a tablet.

Drake takes it, considering the screen before gesturing for them to move. "Good job, team. By this time tomorrow, the world will never look at the Waynes the same again."

The group parts allow Drake to stride forward, and the door slams down again, leaving Dick to remain in his only source of light.

He sits there in confusion, wondering what the hell Drake was going on about. Obviously, Danny is facing justice for what he has done. Where else could he be?

It's not like people just vanish from government custody.

Did they?

A small horrifying thought starts to take root in Dick's mind as he carefully feels around his restraints, hoping to escape them.

What if Crowne was never the one selling the kids? What if someone else had framed him, and now that Dick had exposed him, they had chosen to silence him?

What if….Dick truly killed the man he loved?

Or what if Drake had it all wrong and was brainwashed like Harley Quinn with the Joker? How else would Crowne know to put policies that ensure the children were not found the moment he was captured? And what were they planning to do to the Waynes?

There were too many questions, not enough answers, and not nearly enough reassurance that everything would work out. For the first time in days, motivation and intent lit in Dick, and the broken-hearted man was gone.

Now, all that was left was one of the greatest heroes in the world, and he was ready to figure out what the hell was going on. He needed to get out of here.

He needed to find Crowne, there was obviously more then met the eye.

[sl-walker]

Self-Promotion as Distraction

Want something to read? Here's my stuff that I'd rec, along with what kind of mood it's good for. Feedback adored if you read any of these and wanna give it.

Supernatural - The (Second) Book of James - Long Good if you like stories written before Season 9, tons of angel lore and metaphysics, angel-vessel relations, Jimmy Novak, a story told backwards-and-forwards, and something with a very bittersweet ending that is not actually the ending. Some warning for tragedy, of a sort. If you love Cas and Jimmy, though, it's a hell of an adventure, especially if you like Cas as a total badass.

Star Trek: The Original Series - The Arc of the Wolf - Long Good if you love your Trek stories very grounded and humanistic. Pretty much the life story of Montgomery Scott, it's very much a Scotty story first and a Trek story only sometime after that. There's drama, humor, high seas piracy, friendship, found family and even if you don't actually know Trek very well, I've been told you don't need to in order to enjoy it.

Star Wars - Witness me - Long Good if you like Maul and specifically Obimaul, especially with the more Legends lean on Maul's characterization. Basically an AU where Maul was captured after Theed, the series doesn't ignore the fact that Maul was cut in half, so it's very heavy on the psychology and relationship building. It also has a whole gamut of emotions explored, and beyond the Obimaul, you also have found family and friendship building and an absolutely awesome cast of clones in Blackbirds: Year One. Probably my most popular work, and not entirely without reason.

Star Wars - Undersong - Long-ish Good if you like id-fic! A Sith AU where both Obi-Wan and Maul are raised by Sidious before escaping together, it's largely written in a serial format, with short chapters and a lot of momentum. Good if you don't like long, dense chapters, but do like a story with some real rollercoaster emotion. I enjoyed the hell out of the supporting cast, and so does everyone who reads it, too.

DC Comics/JLI - Past Resolution's Power - Mid-length Good if you want a shorter tale but with teeth. The prequel series to Stardust, this one primarily looks at the short span of time between the book Justice League: Generation Lost (and Booster Gold Vol. 2) and Flashpoint, mostly centered around Booster, but also with Rani and Rip and Michelle and Guy. It's a pretty heavy and genuinely mature story, though it's got its light spots, too. Also called the Mk. I timeline, as its the first.

DC Comics/JLI - Carbon Cycle - Long Good if you want something long, involved, sometimes incredibly fluffy and definitely filled with warmth. The Mk. III timeline -- meaning the third reboot, versus the Mk. I timeline above -- takes place mostly around DC's Rebirth era, on the notion that the characters aren't getting cleanly reset every time and instead that there are these echoes from past lives. The main story, Stardust, is Booster/Beetle slowburn, lots of funny but also lots of sincerity, and later on some heavier stuff creeping in, but the supporting cast has some serious screentime, too.

How about you, Tumblr? GIVE US YOUR DISTRACTION RECS.

[gittessimsadventuresog]

"I can't believe it, it really is you, you're real this time..."

Finally, it's here!

My YOU poseset, containing 24 poses and 9 duo's of MLM couple poses

This is made for my own sorta-legacy sorta-hardcore story, specifically my current heir/main character's love arc* (see bottom of post). Having a very specific idea in mind of how they refind their soulmate, I started playing with the idea of learning to make poses again. "sitting at bar 1" is the very first pose I made in 10 years!

I already made some posesets in my early teens which are still available on Modthesims, but wanting my Florian (they/them pronouns) to have the perfect story motivated me to get into it again.

As these poses are made for very specific scenes, it speaks for itself that the precise moves and expressions are equally specific. But, as the world really needs more LGBTQA+ poses, I decided to put it up for download publicly anyway. I am sure you can do more with them than how I used them.

Without further ado, the poses ~

At the bar

a_YOU-sittingatbar1 - head resting on one hand, other arm on bar, sad expression

a_YOU-sittingatbar2 - head resting on two hands, sad expression

a_YOU-sittingatbar3 - looking up in surprise with hands near mouth, shocked/disbelieving expression

a_YOU-meetingatbar1 - A, Still shocked/disbelieving, standing up, touching B a_YOU-meetingatbar2 - B, sitting on BAR, smiling teary-eyed at A while stroking their hair/cheek

This pose also has an alternative version, for sitting on a counter for some reason:

a_YOU-meetingatbar2v2 - B, sitting on COUNTER, smiling teary-eyed at A while stroking hair/cheek

(The story here is that the moment purple-dressed guy Finn realizes Florian won't put him on literal fire, he just kinda jumps over the bar to get to them asap. It's a long story)

a_YOU-meetingatbar3 - A, stroking B's cheek and holding B's hand, smiling teary eyed a_YOU-meetingatbar4 - B, leaning against bar/counter, holding A's waist, holding hand

At home

(The couch poses are specifically made for the basegame couch pictured. I on purpose picked out a versatile couch. But the poses will only work for couches with similar arm & backrest heights)

a_YOU-athome1 - A, Hand on hip, looking at B with teasing expression a_YOU-athome2 - B, left arm gesturing around, welcoming A

a_YOU-athome3 - B, sitting on couch with arm resting on backrest, other hand on knee. Gesticulating. a_YOU-athome4 - A, sitting against couch, one leg tucked, staring lovingly at B

a_YOU-athome5 - B, sitting on couch, gesticulating but stopped mid-sentence a_YOU-athome6 - A, sitting on couch, creeping nearer towards B; staring lovingly while stroking B's cheek

Forking finally

a_YOU-athome7 - B, sitting on couch kissing A a_YOU-athome8 - A, sitting on couch kissing B

(Finn felt guilty about not trying harder to reconnect with Florian and was like "maybe we shouldn't do this")

a_YOU-athome9 - B, leaning over A while holding their waist, arm resting on backrest couch; hesitating to proceed. a_YOU-athome10 - A, laying on couch, looking slightly confused but lovingly at B while holding their face and butt.

a_YOU-athome11 - B, same as #9 but kissing a_YOU-athome12 - A, same as #10 but kissing

Next morning, Florian wanted more :P

a_YOU-athome13 - B, hands in sink (basegame cheap pedestal sink), looking slightly sideways at A a_YOU-athome14 - A, holding B from behind; left hand on chest and right hand near private region

a_YOU-athome15 - B, turning head to A, right hand near private region & left hand holding A's head, kissing A a_YOU-athome16 - A, turning towards B, kissing B

Feel free to tag me when you use them :)

Download poselist compatible(SLS) / Mediafire

Download non-poselist compatible (SLS) / Mediafire

(Big size because it contains pictures)

Story background (spoilers, duh)

Florian and Finn (Born Yìchén, but uses Finn since moving to the West) met each other on holiday to Isla Paradiso when they were 14. Florian has two moms and grew up very progressive, while Finn's parents pretty much laid out a "you will study business, take over the company and marry a pretty healthy son bearing girl" future laid ahead of him, on top of his mother being quite homophobic no matter what. The two hit it off immediately (chapter 3) - Finn initially being fascinated by Florian's supernatural heritage - and fall in love quickly. But Finn needs to leave in a few days. Right as they're exchanging contact info, Florian does not even know how to spell Finn's original name, Finn's mom starts arguing with him and quite literally pulls them apart; the next morning, Finn is gone, unable to leave a note behind even. His mom wanted to leave asap because of the "bad influence her son gets". Florian is absolutely heartbroken (chapter 4), but as there's no way for them to find Finn - not knowing his full name, they have different social media where he lives etc - ultimately gives up. But Florian never forgets Finn: they never stopped loving each other, being harshly pulled apart the way they were but are kept apart for 14 years due to misunderstandings and circumstances. Florian's life becomes a bit of a mess due to a variety of reasons, their mental health takes a big hit and on top of it, they start hallucinating Finn for a reason that is yet to be revealed. Florian goes on holiday for their mental health. They first go to Shang Simla where they uncover the secrets of Sim Fu, and then decides to travel on to Isla Paradiso, hoping that seeing the place of the plumbobforsaken holiday again will put a permanent stop to the hallucinations. They go out, visit a bar, are confused because the bartender hides himself for them, the bartender pretty much begs them to say what's on their mind while still crouching on the ground hiding behind a corner, seemingly decides it's safe to reveal himself, and guess who's the bartender, in that same place as where they met each other half a lifetime ago... (chapter 19 - 20)

@kpccfinds @simfluencer-network

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

What if you wanted to knit but your body said "arthritis induced depressive episode ONLY" t-t

In my state of Not Knitting I've mostly been playing bideo wames but also decided to indulge in my favourite past time of reading multi million word Korean webnovels. One of said webnovels features a metric fuck ton of Hot Pink Yarn. And a man I'm very normal about knitting things for a man he's very normal about. Including a cardigan.

Do I in any way need a hot pink cardigan knit specifically to mimic the one from the novel? Absolutely not. But I Want It. (Also I've been wanting to knit a cardigan for like a year now and keep changing my mind)

In the novel, the yarn used is from a monster sheep that's later dyed hot pink. I'm not willing to use real wool for this, so instead I'm going with acrylic and got some of Hobbii's Fluffy Day in Deep Pink. Which is just an eye watering colour (canonically the hot pink yarn is painful to behold) and comes personally recommended from a friend of mine. I also got a roll of a glitter thread also sold through Hobbii in pink. Both to make the overall cardigan more obnoxious but also to give it more of a "this is wool from a monster sheep" and not just acrylic yarn.

As for the actual cardigan, it's described as a "Handmade Hot Pink Long Cardigan" "roomy and had big pockets" "(while a wip) an elaborate knitting pattern". There's enough wiggle room I can do basically anything I want with this. But my brain has latched on to the word "elaborate" and won't let go. So as soon as I get my hands on The Yarn, I'm going to swatch for this cardigan pattern published by Vogue Knitting.

It's quite possible this yarn does Not work for that pattern but I want to try it anyway just to suffer. And if it does work, I'll have to grade up the pattern, and potentially make changes to the length of the cardigan (I bought quite a bit more yarn than I thought I'd need just in case). But this pattern just Feels Right, the guy who knits is constantly wearing designer clothes so knitting an actual designer pattern is perfectly in theme. I've also been informed that the Fluffy Day yarn is incredibly warm so having a bit of open work would help with heat regulation.

If I complete this cardigan within the next ten years and have extra yarn left over I'll be sure to knit the matching hat (including a pom-pom), scarf long enough for several people to use, and fingerless gloves. All in hot pink so bright it's probably going to give me several headaches. Read S-Classes I Raised it's so good it'ssogood

[deathsmallcaps]

I need advice.

I’m a white intern working in a mostly white southern(ish) high school. Students of Color number at under 2%, perhaps even lower. It’s a very white, rural community - I grew up in a fairly mixed, suburban northern community, and part of my family is Black.

Several of my white students say rude things to my Students of Color. I’ve told them to knock it off *as appropriately as I can* but I’m probably one of the few adults that actively discourage that behavior.

I don’t want to let this shit fly under the radar, but I also know that if an adult of authority *who will only be here for a couple more weeks* interferes, and then doesn’t stick around, it could make things worse. Additionally, I know these kids are probably very very very used to this ‘system’ and that making a short-term change could be more harmful than helpful.

I asked one of my senior students after a very racist incident *where she was laughing along with the perpetrator but I told him to stop anyway* that I can move him, or her, so she could be more comfortable (admin either does nothing or slaps wrists, especially for seniors). She said it was fine and that he was always like that.

I must emphasize, I think they were bantering (they talk so much I think they consider each other friends?), but it was also wayyy fucking out of line, especially in a school setting. And the guy says so much out of line shit I’m surprised he isn’t rocking a full set of dentures to replace the teeth he ought to have lost by now.

Another student took me up on my offer to move people, but I ended up moving him, which sucks because he was the victim in this situation. Unfortunately, I have to keep his aggressors in their spots, as they are highly rowdy in all the ways and require a lot more supervision than he did. And the class is really full. These were also all freshmen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that affected the victim’s reaction.

So I’d really appreciate advice as to whether I should let it be, or continue as is, or step it up even more, from People of Color in largely white, especially rural, communities. Like any advice from current or previous educators, especially Educators of Color would be appreciated, but specifically southern/rural ones would be wonderful. I’m going to talk to my family members about it, but they’ve lived in more Northern settings their entire lives and they may have less … applicable (?) experience to the situation.

Again, I’m an intern, I’m going to only be there until winter break 2024, and I don’t want to fuck things up for these kids in the long run with my northern ally ‘sensibilities’. Thank you!

[yourlokalescholar]

Found this in my notes from months ago. Copy-pasting it here because it’s still funny to me

One of those “modern ancient gods” stories where everyone has forgotten what Loki’s the god of and they refuse to fucking tell anyone.

Hermes: “urgh yeah, I’ve had to give up a bunch of my domains to other gods since I ‘have too many’. Glad I’m still the trickster god tho” / MC: “what about Loki?? I just met them, I know they’re real too.” / Hermes: “oh yeah ofc. They’re not a trickster god lmao.”

Loki: “why does everyone think I hate humans?? I love you guys!” / Athena: “aha! So you’re… some kind of patron god of humanity? Of civilisation?” / Loki: “no lol that’s Heimdall. Good guess though <3” / Athena, vibrating with rage: “how the fuck did you say that out loud.”

MC: “so you’re supposed to know everything, right?” / Toth: “I do, yes.” / MC: “so you know Loki’s domain?!” / Toth: “…theoretically.”

It’s unclear which pantheons are real. Gods occasionally mention other gods outside of their pantheons, but it’s always like Loki or Hermes or some other untrustworthy god so it’s never clear if they’re taking the piss or not.

Hermes: “yeah, so Mercury was telling me the other day–“ / MC: “I thought you and Mercury were the same god??” / Hermes: “no? He’s Roman, keep up.” / MC: “but… almost all of the Roman gods are the same as Greek gods! There’s so much overlap there! How does that work?! Are there two Apollos!?” / Hermes: “wouldn’t you like to know”

Several different versions of almost every god exist simultaneously and paradoxically, because they pretty much become new characters every time their legends are told. Sometimes—but not always—differentiated by different spellings (eg. Dionysus and Dionisos)

Jesus is mentioned often (usually by Loki) but never appears. It is again unclear whether or not he exists

Actually I’ve decided Loki and Hermes are the most prominent gods in this story and it is a comedy

Dionysus and Thor are drinking buddies

I don’t know who the MC is. Presumably they’re saving the world. I don’t know why Hermes and Loki are the only ones helping

Actually wait. Idea: the gods are imprisoned somehow by someone and various versions of Hermes and Loki are the only guys slippery slimy enough to escape

Most of the Lokis ARE imprisoned as they are canonically, but since every version from every myth (presumably—again, none of them are quite sure which versions from which pantheons exist) exists simultaneously, this Loki happens to not be imprisoned yet. They insist they’ve actually just escaped, and it’s unclear if this is true or not

Actually no, Loki SPECIFICALLY is the main god, and Hermes is known to have also escaped and just shows up every so often. He doesn’t like to stay still. Sometimes it’s very clearly a different Hermes, but apart from his appearance he is always exactly the same. Sometimes it’s the one-day-old baby that stole Apollo’s cattle

So, the extent of the worldbuilding so far is: all versions of every god from every pantheon presumably exist, but it’s impossible to tell WHICH ones specifically, or how they’re created, or how far this extends (eg. The modernish satan Loki interpretation exists despite not being from the original Norse myths). The gods are all imprisoned by someone, but Loki and Hermes and probably other gods escape, but one Loki specifically ends up in the MC’s house. The main reason they’re helping is because without Idun’s apples they’re mortal

[minksstinks1]

A short fic of mine in progress (also on Ao3)

What a Nerd, Chapter 1

Ford Pines x Reader

Summary:

Ford Pines is an awkward, introverted university guy who doesn't expect to get attention from someone such as you. He's unfamiliar with romance and isn't quite sure what he's doing in general, but he's trying his absolute best.

You two are immediately drawn to eachother and aren't sure why exactly, but you both seem to be incredibly happy to have one another in the end.

---------♡

Working at the local library could be incredibly boring and isolating at times, but it had at least given you a quiet place to study while you waited for anyone to approach you to ask for help- which wasn't often.

You'd think that the closest library to your local university, Backupsmore, would be filled with students constantly, but you had to again remind yourself that this university was considered one of the lowest of the lows. 90% of the people would do the absolute bare minimum to pass their classes and get their degrees to move far far away from this town.

All of them, except for one you had noticed.

A man who came in almost every day with a bag that looked like it weighed more than him, and he would stay until closing time. You'd never seen him say a word or come in with anyone else. He'd move to the middle of all the bookshelves at the left of the entrance, and would study for hours like his life depended on it. Weirdly enough, you had never seen him actually check-out any books from the library. You wondered if he knew he was allowed to do that or not.

Some days, it seemed like he was studying for fun, but other times he'd stress himself out so badly, he'd leave looking like he'd got in a nasty cat fight. Brown hair messy, clothes disheveled and sweaty, and looking like he hadn't slept in days. You speculated on how long he'd actually stay in the library every day if there was no closing time.

It was a typical, quiet day as always. You were scanning over your book when you heard the large library doors creak open. Cold winter air rushed in, causing a harsh shiver to climb up your spine. You looked up and saw the same familiar man again. After barely catching a glimpse of his face, you watched him swiftly make his way towards his usual spot. It seemed he had a routine and stuck with it, he seems the type.

You attempted to get back to studying once more, but it seemed practically impossible. The words began to blur together and everything had suddenly become ten times more boring than previously. You weren't sure what it was specifically, but today you were particularly captivated by this quiet, peculiar man.

'I have to know what he's up to every day.'

'Does he study the same thing, or multiple?'

Thoughts swarmed your head.

'Is this even for his classes?'

You stood up and looked around for an excuse to head over there. Your eyes landed on the nearby half-filled book cart. Perfect. Your prayers were being answered today, you thought as you rushed towards the cart and began pushing it around, actually getting a good chance to do your job for once. You knew you couldn't immediately go right towards his little station he had set up; that would be too suspicious.

As you put books away lazily, you kept looking over your shoulder in the aisle to make sure he wasn't leaving for any reason. He seemed so sweet, you didn't want to freak him out accidentally. Maybe he just wanted to be left alone completely and that's why he was so secluded. Thoughts raced through your head, filling you with an overwhelming anxiety. Trying to get you to turn back at all costs and give it up.

You weren't quite sure what drew you to this boy so strongly, but it must be for a good reason.

Finally, after several agonizingly long minutes, you ended up in the same isle as that same man. He glanced up at you for only a moment when he heard the cart approaching and you pretended to be looking at something else. He then immediately went back to his intensive studying, brown eyes inspecting every word carefully, but quickly as well. You weren't sure why, but this made your face heat up slightly. He was always working so hard and was definitely the most nerdy guy you had ever seen, but you meant that in the most endearing sense you could.

You began to put books away and when you had a moment, peered over your shoulder and quickly checked over one of the numerous books he had open. Deciding to be bold for once, you took a deep breath and turned towards him.

"I take it you major in physics?" You softly spoke, you didn't want to startle him. "But I can't imagine you'd come in here every day for hours to study only that."

Ford was snapped out of his focus and looked around, completely caught off guard. "I- uh- pardon?" His eyes finally landed on you, looking right down at him. "Oh, uhm, yes- I mean- no," He nervously fiddled with his hands under the desk and took a moment to collect himself.

"I mean I DO major in physics, but I also study hyper-advanced engineering, fifth-dimensional calculus," he began counting on his fingers. You were absolutely shocked at how many things he was taking on in this simple university. "-Applied quantum phase theory, but that's just for fun, of course." He then got to his sixth finger and once he realized, immediately hid his hands under the table once more. Lucky for him, you barely noticed this detail. You assumed he was just nervous.

"Wow, I can't believe you're at Backupsmore doing all this." The surprise on your face was visible, though you were smiling still. "Why not attend some elite college or something? I'm sure you'd be able to get a scholarship or something."

He immediately cringed thinking about his past highschool incident with West Coast Tech and his brother. He wasn't quite sure what you wanted or why you were talking to him. In his eyes, you didn't seem the type to speak to people like him with kindness. He felt a pit in his stomach assuming that you were probably just making fun of him.

"Yeah, well, I'm here now." He spoke, bluntly.

You were a little taken aback by his sudden change in tone. Had you upset him somehow? That same exact feeling in your stomach was now present, almost as if it were mirroring his.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted," you began. "Or if I said something wrong... It's just that I noticed you work quite hard here about every single day and I'm impressed!" You gave him another soft smile, hoping to lighten the tone.

'About every single day?' He wondered how you knew that at first. It then hit him that you actually WORKED here as assistant librarian. He passed by you every time he came in here and he was just now realizing you were the same person? He started to feel a bit bad that he hadn't ever actually spoken to you before this at all.

"Oh, yes! I uhm," he was attempting to quickly think of something to say. Maybe you weren't as bad as he thought you were after all, and that you were genuinely interested in having a conversation with him. This made him feel even worse knowing that he was the one to always be judged by the other kids in school for how he looked on the outside considering his extra fingers, and now he believed he was doing practically the same to another in his own head. He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking up once more,

"I apologize if I was a bit short with you, it's just that I assumed you were here to tease me," he nervously rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "-but, I shouldn't have assumed that; it was rude of me."

You wondered what would've made him think that you were going to tease him. Was this a common problem with him? You started to feel for him and looked down at him kindly. "It's alright. I promise, I'm genuinely interested right now."

He lightly tugged at the back of his own hair at your response. He was so anxious right now and didn't know how to contain it, but he appreciated your genuine words and gave a small smile back. Your gaze was practically killing him.

"Well, I'll let you be," you placed your last book back on the shelf for this section. Taking the cart handle in your gentle grasp, you began to leave, not not before looking over your shoulder one last time at the man. "By the way, the library closes in about twenty minutes."

The man watched you leave and once you turned the corner, he let go of the piercing air in his lungs that he didn't know he was holding in. He wiped the excessive sweat off of his hands onto his jeans before trying to get back to work.

If it wasn't clear, he wasn't exactly the most social type. People didn't typically approach him to converse with friendly intentions, so you caught him off guard. He felt a bit out of practice with talking to new people... which he had felt like all his life, but especially now since all the people he pretty much talked to these days were his dorm mate and his mother on the phone.

It's not to say that he disliked talking to you, it was just a very different and uncommon interaction for him. He almost wanted you to talk to him more.

He then noticed that two rows of bookshelves down, you were returning the rest of the books on the cart back to their original places. He leaned back on his chair carefully to get another look at you, attempting to make it as least obvious as possible. He couldn't deny that you were very pretty to him, which is part of the reason why he was confused that you were talking to him. He wondered what someone like you was doing in a dusty old library, as you came off as more of the average outgoing partying type.

He quickly re-adjusted his chair back to normal when you turned back towards his way. He had just met you and was worried he was going to freak you out unintentionally. He obviously wasn't trying to, he was just incredibly awkward, though also curious.

Curious about you.

The last couple minutes of closing, he stayed staring right down at his watch, completely zoning out. The man was completely caught up in his work one moment, and then felt his brain turning to mush the next. He didn't quite understand what was happening, but before he knew it, both hands struck eight on the clock and he had to leave. He swiftly gathered up his belongings and shoved the rest of his books in his large backpack. After struggling with closing his bag for a moment, he eventually was able to zip it up like normaland head out.

He was worried about staying to late as he didn't want to be an inconvenience for you- something which he never took into account before today apparently it seemed.

He began to leave and as he passed by your desk where you were gathering up your own items, he swallowed thickly and spoke,

"Well, uhm, see you tomorrow, I presume?" He begins to sweat again. 'Oh god,' he thought. Was he making a big mistake?

You look up at him. "Hm? Oh, oh! Yes, definitely!" You say, a little too enthusiastically for your own liking.

He gives a relieved smile at your response and can leave comfortably knowing his interaction with you went well.

Before he was officially out the door, you shouted out one last thing before he left, "Be safe walking around campus tomorrow, I heard it's going to be icy out!"

"Thank you, will do!" He waved back without turning around.

When the door shut and the cold air subsided, you both thought the same thing to yourself,

'I never got their name.’