#hi hoc :3

[aroace-poly-show]

is there anything better than in a sudden frenzy coming up with an entire au with a friend

[silverwhittlingknife]

dick vs. apartment organization, a story in three parts

new teen titans 10, new titans 65, nightwing: target

"i can't believe this place." "i thought you were moving." "you live like a slob."

everybody's a critic dsfsfdsf

[whetstonefires]

Hmm 18 and 29?

18) What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

Oh gracious. I honestly like my own stuff quite a lot, as a rule, or I wouldn't work on it long enough to finish anything. Fortunately it says 'one of.' Asking for a very favorite always paralyzes me aslkdjadfs. This is hard.

Is the word 'line' here meant to be 'pieces of dialogue' or 'sentences' or what, do you think?

I decided to pick something from my 'Jason Todd getting parented' era and then couldn't find the time to reread the like 30k of All the Roofs of Uncertainty that involve Bruce to pick out a line, so I'm going to nominate something from the fic where Talon!Jason and the Jokester have a heart-to-heart on a roof.

Hm. It has fewer good bits than roofs, being shorter, but they're all kind of interdependent, they don't stand alone very well. Hm.

"And remember, no matter what, you still have us." Jason wasn't sure what he gave away, but there must have been some kind of surprise, or doubt, because J pulled his hand away and frowned. "What, you thought…? You're one of us. Even if you leave. We love you, JJ. That's not gonna just stop." Jason opened his mouth to say something scathing, or dismissive, or defensive, but (maybe because he hadn't quite decided what tack to take) what came out was, "Why?" To be honest, it sounded more like 'whhyyyyyy?' Half whine, half word, a long syllable dragging itself out of his throat as he tried to take it back. Jokester stared at him for a split second, his hand moving like he wanted to reach out and grab Jason again but decided not to, twitched a little like he couldn't find any words that would fit out his mouth, and said, "Because!" Jason was pretty sure he said something like "that's a stupid reason why are you so stupid all the time," but honestly he wasn't sure because his body had gone into full scale mutiny and decided that it wanted to cry.

(It's the 'that's a stupid reason why are you so stupid' bit I'm so fond of; Jokester got a lot of the series' themes put into his dialogue here and they did a lot of emotional lifting, so including that bit that made me laugh felt like it made the whole fic work better.)

29) Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.

Oh this is fun, I have so many abandoned fics.

Ah! Here! A bit I had a lot of fun writing from near the end of a fic I abandoned at 65k because both the characterization and narrative had too many structural flaws to be worth the effort of an overhaul.

“Uh, Lan Zhan? What is this?” Lan Wangji glanced away from the growing stack of rice long enough to see Wei Ying’s baffled, nervous smile, then went back to counting and stacking. “Inadequate,” he said, and kept drawing out baskets from his qiankun bag. “Uh,” said Wei Ying, which was amusing, but not enough for Lan Wangji to let himself lose focus and lose count. Wei Ying sidled over and pried up the lid of a basket; stared at the contents. Uttered a stifled oath, stepping back and taking in the growing wall of rice. Mentally, Lan Wangji calculated. One dou of rice could make a single, small meal for the whole Burial Mounds population; to feed them all well, say four dou a day. Lan Wangji had appropriated well over a thousand dou of rice from the Lan—perhaps two weeks’ food, there. Here, a thousand dou would last nearly a year if they relied on it entirely and did not stint, which seemed unlikely—but it would not keep so long, in these conditions, probably even in a qiankun pouch, so some of it would have to be sold, so it would not go to mold and waste. A year of life. That was all he could offer. Such a paltry recompense, but at least it answered a real need, rather than offering merely what he thought should be wanted. Lan Wangji could learn. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said more sharply, when he was finally done with the rice and started unloading pickles. They had collected an audience now, a dozen of the Wen grouped together in the cave mouth. This was entirely undignified, but Lan Wangji could not think of any other way it could be done. Privacy wouldn’t be appropriate either, even if it was easily obtained. “Lan Zhan, what is this?” “Rice,” said Lan Wangji. Someone laughed. Wei Ying rubbed his forehead; many hours of Wangji’s aggravation in their youth were avenged. “I can see that.” Wangji finished lining up the pickled vegetables, and handed Wei Ying the single sealed jar of ginger. Wei Ying frowned at it, a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. He was adorable. He sighed, and bent to put the pickled ginger next to the pickled cabbage. “Lan Zhan,” he said. “Really. What is this?”

Lan Wangji reached into his final pouch and pulled out the bolt of deep blue silk. He could not press it into Wei Ying’s hands; they were covered in dirt. He set it across the top of one of the stacks of rice baskets. A hush had fallen over the Wen. Wanji stepped closer to Wei Ying, and sought his eyes now that he had been evading. “Gifts,” he said, and felt that the way he said it left no question of his intent.

It was a pathetic offering—nothing compared to what would have been given if he had made a match approved by his sect and clan, what would have been brought forth to honor his bride. But it was what he had been able to bring, without that approval. A dowry he had assigned himself, as it were.

And far more valuable to Wei Ying and the people he had chosen to protect than treasures would have been.

Wei Ying’s mouth and hands worked emptily for a moment, and he made several stifled sounds, as though the silence spell had somehow been cast on him without sealing his lips shut. “You,” he managed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, let it hiss out. Turned to their audience and pointed, jauntiness back in his motions, the slant of his eyebrows, the tilt of his head. “Okay, everybody scram.”

The Wen laughed at him, but they did go. Fourth Uncle called congratulations and someone whooped; Wei Ying rolled his eyes and shooed them off.

When he turned back to Wangji he was subdued again. His smile small and unreal. “Lan Zhan,” he said, “you can’t do this.”

“These are nothing.”

The linen and cotton, the other bolt of silk, the shirts, the little clothes for A-Yuan, he should unpack all of those as well. But he could not stop looking back at Wei Ying.

Wei Ying blew out another breath, puffing out his lips as it went this time. “Thank you for the rice,” he said, unhappily. “I—I don’t want to refuse it on behalf of everybody, and I….”

There was a struggle on his face that sent a chill through Lan Wangji. Wei Ying, trying to refuse a marriage, with a pile of a little more life lying at his feet as a bribe he could not ignore.

Could he never escape becoming his father.

“No,” Lan Wangji said sharply. “No, even if Wei Ying sends me away in disgrace, these things will stay here. It is not.” He stopped, gathered his thoughts. “I am not trying to buy you.” As though a year’s worth of rice and some decent silk could begin to add up to the value of Wei Ying.

“The disgrace is staying here!” Wei Ying said, shockingly direct. He seemed startled by it as well, as Wangji studied his face. “Lan Zhan, you don’t deserve this.”

Lan Wangji tilted his head. He could choose to agree, to say he didn’t deserve Wei Ying, never could, but wanted him anyway. He would like to see how Wei Ying responded to that—probably by recoiling, but in the way that made Wangji’s chest ache for Wei Ying rather than for himself. “You do?” He flicked his eyes the way the Wens had gone. “They do?”

“Lan Zhan. You could have anything and anyone. I can’t—tie you to a heap of corpses.” Wei Ying made a face and glanced sourly at the wall of rice again. “The rice was a good move,” he acknowledged. “I keep wanting to say something mean to make you leave, but most of them sound stupid now.”

Wei Ying should not have admitted to that tactic aloud, Lan Wangji thought to himself, but he didn’t point out the error. “Not tied to the corpses,” he said. “Tied to Wei Ying.” Oh, how he wanted to be tied to Wei Ying. Oh, how bound he was already.

Wei Ying laughed, the unpleasant sound Lan Wangji had gotten used to during the war, but without the thick layering of pride that had covered it then. “Do you really think there’s a difference?” He shook his head and spread one hand, palm up, taking in all their surroundings. “This is a place for the doomed, Lan Wangji. You don’t belong here.”

“I came here doomed, and had my life returned to me.” Lan Wangji took a step forward, pinning Wei Ying under his attention. “Wei Ying. Do not refuse me for my sake. I—”

Lan Wangji had tormented himself so selfishly over Wei Ying leaving him behind, all this time. As though following were wholly beyond his power, as though Wei Ying were the only one who could choose to alter his path—because he had been so sure his own was right, that Wei Ying must return to his side on it, or be counted lost.

His love had not been strong enough. He had not been brave enough. He had mourned their parting. A child deprived of a toy. “There will be no one else. There is nothing else for me, now.”

To give up Wei Ying, after having had him—to turn away from that whispered affection, or the consuming addiction of desire now whetted by knowledge—impossible. He wanted to say, if I was willing to make love to you within sight of your horrible blood pool in full possession of my faculties, why do you think there is anything that would turn me away now, but he did not think it would resonate with Wei Ying the way he wanted, since it admitted to the repulsiveness of the blood pool. Wei Ying had to be aware of the repulsiveness of the blood pool, but Lan Wangji could attempt to be diplomatic in his own marriage negotiations, unorthodox as they were.

Wei Ying’s face twisted, but it passed through anger into grief. “Lan Zhan,” he said, with tears in his voice though not in his eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t tell me I’ve ruined you.”

“Not ruined.” Lan Wangji finally drew close, and for a moment it seemed Wei Ying would allow it, but then he spun and danced away sideways, in the only direction allowed by the wall of rice baskets, and was again too far away to kiss.

“I had Jiang Cheng throw me out of the Sect to avoid dragging anyone else down with me. Lan Zhan, you can’t—”

“Stupid.” Lan Wangji frowned. He supposed he should have known that was Wei Ying’s idea. Jiang Wanyin had never impressed Wangji particularly, but among the virtues he did have, courage and loyalty must surely be counted foremost, judging by what Wangji had seen in the war and particularly those three months together, searching for Wei Ying.

Left to his own devices, Sect Leader Jiang would have taken longer to disavow his head disciple, whose unorthodox cultivation he had championed on the battlefield, even if he was too politically cowed by the Jin to defend him properly, either. But Wei Ying, of course, had hastened to make himself a sacrifice.

Wei Ying snorted. “Oh, and you’re planning to bring the whole support of the Lan behind you?”

Of course, he clearly wasn’t. And if any disciple other than himself had staged such a shameless robbery, he would be a wanted criminal. But unless they expelled him, which his brother and uncle would, he felt, after the way he had parted with them, fight with all their considerable power, his affiliation with the sect would still be valuable. To all of them. “Wei Ying does not always have to be the shield. Sometimes, he should be protected also.”

“Lan Zhan.” As easily as that, Wei Ying was looking at him shattered. The vulnerability on his face hurt to witness even as Lan Wangji reveled in it. He was learning Wei Ying, how to love him for his sake, rather than for Lan Wangji’s own.

“Do you not want me?” he asked, bracing himself for an affirmative. Wei Ying might say it and lie; Wei Ying might say it and, despite everything before, actually mean it. He had had time to think, while Lan Wangji was gone.

“I don’t want your pity.” The word curdled on Wei Ying’s tongue and in the air, and his face wore an ugly look again. “We will live as we may. We have survived this long without you, Hanguang-jun, and we will live after you grow sick of the foul air and poisoned earth and leave again. This place is beyond the reach of the cultivation world, why bring it here with you?”

“Even though you do not need me,” Lan Wangji said carefully, letting the sharp edge of those words break over him like a wave because Wei Ying had admitted outright he said these things to drive people away; because declaring everyone here doomed even the little child, and then saying they would live despite him, was too much contradiction to bother with. “Do you want me?”

“If I say no will you go?”

The refusal to say it at once was an answer in itself. “If I believe you.”

Wei Ying snorted, less disgust than acknowledging Lan Wangji’s point scored. He smiled unhappily. “Lan Zhan, I’ve made my choices. I would make them again, even knowing where they’ve led me. That doesn’t mean I want to bring you down with me. You don’t owe me anything. You do realize you don’t owe me?”

Lan Wangji hesitated. It was a difficult question. He did not, precisely, feel indebted to Wei Wuxian, not the way Wei Ying meant or the way his brother had, though he was acutely aware of the gift of his life and the cost Wei Ying had borne to give it. But he did feel obligation toward him, a duty, which was a kind of owing as well. “Wei Ying deserves better,” he said. “And I owe you—courtesy, at least.”

“Courtesy,” Wei Ying echoed, abstract, scornful. His eyes flicked down, past Lan Wangji’s eyes to his mouth.

“You never answered my question,” Lan Wangji said.

“Which one? Oh. Lan Zhan. Who would ever not want you?” Wei Ying shook his head, but there was a smile there now, one that caught in the corners as though pain and fondness were the selfsame emotion.

Once again, he spoke of it like he spoke of natural law.

Lan Wangji ached. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying sighed, and glanced at the wall of rice, the silk. Lan Wangji’s perhaps pathetic offering of something, anything more valuable than merely himself. A little life. “I really don’t understand,” he said. “When you left, I thought—”

“You didn’t expect me to return.”

“No. I thought you’d listened.” Wei Ying shook his head. “I don’t want to—I know what they say about me, but I never wanted to…” He took a breath, and tried again. “You’re so brilliant, Hanguang-jun, so good, they named you well, and I would never want to be the reason that light was stolen from the world.”

“Already done.”

Wei Ying winced, and looked at him with his eyebrows knit, annoyed.

Lan Wangji said, “You took the light from my world when you went into the dark.”

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DP×DC prompt. Pre-Dead on main. Soulmate Au.

Do clones have soulmates? And evil (depressed) future versions of yourself? Only phamily is allowed to know.

~~~~

Jason wasn’t particularly thrilled to have a soulmate. Of course, it was a rare phenomenon many wanted. But the presence of the tattoo did not guarantee a meeting with the fate promised man. The tattoo was more a clue than a commitment, according to Jason. Meeting a street rat like him would be a good way to form a brotherhood, but that doesn’t mean he could trust a stranger completely just because fate says so.

After he became Robin, owning a soulmate became undesirable. Jason once again made sure that it was best that they never meet. It would be safer for his human. Or rather, so Jason thought, until his inscription suddenly darkened and disappeared. Died. His solmate died, and there was nothing he could do. He knew it could happen, but somehow it hurt anyway. One person has only one soulmate for life. And he wasted his chance by not even trying to find his one.

He didn’t even have time to meet someone for whom fate has chosen this line:

Hoc est vivere bis, vita posse priore frui.

(It is to live twice, when you can enjoy recalling your former life)

And Now it didn’t matter. Would they be lovers, best friends, family? What kind of person was the one whom the universe associated with this quote?Jason is not meant to know.

~~~~~~

Todd was suffering from nightmares. No, to be more specific, he was experiencing a completely different life in a dream. A few days earlier, he had hallucinations in which his surroundings seemed to change the appearance of different eras for a few seconds. Strange glitch. Jason blamed the sleep deprivation that Red Robin must have given him through bite. But Robin didn’t know who the hell Red Robin was.

The search for a biological mother, death and resurrection. His work as a crime lord. His madness and envy to the red robin. It was so strange. Life in Gotham never allowed him to be a naive child like the idiots of Metropolis but those dream memories made him grow up to fast again. In an attempt to wash away this nightmare and this blood, Jason stands under a cold shower at five o'clock in the morning. And then he notices that his mark has changed. It looks like a tree crown now.

On top of the old grey line a neon-green quotes lit up in latin, but now Jason can read them without a dictionary:

1)Death pursues the man even as he flees from it.

2) Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you.

3) There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

When B tries to pat him on the shoulder after the patrol, Robin dodges. Too much has happened, or rather, too much should happen. These dreams are too real to be the result of fear toxin damage or something else. The feeling of betrayal and fear that comes when he just thinks about the damn clown is too intense. And now he's too weak to fight him. He doesn't have his gang or a more mature body, or even the confidence in Batman that allowed Robin to fly without a doubt.

~~~~~

~You can't love anyone, 'cause that would mean you had a heart~

If you were loved by a man when he was alive, then the love of a ghost will be for you either a blessing or a curse. And if the spirit is not at rest because of his hatred for man, then there is no special sense to put up with the dead. They can hardly change their attitude. They don’t think critically. Maddie and Jack expound this theory on career day for Danny’s classmates. And they don’t understand why their boy looks at the presentation with horror.

Danny was fond of the quote on his wrist. It gave him hope many times even in the darkest of times.

~Fortis est ut mors dilectio / Love is strong as death~

Danny never listened to his parents' theories before. But what if they’re right? What if the ghosts of nature are just good liars and his ghost half convinced his human half that he’s still capable of emotion? Were these just residual memories of affection about family and friends that forced him to stay in Amity Park? Was it just his ghost obsession that told him a man behind his mark was important?

For the first time, when Jazz summons all the Phantoms to a weekly meeting, Danny does not seek excuses, but brings the matter up for a discussion.

Truly, it's no surprise to him that Dan’s tattoo is invariable. But it’s a bit of a surprise that Dani shares special human with them. Well, as ghosts, they have zero chance of actually spending their "lives" with the person behind words, so there’s no reason to be jealous of each other.

A lot of soulmates live their lives without each other, and it's not a tragedy. Or so Danny and Dani thought. Until Dan sarcastically notes during a family therapy session in Jazz’s room that their soulmate will not live to be fifteen either.

Their feelings or their absence will wait. Their soul mate is now in real danger, and this is far more important than the existential crisis of a few pieces of ectoplasm. This is the main problem. Jazz doesn’t agree, but honestly, the older sister has always been a bore. Danny panics and Dani also bursts into tears when Dan just shrugs his shoulders.

Danny: So you know who is our soulmate is, right? Dan: Of course I do. And I know the grave won’t hold him forever. Dani: So how is he..going to die? Dan: Murdered. By the Joker. I studied the case. Asked Vlad to still it for me. That was the beginning of the end, I think. So many broken bones and so much blood, and then the explosion. Not the best way to die. The only thing I regret is that I didn't stop playing the hero and kill that damn clown before it happened. It would solve so many problems. And why didn't I throw a temper tantrum a couple of days earlier instead of trying to get rid of my emotions first?

Danny: True. That shit didn't work anyway. Dan: Shut up. Dani: I was hoping that our soulmate would be happy even without us. Does this really have to happen? Isn't there anything we can do? Dan: Ask your time freak. But in my experience, anything connected to Phantom just doesn’t get a happy ending.

~~~~~~They say that time's supposed to heal ya, but I ain't done much healing~~~~~~

Jazz is not surprised when after breakfast with her siblings she's asked to leave so they can talk to themselves alone. Dan: Well, shoot. What else do you want to know? Danny: Like you didn’t figure it out. All right. When you asked Vlad to separate your human half from ghost half, whether you really wanted to get rid of human emotions or.. Dan: Or did I try to kill myself? You are me. You must know the answer. Nobody's left. Could you live with the shame of not being able to save them? Dani: Um, that vile monster who made all this happen with out soulmate, it was still exist in your timeline? Dan: Yes. And Batman too. Even after Jason's death he didn’t get rid of the damn clown.

Danny: You were supposed to be there for him. Dan: I know. Dani: Did you at least avenge him? Dan: I tried. But his paranoid furry dad, with his backup plans for backup plans, was always getting in my way. Dani: Batman? Our soulmate is Robin? Danny: Come on, you terrorized the entire Amity Park, don’t tell me you’re scared of a man in a bat suit. You couldn't get rid of one person under bat's nose? Seriously? We're such a disgrace, man. Dan: Oh please, don’t be ridiculous. Danny: So why not? Dan: Because Batman is his father, like I said. You know how I work. Even if I had only come for Joker, there would be no guarantee that I wouldn't end up getting into a fight with this vigilante as well. Even if the bastard deserved a good beating, it would still be awkward if our soulmate returned to the world of the living and it turned out that this was not what he wanted, right? Danny: How thOughTfuL.

Dan:...I think I told you to shut up.

Danny: Yeah, yeah. So, what’s the plan? Dan: You do realize that if I go to Gotham, I won’t spare Joker or anyone who will try to hurt our bird? Danny: Well, if Сlockwork has a problem with it he should say it to my face. I’m not asking you to hold back. Not this time. Joker is not just a random guy or a ghost who can be talked out of his ideas. Better nip the problem in the bud. Dani: Yeah. We are ghost, so it's our nature to protect what belongs to us. And we are selfish because we are humans. We can’t hide it, well, from ourself, right? Danny: Um, right, but we think you should stay. It's too dangerous. Dani: But he's my soulmate too! Even if he doesn't get to know either of us, I also want to do something to help him. Someone has to serve as a distraction or be ready to help. I'm coming too. It's not up for discussion.

Dan: Just let her. She's just as stubborn as we are. We'll spend more time on pointless arguments than on the mission itself.

Danny: I hate it when you're right.

Dani: Now, should we tell Jazz about our weekend or? Danny: Good question.

~~~~~~ Jazz: Where are you guys going? Danny: To commit murder. Nothing brings families together faster, you know? Want to come with us? Jazz: Haha, very funny. Take me a burger on the way home. Dani: Okay. Dan: Oh, she's gonna kill us.

[the-magiarcheologist]

Reading the Ancient Magic Book Pages

I propose to you today a short analysis of the sections of text on the pages of the Ancient Magic book we find below the restricted section.

High-res images of the book’s pages have been shared by a kind soul. Here they all are:

I was working on a completely different post when I realised that the text on the last 2 pages was easily readable and written in Latin. So I just did a quick search and discovered that these are verses from the Vulgate (4th century translation of the Bible in Latin), more precisely from the Gospel of Luke from the New Testament.

A bit more research and I could find exactly which source they got this text from: the Book of Kells, a Celtic Gospel book written in Latin and illuminated in the Insular style (a combination of Celtic and Anglo-Saxon styles). The precise origins of the Book of Kells are debated but many believe it was created around the year 800 at the monastery founded by St Colum Cille on Iona Island in western Scotland.

Here I put side by side the pages of the Ancient Magic book and the pages from the Books of Kells where the text is from (folio 204r and 275r):

The verses they used are Luke 22:23

Et ipsi coeperunt quaerere inter se quis esset ex eis qui hoc facturus esset.

Which translates to:

And they began to enquire among themselves, which of them it was that should do this thing.

And on the second page, Luke 4:8-14

Et respondens Jesus, dixit illi: Scriptum est: Dominum Deum tuum adorabis, et illi soli servies. Et duxit illum in Jerusalem, et statuit eum super pinnam templi, et dixit illi: Si Filius Dei es, mitte te hinc deorsum. Scriptum est enim quod angelis suis mandavit de te, ut conservent te: et quia in manibus tollent te, ne forte offendas ad lapidem pedem tuum. Et respondens Jesus, ait illi: Dictum est: Non tentabis Dominum Deum tuum. Et consummata omni tentatione, diabolus recessit ab illo, usque ad tempus. Et regressus est Jesus in virtute Spiritus in Galilaeam, et fama exiit per universam regionem de illo.

Which translates to:

And Jesus answered and said unto him, Get thee behind me, Satan: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve. And he brought him to Jerusalem, and set him on a pinnacle of the temple, and said unto him, If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down from hence: For it is written, He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee: And in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone. And Jesus answering said unto him, It is said, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God. And when the devil had ended all the temptation, he departed from him for a season. And Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit into Galilee: and there went out a fame of him through all the region round about.

I’m not christian and don’t know much about the Bible so I have no idea why they chose these particular verses. Maybe someone more educated than me will be able to chime in. My hunch is that these verses were just chosen at random from old manuscripts that the artists for the game were using as reference for the art style.

Now, since I was on a roll, I also looked at the text on the other pages. Pages 1 and 3 have some text written in some old form of Icelandic (figured that out from the few words I could sort of read on those pages). So I started looking into old Icelandic manuscripts but it took me a ridiculously long time to find the exact source the text is from! I was starting to go mad but here it is! It’s from an illustration of the Prose Edda found in the Icelandic manuscript ÍB 299 4to., in particular the illustration of the god Týr presented as Mars (folio 60r).

They took the short text in the little box and copy/pasted it mosaic style to give the illusion of the full page of text but you can see it’s just short sections that repeat over and over on both pages.

(To note: this manuscript is from 1764 so it’s sort of anachronistic for them to use this source for an Ancient Magic book that already existed in the Keepers time, meaning the Ancient Magic book is from the 15th century or older.)

Týr is one of the principal war gods in Norse mythology (alongside Odin and Thor) but he also presides over justice and the law. Latin texts often identified him as Mars (hence the subject of the illustration).

I could not find any transcription or translation of the text on the image, I could only decipher some words here and there such as «sigir hielldu» which google translate tells me could mean «victories held» in Icelandic. A bit further down there is «orrustu guð» which could mean «god of war». So it seems to be a short description of the god Týr and at the end there are roman numerals that identify the section in the Prose Edda where the story of Týr can be found.

Again, I can’t really see how this text makes particular sense in the context of the Ancient Magic book, probably just placeholder text from some of the sources they were studying as inspiration.

There is one last book page, but the text on this one is so blurred I didn’t even try to decipher it. Although I do note that the artist has traced over some letters which are: W S M I(?) I(?) I(?) Z N R(?) P(?) G W Q O U(?) H W R(?)

Don’t know… some of them are hard to read or could be not from the Latin alphabet. Again, I just can’t make sense of that. There are not enough vowels for it to be an anagram of an English or Latin phrase so… what else? I leave this mystery to others with more powerful brains than mine!

Anyway, this is it! Not really much to say about this but I think other people are also planning on looking into these book pages so maybe these findings can help them out!

[doc-art]

Part 3 to the D&D sketches and long-posting

With the dragons hatched and us still needing to follow leads on our adventure, half of us in the party split off to go to a goblin occupied castle to rescue our boss. The other half remained back to care to the dragons.

On our walk we encountered a large wolf, which we expertly scared off.

Then, during our continued walk to the castle, we met... a minotaur! On Lloyd's first encounter with her, she rushed out of the foliage and charged him, sending him flying on impact.

He fell in LOVE.

Thanks to our bard and his magic (tongues), Lloyd and company were able to convince the minotaur to work with us, since we had a similar goal. (And Lloyd was very interested in her.)

We advanced to the castle and scoped it out.

And we got in and began our work on the goblins inside.

In the castle we split the team, our bard, goblin, and human druid went one way, while the dwarf, human fighter, and minotaur went another way. We triggered a trap that when activated, caused a river of blood to surge forward.

After some rough fighting we took time recuperate.

Meanwhile, the other half of the gang dealt with a reverse gravity room (which extended well into the sky) and a very large, very angry monster.

We went through a lot in that castle.

Lloyd and the minotaur continued to get close.

And after we fought the big bad vampire hobgoblin leader of the castle, we celebrated with a lot of drinking and eating back at the dining hall. A large ad-hoc bath was also created and filled with the assistance of our druid (and the minotaur, Loa, used her strength to help construct it.)

Afterwards, as the day closed, Loa challenged Lloyd to a wrestling match. It was a fairly even fight, despite the size difference. Lloyd was hard to bring down (with his VERY high constitution), and after some tussling and low rolls, she got the advantage and essentially won. The tussle also got her in the 'mood', and the spell that enabled her to understand Lloyd (and vise versa), he was unable to articulate that they really should do it elsewhere.

After all the fighting, blood, magic, and horror, It was certainly a way to finish the day.

Continued in the next post!

[menlove]

speaking of mclennon fics i need your help😩😩 i just finished i can only speak my mind & going nowhere & the jumper & on our way back home (which dear god were all excellent) and now i desperately need something similar and/or equally as good

those are some EXCELLENT fics. but hmmm lemme think! so I'll go for the vibe of like "mclennon through their lives" based on those. wall staring fics, if you will.

John My Beloved

explicit. 33k. major character death. user only.

They've always loved each other, in their own way...

I rec this one a lot but that's bc it's incredible and also made me like actually and genuinely start crying like. I'm not joking it was like 7am and I'd been up all night and I finished it and just stared at the wall and teared up. the last chapter is actually evil.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc)

mature. 27k. fix-it. (still major character death but not how you think)

John’s twelve when a bloke appears from a flaming pie and says, “From this day forward you are Beatles with an ‘a.’” The bloke is Paul.

Or: paul and john meet at all ages and eras and john is the time-traveler’s wife the way only john lennon can be

another one that I rec literally every time but it's my #2 mclennon fic of all time it makes me crazy

I Still Miss Someone

explicit. 64k. 3 part series. not a happy ending.

It's 1976 and Paul keeps showing up on John's doorstep with a guitar. Eventually John turns him away and Paul goes off to sulk in his hotel room the night before his flight from New York. Based on real events.

this one isn't through All their lives, but it has a similar vibe and made me stare at a wall, so

blood on the tracks

gen-mature. 66k. 11 part series. modern au. fix-it.

He was a grown man, a rock star, richer than Croesus, emotionally stable, and more than capable of handling a surprise visit from his ex-husband.

Paul married John when he was eighteen and divorced him at twenty-nine. Two years later, John pays Paul a visit.

this series is sooooo. I think about it Constantly. inspired me and millie's own married mclennon au that lives in our heads. I just love that like. it gets into the fact that even if they lived in a world where they could've been openly together and even married, it wouldn't have fixed the problems between them. a good character study!

Throw the Wine

mature. 51k. major character death. technically unfinished but it ends in a spot where it doesn't feel that way.

"But you realise that you're in real life, and you don't split up a beautiful thing with a beautiful thing."

-Paul McCartney

Or do you?

godddd I was hesitant to read this bc it's unfinished and last updated in 2018 but I saw it recced everywhere and everyone was so fucking right. this hurt. this made me want to die. it's so good. and like I said, it's unfinished but where it is is finished enough that you don't feel cheated. also, the author offers a spot to stop if you want a happy ending which is nice!

I Do

explicit. 73k. major character death.

A collection of stories about John and Paul’s developing relationship, with weddings as the theme for the day.

I'm on chapter 23/25 of this and I already know I'm about to get devastated. this is ruining me. but it's so good. my favorite part so far is that the love between them even while they're broken up is shown soooo well. like you really get the sense that they're still friends even at their worst times. they just love each other. it's making me crazy

[tallteenturtle]

Nancy Drew: Curse of Blackmoor Manor

I fell down a bit of a heraldry rabbit hole recently and decided to spend several hours compiling info about the Penvellyn family off the wiki and then used online heraldry resources to analyze their individual coat of arms. Did the game devs intend the shields to be interpreted this way? Probably not. But if I dont over-analyze 20 year old childrens computer games what else am I going to do with my life??

Here are all the people whose portraits hang in the great hall along with info we learn about them from Jane (and occasionally Nigel), their coat of arms, and my amateur interpretation of the symbolism.

Randulf ( - 1401)

“Randulf the Red, so named for his bright red hair, was considered a hero at the Battle of Poitiers. For his heroism, King Edward III awarded him with the lands in the region called "Penvellyn". That's how we got our name.”

Randulf's coat of arms says "IN HOC SIGNO" which translates to "in this sign (you will conquer)"

Comet; unknown in heraldry but refers to the family treasure

Red; Military might, warrior.

(putting the rest under the cut to save you much scrolling)

Odo (1354 – 1404)

“Yeah, he isn't very exciting, really. Liked farming and cows. His son Milo is much more interesting.”

“Those Manuscripts are very old and brittle. They date back to the 14th century. Odo Penvellyn collected most of them. His father Randulf and son Milo were rather more interested in military victories than in book collecting.”

Odo's coat of arms says "PROSPERITAS" which translates to "success".

Milo (1376 – 1423)

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Deer/hart; One who will not fight unless provoked, peace and harmony

“Milo inherited not only his grandfather's red hair but his military prowess. Milo was instrumental in the Siege of Caen and was awarded even more lands by Henry V.”

Milo's coat of arms says "VICTUM INVIDEO SILENTE" which translates to "the conquered shall envy the dead".

Hugo (1401 – 1466)

Comet; unknown in heraldry

Red; Military might, warrior

Teardrop; “One who has endured torrents”

“Um, he had a lot of kids, and his dates were 1401 to 1466.”

Hugo's coat of arms says "CITO FIT QUOD DEI VOLUNT" which translates to "what the gods want happens soon".

Albert (1427 – 1508)

Bee; Industrious, diligent

Acorn; Antiquity, strength

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

“He was very mysterious and the people of Blackmoor were afraid of him because he knew all these scientific things. No one knows much about him, though.”

Albert's coat of arms says "TIMENDI CAUSA EST NESCIRE" which translates to "ignorance is the cause of fear".

Edmund (1447 – 1499)

Book (open); Manifestation, knowledge

Blue; Truth, loyalty

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

“He was into cows. He did a lot of breeding of cows and sheep and got some kind of award from the King.”

Edmund's coat of arms says "UT SEMENTUM FECERIS ITA METES" which translates to "As you sow, so shall you reap".

Charles (1478 – 1553)

Hawk (Falcon): One who does not rest until objective achieved, purpose, goal-oriented

Red; Military might, warrior

Blue; Truth, loyalty

"Ooh, ooh - Charles was a very famous judge and wrote very important books on law. But his boy, Garrett, drowned when he was really young.”

Charles's coat of arms says "MINIMA MAXIMA SUNT" which translates to "The smallest things are the most important".

Thomas (1526 – 1584)

Rainbow; Good times after bad

Moon; Serene power over the mundane

Sun; Creativity and enlightenment

Blue; Truth, loyalty

“He was Charles's grandson and wrote a lot of poetry. He also had 3 wives: Catherine, Anne, and Mary. But not like at the same time. They died and he just remarried.”

Thomas's coat of arms says "AGE PRO VIRIBUS" which translates to "in all that you do, do your best".

James (1560 – 1650)

Eagle (2 heads); Joining 2 strong forces

Purple; Nobility and justice

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

T is presumably for Thomas, no heraldic meaning

“He never married but one day, when he was very old, a baby was found on the doorstep to the manor. He took her in and raised her as his own. That was Elinor.”

James's coat of arms says "ARS LONGA" which translates to "art lives long" (from the phrase, ars longa vita brevis - art is long, life is short).

Elinor (1626 – 1650)

Maltese cross; Blessings, protection

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

Purple; Nobility and justice

“Just that she was burned as a witch but it wasn't true and her father, James, died when he saw her die and then the family fled to France. I don't want to talk about this.”

Elinor's coat of arms says "AUDACES FORTUNA IUVAT" which translates to "fortune favors the bold".

Corbin (1670 – 1741)

Lion rampant; Courage, integrity, strength

Red; Military might, warrior

Purple; Nobility and justice

“Uh…I dunno. He doesn't have a coat of arms in the Great Hall because he didn't live here; wasn't even a British subject. That's all I know.”

Corbin's coat of arms says "NUNQUAM DEDISCEO" which translates to "never forget".

This shield is notably absent from the great hall, and also is the only one to feature decoration on the outside of the shield.

Sun; Fountain of life, intelligence, innovation, creativity, enlightenment

Wheat; Faithful

Vines/Ivy; Strong and lasting friendship, academia

Philippe (1689 – 1777)

“He made a fortune in the New World and bought back most of the lands that were confiscated by Cromwell.”

Philippe's coat of arms says "NOVUS MUNDUS" which translates to "a new world".

Penelope (1714 – 1783)

Fleur de Lis; Symbol of France

Purple; Nobility and justice

Blue; Truth, loyalty

“I don't know very much about her, except that she was very loved by practically everyone in England, and there were a million poems written about her.”

“Those are mainly Penelope Penvellyn's collections of French novels. She was a patron to a raft of artists, and her salon was quite popular. She was quite the libertine, even kept her maiden name after her marriage.”

Penelope's coat of arms says "PULCHRITUDO IN OMNIA" which translates to "there is beauty in all things".

Martha (1739 – 1791)

Pegasus; Poetic genius and inspiration

Fleur de lis; Symbol of France

Lion rampant; Courage and integrity

Wheel; fortune, cycle of life

Purple; Nobility and justice

Red; Military might, warrior

“She was completely daft - she'd wear really bizarre outfits and she was one of the first women to ride on a steam train.” (This is particularly impressive as the steam train did not exist until 10 years after her death. Oops!)

Martha's coat of arms says "SINE SCIENTIA ARS NIHIL EST" which translates to "without understanding, art is nothing".

Brigitte (1759 – 1833)

Unicorn; Extreme courage, virtue, strength.

Teardrop symbolism; “One who has endured torrents” gold means generosity or elevation of the mind.

The gear and atom are not traditional heraldic symbols but can represent progress and science.

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

Purple; Nobility and justice

“She never married and was bonkers for astronomy; she adopted her sister's son, Richard, who later got killed at Waterloo."

Brigitte's coat of arms says "LUDI SINE GAUDIO LUDI NON SUNT" which translates to "sport without fun is not sport."

"Brigitte with her eyes so bright, looks toward heaven at midnight on the longest night of year, that's the one she holds most dear. 'Starry friends,' she's often heard to say, 'how I wish that I could make you stay.' She knows though they can't remain, time will bring them 'round again."

Only shield to have white decorations on the colored background

Star; Divine quality from above

Dove; Loving constancy and peace

Compass; Direction

Purple; Nobility and justice

Richard (1787 – 1815)

“He died in Waterloo fighting against Napoleon.”

Richard's coat of arms says "SI SIC OMNES" which translates to "if only this could last forever".

Edward (1809 – 1904)

Banner down center shield (the Pale); Military or defensive strength

Star; Divine quality from above. The specific star (nautical star) is not traditional heraldry but symbolizes finding way home.

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Purple; Nobility and justice

“He was a big explorer and went all over the world. He wasn't very close with his son, who was also an explorer. They'd only see each other by chance in weird remote places like Samarkand or Walla Walla.”

Edward's coat of arms says "BIS VIVAT QUI BON VIVAT" which translates to "Whoever lives well lives twice".

Knight (especially on horseback); The soul guiding the body; man’s journey through life

Lightning Bolt: Swiftness and power; spiritual enlightenment.

Unicorn; Extreme courage, virtue, strength.

I dont know what the warrior with the spear and sword means

Scepter; Emblem of Justice

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

William (1833 – 1901)

“He was an explorer, just like his father. He was kind of a whiner, so I heard.”

William's coat of arms says "DIES PERDIDI" which translates to "another day wasted".

John (1873 – 1954)

Bend Sinister (the band across the shield); Sometimes used to indicate illegitimacy. If that is the meaning here that would be very interesting and explain why he wasnt close with his father

Red; Military might, warrior

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

“He was this huge naturalist and did a lot of exploration in the Amazon. I think there's a plant named after him. Or maybe a monkey; I forget.”

John's coat of arms says "PER AURES AD ANIMUM" which translates to "through the ears to the spirit".

Malachi (1894 – 1972)

Parrot and mouth not traditional symbols but probably represent interest in wildlife and linguistics.

Green; Hope, joy, loyalty

Blue; Truth, loyalty

“He was a doctor of medicine and did a lot of research on icky skin diseases.”

Malachi's coat of arms says "NUMEN LUMEN" which translates to "divine light is my guide".

Alan (1923 – 1993)

Sun; Fountain of life, intelligence, innovation, creativity, enlightenment

Purple; Nobility and justice

“He was my grandfather but I didn't know him because he died when I was little. I guess he was nice.”

Alan's coat of arms says "PURGAMENTUM EXIT" which translates to "garbage out" (referencing part of a programmers' saying "garbage in, garbage out").

Serpent; Wisdom

Red; Military might, warrior

[sweet-evie]

Day in the Life of a Single Working Dad

A glimpse into the life of a single dad who's doing his best.

masterlist || pt 3

Content: Established Relationship, afab!oc, fem!oc, nameless!oc, she/her/hers pronouns for Satoru's S/O, singleparent!gojo, dad!gojo, Sentimental!Gojo, Mentions of Suguru and Satoru’s deceased lover, FushiGojo fam, Family, Fluff, Children…

A/N: Megumi is an angsty child… And Gojo’s antics don’t help. Also, I was 10 once and I had a potty mouth. Plus, I have loads of Gojo clan mentions sprinkled in this one, and they're connected to a post I made about my Gojo clan headcanons.

Never Grow Up Pt 2

November 2012

06:17 AM; Ota City, Tokyo

“Whatever happened to checking the calendar for appointment dates scheduled in advance?” Shoko snickered on the other side of the line. “And why are you rushing? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not going anywhere, but I am…” Satoru hissed, shooting a half-hearted glare at his phone propped up on a stand. Maybe answering Shoko’s FaceTime call was a bad idea.

“Why would you forget that Satsuki has her third vaccination scheduled today?”

“Trust me, you’d hate hearing the story.” He muttered through a mouthful of cereal.

“Sometimes I wonder what happened to the Gojo who would whine about his day not going okay. Where is he?”

“Buried under baby formula and diapers.” He grouched and shoveled the last of the sugary snacks into his mouth.

Catching movement at the corner of his eye, he turned to flash a bright smile and a wave at Tsumiki coming down the stairs dressed prim and proper in her school uniform.

“Come off it, Gojo, you have it easy. All you worry about is showing up on time to wherever you’re needed. And you never even do.”

“Okay, untrue.” Satoru knew Shoko was only joking. Did he have to mention the ad hoc lesson plans and the paperwork for the most recent missions he’d been sent on, plus the occasional parent-teacher meeting sprinkled in-between? “But I am self-aware enough to know that I have people helping me.”

“All that and you’re still a mess.” Megumi interjected, appearing behind Tsumiki with his school bag clutched between his hands. He barely evaded his sister’s elbow.

“Hey~” Satoru whined… Loudly. “I feed you!”

“The cook feeds me… He feeds you too.” Megumi shook his head, approaching the island counter to take the school lunches that had been prepped meticulously. He blurted out a quick ‘Hi’ to Shoko through the phone before busying himself with arranging his things. “Who packed this by the way? Kaihara comes in at lunch time today, doesn’t he?”

Sometimes Satoru marveled at how easily Megumi memorized everyone’s schedules in the house. Satoru knew who came in and out of the house too, of course, but he didn’t exactly bother remembering what time they were supposed to clock-in for their shifts. He was just used to seeing people outside of his family in the house, doing what they were hired to do.

“I would like to say that great teacher Gojo is good at packing lunches too, but I can’t take the credit. It was all ‘Miki.” Satoru grinned, reaching over to squeeze Tsumiki’s shoulder affectionately and pat the top of her head. 

“Don’t look too relieved now.” Shoko piped up.

Satoru had almost forgotten they were still on-call. “I’m not even going to bother asking what you mean by that because it’s nothing good. I’ll see you at the school, Shoko.”

“See you… Bring Satsuki’s important medical documents.”

“Gojo, if you’re really busy today, Megumi and I can always take the train.” Tsumiki offered, smiling at him sweetly as she finished zipping up her school bag.

“And be late to homeroom class? No way!” Satoru protested playfully, sticking out his tongue.

“Because you always show up on time, don’t you?” Megumi muttered sarcastically, only all too eager to push Satoru’s buttons this early in the day.

Grinning impishly, Satoru took threatening steps forward with his hands outstretched, ready to mess with the boy’s carefully styled hair. Megumi was about to swat his hand away — infinity be damned, when Ms. Yumiko — one of the hired nursemaids — wandered into the kitchen carrying a gurgling wriggly baby in her arms.

“Satsuki!” Tsumiki cheered, coming over to greet the happy girl.

“Full from breakfast and fresh from her bath.” Ms. Yumiko was grinning, bouncing her adorable charge in one arm as Tsumiki teased, tickled, and cooed at the baby. “Everything you’ve requested is on the table in the foyer, Sir.”

Satoru began ushering Megumi to move forward, snagging his blackout glasses left on the dining table as well. “Thanks, Yumiko. I know your shift’s barely begun, but you can clock-out early if you want. I’ve already told Kaoru and Shiori they can take the day off too, since Satsuki’s coming with me today. Isn’t that right, Princess?”

Satsuki turned her wandering attention from Tsumiki to her own father as Yumiko held her out to him, all the while babbling a continuous stream of, “Da-da” as she was transferred from one place of safety to the next.

Satoru knew she didn’t understand what that meant yet, but he’d take it. His baby was looking for him. “Right here, ‘Tsuki.”

Father and daughter giggled at each other as Satoru eagerly participated in baby talk, cooing and mouth popping at the little girl. She had on a cute blue dress dotted with white kittens, complete with matching shoes and headband. Satoru didn’t think he was being biased if he said Satsuki was the cutest baby in the world. It wasn’t an unfounded brag either… It was just facts.

His baby girl with snow white hair, the prettiest amber eyes, and the puffiest cheeks. Like a chipmunk…

She should be a Disney princess.

“Hey, Gojo!” Megumi grumbled, peeking around the hallway to scowl at him. “Satsuki will be late for her shots if you don’t hurry. Tsumiki’s already in the car.”

He didn’t mention that he and Tsumiki would be late for school too if Satoru kept dawdling.

Satoru gasped dramatically and grinned when it elicited another giggly reaction from the baby in his arms. “Oh right! We can’t be late, Princess. Shoko will kick my ass.”

“Language!” Megumi huffed from the foyer.

“She doesn’t even know what it means yet!” The man whined, launching into a tirade. “You cuss all the time, and yeah, I can hear you cussing through the walls. But do I call you out? No, I don’t, because it doesn’t matter!”

“Fuck off.”

Satoru cackled like a demon out of hell as Megumi’s footsteps faded away, followed by the door closing. The kid didn’t take shit and knew how to tell people off. He couldn’t wait to see how that would serve him in the years to come — especially as a sorcerer.

If Satoru bothered to look, he would have seen Yumiko standing politely to the side, shaking her head at the antics in this household. When she’d first taken on the job, she had been made to believe that this was a serious undertaking and she would have to maintain strict propriety and formality at all times — express reverence to the head of the Gojo clan and the wielder of the Six Eyes… Reality couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Stay safe, Master Gojo. Thank you.” She bowed as he passed by.

“Thank you, Yumiko. The house is yours!” Satoru waved as he made his way to the foyer and the genkan to get his shoes, phone in one hand as Satsuki busied herself chewing and drooling on the collar of her father’s leather jacket. “Clock out anytime and lock up. See ya!”

=OoOoO=

08:13 AM

Satoru pushed his glasses farther up his nose as he watched Megumi sullenly trail after Tsumiki as they passed the school gates. The kids would leave primary school behind very soon, moving on to Junior year. He should probably have Ijichi start looking into junior high schools they could transfer to. Two more years of that, and Tsumiki would continue to senior high school, while Megumi would relocate to Jujutsu Tech — on-track to becoming a full-time sorcerer.

Tilting the rearview mirror ever so slightly, Satoru grinned at Satsuki nestled snuggly into the comfiest car seat his money could buy. She was busy touching and nibbling her Yukimi Botamon plushie. That one would get its turn in the washing machine soon — about to join the other Digimon plushies victimized by her curious hands. He’d heard of parents who got upset with kids who tore up their toys, but it didn’t really matter to him. He would just buy her more.

“Should we stop by Starbucks, Princess? Auntie Shoko demands payment in coffee.”

Her reply came in wet babbles and a single squeal that Satoru took as a ‘yes.’ Putting the sedan in reverse, Satoru carefully backed away from the parking spot he’d stolen from an angry mom when he’d arrived ten minutes ago. Megumi and Tsumiki looked at him like he was crazy, but really, the angry lady didn’t have to get so defensive.

He glanced at Satsuki again as he left the school and drove to the closest Starbucks he could find. She was still babbling to herself. He was late for his own first year class at Jujutsu Tech, but it didn’t really matter. The kids could train with their upperclassmen just fine. Besides, he knew the moment he set foot on campus with Satsuki in tow, all sins would be forgiven in favor of entertaining the cutest, most precious baby alive.

Even Yaga couldn’t reprimand him for tardiness if he was toting Satsuki around.

Shoko accused him of using his daughter as an excuse and a shield to get out of trouble, and they were right. But who cared? Satsuki certainly didn’t. She just wanted to eat her baby food and play with her toys.

Besides, if all else failed, he could always hit the higher ups, who had the audacity to complain, with excuses along the lines of, ‘My kids are waiting for me at home.’

Being responsible for three growing children was a tall task, but in this at least, Satoru Gojo could admit he’d had it easy.

Well, easier than most.

Most people had budgeting to think about. They had to juggle work, child care, home maintenance, and healthcare. Most people were not privileged enough to be born into a family that provided their every need. Most people couldn’t move from one upscale residence to the next in just five days. Most people didn’t have a wealth of connections they could call or the money needed to take care of this and that to expedite processes as much as possible.

(What do you mean there were technical legalities to having a baby outside of marriage? Something about Supreme Court rule enacted last month? What do you mean there are lengthy legal procedures needed to legitimize the birth of his daughter just because he and his Love weren’t married yet when they had her? Apparently, the surname ‘Gojo’ didn’t have much weight if she wasn’t considered legitimate under the eyes of the government’s law.)

Satoru Gojo had the backing of an influential clan who had footholds in and out of jujutsu society. The majority of them cared too much for the family’s reputation as a whole and had resolved to help “cover” the “shame” Satoru’s “careless dalliances” brought them. It was a ridiculous mindset to have, really, but as powerful as Satoru was, he couldn’t change the way people thought.

It didn’t matter to him as long as he got what he wanted and Satsuki could grow up without worrying about legal bullshit around her birth.

Part of him wanted to whine about it to someone — about how much his life resembled a neverending whirlwind now, but Satoru was self-aware enough to know that he had been granted enough privilege and enough resources to make his life manageable. His younger self certainly wouldn’t have thought about it like this. If he had thought his life was busy before having Satsuki, he wished his old self could see it now.

=OoOoO=

10:02 AM; Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School

The drive up to Jujutsu High had been mostly uneventful. The only real hiccup had been when Satsuki started crying and he had to pull up at a gas station with a convenience store, so he could run inside and hopefully find something she needed that he didn’t have. But really, everything should be in the baby bag that Yumiko packed before they left home this morning.

Turned out, the baby needed a diaper change, and Satoru didn’t know what was worse: the fact that Satsuki had to be uncomfortable now of all times or the fact that diaper-changing stations were only in the women’s bathroom. It wasn’t a problem because he could warp in, do his business, and warp out, but it was still quite baffling.

Why did people in-charge of making restrooms and toilets neglect to put diaper-changing stations in the men’s room?

With Satsuki now strapped to Satoru’s chest, her baby bag slung over one shoulder, and Shoko’s unhealthy umpteenth dose of caffeine in hand, Satoru kept using Blue to move quickly up the stairs to Jujutsu High up until he reached Shoko’s clinic in the school.

Satsuki was giggling again, humming, and babbling ‘Da-da’ over and over as her tiny fists gripped the front of his dark gray shirt. Her little head moved this way and that, taking in colors and shapes that didn’t have a name in her growing brain. Satoru didn’t miss the way his baby kept staring up at him though, and who was he to refuse his daughter’s whims when she babbled like that? And if he had to blow his own saliva bubbles and pop them loudly so she would give him that cute gummy smile, no one had to know.

“Well, if it isn’t the deadbeat father.” 

Shoko joked when Satoru stepped through the door of her clinic at Jujutsu High. She was taking the unlit cigarette out of her mouth to drop it in her stash.

“Nice joke, Shoko. You should try something funnier next time.”

Shoko snorted and helped him unload. The baby bag was deposited on the couch, and the Starbucks coffee left on her desk — plain old cold brew for her and a cola frappuccino for Satoru. Holding out her hands, Satoru gladly passed his baby over to Shoko while he rid himself of the carrier.

“This is her last round of vaccines right?” He asked, fishing out the documents Shoko asked him to bring earlier this morning.

“Da-daaaa~ Da-da Da-da.”

“Yep.” Shoko nodded once and turned to the gurgling baby in her arms, voice turning soft. “Is ‘Da-da’ the only word you know? Say Shoko… ‘Sho-ko.’”

Satsuki giggled, popping drool bubbles in her mouth. “Da-da! Da-da Da-da.”

It devolved into incoherent babbling after that as Satsuki moved around in Shoko’s arms and stared at everything and anything. Satoru snickered and reached over to wipe off the drool from the corner of his daughter’s mouth.

“You’re so gross, ‘Tsuki. This after you made a mess on the way here too?”

“Huh, I wonder where she gets it from.”

“I’m offended.”

“You should be.”

Leaving a pouting Satoru, Shoko went to get everything she needed for the vaccinations. Satoru took Satsuki back and made her sit on one of the patient beds. Shoko took her time preparing everything, but it was hard to ignore the conversation happening behind her — a nonsensical conversation, but it was one nonetheless. It was a mix of baby talk and so. Much. Giggling.

People could say what they would about Satoru Gojo at this point, but anyone who worked closely with him couldn’t deny that he loved his daughter dearly — so enamored by her too.

With Satsuki sitting on a patient bed, propped up by her father, Shoko began administering the shots methodically, and Satsuki’s giggles turned into loud wailing and a lot of fussing.

Satoru cooed, wiping fat tears that rolled down his baby’s cheeks, and when they were done, he took her in his arms, tucked her head into the crook of his neck and calmed her down in the softest, most saccharine voice Shoko ever heard him use — a voice he used just for his baby girl. In some small way, it felt wrong to be there. It almost felt like intruding on a very private family matter.

“Sshh~ why’s my baby cryin’? Did it hurt, Princess? It’s just a tiny boo-boo, don’t worry about it.” 

He patted her back, left kisses on the top of her head, swaying side to side a little until the tears stopped and the aftereffects of the vaccine took hold.

“You don’t mind if I stay here a bit, do you?” Satoru gestured towards the sleeping baby in his arms. “She’ll wake up hungry and I have to feed her afterwards.”

Despite herself, Shoko had to laugh a little and nodded her consent. She sat next to him on the couch with a medical report in her hands. The clinic was silent — almost as if no one was there. Shoko intently read the document she’d been studying before he got here, while Satoru contented himself with scrolling through his phone while a baby slept on his shoulder. 

Time passed slowly in silence, and after a while Shoko spoke up quietly.

“When are you moving back to your apartment in Roppongi?”

“I’d like to do it before ‘Tsuki’s first birthday. Everything should be settled by then. Also, we haven’t exactly been weaning her from breast milk, but she doesn’t like it much anymore. Is that normal?”

“She’ll be 7 months old soon.” Shoko fiddled with the corner of a page. “It should be fine. Some babies feed on breast milk until they’re 2 years old, some are weaned early by their parents, and some don’t have a preference for it at all. Humans are strange like that.”

“Oh…”

“Sometimes it feels like only yesterday that you moved into that house in Ota.”

“I know, right?”

“Does your mother know that you’re planning to move back to your apartment?”

“I’ll tell her soon, after I’ve finished arrangements to move all of the kids’ stuff to my apartment and after an interior design crew finishes remodeling the space to fit children. Less trouble that way.”

Shoko chuckled quietly. “Look at you being a responsible adult. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Satoru wanted to say that it only took losing Suguru and the Love of his life to childbirth, but he held his tongue. It would be a stupid joke to make, and it wasn’t even that funny. If he had done things differently after that failure of a mission to bring Amanai to Tengen, maybe Suguru would still be here… If he had been a tad more responsible, maybe his girlfriend didn’t have to lose her life.

This was the reality he lived in now, and he’d promised himself he would do anything in his power to give Fushiguro’s kids the life they deserve and love his daughter enough so she would not miss out on the affection her late mother would have lavished on her.

So even if the situation was far too complicated, he’d waded through the knots, got his hands dirty, and did his best to sort things out.

After Satsuki’s birth, his mother had been adamant about him spending more time in the Gojos’ expansive ancestral home — the family’s estate, located further in the outskirts of Tokyo. There, he would have had access to a small army of hired nursemaids that could cater to Satsuki’s every need. The women in his family and his own mother had more knowledge about childrearing and experience than he ever could, but there was the fact that if he let it happen, they would isolate him from his own baby — pushing him towards his duties instead. 

That was not something he wanted, and the Love of his life would hate him if that ever happened. He made a promise to her.

Satoru would have preferred to raise Satsuki in his spacious 4-bedroom apartment in Roppongi from the start, but his mother did have a point. For the first few months of Satsuki’s life at least, his schedule required convenience. Roppongi was in the heart of the metropolis. His apartment was the perfect bachelor pad and entirely ill-fitted to house a newborn and all of her needs.

He settled in Ota City, which was somewhat closer to Jujutsu Tech and his family’s ancestral seat; moved into one of the residential properties registered under his name as clan head. It was a private two-storey home maintained by a live-in caretaker after the clan purchased it two years ago. 

The propositioned army of nursemaids were reduced to three, scheduled to come in shifts throughout the day so Satoru would have assistance 24/7. His mother hired a cook for him, someone in-charge of nutritional meal prep for Satoru and the children under his care. The housekeeper and the gardener the family had hired when the house was purchased would retain their duties, reporting to work twice a week to make sure the property stayed neat and tidy.

So while he was indeed busier than ever before, his life wasn’t as messy as it was expected to be had he been forced into a situation where he had to deal with all of this by himself.

“Megumi gives me enough shit about it.” He joked, shaking his head at the memory of Toji’s son.

“You think you can manage without the nursemaids and the cook after you go back?”

“I could keep them around if I wanted too, but nah. The apartment is serviced, and honestly, Tsumiki knows how to work a kitchen anyways. I’m her sous chef you know.” He declared proudly, flashing Shoko a grin that reminded her of a much younger, more-carefree, and more insufferable Satoru.

“I pity whoever’s on housekeeping duty when they have to clean your apartment.”

“So mean.”

=OoOoO=

04:55 PM; Ota City, Tokyo

The rest of Satoru’s day fell into a routine. After Satsuki got the last round of her vaccines, she had woken up hungry, fed from a bottle, and then she was strapped to her carrier, before Satoru went off to check on his first years. 

He had four of them this year. They were nothing to write anyone home about though. Two of them were more suitable for support — perhaps as assistants, and the other two were guaranteed sorcerers. They could get to Grade 1, if they pushed themselves hard enough — which looked like it wasn’t the case, because all four always did prefer theoretical lessons over practical applications.

And all four shared the same sentiment towards him bringing a baby to campus.

They adored Satsuki… Of course they did.

Satoru was predisposed to believe that anyone who didn’t, didn’t have a heart.

One of the girls, Eri, jumped up from her perch under a tree and rushed to Gojo first, squealing Satsuki’s name all the while. The other three followed and Satoru let them fawn over the baby girl while he delivered a verbal lesson on cursed energy control right there on the field. The students fiddled with her headband, cooed over how cute her little dress was, and watched her fondly as she played with the Digimon plushie that Satoru brought over. Yes, he derailed from the lesson from time to time to accommodate his baby whenever she squealed, “Da-da,” but for the most part, Satoru Gojo stuck with his version of a ‘routine.’

Finish a lesson at Jujutsu High, check the list of missions that were filtering down to the students, skip the paperwork (he’d make Ijichi do it, easy), receive mission briefs from Yaga, pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from school, and finally head home.

He wasn’t really one for routines. Living the same way every day was just boring. Whatever routine he’d managed to put together for the last couple of months had been ragtag… Impromptu. In a sense, it wasn’t really a routine, was it? More like a list of daily plans that got moved around the board by order of changing priority.

Megumi was quick to point out that it was a disgraceful mess if Gojo ever called it a ‘routine’.

Satoru had to give him credit though. He and Tsumiki were better at holding down the fort while he was running around taking mission calls from the higher ups, being a teacher, and being around Satsuki enough to witness her milestones.

Just like now…

Phone tucked between chin and shoulder, the furrow between Satoru’s brows did not disappear the longer he listened to an urgent mission brief on the other side of the line. 

Megumi had closed the front door behind him and was heading to the living room to do his homework. Tsumiki cast one last concerned look at Gojo before turning away to follow her brother.

A shrill squeal stopped her in her tracks and she spun around to see Satsuki staring straight at her, one arm outstretched and pointing in Tsumiki’s general direction. She was babbling and blowing bubbles again and when Tsumiki outstretched both hands towards her, Satsuki squealed and gurgled some more.

“One second.” The clipped and curt tone instantly shifted into a cheery voice as Tsumiki approached. “Mind taking her for me, ‘Miki?”

“Nope. Come here, Satsuki.” Tsumiki smiled, carefully taking Satoru’s baby girl into both of her arms. “Can you help me do homework?”

Shifting the wriggling baby into one arm, Tsumiki brought over her school bag, plopping it next to Megumi’s as she claimed a spot on the carpeted floor. The television was on a nature documentary channel, and it held Satsuki’s attention while the siblings started to take care of homework. Megumi sighed, looked up from his notes, and paused immediately after.

“Tsumiki, she’s eating her fingers again.”

The brunette stared down at the baby lying on her lap and clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Oh dear. Satsuki, no… Your hands are not that clean.”

Tsumiki tried to take Satsuki’s hand out of her own mouth, but the baby began to whine in protest. She wasn’t crying yet, but soon she would be. The moment her wail gradually increased in volume, it was over. Tsumiki hadn’t even realized Megumi had left his spot. He startled her a little bit when he tapped her shoulder and held out the jar full of multi-colored pacifiers that he’d taken from the dining room.

“Da-daaaa! Da-daaa! Da-da Da-da~” Came the long, drawn out wail that Megumi had been afraid of — all before Tsumiki had the chance to stick one of the suckers into her mouth.

“Well, you know who to call if you don’t get your way, huh?” Tsumiki tutted, gently pressing the pacifier nipple to Satsuki’s lips.

She latched on to it, and Tsumiki wiped down the baby’s hands with gentle antibacterial wet wipes that she’d fished out of her bag.

“How is she spoiled already? It’s only been six months.” Megumi huffed, plopping back down on the carpet.

Tsumiki giggled. “I don’t think she knows she’s spoiled, to be honest.”

“You said yourself, she knows to call for Gojo if she wants something.”

“That’s just what it sounds like. But really, does she even know what ‘Da-da’ means?” Tsumiki mused curiously. To Satsuki, ‘Da-da’ was just a word that brought Satoru to her. So what was the comprehension level of a six-month-old?

“I don’t know.” Megumi shrugged.

“She knows all of us and everyone coming and going in this house, and she’s attached to Go—”

“Heyyy~”

Tsumiki and Megumi turned to the direction of the owner of the voice. As expected…

“I heard a Princess crying. Is she okay?” Satoru sauntered over to them with that ever present grin. The glasses had been tucked away in favor of a black blindfold. It hung around his neck.

“Mhm… Just fussy.” Tsumiki piped up, stroking Satsuki’s hair while the brunette rocked back and forth slowly. “She wanted to eat her own hands, so Megumi had to get the pacifiers.”

Satoru snickered and eyed the jar of flavorless suckers that the kids had abandoned on the couch. Satsuki was happily sucking on a Leafmon pacifier.

“Tried one of those once. Sucks that they’re so bland.”

Megumi wondered if Satoru realized how crazy his statement was. Even Tsumiki was giving him side-eye. God forbid Satsuki inherited her father’s sweet tooth. It would not end well if the food supply around the house slowly shifted to just sweets. Thank the gods for Kaihara who always brought fresh produce and vegetables that Megumi could actually eat — except red bell peppers. Fuck those!

“Seriously? How old are you?”

Megumi should have known better the moment he saw a shit-eating grin spread across Satoru’s face. “Old enough to have a baby and raise them apparently?”

“Gross.”

“Hey~ What’s wrong about having kids?”

Megumi glowered at him — an expression too eerily similar to a man Satoru knew not too long ago. “Shut up. You’re gross.”

Satoru laughed obnoxiously. “I don’t know what you mean, Megumi.” 

The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes. They all knew Gojo knew… It was just one of those silent cues that said, ‘Drop the subject.’ Heaving a dramatic sigh, the man hopped over the back of the couch, landing smoothly next to Tsumiki. The brunette propped Satsuki up, so she was sitting on her knees, and Satoru’s expression brightened even more as he kissed his daughter’s forehead.

“Mind her bedtime, yeah?” He patted Tsumiki on the head and reached over to tousle Megumi’s hair — the latter felt unfortunate enough to receive it because he was not quick enough to evade him. “And you—” He zeroed in on the baby and tickled her tummy so she giggled, pacifier nearly falling out of her mouth “—be good to ‘Miki and ‘Gumi.”

“Hm?” 

“A mission?”

Tsumiki hummed just as Megumi asked.

“Yup. In Aoyama and Suginami. Depending on how this mission goes, I may or may not be around tomorrow morning. Yumiko’s coming in early though, and Kaihara prepped meals that can be reheated in the oven for breakfast if you want them. Otherwise, there’s cereal and cookies!”

“Be safe, Gojo.” Tsumiki smiled at him with so much sincerity, lifting Satsuki’s little fist to mimic a wave. The tiny girl stared up at her dad with big amber eyes, still intently sucking on her pacifier. “Don’t worry about us.”

“I’ll try not to be.” He grinned and rose to his feet. “Oh and about the ride to school tomorrow. If I’m not here by morning, Ijichi will be around to pick you both up. Yumiko and Kaoru will take care of Satsuki. I’ll be off! Good night, kiddos!”

=OoOoO=

Contrary to what he’d said, Satoru did make it back home before the children were due to wake up. A single glance at the property assured him that everything was untouched — no sign of attempted entry on both the physical premises and the layers of protection barriers over the home. The talismans infused with his cursed energy remained undisturbed — probably more than enough to ward off any threat that wanted to come close.

Unprovoked physical and supernatural attacks were rare for him (actually close to nonexistent because what curse or curse user would be stupid enough to launch an assault on Satoru Gojo?), but you could never be too sure.

Someone left the light at the foyer open — probably Tsumiki. She was mindful like that. The rest of the house was neat and quiet like always. Even before he’d had Satsuki, Megumi and Tsumiki were always responsible kids that picked up after themselves, and Satoru appreciated it. It wouldn’t have been a problem if they were messy because the apartment in Roppongi was clean-serviced routinely, but the Fushiguros’ tidiness and sense of responsibility that matched an adult’s was a sad reminder of how they were abandoned too early and were forced to grow up.

The watch on his phone displayed 4:47AM in white bold letters.

He took the stairs two at a time and made a beeline for the room beside his — Satsuki’s nursery. It was a usual sight: Satsuki in dream land, her night light was on, the winter-themed animal mobile hanging above her bassinet was turning slowly in circles too, and the room smelled of baby powder mixed with something distinctly floral. What was not usual were the kids sleeping comfortably on the large bean bags on the floor, sandwiched between the Divine Dogs. They were supposed to be in their own rooms across his own, but nope… Tsumiki was clutching a Digimon plushie — completely unaware of the presence of a canine conjured from her brother’s shadows, and Megumi had an open book on his face, the fingers of one hand buried in the Black Divine Dog’s fur.

What a sight to come home to…

He didn’t really say it, but he truly did appreciate the way Megumi and Tsumiki cared for his daughter like she was their own sibling. He had the Fushiguros as his wards first — looked after them together with the Love of his life, and when Satsuki was born, the situation could have turned sour quickly because of the swift change in living arrangements and the introduction of a baby that would take the majority of his attention. They could have been resentful… They could have been jealous… They could have thrown tantrums.

Instead, he had Tsumiki being her kind and sweet self as always, while Megumi was… Megumi. The kid was a grouch from the moment they met, but Satoru knew that he cared — in his own quiet ways. He and Megumi were similar like that, but Megumi was reserved and preferred to keep to himself where Satoru often forgot what personal space was.

Snapping a picture of the domestic scene that stirred something in his chest, Satoru turned and left the children in their peaceful slumbers, making his way to his own bedroom to catch a nap.

If he could come home every day to a sight like that… he’d never complain about a single thing in his life ever again.

[tozettastone]

I'm casting an AU where the Akatsuki work in an office together.

Nagato and Konan comprise 51% ownership together. Nagato is CEO, Konan's COO so you know who does most of the work. They're not actually married but everyone thinks they are. They just trauma bonded after the tragic loss of the guy they were both dating. Konan talked him out of naming himself 'PAIN' but he does have a giant tattoo about it.

Kakuzu is the director of corporate affairs. He's a control freak about it.

Deidara and Sasori are the two man marketing department. Deidara doesn't believe in strategic vision; Sasori loses his mind when he has to alter his plans. It's going... not great. Together they are absolutely amazing at crisis management though. And Deidara loves crisis management.

Itachi is the head of legal. He used his family's money to get the fanciest law degree on the planet but had a falling out with them after his entry to the bar about the allegedly unethical source of their wealth. He still works for Akatsuki, which isn't exactly a nonprofit.

Kisame is Itachi's common law partner who is a... private contractor, who is employed on an ad-hoc basis by Akatsuki for specific professional services. He mostly takes gym selfies and sends them to Itachi to get him through each bonkers day. But some days, he charges tens of thousands to go to work for 3 hours. He's good at his job.

Orochimaru used to be the head of R&D but now he's left the company and has embroiled them in a litigious tangle about intellectual property in the commercialisation of his research. Itachi's predecessor was ousted ("ousted") over the hole in his contract, and now they're trying really hard to patch it up. It's not going great.

Hidan is the receptionist. If you canvas businesses to try to sell to them, or if you show up without an appointment, Hidan is there to take very, very good care of you. He's also carrying on with Kakuzu ("boyfriend," would be pushing it) but it's not really affecting his enthusiasm for his work.

Obito/Tobi: intern and general dogsbody, but he's also a 9% shareholder. He does not really need to work here. He's choosing this.

Zetsu shows up once a week to water the office plants. They're mostly lilies.

What, you might ask, does this company actually do? Well. Akatsuki has... a variety of interests. Waste management. Wealth management. Risk mitigation. You know. This and that.

[vacuouslyfalse]

There's a whole funny aspect to the way Roman history has all these soothsayers who predict this or that, and the prophecies that enter the narrative always come true

Given that prophecy isn't, like, real, I can think of several (likely all true) explanations:

1. Prophecies were often produced by emperors post-hoc as a method of legitimizing their reign as preordained by the gods

2. There were tons of soothsayers saying shit all the time. If you were a prominent man in the empire, someone would eventually say some shit to you or about you. The vast majority of these never came true but history remembers those that did

3. Some prophecies were self-fulfilling. Most notably, as soon as Macrinus was prophesied to become emperor, he knew his days were numbered unless he killed the current emperor, so he went ahead and did it (and did become emperor briefly in the aftermath)

4. Roman historians loved to make shit up for fun

[super-ion]

The Voyages of the Padua

Chapter 5

(1, 2, 3, 4)

Cass emerged from the shower booth only to be met with a blank holoplex. No, not quite blank. Ria had created the illusion of a sheet of paper taped to the plex on her side. It simply said “BRB” in big letters… whatever that meant.

Cass was alone. Again.

Technically, she supposed Ria was everywhere there was one of the holoplexes, but with her attention elsewhere for the moment. And the rest of the crew had to be somewhere nearby. But they weren't here.

She wasn't confined. There was no one to escort her. She apparently had free reign of the ship? It seemed like terrible security posture… unless they didn't see her as any kind of threat. Should she be insulted by that?

She was overthinking again.

She took a breath and stepped into the corridor. It was such a stark contrast to the Eosphorus. Where the other ship had been all clean bright paneling and recessed lighting, the Padua was an assortment of exposed pipes and cabling and grated floorings. It was certainly more functional than aesthetic, though functional might have been a bit of a stretch given the number of ad hoc repairs and mismatched bulkhead panels Cass passed.

The environmentals were comfortable at least, not too dry, not to humid, maybe a little warmer than it needed to be, but within reasonable limits. It smelled… used, lived in. Something in the scent triggered some innate response, a pang of nostalgia for a place she had never been. Maybe she had served on a ship like this in her previous life?

And then there were the noises. Those ever present sounds that had lulled her out of her slumber were even louder out here in the corridor. The Eosphorus seemed the sort of ship designed to run quiet, noises were meant to signal danger. Here, silence was the danger.

As she meandered down the hall, she realized at least some of that noise was music. Or at least she thought it was some sort of music. It was a sort of glitchy industrial ancient, with only the barest hint of rhythm or melodic structure.

She followed the source of it, rounded a corner and there was Mina.

Mina had tied the arms of her jumpsuit at the waist, leaving her torso covered only by a loose tank top that hung on her elongated frame. She had an access panel off one of the bulkheads and had her head and arms buried in the enclosed space beyond.

Cass watched as Mina blindly grabbed a tool from her belt and reached back in to tweak something or other. Taught muscles rippled under mottled gray skin with patterns that were constantly shifting with the music and occasionally bright little nodes of bioluminescence glittered along predefined paths.

She drew her head out and wiped at sweat on her forehead with the back of her arm. She had a long braid of black hair, threaded through with streaks of silver, held out of her face by a red kerchief that rested behind her large batlike ears.

One of those ears twitched and she glanced at Cass, finally noticing her. Whatever she was expecting to see, it wasn't Cass because she jumped in surprise, clumsily fumbling the spanner in her hand.

Reddish yellow beads of light flashed in patterns along her skin as she hunched her shoulders as she had on Eosphorus. She averted her gaze, only sneaking quick glances at Cass.

“Um… hi,” Cass said with a tentative wave. “Mina, right?”

Mina made a small nod.

Her face was almost human, but with a slightly flattened, almost catlike nose, and the seams of her jaws extended past the edges of her lips. And the large eyes that Cass originally thought all black, were actually shot through with a dark red around W-shaped pupils.

“I'm Cass,” she said, trying to shove down any lingering terror. “I mean, as of like 20 minutes ago. Ria kind of put me on the spot…”

Oh she was rambling. Just get to the point, she told herself.

“Um… thanks for saving my life,” she said.

Mina's lips quirked in a tiny smile and she ducked her head in acknowledgement.

“And I guess thanks for grabbing my bag. I really appreciate it.”

It was a shot in the dark, but it hit the mark judging by the way the pattern on her skin shifted, adding patches of a sort of greyish reddish pink that Cass could only assume was a blush.

Mina made a gesture. No, it was a sign for a word. Something casually negative. It's nothing. De nada.

It took a moment for Cass to parse the meaning and Mina made an apologetic smile and tapped her throat.

“Oh,” Cass replied. “I'm sorry, I didn't-”

“Mina!” someone shouted from down the corridor that Cass had come from. “Mina! Our guest is missing… ah.”

Cass recognized the other human. Tre. They were dressed just as impeccably as before, the collar and rolled sleeves of a bright white wrap shirt arranged just perfectly. Their olive skin was flawless, dark hair once again pulled back without a single strand out of place. Vivid purple eyes that couldn't possibly be natural swept over Cass dispassionately, as if she were a rather unremarkable insect.

“Fucking hell,” they said, equally dispassionately. “Ria was supposed to keep an eye on you.”

“I'm sorry,” Cass replied, slightly taken aback. “She showed me the shower and when I got out, she was sort of… gone?”

“I swear on the spirits,” they muttered. “If she's off modeling cathedral acoustics again…”

Mina interpreted them with a gentle tap to the arm.

She signed rapidly, more rapidly than Cass could follow, but she did catch a series of gestures that corresponded to letters: “C-A-S-S”

Tre looked back at her, somewhat more appraisingly this time.

“Cass, huh? So you remembered your name?”

“Uh… no,” she admitted.

“Oh hell, you didn't let Ria name you, did you?”

“Not…exactly.”

On cue, a familiar voice crackled over the intercom.

“Heeeeeey, friends! Aela's starting to wake up and she's probably going to wanna have a meeting. Also it's breakfast time and I'm hungry.”

Mina huffed an amused sound and Tre rolled their eyes.

“No, you're not,” Tre snapped back. “You don't eat.”

“Well duh,” Ria responded. “Obvs not. But breakfast is the most important meal of the day and Aela says I have to make sure you don't miss it again.”

Tre grumbled something under their breath, but apparently complied, trudging their way down the hall.

Mina offered Cass a shy smile and a gesture similar to the one she had made back on the Eosphorus.

“Are you coming?"

The mess turned out to be little more than a glorified kitchenette adjoining a multipurpose communal space with a table set against one of the bulkheads.

There was another sheet of holoplex where the table met the wall and beyond… some kind of mirror image of the room, only it was tailored to what Cass had to assume was Ria's personal aesthetic. Everything was pastels and glitter, with tacky throw pillows and kitschy art.

Tre wandered to the kitchen area and began making themself busy with breakfast. Meanwhile Mina slid into a seat at the table and pulled a data tablet out of a pocket in her jumpsuit and began scrolling.

Before Cass could determine whether she was supposed to sit or where, Aela staggered into the room. Her hair was mussed and her eyes were lidded, and she wore nothing but a pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt that read "I'm not the step dad, I'm just the dad that stepped up".

Ria had mentioned something about the captain needing to recover after the drift (whatever that was), and the android did appear to be very out of sorts, practically hung over.

"Um... Captain-"

"Mm-mm," Aela cut Cass off with a raised finger and slumped heavily into the seat across from Mina.

Cass slipped into one of the remaining seats and watched in fascination as Tre fetched a mug from a cabinet and filled it with an unnaturally vibrant green liquid from a dispenser labeled "Aela juice: do not drink".

No words were exchanged as Tre set the streaming mug down in front of Aela. The whole routine felt practiced, familiar. This was a crew that seemed to know each other on some deep, intimate level. The whole thing made something deep within Cass ache.

Aela took a sip of whatever “Aela juice” was and made an appreciative grunt. Then she cracked her eyes open to peer blearily around the table.

Her gaze swept over Cass, seemed to notice something and cleared her throat.

Tre sat down, noticing nothing amiss, and began sipping at their own mug. The scent of strong coffee and whatever aromatics were in Tre’s breakfast, made Cass’s stomach growl.

Aela cleared her throat again, earning a confused “huh?” from Tre. Aela sighed and pointedly looked between Tre’s coffee and breakfast and Cass's lack thereof.

“There's coffee in the dispenser over there,” Tre grumbled, gesturing vaguely in the direction of assorted apparatus embedded in the wall of the kitchenette. “Mugs are right above. Don't drink from any of the labeled ones. Auto-chef does algae and yeast cakes. Don't select recipe 135, the aromatics are from a limited batch. It's mine and off limits.”

“Thanks,” Cass replied, maybe more to Aela than to Tre.

Auto-chef turned out to be a somewhat intimidating touch screen interface (again with a pair of googly eyes glued just above). It boasted 26 base recipes with infinite customizability. It was all some combination of yeast, algae, nutritional supplements and aromatics, so Cass figured “infinite” was probably a bit of a stretch. Fortunately (or possibly unfortunately), it featured an option labeled “surprise me”. She selected the surprise and hoped for the best. Given how hungry she was, it probably wouldn't matter.

The coffee maker was significantly less enigmatic. Coffee, black, unsweetened, hot, perfect. Present-tense Cass had never had coffee before, but past-tense had very clearly relished it judging by the satisfied grin the aroma brought to her face.

She turned to glance back at the table and hefted her mug in Mina's direction.

"Do you want any..."

She trailed off at Tre’s urgent gesturing over Mina's shoulder. A frantic hand sliced over the throat. Stop.

Cass had committed some manner of faux pas, but what exactly, she couldn't begin to guess.

Mina hunched her shoulders (she did seem to do that a lot) with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

"No, thank you," she signed. "I don't drink coffee."

At least that was the gist of the signs. Cass wasn't familiar enough with the dialect to understand perfectly, but she got the message.

As she carried coffee and algae cake back to the table, Ria joined them. She perched on a virtual stool in her holoplex, legs crossed with an oversized bowl in her lap. But rather than cereal every spoonful was full of oscillating abstract shapes that occasionally clipped through the bottom of the spoon. Cass could just make out the box at one of Ria's elbows that read "Möbius O's!"

Ria met Cass's eyes and gave a wink and a cheeky grin.

“So…” Aela said finally, bringing Cass’s attention back from Ria's pastel mirror universe. “What are we going to do with you?”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Luke Hallam at The UnPopulist:

For the past seven days, the U.K. has witnessed its worst riots in over a decade. What started off last week as a wave of protests over the horrific murder of three young girls, fueled by false claims about the identity of the attacker on social media, has metastasized into something far more profound: a deep fracturing of relations between communities that threatens to do lasting damage to Britain’s social fabric.

Origin of a Race Riot

Last Monday, a knife-wielding teenager entered through an open fire door at a Taylor Swift-themed dance class in the seaside town of Southport and killed three participants, all girls under the age of 10. He also injured eight more young children and two adults. It was an evil crime, the horror made all the more acute by the youth of the victims and by the fact that someone would target for such an atrocity, of all things, a joyful summer dance party. What came next should be considered a textbook example of how harmful lies can spread on social media. There are generally good reasons to be wary of finger-pointing when it comes to “fake news” and social media’s role in spreading it. But in this instance, it’s hard to overstate the extent of the hysteria that was unleashed. Mere hours after the attack, the killer was seemingly identified as Ali al-Shakati, a Muslim asylum seeker who had arrived in the United Kingdom by boat, and was known to the British security services as a potential threat. Within minutes of the first social media post identifying al-Shakati, the story was picked up by a dubious news organization calling itself “Channel 3 Now.” The al-Shakati story was then parroted by Russia Today, and began appearing in a raft of viral posts on social media, including X, LinkedIn, and Facebook. Right-wing influencers with huge followings, like Andrew Tate, amplified the story, and various posts amassed thousands, often millions, of impressions.

Unrest broke out initially in Southport, Hartlepool, and London. Rioters released smoke flares and set fire to a riot van; they threw trash cans and bottles at police officers. As the unrest spread, it was the far right—an ad hoc coalition of former members of the English Defense League, supporters of notorious far-right agitator Tommy Robinson, and ordinary people swept along on social media—fueling the violence. It was common to see English flags and chants of “English till I die.” Mosques and Islamic centers were targeted in a horrific wave of xenophobic thuggery. It was, in large part, a genuine race riot—not a phrase to use lightly. In the first three days, it was well known that the suspect was only 17 years old, which means that by law they couldn’t be identified in the media. Still, in an attempt to head off the violence, the police released some limited information confirming that the alleged perpetrator of the atrocity was in fact born in the U.K. Nigel Farage, the leader of the populist-right Reform UK party and a newly-minted member of parliament, echoed a widespread fear that the establishment was conspiring with the police forces to protect an illegal migrant for fear of fueling an anti-immigrant narrative, irresponsibly declaring: “I just wonder whether the truth is being withheld from us.”

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, a judge took the unusual step of allowing the media to release the full identity of the alleged perpetrator despite his being a minor, noting that the suspect was only a few days away from turning 18. It turns out that Ali al-Shakati doesn’t exist. The real suspect, Axel Rudakubana, a 17-year-old born in Wales to Rwandan parents, was not a refugee. We don’t know that he’s not Muslim, nor that his motives were unrelated to some sort of Islamist ideology—though, given that only 2% of Rwanda’s population is Muslim, it seems unlikely. Of course, it hardly matters. There’s no earthly justification for violently attacking mosques, harassing the public, and setting fire to police vans.

[...]

Far-Right Xenophobia Capitalizes On Britain’s Integration Issues

There are two things to say in response to all of this: two things that may at first glance appear to be mutually exclusive, but are nevertheless both true. The first is that the right-wing polemicists have long been packaging these problems together into one overarching, catastrophist narrative of British decline. The problem is, there is no evidence that the knife crime wave has been directly fueled by asylum seekers. As bad as knife crime and other problems may be, it is also simply incorrect to assert that the country has in recent years become, in the words of one representative commentator, “a lawless country where there is no justice at all.” What’s more, right-wing catastrophism is hypocritical insofar as it has often been fueled by the very same politicians who were in government until last month, and spectacularly failed to tackle most of these problems. Indeed, it was the Conservative government that slashed the number of police officers and presided over the arrival of a record number of refugees, while failing to find a humane, durable solution for processing them. (In addition, it’s notable that even as one part of the country, Scotland, managed to successfully bring its knife crime problem under control by adopting a community-led agenda, Conservative politicians in Westminster made vacuous pronouncements about law and order that amounted to nothing for most of the country.)

The second thing to say is that there are real problems with Britain’s model of dealing with ethnic and religious diversity. Whenever there is social unrest or communal strife in France, for example, Brits and Americans like to put the blame squarely on the French model of laïcité—an imperfect approach to the separation of church and state that is often caricatured as consisting in naked animus against religious minorities. But Britain’s own highly communitarian approach—which often gives a free pass to the most radical elements within a religious community—does not seem to be faring much better, with the result that elements within some immigrant communities in Britain’s major cities have failed to properly integrate, and, as the present riots show, longstanding resentments have been left to fester.

Over the past week in the United Kingdom, far-right race riots over the UK’s immigration policies and the Southport stabbing have sprung up all over the Home Nations, especially in England.

These riots are fueled by paranoid Islamophobia, anti-immigrant xenophobia, and fake news.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Baldur’s Gate 3 Fic Masterlist

To be updated as I go along but I’ve been getting hyped on a variety of discord servers and therefore cranking out a lot of these soooo… here we go. NOTE: Mind the tags on all my content. It’s mature rated and dark.

Astarion Origin Series: Inspired by my recent Astarion Origin run where the dynamics of the Tavless party got me hooked on party dynamics. Astarion-centric friends as family stuff. Kind of in sequential order but only ish.

The Pike - The night Cazador sealed Astarion in a tomb, there was something much worse on the table. Not that Astarion will appreciate that, the ungrateful little wretch. (Pre-game)

Empty Recall - Origin Astarion early night in Act 1 with his initial travel companion, who notices he doesn't rest easy.

Quick Step - As more and more people join the party Astarion becomes all that more disposable in comparison. AKA: Act 1 Astarion’s race from a true level one character to team rogue.

Strange Smile - Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’zel speak with a monster hunter in a bog and Astarion happens to be there. It’s a very awkward way to get outted as a vampire to your (mostly) unsuspecting teammates.

Cruel Touch - Karlach tells Astarion what kind of monster she ISN’T. Really. Honest. Cross her heart. Also they murder the fake paladins of Tyr nbd (NEW!)

Scar Tissue - Loviator blesses Astarion. It fucking sucks.

Silver-Tongue - Astarion fast-talks an abnormal number of enemies into killing themselves in the shadow-cursed lands and the team makes idle (then less idle) conversation about it.

Wander Mind - When a fight goes south, Astarion doubles down on using the illithid parasites and the rest of the team sees how deep his fears truly run. IE: Origin-run Astarion going full illithid power through Act 2 (WIP)

Ad Hoc Fic: stuff that’s not part of my gameplay verse and just requests or ideas that stand alone in their own canon.

Verbal Contract - Astarion takes Haarlep’s deal and immediately regrets it. AKA: The deal with Haarlep goes sideways and is played much more brutally straight.

[anonzentimes]

Something that still continues to piss me off about DR3 and UTDP is Nagito's treatment by the class. Like the writers have this mindset that his actions in the simulation retroactively gives his classmates a post-hoc justification for scorning him from the very beginning. And it's not even consistent with their attitude towards him in Chapter 1.

SDR2: The class is civil towards Nagito, before becoming understandably untrustworthy after his stunt at the party.

DR3: Nagito does literally fucking nothing up until the gym incident besides act loopy about hope, and the class are constantly groaning like "We have actually been praying that the cancer will hurry up and finish you off already".

Honestly that's so fair Like, okay, I've already said my opinions on Nagito in Danganronpa 3 and how I think his presence adds to Danganronpa 2, but they do barely get away with it because he's trying to make a good impression and isn't talking about hope as much as usual and they don't know him as well lol. And the thing is that conclusion is from me analyzing him to death and a lot of people probably won't reach that same interpretation, without it the whole thing feels a little confusing. Honestly that's true for a lot of things about Nagito, I think that just might be the one I see more people be more commonly confused about?

Whatever reasons overall it's crazy how pretty much most of the class does NOT care about Nagito at all. Like, how they treat him and how he distances himself does add to how tragic his life is though which is important for his character, BUT DAMN??? ALL HE DID WAS BE A LITTLE SILLY ABOUT HOPE AND Y'ALL HATED HIM🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️

[bunnytornado]

Between a Desk and A Hard Place Chapter 4 TW: Blood, Violence, OC Death

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 Cross Posted on Archive of Our Own

~~ Current Day ~~

“So…Your dear friend drugged you, how quaint. Seems humans haven’t changed much in the last few eons,” Lucifer muttered as he sipped his whiskey.

I frowned at him and tilted my head. “Seriously? Not all humans are bad. Some are still very kind and helpful.”

“For what reason,” Lucifer countered, a sad but dark smirk crossed his face. “Humans ever only do things for their own benefit.”

“I like to believe in Goodness, that folks can be kind,” I say and grin. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Oh, how disgustingly naïve of a human. Please continue your story,” Lucifer groaned and shook his head.

A twitch of my eye was the only indication that I found his words aggravating, I took a deep breath before continuing my tale.

~~ 2 Weeks Prior ~~

As my eyes tried to open and focus, my groan came out muffled and dry. Darkness was the only thing I saw, no matter how much I tried to blink it away. I tried to sit up but found myself unable to move my legs or arms. My left hand hurt as I clenched my hands. I made a muffle cry and tried to get any help with my situation.

“Relax Christine, it’s better if you do,” Odessa’s voice could be heard. Her voice seemed to move, almost as if she was circling me. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake up so soon, but I suppose I got the majority of my work done. Such a shame though, the pain you will be feeling… I did try to ensure you wouldn’t feel it.”

I tried to plead for answers, but all that came out was muffled noises. I could feel the burning sting of tears forming, fear coursing through my veins. The blindfold I wore, soaking up any tears that did fall.

“Oh, poor Christine. I suppose I should give you an explanation, but I don’t think you quite need one,” Odessa sighed and struck out with her foot to roll me onto my back. Ignoring the cry of pain, her eyes rolled, and she started to walk around the circle once more. Her eyes scanned every inch of it, ensuring not a piece was out of place. “I do hope you make a better sacrifice than Vincent. He died within seconds. Sadly, I’m unsure if it was the ritual that had killed him or just how much blood he loss.”

Vincent… was dead? I started to squirm and try to get out of my bindings. Instantly, I felt a blade against my throat, forcing me to cease my squirm.

“Stop that. You’ll ruin the work I have done,” Odessa snarled and backed off again, ensuring her movement had no effect on the circle. “I hope you know that I’m fighting for something. It’s a shame that I have to sacrifice you, I really did just try to use Vincent.”

Without warning, Odessa slammed the knife into my arm and ripped it out, fresh blood oozing over the circle. As the dripped and oozed onto the circle, Odessa stood tall, and started to speak in Latin.

“O magne Asmodee, rex luxuriae.

Desiderii incendia das superque moras ardentes.

tuum auxilium peto ut longius abeam.

Praebe mihi quod gestio vicissim, hoc virginis sacrificium praestabo.

Quaeso praebe Incubum ut mea obsequere iussa et sequor lubidinem.

Finis iustificat medium, o magne rex Libidinis, Asmodee!”

With a burst of flames erupting from 5 candles, a gust of wind blew through the rooms. The candles placed around the pentagram within the circle slowly died out. One by one, their light flickered and blew out. As the last candle blew out, the circle glowed a bright pink, changing to purple, and then blue. With a blinding flash, Odessa had to cover her eyes. As she recovered from the flash, her eyes fell upon a tall figure.

Slowly, she stood and faced the pink-skinned Incubus. “Hello. My name is Odessa. I wish to make a pact with you,” Odessa said calmly. Assured her goal was in reach, she gave a dark smirk. The Incubus laughed and stepped over me.

“Oh, do you now? Well Odessa, I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but my King has specific rules for how we are to do dealings with mortals. See, if I was to make a deal with you, I would be in deep trouble since not only is this sacrifice made under duress, well…it was her blood that was used,” The Incubus stated and shrugged. “The name is Batter, and you my dear are now at my mercy.”

“W-what…but the grimoires... They did not mention this,” Odessa cried and backed away. “H-How dare you lie to me like this.”

“Do you realize how old those Grimoires are? Geez, humans always have to make things complicated,” Batter yawned out. “Always the same whines too.” Turning to the muffled noises of the bound human behind him, Batter turns and frowns. “Oh, hush for a bit. I’ll get to you next.” Batter’s clawed hand runs through his blonde spiked hair, a huff escaping him.

“R-Return to which you came demon. I have no use for an insubordinate Incubus,” Odessa snarled.

“Oh feisty. Normally I would just leave a warning. But you are incredibly rude...” Suddenly Batter was in Odessa’s face, a dark grin forming. “You must apologize to me mortal. Otherwise, I will take it from you by force.”

Odessa’s face fell instantly, realizing she was out of her depth. “G-Get away from me,” she demanded and backed away from the Incubus.

Swiftly, Batter grabbed the human, enjoying the distinct cry of fear before his other hand clasped over her throat, tightening. The sound of her gasping for air as he tightened his hand more, it was music to his ears. He always did love showing a human their place.

His tail flicked as a depraved grin filled his face. “Such a shame, if you would have just submitted, I would have let you enjoy. But alas you were rude. Plus, you did force another to be my treat for coming to Earth.”

He kept one hand on Odessa’s throat, the other coming up near her face. “Suppose I’ll have to seek you out when you fall to the Pride Ring. Hopefully you learn your place mortal.” With that, he let the human fall to the ground before shoving his claw through her chest. He grabbed her heart and crushed it, effectively killing the human. He pulled his hand free, and laughed as he watched the light fade from her eyes. “See you in Hell Odessa.”

Once the light was gone, Batter kicked the human away and turned to the bound one. “Such a shame about that one. She was kind of cute. Not a virgin like you, but virgins really aren’t my type.” Batter walked towards the me and grabbed me by the hair pulling me up by it. He ignored the muffled cries of pain as he thought of what he could do with his new toy.

“Hmm... What to do. Suppose I could just fuck you here and let you live to tell the tale. But, if I take you back home, I could just keep you as my little buffet. I think that would be better. I doubt a forced sacrifice would be much of a feast since you didn’t want to be involved from the start. But taking you home, I can train you. Teach you to be obedient and soon get all I need.”

“Yes, that is exactly what I will do.” With that, Batter threw me over his shoulder. The squirms I tried to do to get out of his grip, only ended up with me getting smacked on the ass.

“Stop, or I’ll just kill you too,” Batter snarled and snapped his fingers, stepping back onto the summoning circle. Within a blink, he was back to where he had been before, in his home. Dropping me on the bed, he got to work removing my bindings. With a swift movement of his claw, my bindings were released, and he removed my blindfold and gag just as quickly. “There, now you can see who will be your partner for eternity.”

I screamed and tried to back away, earning a harsh hair pull from the Incubus in front of me. “Listen here Human. You are MINE now. You will obey me, and you will submit. Otherwise, you will be ending up the same way as your friend.”

“Let me Go,” I cry and try to get loose. He tugged again, causing another cry.

“Fucking hell, shut up,” Batter snapped. Just as he was about to backhand me, his phone went off. “Batter,” he snapped into the phone. “Oh Lord Asmodeus…Yes. I did answer a summoning. I hand- Yes sir. I’ll come and give you a report of the summoning. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and threw me to the bed. “Lucky bitch. I’ll be back to start taming you.”

Batter turned and left, leaving me alone in the room. He locked his bedroom door and left to meet with Asmodeus.

As I heard the lock click into place, I curled up crying. I didn’t understand what was happening, how any of this happened. Only that my life had turned to shit within a day.

After a few hours, I tried the door, it was indeed locked. I then checked the other doors in the room. There was one that led to a bathroom and another to a closet. I went to the window and saw we were on the ground floor.

I tried the window, and a gasp slipped from my lips as I found out I could open it. Slowly, I climbed out of it, and ran as fast as I could. Right out into the Hellhole that was the Pride Ring.

~~~~~~TRANSLATION OF LATIN ABOVE~~~~~~~~~~~

O great Asmodeus, king of lust.

You give the fires of desire and stay burning above.

I ask for your help to go further.

Give me what I have done in return, and I will perform this sacrifice of the virgin.

Please grant the Incubus to obey my orders and follow my will.

The end justifies the means, O great king of Lust, Asmodeus!