#i tried to block it out when i was younger too. i teacher was trying to talk to me about how i was feeling. and i wanted to deny it.

[squirmydonnie]

TW: SH, denial?,

Sorry if anything is wrong or off here. I don't usually share like this. But I'm willing to fix any of it:

My mom turned to my dad and asked him if she should talk about it

And I was a little confused. But I already kind of knew what she was talking about.

She asked if any of the way that I've been feeling. Or the mistrust was because I'm bisexual.

So I had to start over and say yes. But that not even what I was trying to say when I said it.

My parents had told my brother things. They've told him i am naive, and am easily influenced. And i definitely can be.

It happens sometimes that I absorb what's around me a lot. Even if I don't end up doing an action. I'll do an in-action. So. It becomes in action instead. I haven't been doing much out of fear. Other than other bad stuff??..

But these are things they don't tell me. But do tell my brother which is weird

They had also told my brother that they assumed I was attracted to no one.

Which is fine.

But it does mean. That they have not been listening to me. And just decided what i am in there heads. Or something else like that

But when I first told my mom I was bisexual. I didn't. I was pretty naive at the time. Specifically with that. I didn't even know if my parents knew what bisexual was. It took me a very long time to tell my mom.

I followed her around and outside of the house. And then back on the couch. I only asked if she knew what bisexual was. And then she brought me upstairs and started talking to me for a long time.

I don't they understand. That it may hurt my feelings if I share my view on something, and then I am shut down. Even if it's done more lightly. It still hurts.

And when I told them I was transgender. It was the same things. Telling me that's not who I am.

In the conversation they explained further on their views. Which would have been helpful from the beginning. Instead of keeping this too themselves. I hate when they do that. And expect me to come to them. Because I am so bad at it. Its probably a bad excuse.

I've gotten better at coming to them. Especially last week. But it was still painful.

My dad told me we have wasted a lot of years. And we have.

I don't disagree with everything they say. But I don't feel that they understand that they things they say can sometimes hurt. Or hurt me badly.

And like they say, should use context clues.

We had been conversating since my dad came home.

Me and my mom had watched I movie and just came home about 4 minutes before.

We talked on the couch. I hurt myself and decided to go outside

I noticed it. But didn't tell them until we talked last in their room.

I went back inside.

Then my dad took me back outside so we could take a walk

It started to rain so we went back

Then we painted the door.

I was drawing something before that. I put some barbecue sauce on it and wiped it off. But it didn't look very good. So I used more wipes and added a powder juice packet.

It looks fine. I didn't need to add any of that stuff. But I guess you could say it was part of the process. I may have just been bored.

Or trying to snap myself out of whatever

I don't really know. But it was fun

I hadn't had much fun like that recently. So it was nice.

After painting the door. I can't really remember. I assume it doesnt matter.

I think I was just on my phone or computer.

I felt I had kind of ruined our last day together

I went to see my mom and told her I got hurt.

She took it seriously. Which was good. But I felt odd. I was smiling because I didn't want her to think about it. And just wanted her to see it as a mistake.

Because it kind of was.

I meant to do it but I didn't at the same time.

I feel that's hard to understand. But that's how it feels most of the time.

I do not know my identity

I'm not really trying to focus on it. Because that won't really help me.

I'm trying to look to be happy more.

Because I know my parents want that now.

But I wasn't fully sure of it before.

I couldn't stop thinking of what they wanted of me.

I assumed I would make sure I wouldn't be myself at all for a few years until I could get myself away.

I've been trying to know more about them without letting myself get attached to them anymore.

I don't think I was able to convey that to them.

I get very easily so ready to let myself be destroyed for someone else. Even if it may not even matter to them at all.

Even when someone tells me I've done something positive for them. It's not enough for me. I feel like it's all wrong. And I still don't matter

I'm not really fit to be trying to do the things I do. I know I've done some good things.

But I've also let myself be destroyed

Either by someone else or myself. I think because I've gotten used to it

I know its not okay.

But it will feel like. What's the point

This have to be my life

I have to be a punching bag basically

And stop trying

Hurting myself comes naturally now

I feel like it's someone else hitting me now

I barely address it as myself now

If it's someone else it's not as bad

I don't even have to care

A lot of times during a heated discussion with them I will end up hurting myself and they will just yell/tell me to stop it, but won't comfort me or anything. They won't ask me if I'm okay, then. They will just tell me to stop.

I wouldn't say I can just stop. It's like an immediate reaction now. If I could cut it out I would. Especially at this point.

Its becoming more embarrassing.

It sounds weird but I has always hoped that if anything happened it would just be big moments.

These small build ups really suck.

And its weird.

It's hard to face NBB after having a big break down. I've cried in front of her so much. And it feels like it's gotten worse.

I ended up hurting myself in front of a girl at school. And I was so lucky

Shes pretty nice. And has problems with it herself.

I had previously been intimidated by her. And assumed she saw me as stupid or incompetent like other people treat me in class.

But it's the exact opposite. And she actually saw me.

I have gotten incredibly lucky so much.

It's very easy for me to treat myself badly.

But I don't need to do that

[awkward-walking-potato]

Deadpool x GN!reader where they’re both sparring/training together but the reader passes out from exhaustion from not taking care of themselves. Rest of the fic will focus on wade Wilson helping and taking care of them (whilst slightly scolding them for not doing a better job with their own health and mental health.)

no rush, take your time ^^

Take a Breather

The training room at the X-Mansion echoed with the sound of fists meeting padded gloves, heavy breathing, and the occasional quip from Wade. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting stark shadows that mirrored the intensity of the session.

“Come on, Y/N, keep those hands up! You know the bad guys won’t wait for you to catch your breath,” Wade teased, though his tone was just light enough to keep you motivated.

You forced a smile, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. “You’re enjoying this way too much, Wade.”

“Hey, if getting punched by you counts as fun, then I’m living the dream,” he shot back with a grin, his mask pulled up just enough to reveal the curve of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny the small rush of adrenaline his banter gave you. The past few weeks of training with Wade had been grueling but effective. Despite his often flippant attitude, he was a hell of a teacher—at least when it came to fighting.

But it wasn’t just the combat training that had you worn down. Between teaching your classes, grading assignments, and being a mentor to the younger mutants, your days had been packed from dawn till well after dusk. You were exhausted, but you couldn’t afford to slow down. The kids needed you. The team needed you.

Wade, of course, noticed. He always noticed. But you were good at deflecting, and he was good at letting you. Until now.

“Alright, let’s go again,” Wade said, holding up his hands in a defensive stance, ready to block your next strike.

You took a deep breath, trying to summon the energy to continue. Your muscles were screaming for rest, but you pushed them forward, delivering a series of quick jabs. Wade easily parried, his expression shifting from playful to concerned as he noticed the sluggishness in your movements.

“Y/N, you’re slowing down. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you lied, even as your vision began to blur around the edges. “I’m fine. Just need a second.”

But you didn’t get that second. As you went for another punch, your knees buckled beneath you, and the room spun wildly. You heard Wade call your name, but it felt distant, like he was speaking through water. Before you could comprehend what was happening, darkness closed in around you.

When you came to, you were lying on something soft. A bed, maybe? The familiar scent of the mansion’s infirmary hit you first—sterile, with a faint hint of antiseptic. You tried to sit up, but a firm hand on your shoulder gently pushed you back down.

“Whoa, easy there, Rocky. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

Wade’s voice, though laced with its usual sarcasm, was softer than you’d ever heard it. You blinked up at him, your vision clearing enough to see him sitting beside you, mask off, a look of genuine concern etched on his scarred face.

“What… What happened?” you croaked, throat dry.

“You decided to play the hero and forgot that even heroes need to eat, sleep, and maybe, just maybe, take a damn break once in a while.” His tone was half-scolding, half-worried.

You groaned, closing your eyes as the memories of the past few days—or maybe it had been weeks—came flooding back. The late nights, the skipped meals, the relentless pace you’d set for yourself. It had all caught up to you in the worst way possible.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, not really sure what else to say.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Wade said, his hand still resting on your shoulder, grounding you. “Apologize to yourself. You’re the one who’s been running yourself into the ground.”

You opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze. “I just… I didn’t want to let anyone down.”

“Yeah, well, you’re no good to anyone if you’re passed out on the floor. You ever think about that?” His words were blunt, but the concern in his eyes softened the blow.

You nodded slowly, the reality of the situation settling in. “I guess I haven’t been taking care of myself.”

“No kidding,” Wade muttered, but there was no malice in his tone. “Look, I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and you’re amazing at what you do. But you’re not a machine, Y/N. You need to take care of yourself, or you won’t be able to take care of anyone else.”

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. He was right, of course. You’d been so focused on everyone else that you’d forgotten about your own needs.

“Okay,” you said after a moment. “I’ll try to do better.”

Wade’s expression softened, and he gave you a small, almost shy smile. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t want to have to carry your ass back to the infirmary again. You’re heavier than you look.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound surprising you with how light it felt. Wade grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“Now,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “you’re gonna rest. No more training, no more classes, no more anything until you’ve gotten some actual sleep and eaten something that’s not a protein bar, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied with mock seriousness, though you couldn’t help but feel touched by his concern.

“Damn right,” Wade said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And if I catch you skipping meals again, I’m personally gonna cook for you. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

You chuckled, the tension in your chest finally easing. “Deal.”

Wade nodded, satisfied, and for a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence. Eventually, though, he spoke again, his tone more serious.

“Y/N… you’re important to a lot of people around here. But you’re important to me, too. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you gave him a small, sincere smile. “I won’t. Thanks, Wade.”

He gave you a playful wink, then got up from his chair. “Get some rest, kiddo. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

As he walked out of the infirmary, you felt a warmth in your chest that hadn’t been there before. Wade Wilson might have been a lot of things—crude, sarcastic, and more than a little crazy—but he was also someone who cared. And as you drifted back to sleep, you knew you were in good hands.

That night, you slept better than you had in weeks. And when you woke up, you found a plate of breakfast on the nightstand with a note that read, “Rest up. We’ve got more ass-kicking to do later. – W.”

You smiled, knowing that with Wade around, you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

[tuxebo]

What do you think of John marston?

he's hot, that's about it (pretending i didn't just write this whole thing abt him.) while i've read that he gets better over time, i'm yet to see it so i have mixed feelings on him. he's not a good father, not a good friend, not a good husband. let's be real here, he wouldn't make a good partner unless he fell in love before joining the gang.

john marston who wasn't completely alone before dutch saved his tail from getting hung. there was this poor baker and his wife, they had a kid, you. you weren't wealthy folk, no, but you always brought john dinner or shared yours. it wasn't large portions, but enough to keep him from dying of hunger.

you first met him when you caught him trying to steal from the bakery, rather than telling your parents you just handed him to bread. you had a mini picnic on the bakery's front porch, you talking his ears off was more than enough payment for the food.

you brought him food a couple more times, talking about yourself while he ate in silence, eventually he opened up and started engaging in the conversations you started. he never told you much about himself, other than the orphanage you could find him at. he showed you which window was his and that you only need to toss a pebble at it to get his attention.

as time passed, john became more and more of a no b.s. little boys. the kind of little boy that got himself killed or in a gang, as your daddy said. he didn't put up with anyone messing with you, in that respect he got more aggressive with your bullies, but never with you. you taught him things you learned from your mother as she was your teacher, some of it didn't stick but you tried.

inevitably, john disappeared. he was either dead in a ditch or in a gang, your dad didn't mention a third possibility but you liked to believe he'd been adopted by a nice family and that you'd see him again. you were only about 11 years old and he was 12, it wasn't shocking for you to have such enthusiasm.

life continued as usual for about three decades. you never married, business was going well after your parents died and suddenly you had one too many responsibilities on your plate for any of that. the world was becoming more and more industrialized by the day, you wouldn't even recognize it to what it once was when you were a kid. the only place that felt like home was your bakery, which is part of the reason it was doing so well, the nostalgia.

having had been in the business for so long, you were no stranger to thieves ─ you even caught one before you were double digits. one a particularly slow morning, the grey clouds settling in as you prepared for rain, a quiet hum caught your attention.

stepping out from the back, you caught a young man staring down your trays of different breads. he wasn't quiet at all, practically begging to be caught. you smiled, planning on just giving some to him anyway, but the look he gave you rendered you speechless from deja vu. same type of bread, same guilty smile, same brown eyes, same thinking hum.

"aw c'mon, son ─ jus' had to be this one of all the damn shops on the block," a man swore, the same way your dad did when he read about some young-ins doing stupid stuff in the paper. the voice was familiar, deeper as it had been many years now, but before you was john marston and another younger john marston.

since leaving the gang and his son's mother, john marston was a changed man. finally able to pay you back for all the bread and the bread his boy tried to steal. this time he gave you a proper picnic, in the large yard on his property. he set up under on of his sycamore trees, just like you had described three decades ago.

john marston may not have been adopted by some nice family nor was he always a nice man, but he was ready to become one for his son and you.

[jaehunnyy]

[10.05]

Genre: highschool!au, fluff

Word count: 0.9k

Pairing: highschool-boyfriend!San x gn!reader

Warnings: they are hs students but they r both legal and all (im just living my highschool love fantasy sorry), they r kinda rebel haha, pet names, kisses, San pins reader to the wall but nothing rlly suggestive its rather playful, san pouts—a lot, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @bluehwale, @theficblog, @bluisheye93, @pinkimingi, @ssaboala

A/N: i do not encourage skipping school by any means aodosoao ive never done it actually BUT HERE ITS POSSIBLE OKAY.

Another sunny day in which you could have had fun anywhere else has found you in school. The halls of the big building you were in were filled with some of the pupils' laughter—but mainly with the others' exasperation for the new classes going to start soon. You were surrounded by the bothering motion around you, trying to spot the navy blue uniform you were looking for. Your phone started to vibrate in your pocket, but the fuss was too much for you to hear it. 

On the other side, your boyfriend was all pouty, the thought of not being able to see you during the break upsetting him. He kept calling and texting you, but it was in vain; you wouldn't be able to hear it due to the angry stomps belonging to the ones running to class. It was like the world decided against the two of you that day. 

"Sannie, c'mon, let's go. There's no way you would see them this break," Yunho told the younger boy, just to be met with a pair of puppy eyes, making him sigh. "San, you should stop skipping that much, you're doing it more often than Wooyoung!" 

The younger chuckled, his dimples furrowing his flawless face. "Please, just one minute! I promise it's the last time, dad." 

Yunho widened his eyes, frowning and hitting the other's shoulder playfully. "Don't call me—" 

"Look, it's them!" San exclaimed and jumped happily, opening his arms for you to jump when you reached him, forgetting about the blonde boy whose mouth was now hung open, the words aching to come out. 

The older sighed, though his lips ended up stretching in happiness when he saw how happy you made his friend. You landed in your boyfriend's strong arms, legs wrapping around his waist as he spinned you, not even noticing when the blonde saw an acquaintance of his and went to talk to him, leaving you by yourselves now. And your lack of attention was visible, cause you didn't bother to see the professor side-eyeing you because you were blocking her way—you two might have been in trouble.

"Sorry for interrupting you, Choi. And is that Y/L/N? Why are you not in class, when your teacher is already there?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, making you regain your posture immediately. 

San looked at you for a long time, words stuck in his throat, before you dragged him so the teacher could go to her class and leave the two of you alone. "Sorry, teacher." you replied rapidly, hoping she won't ask anything else. As soon as she left, you let out a relieved sigh, looking one more time at your boyfriend.

"I thought I wouldn't see you." he pouted again, his arms resting on your waist. 

"And I thought you were going to get both of us in trouble with the chem teacher!" you tried to bring him back to reality—but there was no reality when it came to you, he was in his own world.

"But I missed you."

"But it's already over, we are already late, so we should go…" you sighed, returning the pout to him. 

He smirked playfully, pinning you to the first wall he saw. You wanted to protest—but he got closer to you, the warmth of his breath making you forget your words.

"Not if I have a better idea, angel. Wait for me." he said and left immediately, leaving you no choice but to wait for him. 

He went to his class and gathered his things as fast as he could, coming back to you with disheveled hair due to running and his black backpack on his back.  

"Let's skip today, babe. Please?" he asked in a tiny voice, and there was no way you could have said no to him. 

You smiled softly and nodded, and he asked you to wait outside until he went to take your things as well. You did as he said, while he entered your classroom mindlessly, your teacher looking at him, flabbergasted. 

"Oh? Sorry to interrupt, I'm here to take my lover's things." he smiled innocently, and left almost as soon as he came in. 

You then started laughing at his antics, taking his hand in yours and starting to run to the stairs so you could escape your school. Your sweet giggles filled the hallway, making some professors shout after you. 

"Choi, Y/L/N! I'm calling your parents!" 

You and San only laughed harder, the adrenaline and love flowing through your veins stronger than anything. Couldn't they see you were in love?

"Thanks, for skipping school to stay with me." San whispered as soon as you reached the empty school yard, cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes. 

“Who said I’m doing it to stay with you? I’m doing it to go home.” you teased him, looking at his poked out lips. 

You placed a chaste kiss on them, hugging his waist and resting your head on his shoulder. Even though you saw each other daily, he couldn't get enough of you. He has memorized your features from top to bottom, but everytime he looked at you, he saw something new in you, making him fall harder. 

“You were joking, right?” he asked with a soft voice, still unsure if you meant that or not. 

You smiled in return, linking your pinky with his. 

"Let's go, babe." 

And with a sweet kiss he placed on your forehead, the two of you started to walk peacefully, like the teenagers in love you two were. And even though you should have felt a bit bad for leaving like that, you forgot about it soon, cause everything felt right with Choi San by your side.

[finn-m-corvex]

Trust

Started this yesterday, only got a hundred words in and wrote the rest today in the span of an hour and a half. Me and Whumptober could never.

My first fic in the Dad Jay AU! Featuring best sis duo Tessa and Kaida (from @taddymason) because I'm having brainrot and it's great. Will probably be making more of these but I need to finish Whumptober stuff first (pray for me guys)

Words: 1.8k

TWs: child abuse mentions (kinda graphic but also kinda not), scars n stuff like that

“Again!”

Tessa quickly threw up her arms to block Kaida’s incoming strike, well-placed but still too slow. Kaida tried to catch her around the back of her knee but Tessa anticipated it, buckling just before Kaida made contact so that the hit did nothing. Whipping around, Tessa caught the other girl’s arm and twisted, sweeping Kaida’s leg out and doing her best to make sure that the other girl didn’t crash onto the stone floor as hard as Dad would’ve let Tessa go down. She ignored the scowl sent her way as she pulled back, instead fixing her gloves and giving Kaida a second to recompose herself.

Kaida ran her hands through her hair, frustrated. “This is fucking pointless!”

“Not pointless,” Tessa said, taking her hair down and tying it back up. She was pretty sure that Kaida was about to quit for the day, “that time was better. You just need to be a bit quicker, but your techniques are spot-on.”

Kaida was actually adapting to Ninja techniques pretty well, all things considered. Tessa knew that it would only be strengthened by her previous experience with combat.

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Kaida snarled, and if Tessa wasn’t already accustomed to the younger’s outbursts she may have felt offended. “I don’t want your pity. I suck, you’re better than me, and that’s that. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“I’m not better, I just had a harsher teacher,” Tessa plopped herself down on the Monastery steps, watching as Kaida threw her own gloves on the ground in frustration.

“Then be harsher or whatever! I need to get better!”

Something crawled under Tessa’s skin at the thought of being more strict with Kaida then she was now. It wasn’t something that she was ever going to let happen. There was no way in hell she was going to start taking cues from Dad, even if Kaida might technically improve quicker. No improvement was worth what Dad had done to her and Noah, and Tessa was old enough now to understand that. “No.”

“So you think I’m weak? That I couldn’t handle it? Is that it?”

“No,” Tessa said, and she waited until Kaida was sitting next to her. There was still a good foot of distance between them, and she wasn’t going to try and close it, “the opposite, actually. You’re too stubborn and you have a good head on your shoulders, Kaida. You wouldn’t grow if I was too harsh with you.”

It took her and Noah starting to spar together for both of them to show improvement, mostly because Dad just treated their spars as life or death fights rather than practice. When she was younger, Jay always said that she was going to be putting her life on the line, that she would have to be ready to face death at any moment, that every battle could end in tragedy.

And yet, the only life or death situation she found herself in at the time was training. So where was the justification?

“I hate this,” Kaida said, hugging her knees and refusing the water bottle that Tessa had passed over. And Tessa knew the feeling.

“I know.”

“I hate that you and Noah keep treating me like I’m made of glass,” Kaida growled, “you do the same thing to Jenna and Ethan. And then you’re going to go and look at Jay like he did something to you when you didn’t even meet him until recently. That’s fucked up.”

There weren’t a lot of things that could get Tessa riled up (it just came with being an older sister) but she could feel herself starting to bristle. Kaida was stepping too close to her toes. “You don’t understand anything about my relationship with Da—Jay.”

“And I don’t want to if you’re going to treat my dad like he’s the fucking devil!”

Logically, she knew that Kaida was lashing out the same way she would’ve done when she was younger, because there was a point in time when she would’ve defended her dad. Cole or one of her other uncles would say something and Tessa would growl in response; but she knew better now. And she knew what she would’ve wanted to hear from anyone listening to her vent, but Tessa was surprised by the burning anger that flared up inside. “Good! Becaise he was never a dad to me!”

Everything went quiet. Tessa looked away, focusing on the small cracks between the stones, noticing the shadows bending as the sun went down over the horizon. She was mulling over what she had said, lost in her head, when Kaida whispered, “you’re not lying.”

Tessa turned her head, and Kaida was staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re not lying,” she repeated, almost as if she couldn’t believe it. “You haven’t been lying this whole time. Why aren’t you lying?”

“Jay was…different,” Tessa started. Patience. Patience was key here. Kaida had grown up with a version of her father that only wanted the best for her, so it was hard to understand that there was a version with only ill intent against his children. “In my timeline, Jay wasn’t the same person he is here. He was distant, and cruel, and I-I don’t think he wanted me and Noah. I’m pretty sure that if he had an option to trade us for Nya, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”

Kaida’s face twisted into an expression that Tessa couldn’t quite place. “Jay isn’t like that. He would never do that.”

“Yours wouldn’t,” Tessa agreed, “but mine would, without a second thought. My dad was broken, Kaida, and the only person that could’ve fixed him was gone.”

Broken like the beer bottles that she and Noah would find on the floor after Jay had a bad night. Even as a small child she could see the cracks spider webbing through her father, and he made less and less of an effort to hide them as the twins gew older. Dad turned colder, nastier, more violent with every birthday candle that the two blew out, because it was a reminder of how much time had passed since he was whole.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but it only wounded Jay’s heels as he kept stepping over the shattered glass time and time again.

She shrugged her t-shirt off, for once uncaring of who saw the small red scars snaking up and down her arms and across her shoulders. It was just her and Kaida, and she trusted her younger sister more than she probably should considering they had only known each other for a couple weeks. Kaida stared, unsure of what to make of the situation and the fact that the girl she was supposed to be looking up to as an older sister wasn’t lying about Jay. Her dad.

“C-Can I—”

“Yeah,” Tessa said quickly, before she could overthink it, “go ahead. Just be gentle.”

Tessa didn’t even know if it was in Kaida’s nature to be gentle, and yet that was the only way she could describe the way Kaida’s hand touched her arm. The younger girl’s fingers traced along the scars’ paths, and Tessa waited for her to say anything about the ones that clearly weren’t from the lightning.

“Some of these are like Dad’s,” Kaida said, and Tessa hummed in response, “but the others…did someone hurt you?”

“My dad did, Kaida,” Tessa said gently, “I got those during training, and that’s why I don’t want to be more harsh with you. I wouldn’t trust myself not to turn into him.”

“But Dad would never. And you would never—”

“I know, trust me, and I’m so grateful that he doesn’t. The last thing I want is for any of you to grow up like how me and Noah did. But me? I don’t exactly trust me, so I’m not surprised that you don’t either.”

“He did this to Noah too?” Kaida said disbelievingly, but Tessa was telling the truth, and she hated it. She hated it. Biting her lip, Kaida took a deep breath. “W-When I was younger, someone hurt me, and didn’t treat me the way that I should’ve been treated.”

Her head whipped around with the speed of lightning, and Kaida was surprised to see a snarl on Tessa’s face. “Was it Jay? I swear to the First Master—”

“No! No,” Kaida said quickly, “he’s the one who got me away from the people who were hurting me. He’s never laid a hand on me, I promise.”

Tessa relaxed, and she smiled a bit when Kaida scooted closer, finally taking the water bottle and hiding it in her lap. Even if she wasn’t drinking out of it, it was still nice to see the younger girl take something that Tessa had given her; maybe they could make this work. “I’m sorry I’ve been treating you like that, and that it’s been upsetting you—”

“I’m not upset over it!”

“Sure, kiddo. But yeah, I’m sorry. Having three new siblings, and they’re all younger than me, and my dad who isn't an absolute asshole and the mom who I never got to meet…it’s a lot. For me and Noah. And I’m sure it’s a lot for you too.”

“I, uh,” Kaida paused, and Tessa watched as she started to twist her fingers, a nervous habit that she probably picked up from Jay. “Shit, I’m not good at these. I’m sorry too. And Tessa?”

“Yeah?”

Looking away, Kaida bit her lip again. “I-I do trust you. I don’t think that you would hurt me, and I know that Jay wouldn’t hurt you. He’s always been a good dad to me, and I know he wants to be one for you too.”

Grinning, Tessa bumped shoulders with her younger sister, making sure that Kaida saw it coming and that she could pull away if she wanted to. But to her surprise, Kaida didn’t, instead taking it as a challenge and shoving back even harder. “Thank you, Kaida. But let me tell you now: you’ll have to learn how to apologize pretty quick when you have siblings. And you’ll learn that approximately seventy percent of the time you don’t mean a damn thing when you do say sorry.”

“You say that like I’m going to start apologizing for anything,” Kaida said, and Tessa laughed.

“You’re right, you wouldn’t be you if you started apologizing,” Tessa stood up off of the monastery stairs, dusting her pants off and noting the sun setting. “Come on, we should be getting inside. I think I still have some chocolate stashed away somewhere.”

Kaida gasped, scrambling up and after her older sister. “You have a candy stash and didn’t tell me?!”

“How else do you think I keep it hidden from Noah?”

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Memphis Malik Species: Medium Occupation: Paramedic Age: 27 Years Old Played By: Cody Face Claim: Anirudh Pisharody

"I’m running on about two hours of sleep and last night my little sister told me that I failed her gaming friend’s ‘vibe check’. So as you can imagine, I’m emotionally devastated."

TW: Parental death

Sanjeev and Priya Malik were avid birdwatchers. Star crossed lovers turned lawyers, anytime they could escape the courtroom or paperwork they were traveling - cameras and books in hand, competing to try to capture the best picture of the rarest birds. Once they had their first and only child, the hobby began to slowly die down until they stopped doing it entirely. Memphis Malik never met his grandparents, both had passed long before he had any memories of them. Yet he knew this fact, and so many more about both of them. Mostly because they never shut the hell about it.

Memphis had no clue two people could be so bitter about not being able to birdwatch. Or that their only child had chosen to become a teacher instead of lawyers like they had been. Or really, everything under the sun. But since Memphis was a little kid, he could see both of his grandparents clear as day as if the two of them had never passed. And unfortunately for him, he could hear them too; and all the opinions that came with them.

Unfortunately for Memphis, they weren’t the only ones. His powers had activated earlier than most, or so his mother had told him. The ability to see and speak to the dead, an ability that was apparently not exclusive to their family. What seemed to be exclusive though was the rate at which they became ghosts. For as long as anybody could remember, every single Malik that passed away returned as a ghost. Forced to exist on this Earth until they lost any sense of themselves and were forced to be exorcized. That was apparently a unique Malik family trait. They all wanted something from the remaining Malik’s. Their exact ask changed from ghost to ghost but it all boiled down to one common desire: peace. Everyone wanted to move on, and that wasn’t something Memphis could help them do.

Despite this, growing up wasn’t terrible. Both of his parents supported Memphis and tried to keep the ghosts from bothering him too much. Sure, school was a nightmare when one of his ancestors would show up and scream at him to deliver a letter to a former loved one or to find a box hidden under a mattress and throw it away without looking at what was in it- gross - but overall, he had developed coping mechanisms and had his parents and his younger sister that helped him not only get through school - but medical school and residency too. 

Memphis couldn’t provide his family peace, so he wasn’t sure why he thought he could keep his forever. When his parents were taken from him, everything started falling apart. The worst part? His parents were right there as ghosts, watching him fall to pieces without being able to do anything about it. 

Now it was just Memphis and his little sister Clarissa, who so far hadn’t shown any signs of being a medium herself. Not yet, at least. But whatever his parents had been doing to distract the ghosts didn’t exist anymore, and for now the only person left to bear the brunt of this curse was Memphis. He may already be cursed, but he would be damned if he was going to become some lonely, trapped spirit like the rest of his family did. Most importantly, he refused to make Clary have to deal with it. So now it was on him to find a way to finally put an end to it.

Character Facts:

Personality: Friendly, exhausted, clueless, cautious, scatter-brained, distracted, paranoid

Memphis almost always wears large, noise-canceling headphones. They have become the most reliable way to tune out whatever member of his family had shown up to wreak havoc on his life. Unfortunately this also comes at the cost of him tending to block out the rest of the world as well

Memphis has spent his entire life trying to avoid his family’s spirits. So much so that he’s never really explored the other sides of the supernatural world in White Crest. 

Memphis has taken over sole custody of his twelve year old sister, Clary. She has basically become his entire world now, and he is entirely too dependent on her. She could use some space.

Between the ghosts constantly trying to grab his attention, the hospital, and caring for a twelve year old - Memphis is very tired. 

Something seems to keep his family members from expressing exactly how they died. Memphis is no expert on curses, but he’d say that was definitely suspicious.

While Memphis did finish med school, the death of his parents made things too difficult to continue his residency. He dropped out shortly after to focus on taking care of his sister.

[lustnluv]

angel and john b - devil’s night

present

angel

the anthropology of youth culture.

it was only a class offered every two years so i signed up for immediately.

i had too many experiences with youth culture. take your pick from my town.

the biggest example is devil’s night.

a whole night of mindless fun and kids trying to do their best to keep up with the horsemen.

I think i have a good idea of what i was going to declare my major is. between all the psychology classes i take and along with all of the studying of human behavior i forced myself to do when i was younger.

it’s a good fit for me.

walking into the class, I see the most empty rows are in the back. they weren’t kidding when they said the spots filled up fast.

climbing to the the third from the top, I see the only other person is the one that john b had with him from the other night. her curly hair were down her back and she was wearing a brown cardigan with a black tank top nd jeans giving her a much laid back and less sexier look then what she originally had.

but still sexy.

meanwhile here I was in my dad’s old letterman jacket and leggings with a knitted hat on my head.

who cares? it’s not like I was coming for a fashion show.

I sat a seat away from her and turned to her. “hey, didn’t we see each other the other night?”

she gave me a look, a hint of panic in her eyes as she looked me up and down. “i don’t think so.”

“you were with john b. the elevator. at diose. i had a lot less clothes on then I do now.” i joked and she finally smile. “oh yeah. the little’s brother girlfriend right?”

“not his girlfriend. we just grew up together.” I started holding my hand out to her. “i’m angel.”

“kiara. but you can call kie.”

“nice to meet you.” i said trying to keep calm even though i was squealing in my head. making my first friend.

it doesn’t matter that she’s john b’a girlfriend. it counts.

“get lost.” a voice from behind me said, directed towards kie. her eyes widened and she quickly moved two seats down.

rafe filled the spot next to me, blocking my view of kie and pope on my other side.

what the hell?

“hey angel. long time no see.” pope greeting smiling over at me. the smile didn’t meet his eyes.

so they were all here.

why? i assumed after prison they would leave but obviously not. this must be funner for them or something.

“did you miss us cause we certainly missed you?” rafe teased, leaning back in his seat.

“what are you guys doing here?”

this was supposed to be my place. my place to be free.

of course they had to ruin it.

“to get our education.” pope answered and i would’ve believed him if he had books. he was the most excited to go to college. he was the smartest out of all of them.

“didn’t get that in prison. we’re trying to catch up after all those years lost.” he finsihed explaining and it hit my heart a little.

they did miss out on so much when they were locked up.

as the teacher came in, i tried not to focus on them so much. they didn’t ruin it. they will only if i let them.

mr. horace began his lecture about teenagers abs technology. how we’re so ungrateful. how everything is so easy for us. how-.

“did you learn how to suck dick yet, angel?” rafe whispered, his voice heavy and rough in my ear.

i started to put my things discretely. they weren’t going to mess with me. I was starting a new life and they could study here but they can’t ruin it.

Mr Horace droned on. “what’s the pleasure to wait six years for the conclusion of a tv show then you can binge it on netflix in a week?”

“cause when I stuff my cock in your mouth I expect you to like it and take it.” rafe continued and I reached out to grab him.

“what’s going on up there?” mr horace asked and u quickly out my hand back down as the entire class looked back at us. I can feel my face starting to glow,

“sorry. gave it to her good and hard this morning. do you expect her to keep her hands off of me?” rafe asked, deadpanned and a couple of guys chuckled. pope being one of them.

“keep it down back there.” mr horace said and continued talking, giving us a disgusted look.

just got on my professor’s bad side. great.

i grabbed my stuff and walked away from them but rafe pulled me back and scooted my chair close to him.

“do it again and I’ll kill your mother.” he threatened, his hot breath on my face as she spoke.

the guy in front of us heard his threat and turned to look at us with a confused expression before rafe sneered at him. “what the hell do you think you looking at?”

the guy turned around quickly, face turning red.

the hell?

if I didn’t know my mom was with mrs routledge i would be a little worried. she was far away from him. he wouldn’t be able to get close enough to her to even look at her.

i’ll make sure of that.

the professor kept talking and I tried my hardest to pay attention as he talked but it was hard.

they were bored and wanted to pick on me. have fun with me again.

I never wanted to be close to them again.

“this so satisfaction for this generation anymore. everything you want or need is at the tip of your fingers.” the professor continued and I gritted my teeth together.

unfair. can’t judge a generation because of what the previous generation prov-.

“you’re gonna love all the things I do to you, angel. remember my last night of freedom? want to try that last part again? i’ll make you happy this time.”

rubbing my temples, i tried to keep his voice out of my head. only zoning in on the professor.

if i could only remember what he was saying in the first place.

“you got something to say?” professor horace asked and i looked up at him. he was looking straight at me.

“huh?”

“well do you? or are you gonna keep the class distracted with you and your boyfriends?” he asked and everyone laughed including pope. rafe stayed silent.

i do. if i only can remember what he was talking about before i was rudely interrupted.

“yo-you talk about us being spoiled but it’s not our fault.” I started and he smirked, leaning on his desk.

“oh? who’s fault is it?”

“i-it’s. uh.” I started and the smirk on his face got bigger as i took a deep breath.

a voice whispered in my head. one that kept me up all night sometimes. john b’s.

own it.

“your generations. you made several of our norm accessible. cellphones for an example. only a few had them and even if that was limited to only a couple of minutes. the more it was demanded the more it became normalized. social media too. it was only one platform but the desire to share every aspect of your life was becoming more and more demanded as it got bigger and bigger. you created the standards of these things and were just following them just like what we’re setting up as the standards for our kids. where’s the accountability?”

the class went silent as they turned to face the professor. “she asked you a question.” rafe said and a smile broke out on my face.

i covered it with my hand do he won’t see it.

Horace looked around and smiled flatly. “well then. keep that in mind for class next wednesday. the reading will be chapter one through three.”

i packed my stuff up, humming happily to myself before two bodies gather around me. “no one gets to mess with you but us.” rafe threatened and i turned to face him.

“you know it’s cute the way you think you can still push me around. i’m not that little girl anymore.” i shrugged a smile plastered on my face.

damn if he sees it. what can he do to me anyway?

they got closer to me. i can feel their body through their clothes now. “you think you’re so cute huh? to me you’ll always be that scared little girl who couldn’t hang out with the big boys. still pathetic that’s for sure.” he flexed his muscles at me and I fought the urge to laugh.

“don’t threaten me or my mother again. that was for sure cute. what else you got?” i teased and pushed past pope to get to my class.

after classes, i walked the three blocks home weighed down my all the assignments i had to do when someone called out. “hold it for me.”

i put my foot in the door as kie slid her way in. “thanks. i hate waiting for the elevator down here sometimes especially after a long day of school you know.” she said standing next to me.

“I thought you took the other elevator.” I responded before she pressed the sixteen button.

so she lived here then.

“why would I use the other elevator?” she turned to face me all confused.

“thought you was going up to see john b. must be nice living in the same building as your boyfriend.” she can see him whenever she wants and he can come visit her.

“oh he’s not my boyfriend. he just needed a pretty little thing on his arm.” she shrugged. “like a lot of the men around here.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“means I see lots of men. not only john b.” she said, smirking to herself. “and we didn’t have sex if that’s what you’re wondering. he wasn’t interested in that.”

“I don’t care about that.” I lied even though my heart hurt a little less after that confession.

“sure.” she said, patting my shoulder before walking out. “just so you know, I like seeing a lot of women too.” she smiled and winked before the elevators closed.

what the hell?

was she hitting on me?

no.

well..

does it matter?

after doing my homework, i tried calling my mother again. even though i know she was safe on the boat with mrs routledge, rafe words still stuck with me.

it would make me feel better if i can hear her voice.

especially since when I went to college last year, she called me everyday. text me. always communicated with me.

i could use something else to call her.

she’s on the routledge’s boat, the bird and it should have a phone if I’m not mistaken. expect i don’t have the number for it.

I don’t want to call big john. he terrified me and it’s late. he wouldn’t be at his office right now.

I couldn’t call andrew and if I could I don’t think I would want to. we still haven’t talked since that phone call a week ago.

I wasn’t talking to him until he apologized.

which is gonna take awhile cause he’s stubborn as hell. but he would want to get back in my good graces.

that only left me with john b.

I didn’t want to call him. he can just simply ignore me.

i could definitely ambush him though.

in the lobby, no one was there which I figured since it was so late. visitors were discouraged after seven when the doorman was gone.

I could wait around for security but how long will that take.

should’ve thought about this earlier.

I could try early tomorrow and wait for him in his living room before we go out separate ways for the day is probably my best bet.

making my way into the elevator, the one he uses was open and two giant men walked out. laughing and talking. there must be from his basketball team beau city thunder.

before thinking twice, I slipped into the elevator and pressed the button up. smiling, I hummed as the elevator made it to his floor.

two victories against the horseman in a row.

my luck was changing.

walking into his apartment, I went straight to his window. if my view was amazing, his was breathtaking.

it was around the whole apartment and if I looked down, I could see into my apartment. you could probably see the other penthouse’s next door to mine too.

“john b?” I asked, pulling myself away from the beautiful view and walked around the apartment. “john b?”

walking deeper, i realized he could have his whole team stay here if he wanted to. there was several rooms i passed and probably even more if I didn’t hear the basketball bouncing.

of course.

why wouldn’t he have a basketball court in his apartment that was most likely customized for him.

growing up he had a basketball in his hand when he wasn’t playing. and when he was playing it was the only time that he was ever really smiling. at least when he was home.

I glanced in and there he was.

shirtless, muscular, sweaty. breathtaking.

running a couple drills by himself, music playing not as loudly as he used to play it back home. but he only did that to piss off his father.

i couldn’t bother him. my mom could call me when they’re docked and have better service.

she deserves a vacation doesn’t she? I should be happy that she’s going on this vacation.

I quietly and quickly made my way back to the elevator but as soon i press the button it opens up to rafe, jj, and pope.

they all smirked as they looked at me. “angel. we kept missing each other.” jj said, stepping out the elevator coming closer to me.

“busy.” i shrugged as they all surrounded me. their heights making it impossible to see over them.

“what are you doing up here anyway?” pope asked from my right.

“just needed to ask john b something.”

“oh yeah? why you going back to the elevator then?” rafe asked as they circled me. “caught cold feet or something?” jj asked, leaning closer to me.

“we can help you ask if you want.” pope reassured putting his arm around me.

“it’s fine. I can ask him tomorrow it isn’t a big deal.” I said pulling away from him but they ignored me and basically escorted me to the kitchen.

“john b!” rafe shouted, smirking as we walked.

“yeah?” john b answered, coming from the hallway still shirtless and sweaty, a water bottle in my hand now.

“little angel was looking for you. found her here creeping around.” rafe joked as they pushed me towards john b. his eyes zeroed in on me as the boys presented me to him.

“what do you want?”

“needed a number.” I mumbled and he held his hand to his ear. “what was that?”

“i need the number to the bird. my mom is on there and she hasn’t called me back. i’m worried. it’s been the longest since we haven’t spoke.” i said and he smirked.

“give her a break angel. she’s in the middle of the ocean. probably doesn’t have cell service.”

“i want to talk to her. she’s my mother. i got to check up on her.”

john b sighed and shook his head. “I’ll give it to you.” he said and I smiled. “tha-.”

“only after you come with us to this party.”

my jaw dropped. I can’t believe he was trying.

“no way. i want the number so just give it to me.”

“come on, angel. play with us. you liked it a lot last time.” he leaned in and the four of them surrounded me. just like that night four years ago.

“i’m not interested. i’m older now and I can’t be pushed around that easily anymore. now if you excuse me.” I stated, pushing the four of them away and they went back.

quickly making my way into the elevator, I tried my best to not look back. just trying to keep moving forward.

if I looked back I would give in. or at least that’s why I keep telling myself.

I made it into the elevator and even pressed the button before someone grabbed me and pulled me all the way back into the living room before pushing me down.

“I don’t know guys. she still looks like she’s easy to push around to me.” john b said and the guys chuckled.

“fuck you.” I spit out, getting on my knees.

“you want to don’t you?” john b teased, tilting my chin up to look at me. “you miss me so much don’t you?”

“no I don’t. not that much anyway.” I said and he chuckled.

“you sure about that?” then he pressed his lips against mine.

it wasn’t like anything with trevor.

where andrew was soft and treated me like a doll, john b was hard and rough.

everything that I wished andrew would do.

teeth clashing and sucking on my tounge. his hands were all over and got me to lay back.

grinding against me and I instinctively wrapped around him, moving my hips up to his to get as much as friction as I can.

when he pulled away, I tried to catch his lips again.

“you got an hour to get ready. put on your swimsuit. we’ll help if you take too long. there’s more then enough of us. can’t take all of us.” john b said before going upstairs.

left me alone with his friends.

“damn. you were really going to fuck him right here in front of us.” rafe said leaning down to my height, smirking. “it was a good fight you put up though. what else you got?” he teased, throwing the same words I said to him earlier back in my face.

i’m an idiot if I think I can do this alone.

[localcryptidsteg]

Tracing, Style Theft, and the need to be Unique

A comment chain on Instagram got me thinking about these things earlier. Someone asked what common art advice is actually bad advice, and I left a short list that Ive heard, among which is "dont trace."

Naturally, this ruffled some feathers, but heres the deal: so long as you arent line-for-line copying the majority of someone elses work and passing it off as yours? Theres absolutely nothing wrong with tracing. Copying and tracing are two different things; think back to the old "how to draw" books. How they blocked out anatomy and taught you the relative distance of things with lines and joints. Tracing... is essentially doing the same thing. As a learning tool for personal use, being able to take a picture and draw the skeletal frame over it helps you with perpesctive and anatomy immensely! It even helps in stylization. Tracing develops the skills you need in order to replicate something, replication develops the skills you need in order to stylize.

Which brings us to our next issue.... style theft isnt a thing. It doesnt exist. Unless youre forging paintings and passing them off as the real deal, there is absolutely zero reason not to look at the techniques and stylization your favorite artists use and replicate that. Again, it helps you develop skills like shading and coloring and lineart. And having your own "style"? One that has to be completely different from anyone elses? Thats bullshit! Most artists dont just have ONE style. The best artists have several and go out of their way to continue learning more!

Think of it this way: we wouldnt have 2d animation if actual artists gave a flying fuck about their "style" being copied. The Renaissance artists would never have risen to prominence if their teachers hadnt sat them down and told to paint how they did. Bob Ross would never have had a tv show if mimicking how someone else creates mattered in any way at all.

The way you develop your own style is simply this: you look at your favorite artists, you analyze what elements of their work make your brain happy and what are enjoyable for you to do, you mash them all together and voila. Your very own (not really at all) "unique" style.

I think this frankly terrible and counterintuitive art advice trend is killing artists. When you go online as an artist and preach to a bunch of younger aspiring artists that invaluable tools for growth are inherently bad and wrong and theyre evil for using them, you do three things at once:

First, you make them fear creation. "I want to draw or sculpt or knit or what have you, but what if I accidentally copy someone? Then Id be a bad person!"

Second: you kill the joy of creation. They become too focused on the end result and never really learn how to make for the sake of making.

Third: you block their avenues of progress. In order to get better at your craft, you really do have to try everything. Trying to make certain techniques into something "off limits" only serves to hinder that progression. It causes stagnation which in turn causes frustration, which leads us back to issue 2.

When I was a kid, my grandma would drive two hours to my city every year for my birthday, and every year she would take me to the art museum. My grandma loved art with every fiber of her being. She was thrilled when my mom went to art school. She was estatic when my sibling and I took up drawing. But she never, EVER tried to make anything herself. See, when she was in school, her art teacher had told her she wasnt very good. And she, being a kid, believed it. And she stopped trying. She would never color with me and my sibling, would never try drawing with us when we begged her to join in. Shed chuckle and say "oh, I couldnt draw a straight line with a ruler!" And sit and watch us work and rave over how good we were at it instead.

When she hit about 80 or so, her memory started going. But she still loved the museum and she still loved art. One of my aunts talked her into taking one of those "how to paint" classes at a little studio near her house. She painted a cake. And you know what? It was a really friggin good painting! Itd be hanging in my room right now if my aunt hadnt called dibs!

My point is this: anyone of any skill level can learn to draw or paint or whatever. Im a major proponent of this; I always have been. But shaming creatives for how they do it, for how they learn it, for what they make? That destroys the drive to create, and it can last a lifetime. Who knows what my grandma could have made if not for that teacher? Who knows how many young artists felt nothing but shame and guilt over their work and quit because of bad-faith art advice?

[gojou-violin]

[1] vulnerability

| chapter 1: meeting

| pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!oc

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. cursing. next chapter is the smut, i promise hehe.

| summary: seena and toji meet for the first time.

| wc: 3.6k

| a/n: you'll all learn quickly that i'm not into writing slow burn LMAO. i love answering questions, though, about this story <3 so if you have anything, send me some asks! also, for those who are new here, ineka is my friend's oc who's in the same story as seena.

Ever since Nanami came back home, he’d taken to filling his downtime with teaching me the most random things. How to ignore Satoru Gojou, for example. That was a talent Nanami had unlike any other, so he taught me the expertise by having us sit in the teacher’s lounge at Jujutsu Tech one day, reading quietly on the couches, while Gojou came in to annoy us, and we both ignored him. It got to the point that Gojou genuinely thought he was invisible. Until I cracked… There was only so long I could hold back my laughter while Gojou was clinging to my arm, sobbing that he had so much he wanted to say to me and Nanami while we could still see and hear him. Poor thing was so hysterically mournful that I couldn’t help but smile and bite my lip, all while Nanami was giving me the stink eye as a warning to not blow the whole operation; but it was too late by that point. Gojou was at my feet, crying like a lost puppy, and I started giggling. He immediately perked up and realized what was going on.

After that, Nanami deduced that I could learn… easier things. For example, his favorite thing to brag about with those younger than him was what it felt like to really be an adult, because his favorite sandwich had disappeared from all of the convenience stores recently, even though it used to be wildly popular while he was growing up; and as he told me this story, we walked to a bakery not too far from Jujutsu Tech in Tokyo where I worked and he was lazily spending his days until he figured out what he wanted to do next with his life. He coached me to remember the importance of appreciating things in the moment. Or, at least he tried. Honestly, I blocked most of it out because I was too busy worrying about trying to keep up with his ridiculously long stride when I was so much shorter than him and he wasn’t showing me any mercy.

He took me to his favorite bakery that served his favorite sandwich: a casse-croute. It was the last place he was aware of that still sold a version that was worth the money he earned while he briefly retired from being a sorcerer in order to work a meaningless corporate job like most mundane people did. He hated it, though. The second he realized how boring life was, he came back to us at Jujutsu Tech. The bakery itself was still boring, though. There was nothing special about it, and there was no aesthetic to really catch the eye. It had four simple white walls, a vase here and there with some fake flowers, and a small, glass pastry stand for people to window shop through. Nanami didn’t even let me look. Despite the fact that the croissants and chocolate eclairs looked devine, he told me in his stern Nanami-voice, “No. Being an adult means you must already know what you want, and you can not afford to let yourself go by splurging on desserts. Trust me. You’ll thank me in twenty years.” He said it all as if he wasn’t only just a few years older than me. And as if I wasn’t already an adult myself who knew how to operate fine on my own. Like I wasn’t twenty-two years old. Still, free food was free food.

“You have to have a goal, Seena. A retirement plan of some kind. What you do in between doesn’t matter so much as your endgame, because everyone’s working towards a peaceful elderly life that they can have while coming to terms with the life they wasted and the regrets they collected along the way. I, for one, would like to build a small home somewhere quiet for me to really settle down and finally read the books I’ve been collecting but have been too busy to get around to.” He said this as we sat at one of the few tables inside of the bakery. His coffee was gone within an instant. Mine remained untouched because it was too strong. “What about you?”

I wasn’t really sure what I wanted, honestly. All I could do was shrug my shoulders before telling him that I would think about it and tell him before our next “lesson.” To which, he agreed with a nod. In the back of my mind, however, as he continued to lecture me about what it meant to be an adult, I thought about my life. I knew exactly what I wanted; I was just too scared to admit it to Nanami. He wasn’t like Satoru Gojou who would laugh in my face, but Nanami certainly would have judged me and made it known. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for my dreams to be crushed quite yet, considering our lives as sorcerers were never guaranteed when a curse could overpower us at any second. My silly, wasted dream consisted of a large home in the city, close enough to Jujutsu Tech that I could walk to work every day like I did currently; and I wanted as many kids as I could with a man who could care for all of us without any worries or struggles. It wasn’t anything real. Everyone had issues to deal with all the time, I knew that best of all, yet it was nice to think that there was someone out there who could make our family so happy that we could live safely in our own little bubble. But that was why I was sure Nanami would judge me if he knew the truth. There was no reality where anything could be perfect.

“Next time, we’ll discuss finances,” Nanami said as he dropped me off at my office at the school.

I smiled politely at him while slowly closing the door on his face before I slumped onto the floor when I was sure I was free of him. I loved Nanami… Truly. He was a dear friend who was like an older brother to me, yet I couldn’t help but feel drained around him sometimes. He was just too serious for me. I was bubbly, bounce-off-the-walls energetic, and just as crazy as Gojou, thanks to the fact that he was the only person I connected with when I was still a student at Jujutsu Tech. Nanami was none of that. He was business all of the time. It was a miracle that we were compatible at all.

I later realized that the coffee and casse-croutes at that bakery really were something else. At the time, Nanami didn't let me put sugar or cream in my coffee because he said it was something else that was unnecessary, and if I really wanted to feel the full effect of the coffee, I needed to keep it pure and black. No nonsense, according to him. Because he was babying me, I decided to return to the bakery the following morning on my own for a pastry for breakfast and coffee with enough nonsensical sugar and cream to make it actually taste good.

I continued to go every morning after that.

Eventually, I became a regular face to the point my coffee, random pastry of the day, and casse-croute sandwich for Nanami (if he hadn’t already picked it up himself) were waiting for me at the counter every time. It made life easy to know that when I woke up, a schedule was awaiting me. Breakfast at the bakery, walk to the school because I refused to live on the campus, even though Gojou always begged; then I’d work and meet with students who needed to talk with someone, and then I would go home to rinse and repeat. I liked how secure my life was now. When I was unsure of what to do after leaving Jujutsu Tech as a student, I told Gojou that one of the reasons I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere was because of a lack of security and repetition. I wasn’t built for adventure. People like Satoru Gojou and Ineka Harimachi were made for fighting and exploring, whereas I enjoyed peace and quiet amongst helping others. If I could live a mundane life in the sorcery world, I was happy. If my job meant I never had to face another incident like what happened a year ago, I was sold.

There was one day when Nanami asked to meet up again for breakfast before school. I made my way down to the bakery a bit earlier than usual, only to find that Nanami was already standing at the counter, leaning forward on it a bit, smiling, and… flirting. Nanami, of all people, was flirting! I decided to go into the store and “bump” against him to see if I could feel anything, and, yes, I did— Oh, boy, was there a lot to feel there. His heart was fluttering, his adrenaline was up. Puppy love. Pre-pubescent-boy-type-of-horny. Whatever you wanted to call it, Nanami was it.

Ever since, I had been trying to find an excuse to bring up Nanami and somehow brush hands with the barista, too, to see if she felt the same. It was a total invasion of privacy, I knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. I had to know if there was really someone out there who could possibly stand Nanami enough to like him romantically or otherwise. My curse was a gift sometimes for that reason. Feeling and controlling people’s emotions usually meant nothing, but when it came to Nanami’s crush, I had never been more content with my cursed technique.

Emotion control wasn’t exactly the most useful of techniques because it didn’t benefit anyone in a fight, but it was great for intel and defense. As a result, last year, following a year off after graduating, I had been working at the school as a guidance counselor. I was Jujutsu Tech’s very first— In fact, I was sure that I was sorcery’s first— guidance counselor; but after all that sorcerers had to endure out there while fighting curses, it seemed like a no-brainer to have me on staff. That was Gojou’s excuse to the Elders, anyways. It worked. I liked my job, others seemed to find my position helpful, and at least I was putting my technique to good use finally.

“Thank you,” I told the barista as I grabbed my coffee and the bag of sandwiches that were waiting for me on the counter.

She smiled back at me as she tapped away at her tablet to start up a new order for the next person in line.

I spun around and walked over to the side counter where there were napkins, stirring sticks, bottles of sweetener and creamer, and packets of condiments. I grabbed a few packets for Nanami’s lunch before pulling a handful of napkins to throw in the bag. On my way out, the door opened, and I sidestepped to avoid it, which ultimately led to an untimely collision.

I only got a quick glance at him before we suddenly crashed into one another. He was taller than I was, his width was impressive, and he was cleanly cut both grooming-wise and muscle-wise. By all traditional standards, he was a very attractive man. In the seconds before we collided, I thought to myself that he was incredibly handsome, and as a result of my gawking, I wasn’t watching where he was stepping, and as a result, my coffee cup exploded on his chest.

“Oh, my— I’m so sorry— I— I’m so, so sorry!”

I panicked and started crumbling the napkins in my hands so that I could clean his shirt off. Without thinking about it, I just went at it. I pressed the wadded up napkins against the inevitable stains and started tapping and scrubbing away in the hopes that it wasn’t too hot or that it wouldn’t stain too badly. The good news was, he was wearing all black, so it wouldn’t show up too much… Right? Oh, I was a clumsy fool. At least his shirt was tight enough around his body that it made it easier for me to press against his abs as a hard surface to clean his shirt against for some balance and pressure. But then I froze when I realized what I was doing. Without asking or stopping to consider how rude it was of me to just start touching him while trying to clean up my mess, I had accidentally overstepped a stranger’s boundary.

I looked up at him, blushing, awkwardly smiling, and croaked, “I’m sorry.”

He smiled at me kindly. “It’s really no problem.” He took the napkin out of my hand to finish wiping some of the coffee that remained at the hem of his shirt where his pants started oh-so-low on his hips.

I caught a glimpse of perhaps a little too much skin, making me blush and panic.

I immediately offered to pay for the cost it would take to cover his laundry. Whether it was dry cleaning, a laundromat, or even just the soap it would cost to clean it at home— Anything— I wanted to pay him back for my mistake.

He only smirked in response while crumpling up the used napkin. “It’s no big deal. Really. But… If you insist on finding a way to make it up to me…” He retrieved his phone, a flip phone, I immediately noticed, and he traded it for my coffee. “I’d like your number, if you wouldn’t mind. For the dry cleaning, and all.”

I looked him up and down for a moment before blushing under his stare. He was very, very cute; and he was very, very into me, clearly. Yet part of me was still apprehensive. I could always protect myself if he ended up being an asshole, but the question was… Well, was it really worth it?

Noticing my hesitation, he said, “If it’ll make you feel any better, lemme show you something.”

I watched as he stuck his tongue out, and without any effort, a small, slimy, brown ball of a curse fell onto his hand. I took a step back. The curse was growing. It shaped itself into a worm that slithered its way onto his bicep and shoulder, settling so comfortably it looked like it was at home. No one else in the bakery seemed to notice the curse, thankfully, aside from me, so I played it cool and tried not to bring any more attention to us after my coffee mishap.

He told me then, “We’re the same, you see? I can’t hurt you any more than you can hurt me.”

For a short moment, I continued to stare at the shikigami on his shoulder, debating on whether or not it would attack me the second I let my guard down. The worm was a decrepit little thing, though it certainly wasn’t physically small by any means because it easily constricted its bulbous limbs around the man’s thick arm and still had enough length and strength left over to hold its head up high so that its disgusting black eyes could follow my every move. However, it didn’t seem like any real threat. Sure, it could have hurt me if it wanted, but the man was still smiling at me, and as a result I could have sworn his shikigami was smirking, too. Perhaps I was going insane. Still, he waited for me to put my number into his phone. It couldn’t be helped. A gorgeous sorcerer like him who had taken an interest in me? No one ever cared much for me aside from Nanami and Gojou in their own brotherly kind of ways. Everyone else I had known throughout my life saw me as a weak tumor in the community that they could freely kick around because I wouldn’t defend myself and I would never be so stupid as to tell Gojou because I knew that he’d overreact and rain hell down on anyone who hurt me. All of that aside, this man was different. Did he seem nice? Not exactly. But he sure was interesting and very good at seducing me, so my blush darkened and I put my number in his phone. Could it have possibly been a dumb decision? Yes. But he was too handsome to pass up on— And he knew it, which made me more eager for him, honestly.

As I returned his phone to him, I reached to take back my coffee; however, the man kept it out of my reach.

He smiled again. “I think you’d be better off with another cup before you go. Allow me.”

Before I could protest, the man threw my coffee away and started walking towards the counter where he held up two fingers, indicating exactly what the barista already knew. The man paid with cash silently and quickly. The drinks were ready just as soon. As he carried one cup for each of us, he walked to the stand on the side to shake in sugar and milk for me, nothing for himself.

“Toji,” he said.

“Hm?”

He took my cup, leading me towards one of the empty tables in the bakery, and set it down, enchanting me to sit in the chair he had designated for me by pulling it out and gesturing that he was waiting for me. “My name’s Toji,” he explained as he pushed my chair in gently underneath me.

My eyes followed him as he sat across from me. “Do you happen to be a December baby?”

“Yes.”

The name Toji quite literally meant “Winter Solstice,'' which was the shortest day of the year, making it infamous for being cold and dark. I could tell that his parents took one look at his dark hair and knew that he would be the perfect personification of the shortest day. It was a fitting name, which was why I smirked when he smiled at me for catching the meaning to his name, and I tried my best to not read too much into the rest of him as a result of a simple detail. Dark, yes; but he was anything but cold.

“What about you?” he asked.

“March. Not as special, I suppose.”

He shrugged. “That’s alright when there are other things to make you special.”

I did my best to hide my blush behind my cup of coffee as I pretended to take a long sip until I could calm down. Hopefully he would figure my cheeks were red from the drink and not him. How embarrassing that would be if he knew… How easy I was… How effortlessly I broke at the slightest compliments.

“And what about your name, March?”

“Seena Kiyomi,” I replied.

“Hajimemashte.”

“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

“I take it you work at Jujutsu Tech.” He was so smooth with how he flowed between topics, guiding me to interact with him more without a second thought. He pointed at my black uniform. “Hopefully you’re a teacher,” he joked.

I giggled and set my drink down. “Yes, I am.”

“Does Satoru Gojou still work there? Haven’t seen him in forever.”

My jaw dropped a bit with shock. He knew Gojou? How? When did this happen? For what reason did they know each other? How did I not know Toji if Gojou knew him? All of the questions whirled in my head while I tried to decide on one to land on; but Toji beat me to it by changing topics again.

“Do you like working there?”

“Yes,” I answered with a smile. “How do you—”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m kind of, like, you know, a therapist…”

“Why do you say it like you’re embarrassed by that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it’s because it’s not as cool as what Gojou does. How do you know—”

“I think it’s lovely.”

I blushed again. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

Toji smirked at me while he relaxed so casually in his chair. He seemed so confident and suave in comparison to all of the men I’d met before, and I knew that it was on purpose because he was trying to impress me, but I was sure that was why I loved it so much. I enjoyed watching him put on the performance of running his fingers through his black hair so that he could show off his chest and bicep. He knew that he had my full attention, so he did everything he could to maintain it… Until he slipped up and made the mistake of letting the silence linger for too long in the hopes of letting the attraction brew for a bit. I tapped my phone’s screen twice to get it to wake up to show me the time.

I jumped to my feet with a shocked gasp. “Shit!” I started collecting my things while he raised a brow at me. “I’ll be late for work—”

Toji stood smoothly. “I’ll call you,” he said nonchalantly. “Kiyomi-san…” My name rolled off his tongue so easily I felt myself swoon for him again.

He took his leave from the table before me, beating me to the door so that he could hold it open for me as I made my speedy exit out of the cafe. I waved to him while I ran down the road. He watched me, grinning, his hands in his pockets, his pelvis resting forward to accentuate his abs. I nearly tripped over my own feet again.

taglist: @aylitgirl , @thisbicc , @tojis-discord-kitten , @sailewhoremoon , @justanotherpasserby-blog , @lyteatus , @mimic-of-hysy , @fushisslut , @touyyes , @lex-dear , @chubbyhoney , @nomadmilk , @unknownspecies

[wanderingmind867]

The school bus today was really noisy. All during my time on it, I was sighing and trying to block out the incessant noise. I felt really bad for the bus driver too. He said he had a headache and didn't want any noise, but all the kids continued to make noise. They were awful.

Speaking of the kids on the bus, I really despise them sometimes. They're noisy and rude and obnoxious. I know they're pretty much all 3-4 years younger than me, but still. These are the kind of kids that find crude jokes about gay people funny. They seem to think just saying a swear makes them comedy geniuses. They're idiots. You know, this is why I probably couldn't be a teacher. I can't handle dealing with most other students. I frankly hate most other students.

And sure, nobody on the bus has ever really picked on me. But they still manage to get under my skin. All of the kids talk to each other and joke around in their crude, immature way. One of them brings his phone on the bus and tries to play sound on it. When the bus driver tells him to turn it down, he starts arguing with the driver. It's not great.

[ambrosiasaladofthebrain]

Ambrosia Salad of The Brain

Ch 1: Meet Jake

The teacher’s note read like it usually did: “Nice Job” written under a circled 100% and a smiley face creating a small triangle of pen ink. Jake knew it was childish, it was because he was far younger than all of his classmates that his math teacher always left small notes of encouragement and excitement on his tests, but he supposed he didn’t care. He still cut each one out carefully before throwing out the test and placing the scrap onto the growing pile in the box he kept under his bed.

 He would show his sister the pile someday and she would be impressed with how well he had done. That day would probably be soon, hopefully soon. For now he would stack them until the box burst. With the ringing of the bell the school day came to a close and he scrambled to collect his things and leave before the mass of bigger students could trample him.

He was quick to make it to the front steps, wanting to double check his items before he left. Someone had stolen his first aid kit but he still had his second one which was good enough. There was a father a couple blocks from school who had started robbing from the richer district people who came to feel better about themselves and show off. These people often had bodyguards with some pent up emotions they needed to release. Jake couldn’t stop the man from doing what he could for his kid but he could apply his basic knowledge of first aid. He might be an amateur but where he lacked in practice he hoped his mind and memory made up for it. He supposed living in a hospital and watching professionals daily had to have upgraded his skills somewhat. 

He also needed the bread he had saved from lunch, a pack of rats had taken root in an alleyway he had to pass to get to the hospital and their attacks on random passerbyers were getting worse, as long as he threw them a good chunk of food however, they seemed to leave him alone. Simon had tried to protest Jake’s sharing of half his lunch with rats but he understood that certain measures had to be taken, and not a week later after the incident he had started carrying bread for a gang of rats on his block as well.

With his rusted swiss army knife prepared he was ready to walk home. He just needed to check in with Simon and Piet who were unusually late. They were usually at their meeting spot first, skipping their class to share a smoke, or, he thought they still smoked, they promised they had quit but they still carried packs and lighters and the smell never left their fingers and breath, nor their sweaters he needed to return.

“Hey kid!” Simon called as he left the building and hopped down the steps, tripping on a hole, and stringing a colorful display of words together as he stumbled to a stop. “‘Hey! Hey,” he corrected his volume with the second ‘hey’, looking apologetic, “Guess wha’ we got.”

“We?” Jake looked around, expecting to see Simon’s ‘better half’.

“Yeah, uh.” Simon looked around, before swearing again, “I lost her. No! The love of my life! Gone! Sorry, gone,” he corrected his volume again, really trying not to be so aggressively loud. “I’ll nev’a see ‘er again. Lost, to the chaos of the school, or maybe the lunch lady,” he shrugged, flopping down on the school steps, “Beauty like that will surely be missed, I’ll nev’a love anoth’a,” he clenched a fist to his chest, suddenly being tackled from behind

“That’s right you won't! But maybe I will! Leave your girlfriend to the demise a the lunch lady? She works out y’know. Too buff even fer me an’ you leave me! Ah Jake, ‘ey kiddo. how’d’yer test go?” Piet sobered down sitting on Simon’s back, pinning him to the ground as she reached for the 100% paper Jake handed her. “‘Ey, nice job, though I wasn’t all that worried, the one about explainin’ how ya did the work kept trippin’ ya up when we studied but ya’always pull through.”

“Thank you,” Jake blushed.

“I nev’a doubted ya either,” Simon added.

“Ah shut up,” Peit smacked his head lightly, “Anyway you got the goods?” 

“Duh,” Simon rolled his eyes, pushing Peit off and pulling a small cardboard box from his cardigan pocket. “Here ya are mister smarty pants.” He ceremoniously tossed the box to Jake who fumbled with it a moment before catching it properly and giving it a suspicious glance. 

“You didn’t,” He mumbled, cracking it open. “How? Where? The school doesn’t have a-”

“Eh I found some chips lyin’ ‘round an’, well, Peit has some chickens so we jus’ needed a stove ‘n a few other things,” Simon shrugged, Peit shrugging with him. 

Jake picked up the two chocolate chip cookies from the box, they were sloppy and a little flat, nothing like the images he had seen online but the last time he had had chocolate chip cookies had been with Zoey. He wondered if he could save one and find some milk but quickly shook the idea from his head remembering the growing prices.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the cookies, almost too quiet as he tried to stop the prickling of his eyes.

Piet let out a soft swear, raising a hand; “‘Ey don’t cry now, we were bored.”

“Yeah, it really wasn’ that hard even!” Simon added. 

“Or expensive, I mean, we stole most’a the stuff.”

“Sh!” Simon elbowed her, “No, we bought it, promise, promise,” He lied.

“Thank you,” Jake whispered again, breaking one of the cookies in half, then breaking that into two quarters, “Here.”

“We couldn’-” Piet began.

“Really?” Simon asked, “You sure?” He grabbed a quarter with excitement. Piet looked disgusted at him for a moment before taking her piece. The treat was dry and somewhat burnt yet uncooked all at once. It was very sweet, which was better than bitter Jake supposed, it would definitely benefit from a glass of milk though.

“Oh wow,” Piet coughed.

“You, don’ ‘ave to eat that Jake,” Simon grimaced, “I can throw that out.”

“No!” Jake held the small box close, glaring, “No, I’ll keep it, they’re not half bad.”

Simon’s watch on his outstretched hand buzzed, “I gotta get to work, you’ll be ok by yourself?”

“I walk every day by myself.”

“Doesn’ mean I can’t be worried.”

“You got your stuff?” Piet interrogated, “Books, pepper spray, pocket knife?”

Jake shuffled through his bag then pockets making a show of making sure it was all in place and hadn’t been stolen throughout the day despite having just done these actions moments ago, “Yep.”

“Alright. Get home safe bud,” She waved bye dragging Simon along with her.

Simon was still calling out to Jake; “I’ll be at the gate in the mornin’, and make sure to watch out for those rats, oh and cases of,” as they rounded the corner his calls disappeared with them. Jake giggled at them as he took another bite of his cookie and started his own walk. His first stop would be the rats and he needed to come up with good names for them.

He was still thinking of names for the rats when he left their alleyway. Rats are terribly smart creatures and Jake had always felt akin to them in some odd way. He was close to his next stop now, which meant he should get his swiss army knife ready. The Robber Father would never harm him but this wasn’t always his haunt, it was a very popular place for muggings to occur either way. However, while most let him by some people had become very desperate with the rising prices and crack down on crimes the President himself had initiated to help clean up the district.

Jake slowed, nearing the alley and peaking in. At first he didn’t see anyone but someone shifted in the pile of trash bags and Jake entered recognizing it as Robber Father. He squatted next to the man poking his arm with the dull knife. 

“Sir?”

The man groaned, sounding in pain, Jake scrunched his face looking for injuries. When he couldn’t outright see any stab wounds or broken bones Jake slapped the man's cheek, trying to wake him.

“Sir?” he called a bit louder.

This scene was reminding him a little too much of when he had found his sister. She had been warm, Jake felt the man’s forehead but his temperature felt normal enough. She had also coughed a lot as well as had a scratchy breath that seemed to tug at her throat, trying to stick to the sides. Jake brought his ear to the man’s mouth. His breath was soft if not slow.

“Siiiiirrrr!” Jake drew out his call, slapping the man's face repetitively.

“Wha? Who’s ther?” The man slew out, sitting up and focusing on Jake, “Oh, hey Doc, ‘ere for my checkup?” He rumbled as he sat up.

“What happened?” Jake asked, wanting to get to the point.

“Eh, this rich prick came into town lookin’ for trouble, I beat ‘em up but he got a couple hits to my stomach. Nother one’a those hit where it can’t be seen’ things, ya’know?” He lifted his shirt to show off the patchwork of bruising, “Could’a done better but I forgot to eat today.” He chuckled, Jake didn’t join him, rolling his eyes at the obvious lie. He pulled his gift box with the last half-a-cookie from his bag and handed it to the man before he could change his mind.

“Eh? Wha’s this?” Robber Father took it with a quizzical look, and gave a soft oh upon opening it, “A cookie? In this economy? Pretty impressive kid, you're basically the richest kid I’ve met now,” He went to hand the box back only for Jake to shove it back to him.

“You can have it, my frie-” Jake bit his tongue on the slip up, “Simon and Piet gave them to me, I already ate one, you have the rest.”

“The, ones who babysit ya at school?” Jake nodded. “They rich or somethin’?” “Nah, just stupid.”

Robber Father huffed a laugh, “Teenagers. My Rose ‘s turnin’ 14 soon y'know, you wanna come to the party?”

Was that a joke? When most kids invited him to a party it was usually to laugh moments later. Also people usually brought gifts to birthday parties and he had no money or anything to give.

“You don’t have to bring anythin’ kid, your, like, six-”

“I’m 8 (timephrame),” Jake informed, then realizing he’d interrupted quickly added a “Sorry!

“Point is, you wouldn’t need’ta bring anythin’, it’s next week, at that one park near the gas station with slushies, I can tell ya more details later if ya want?”

Jake nodded before looking at his watch, he needed to continue walking if he wanted to make it for the cafeteria’s dinner. He quickly waved goodbye and headed back out of the alley, pocketing his knife.

By the time he made it to the hospital the cafeteria was bustling. Jake quickly grabbed his food, it was watery soup and bread today, before leaving the loud area.

Jake balanced his meal tray in one hand to knock on Zoey’s door. After a beat of silence he opened the door.

“Hey Z! I’m back from school, I still needa check in with Joy but I said hi to a couple other people on my way here so she probably already knows. She’s been real strict ‘bout knowin’ where I am lately. I think it's prolly ‘cause I got picked up by that gang last week, they didn’t do anythin’, I was jus’ hangin’ out with’em, but I guess social services didn’t like that I was hangin’ out with a,” he set down his tray and threw off his backpack to use his hand for air quotes, “‘violent gang’ such as the Cat’s Claws. They’re honestly not that bad.”

Jake drug the armchair closer to his plate and Zoey’s bed, picking up his milk carton to clink it against her feeding tube gently. He drank his soup slowly, enjoying the few pieces of meat and feeling proud every time he chewed a potato. He had been helping in the hospital garden when he could. Something social services had made him do to keep him off the streets but he still enjoyed it.

“Y’know, S.S’s been strugglin’ lately Z. Well, they always are, but really, after all that trouble I told ya ‘bout they’ve been breathin’ down my neck lately. They don’t like the idea of me livin in a hospital, this one worker told me I was goin to disrupt the peace, or waste people's time, y’know cause it’s a hospital and doctors an’ nurses need to focus, but I’ve been tryin real hard to blend in, I stayed out late to not clog the hallways but then they yelled at Joy ‘cause I kept gettin inta trouble, even when I wasn’t!

“Jus’ cause I hang out with criminals doesn’t make me one! I mean, someone has’ta take care of ‘em, else they’re all gonna die of infections, I tell ya, one time I met a lady who had let a lill’ stab wound get infected, it was so gross, but nobody wanted to help her so I looked at it and guess what, she just needed to wash it out a bit and properly bandage it. I showed ‘er how to make bandages from scraps like ya taught me. I’m ramblin’ uh.

“Oh yeah, so after they gave me that curfew I started tryin to make friends with the other patients and they were all real nice but S.S. didn’t like that either for some reason, somethin’ ‘bout it not bein professional, I can talk to other patients my age an’ that's it apparently. Like that makes sense. So now I ‘ave’ta check in every day after school, an’ before Joy leaves, an’ she locks us in here now! Have you noticed? She always unlocks it at five the next mornin’ but still. It’s been real borin.”

Jake pushed a strand of hair from Zoey’s face, it was to her shoulders now, she’d probably want to cut it when she woke up. Or maybe not, Jake was pretty sure she had only cut her hair in support of him having to cut his, she’d always had these really detailed hair styles before that. He wove a messy braid into a small bit of her hair and smiled at the attempt. 

“Sorry fer ramblin’, I know it’s annoyin’. But, uh, when ya wake up can you teach me how’ta braid hair please? Ok, I’mma go check in with Joy now, love you.”

He waited a moment, breathed in, breathed out. When nothing followed he quickly got up, pushing his chair back into place and collecting his dishes.

In the cafeteria it had quitted just a bit, most people had gone back to their rooms and work now. Entering the kitchen wasn’t really allowed but, like in many things, Jake was an exception. Entering the kitchen always felt like going under water and only hearing the muffled voices of the surface. 

The kitchen staff always talked in soft voices that mixed with the cling and clack of kitchen utensils. The sound of people in the cafeteria would worm it’s way through the walls and dance with the quiet music that played quietly from a trashy radio someone had fished out of a trash and repaired years ago. The smells of food stuck to a schedule just as much as the food. Today had been potato soup so the music was samba, Chef Maya’s playlist. 

She always danced her way around the kitchen but on samba days her movements would grow smoother like they’d been defrosted especially for the day. 

Jake quietly started running water over his dishes, happy to be looked over in the bustle. Tomorrow was fresh bread Friday so the kitchen was moving in a muffled hurry to prepare. Usually Jake would love to help, bread was one of his favorite things to make, but he still needed to check in with Joy so he quickly waved to the welcoming chefs and left. 

Joy was on the second level like always. She was checking in on a patient who had come in with a severe case of  Stardust yesterday. They hoped he would wake up in the coming days but it wasn’t likely. Jake hoped he woke up soon. From the door window Jake watched as Joy drew his blood and added it to her vial already filled with another liquid. She shook it until the red changed to a silvery metallic color, knitting her brows at the reaction, Jake mimicked her face, scrunching his brows in a similar fashion. 

Doctors had done this to Zoey every so often, more frequently when she first arrived, when they still had higher hopes. They’d let him shake the vials until the colors changed as a sort of morbid entertainment. 

Sighing, Joy zipped the blood sample into a contamination bag and checked the rest of the patient's vitals. When everything was in order she headed to the door, spotting Jake in the process. She knitted her brows at him and he quickly jumped off the stool he’d drug over to the door and carried it back to her desk. A minute later she walked out of the patient room and over to Jake, taking off her medical mask, and tossing her gloves into a garbage.

“See this line?” She pointed to the obvious silver and navy hazard line painted into the floor. 

Jake looked at it, taking another step behind the desk that was outside the line that separated the Stardust ward from the entrance of the floor.

“You see it, right?” Joy said again, tapping her foot on the line twice.

Jake nodded, eyes fixed on the simmering silvery lines nestled between the blue. Apparently the floor had been originally closed off with a temporary tape made for the epidemic but when it became a-

“You’re not supposed to be lookin round this floor,” She nagged, pulling Jake from his thoughts.

“I know,” he mumbled. When it became a permanent issue-

“If Social Services found out I was lettin’ you wander ‘round they’d move you again.”

“I know.” When it became a permanent issue they painted the line.

“That’d be what? 5 houses in 11 months? I mean, y’know they hate you livin’ here, and I can’t really disagree, it’s no place fer a kid.”

“I know.”

“As soon as a place opens up they’re gonna be itchin’ for a reason to kick ya.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she sighed, sitting on the floor next to him, “You're lucky we got yer sister moved for you, ya’know.”

Jake gave her the look, he gave her every time she said that, like he was lucky the hospital had given up on Zoey’s recovery enough to move floors, like they were waiting for her bed to open up, like he was lucky social services was so overworked that they were desperate enough to send a 13 year old [timephrame] to live in a hospital, in the same room as his comatose sister. 

“Don’t give me that look,” she sighed.

He scrunched his face more, hoping to double whatever feeling it caused.

“Stop,” she groaned, squishing his face, causing him to freeze, “Sorry, uh,” she withdrew her hands and tucked them between her legs, “Sorry, yeah, yer not lucky, but, yeah. Take the wins kid. You're close to her, I mean, you practically lived here even ‘fore you officially got signed over. And now you get to have me as your legal guardian!” She pointed at herself excitedly, “How awesome is that?”

“You?” Jake asked quizzically.

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” Jake hummed, pretending to think hard about how great it really was, “I don’ know. I had this one real cool guardian who taught me boxin’.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Jake popped the p, doing it a coupe times, liking the small pressure it caused in his chest and throat.

Joy chuckled, “How’d that work? Y’know, with the whole,” she waved her hands at him, not finishing her sentence.

“Uh, I don’ know, she jus’, took it real slow an’ had me practice with a dummy or spar with her but she wouldn’t spar back, only block. That took a while for me to be comfortable with. I almos’ got comfortable enough to have a normal practice, our goal was by the end of the month,” Jake smiled, remembering how excited she was to realize Jake trusted her that much.

“What happened? If you don’t mind?”

“Huh?” he cleared away the memories like a sticky residue,”oh, uh,” he thought for a second, trying to recall which offense matched her and not another guardian, “Oh! She was stealin’ from the district over, uh D-12, y’know the one with all those orchards, yeah they didn’t like that she was stealin all that produce, so she was sent to care for a field until she could properly make up for all the lost product. Should’a known somethin’ was up with how many smoothies she made me,” Jake smiled, remembering the apple milkshakes she’d make, at first he’d thought they’d be gross but let it be known he’d never turn down free food and sure enough they’d been a hit.

“Harsh. I think I hear Akuno’s passin’ a law ‘bout border crossin’ soon.”

“I think that’d do D-20 some good, wouldn’t have so many rich idiots passin’ through just to laugh at us.”

Joy hummed, patting her legs before getting up, “Alright, thanks for checking in, if not a bit late,” she added with a joking scolding voice, “I’ll check in before bed,” she turned to leave but suddenly turned back, “Oh, and, uh, so last week, right, Monday I think, we went to the library and I got the place’s number but I lost the slip and can’t remember it. I hate to do this but could you help me please?” She made an apologetics face clasping her hand in front of her.

Jake hummed trying to remember; last week, Monday, they had gone to the library, it had been sunny, but rain looked to be rolling in. Jake had been excited about that. He had wanted a book on observing vocal tone and needed to return his book on how to understand a person's body language. He’d found it, remembered where it was from the last time he visited, right next to a thick red book and a squat maroon book. When they left the librarian checking them out had talked to Joy, they’d had red hair, it was very pretty, Jake had thought their freckles were very pretty as well, he’d always liked freckles, the librarian had written down the library's number and handed it to Joy, and, oh! He had seen it then, in the exchange of hands.

“It was 218-734-345-3455, the five’s coulda been six’s though, they didn’t have the best handwriting.”

Joy wrote down the last number, making note of the five to six bit, “Perfect, thank you so much, I’ll call about that book fair for you asap, promise.”

“Ok.”

Jake waved goodbye, as Joy went to fulfill the rest of her tasks. First he went to the roof, helping with the garden, the potatoes had needed to be pulled today. Heading to the kitchen next they were still preparing bread and he found himself helping add things to mixers and memorizing recipes he was excited to try some day. Chef Ron loved to share tips on how to substitute expensive ingredients with cheap items. 

His brother, Remmy, always shared how to safely eat overdue food, he technically couldn’t share these items with the public but he would “accidently” leave items for Jake after “accidently” talking about the processes needed to safely eat the food or after they had already been prepared.  

Jake was writing a paper for his English class when Joy came to say goodnight.

“Hey sour patch,” she entered, chuckling at Jake’s huff of annoyance at the nickname he never understood, “Bed time,” she sing-songed, setting her bag on the floor, “Y’all ready?”

Jack hummed, focused on finishing his thought. Joy walked over to Zoey’s bed, flattening the odd wrinkles and fixing her stray hairs. Smiling at the girl, her eye’s softened for a second, then hardened with something like resolved. She inhaled, sipping air like it would solidify the emotions she was trying to press in place, not seeing the way Jake watched her. He had finished his thought, but finished or not he always secretly watched as Joy fussed with Zoey before getting him ready for bed.

Jake found himself copying her routine in the morning, making sure it looked just like how Joy did it. He could never perfect the tiny curl she would draw against Zoey’s cheek with a strand of hair.

“I’m ready,” he mumbled, setting the laptop in the nightstand drawer. 

“I better not find out you were on that all night,” Joy warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake lied. 

They both knew it was a lie, But this was a lie he wouldn't get punished for because one: it wasn’t really a lie as they both knew the truth, and two: Joy encouraged studying even if she didn’t approve of him studying into the early hours of morning. It was his own fault if he was tired in the morning and couldn’t focus at school, and that was punishment enough. 

“Pjs?” Joy scanned.

“Check,” Jake lifted his arm, revealing his soft pig sweater.

“Teef?”

“Check,” he widened his gums as if to prove they’d been scrubbed.

“Bed made?”

He pointed at the small cot in the corner, perfectly made.

“Window locked?” She walked to the window herself, checking the bolt and trying to lift it open. She turned away satisfied when it stayed closed, “Alright, school tomorrow, then right back. Amanda,” she sneered the name with a fake and horribly inaccurate posh accent, “is checkin’ in at four, so best behaviors. Now, in bed.”

She herded him into his cot, pulling the blanket over him and tucking in his feet.

“We gotta cut yer hair soon, it’s like a curtain in-fron-a yer eyes, how-d-ya even see?”

Jake crossed his eyes, pulling a curl and watching it bounce. Dad wouldn’t be a fan of this length, it was already too long, long enough to pull, reaching his nose and covering his ears.

“I don’t really know,” He lamented, “I jus sorta look through the gaps.” He swayed his head, watching the curls move back and forth, then looking through the gaps made with the movement.

Joy huff, “Right, Well, for now, I’ll bring some hair ties with me tomorrow, I can cut yer hair later this week, a’right?”

“Ok.”

  Picking up her bag again she turned off the light, “I’m gonna lock the door now, you don’t need anythin?”

“Nope.”

“Ok,” she smiled, “See you two in the mornin.” 

Jake smiled back, “See you tomorrow, bye.”

Jake listened as she locked the door and her footsteps receded. He waited a minute before climbing out of his bed and into Zoey’s. He technically wasn’t supposed to do this, however Joy, upon catching him one too many times, had shown him the best way to sleep close to her while watching all the medical instruments plugged into her like a computer. 

“Hey Zoey,” he whispered, “I’m not gonna stay long promise, jus wanted to talk real quick see-” Someone jiggled the door knob to their room, and Jake zipped back to his bed. Joy must have forgotten something, she did that sometimes, forgetting to mention something or forgetting to give him something. The jiggling stopped, Jake held his breath a moment, waiting for Joy to properly unlock the door and walk in but nothing happened. Maybe one of the patients was walking around, sometimes they got confused.

Jake made his way back over to Zoey, crawling into the bed, “Weird,” he mumbled, “I heard one of the new patients is a sleep walker, I wanted t’talk to ‘em, see what it was like. I wonder if they dream when they walk, if the dreams affect how they interact with the world. Anyway, I scored well on that test I told you ‘bout. I knew I’d do good but confirmation is always nice. Oh, and I got invited to a birthday party today. I think it was a real invitation, not a joke, Imma ask more questions tomorrow. Oh, an’ Peit and Simon, y’know my babysitters, made me cookies today. With chocolate chips, I know they definitely traveled districts for that, maybe they’ll take me with ‘em one’a these days, probably not, I’m a bit of a liability. Plus, I think it’s like a date thing for them, I wouldn’t want’ta third-wheel.”

Jake paused, listening to the bustle of the hospital.

“Hey Zoey,” he looked up to her, patting her cheek. He told himself he wasn’t trying to wake her up, but there was always hope that maybe she’d rustle awake at the touch, “could I sleep with you tonight? It’s been 46 days since the last time I did.” Jake waited, a car passed outside; somebody walked past their door, casting a shadow under it; somewhere in the building someone laughed. “Alright, thank you.”

Jake curled himself into Zoey’s side and under the cover, inhaling and exhaling slowly, until sleep finlay came, and he woke up in his library.

The Library was not, against most people’s assumptions, organized. There was a desk when Jake first entered. Here a Jake that looked exactly like him sat, this Jake, he was often just called Desky, had a little laptop like Jake’s out in the real world and it ran somewhat slow. If real Jake wanted to remember something like “yesterday's lunch” this was his best bet but for things more complicated like the phone number from earlier today, he found it easier to travers his mind and find the memory he wanted with context.

Memories were often accessed like doorways for most people and Jake was no different even with his advanced memory. If he wanted to remember last Tuesday's lunch he’d first find last Tuesday in his library, then remember lunch time, who he’d been with maybe, what the menu at school had had to offer, something key like a fist fight breaking out. This sounded organized but his mind was still somehow a mess. 

Memories sat on the ground and were strewn across the shelves in odd orders, remembering a duck could remind Jake of green which would remind him of apples so of course those memories shaped like books were all currently stacked on top of each other on the floor. There was a crate somewhere in this library that moaned and tried to grab Jake’s attention but he had hidden it behind so many other random memories that he could only access it by really trying to remember those memories, or something reminded him of them, but he never wanted to think about them anyway so the box stayed hidden and Jake didn’t know were in The Library it was. 

Sometimes when Peit and Simmon wanted to talk without him hearing they’d ask him to think about how many pigeons he’d seen last Monday and he was always too naive to realize why they were asking at the time so he would delve into his library looking through Monday’s book, looking for birds he had seen and counting each one. When he would resurface the two’s conversation would be interrupted with his answer, their conversations had already been finished anyway.

As much of a mess as it was Jake loved his library. The odd ‘roof’ above was a deep swirling blue galaxy, shifting in hues and twinkling with stars. Vines laced their ways around  books and objects, red roses and other flowers blooming from oblong the body. Forget-me-nots timidly grew from crevices here and there, and while there was no smell inside his head except the wafting of a memory Jake liked to imagine it smelled of lilies and old books, crinkled and weary with age. 

The shelves ran high, decorated with ladders that stretched taller than buildings. The shelves housed more than books, flowers and shrubs burst from their counters. Toys and food stuck in time sat on display. Some of the books, placed between a puddle and a bowl of cereal were actually books he’d read and taken the time to perfectly reconstruct in his mind.

He was never lonely here either, versions of himself walked aimlessly, one version from each birthday, a version from hard to erase memories, and versions from mundane days. Each one would never exist again, only here could they remain like a copy of himself in that moment. Jake hated to even look at some of them but he knew even still, in some odd way he was never alone. Or maybe he should take Joy up on that offer of therapy. 

Sometimes Jake wished he could dream but being in the muted quiet of his head, organizing his memories and objects, he felt he was resting enough. Jake smiled as he picked up a book filled with all the recipes he’d learned, deciding to create a shelf for food related memories. Memories could be held on more than one shelf so he left this first version on the floor next to the book on pigs.

Jake spent his sleep organizing his memories on his new shelf, finally after some time he felt himself start to drift, starting to wake up. He stretched his hands over his head, it didn’t achieve much but he felt like one was supposed to do this after a bigger task so he did it anyway. Taking a step back to admire his work, something cold settled under his skin and panic wiggled it’s way into his heart as instead of hitting the hardwood floor or even waking up in bed his foot sank down. Instead of hitting the ground he fell into the floor.

Chapter 2

⭐️Hello hello! This is a story I've held close to my heart for a long time but haven't written a lot of. The other day I realized that when I started writing it I had expected be done with the first book by 2024. I'm goin to try n write a chapter a month (it'll probably be pocmarked with spelling mistakes ngl) but it's a challenge I hope I can keep up with 🌙

[huffle-dork]

Greetings! I’m not sure how this works, but I wish you would write about the first time Jackie met Zara please. P.S. I think that your art and writings are amazing. - The Cinnamon Roll Anon

(God like 2 years later way to go me |D but I’m trying to get back into writing so I’m doing older requests! I wish I knew who to tag for this one- I hope they can find it 😭)

Jackie nervously picked at his gi as he studied the others in his class. God- did he pick the right sports bra? Were people staring at him? He had just decided before coming to Uni he was gonna try passing more… he started taking T as soon as he turned 18. Still- it felt like someone would be able to see through him… He felt eyes on him while he tried not to panic.

He really wanted to take this class though! He used to be in a dojo when he was younger. It’d be nice to connect back to the sport he loved- even if parkour had become his bigger love as of late. Still, that means he’d be good at this right?

Jackie snapped out of his thoughts as the class began, his sensei started the class and introduced himself. Jackie looked at the teacher with starry eyes. What a cool dude… could he look like that someday?

After going through warmups, Sensei asked how many of them had been in a martial arts class before. Jackie slowly raised his hand and saw one other hand shoot up. He met eyes with a girl with short cropped hair and violet eyes that smirked at him. Jackie felt his cheeks flush.

Sensei wanted to see what their level was- so while his teaching assistant led the rest of the class through the first lesson, Sensei took the two aside.

“Alright, why don’t you two show me what you can do?” He asked, watching as Jackie and the girl eased into fighting stances.

Jackie felt more nerves creeping up his chest, thick in his throat. He shouldn’t have said anything! He hasn’t been in classes since like primary school! But… men don’t show weakness like that. He had to prove himself… right?

He squared up his chest and smirked at the girl.

“Promise I’ll go easy on you,” He boasted, even though he was screaming at himself for saying that right after.

Especially when the girl’s eyes flash with anger. She takes the first jab, punching near Jackie’s chest. Luckily, Jackie remembers how to block and side steps away with a hushed, “Woah!” escaping his mouth.

Jackie steps back and tries to aim a flat hand strike to her collarbone. But she side steps and grabs his arm and shoulder, yanking him towards her. He’s immediately thrown off balance and cries out. She goes past him and hooks her leg around his and then scoops and pushes down, driving him hard into the ground onto his back with her on top of him, still gripping his sleeve while her fist hits solidly on the mat next to his face.

Jackie has to blink stars out of his eyes as the girl smirks down at him. The lights of the practice room backlit her like an Angel. Jackie could hear his heart beat in his ears as his chest and stomach seemed to fill with butterflies, leaving him even more breathless.

Then she bursts into laughter and Jackie feels his face turn bright red.

“God! The look on your face was priceless!” She giggled.

Sensei’s voice drawled disapprovingly from behind them, “That might have been too much, Zara.”

She glances at their teacher then groans, “c’mon teach! He was begging for a humbling moment!”

“H-Hey!” Jackie squirms, feeling more and more ashamed. Plus… she was very close to his chest…. She couldn’t tell could she?

Sensei raised his eyebrow, “Be that as it may, your humbling moment didn’t give me enough time to see his skill set.”

The girl, Zara it seems, blows hair out of her face and sighs. “Alrightttt-“ She lets go of Jackie and hops to her feet, offering Jackie a hand. Jackie hesitates but then takes the hand as he’s unsteadily pulled to his feet.

The girl takes the opportunity to shake Jackie’s hand and smiles. “Sorry about that… cocky guys get on my nerves here. But… that wasn’t fair of me. I’m actually another student assistant here… cuz I frequent Sensei's dojo. Or- I used to… got caught up the past summer so… Sensei wanted to see if I was still sharp. Wasn’t cool of me to do that to you though… you’re a bit stiff for someone who’s done this before.”

Jackie blushes again, looking away. “I… might have fudged my knowledge… I haven’t really been since I finished primary school…”

He cringes, like he’s expecting to hear the girl’s cruel laughter at him. But instead she beams. “Well hey! You got a pretty great start for being so rusty! Still loads better than the beginners here! I can give you some tips, if you’re okay with trying again?”

Jackie blinks in surprise but Zara does look a bit more apologetic. He grumbles and looks away, wishing his cheeks would stop turning so red. “…as long as you don’t make fun of me…”

“I won’t. Promise! Now… show me your stance again!”

After a while, their session ended as the rest of the class packed up. Sensei said he’d probably give them a few more one on one sessions until they got the rest of class up to speed.

Jackie watched as Zara grabbed her shoes and bag as he carefully went over and coughed slightly, getting her attention.

She blinks and cocks her head at him, “Yes..? Did we forget something?”

“N-No! No I… I just…” Jackie played with the back of his hair as he tried to work up the nerve to say, “…m’sorry… for earlier. I… I didn’t mean to come off like that and I… I just want you to know I… I’m not that kinda guy… you know?” His cheeks flushed red again as he avoided her gaze.

Zara is quiet for a moment before she smiles warmly. “Well, clearly.” She replies bluntly.

“Huh?” Jackie looks at her in surprise.

She laughs, “A cocky guy would never admit he was wrong! They’re all tough and macho and big headed! Total meat heads I tell ya.” She slips on one of her shoes as they talk, “That’s why I stuck with martial arts for so long. Ain’t nothing sweeter than knocking a meat head down a peg for underestimating a girl.”

She straightens and gives Jackie a slight knowing look, briefly glancing down before meeting his eyes. “…you get that- right?”

Jackie doesn’t quite get what she’s hinting at though. But he quickly blurts out, “Y-Yeah totally! That’s why I… I didn’t want you to think of me like that… cuz I’m not- I swear!”

Zara finishes slipping on her other shoe as she giggles and lightly punches Jackie’s shoulder. “Well, you didn’t need to but… thanks… uh-“ Now it’s her turn to blush as she nervously laughs. “God I- I totally forgot to ask your name!”

Jackie laughs, “it’s Jackie… Jackie Mann.”

Zara seems to laugh a bit loud at that and claps a hand over her mouth as Jackie looks at her in confusion. She quickly tries to recover. “S-Sorry! Just… wasn’t expecting that last name.”

“Yeah it’s- kinda weird.” Jackie admits with a laugh.

“Sounds like a superhero name!” Zara chuckles.

“Oh huh… guess it does.” Jackie blushes, feeling his superhero nerd wanting to come out but he eagerly pushes it down. He was trying to make a good impression, not scare her away. “And you’re… Zara, right?”

Zara nods with a smile and holds out her hand, “Zara Caley, aspiring marine biologist and certified ass kicker.”

Jackie feels his chest and stomach flutter again as he takes her hand and shakes it. “…nice to meet you officially then, Zara.”

She grins, “You as well, Mr. Jackie Mann.”

She then grabs her bag and looks down at his still bare feet. “I dunno if you have another class soon but- this room is about to be filled again, I think. And I got a lecture halfway across campus.”

“O-Oh! Right right I… I won’t keep you then.” Jackie stammers quickly, going to grab his shoes and jam them on.

Zara giggles and waves at him. “See you next class, Jackie!” She then hurries out the door.

And Jackie can’t help but stare at her as she leaves, his breath taken away again.

[musedbyalli]

Continued from: Zuko hadn't been stressed during his wakeful hours, and his mood had been level by the time his time for sleep had arrived and he'd dozed off into slumber. But that didn't mean such a state of mind could keep the nightmares away, especially ones as strongly effective as the ones the prince was experiencing now. No, the nightmares were there, whether Zuko liked it or not. Especially these ones, triggered by some old, painful memories. In his dreams, he was back, back at the agni kai, back where trhe trauma that gave him his unmistakeable scar patterned across his face. No, not here His subconscious thought in icy dread Not with him His was smaller and younger again, on his hands and knees as the snarling face of his father, the firelord, glared down at him. The heat of fire pouring off this towering figure. He wanted to say something, or do something. Beg. Fight. Run., Anything. But all he could manage was a feeble whimper of how he was a faithful son. And only whimper in the waking word. The phantomized version of the firelord stepped forward, spouting those dreaded words "Suffering will be your teacher" The dream-like version of the firelord hissed. The heat was so much, he could swear he could feel his skin blister. Boil as flame crackled so close. He almost felt it touch, until.. The sound of crashes send the young prince jolting awake from his sleep, a strangle yowl choked in his throat as he shot upright. Out of relfex, a hand shot over the scar protectively, as if trying to block something that wasn't quite there He was gasping for breath, shaken for a few seconds. He glanced around in mild panic, before his gaze lands on his uncle. By now realizing that his uncle likely saw his anxious fit. Natrually, he withdraw, huddled on the bedspread as he brought his knees up to his chest. Refusing to further meet Iroh's gaze, perhaps ashamed. "I...I didn't mean....ah.." He tried to explain, but there were no words.

@roleplay-parlour

Iroh had no way of knowing just what was going on in his nephew's dream, although he had a feeling it had to do with something that Fire Lord Ozai had done. While Ozai was his brother, he could never understand how the man could treat his children the way he did, especially Zuko. He could never have hurt his son the way that Ozai had Zuko.

Iroh was pleased that his effort to wake the other was effective, although he did mask this. When he saw Zuko's reflex, he had a feeling that his suspicions on the topic of his nephew's nightmare was correct. He remained silent for a moment, waiting to give Zuko to give time to compose himself since he knew that the Prince didn't like appearing vulnerable. While he would often mess with his nephew, he also tried to be respectful of his boundaries.

Iroh knew that his nephew would probably prefer if he'd pretend not to have seen his panic. While he didn't want to make Zuko uncomfortable, especially this late into the night, he also couldn't feign oblivious to everything. He wanted to make it known that he was there to support him. It wasn't easy for him, since he felt like Zuko always kept his walls up, even with him. It was impossible for him to miss that Zuko was refusing to look in his direction, which he felt was out of shame - which he truly wished that he wouldn't feel over something like this.

"Ah, did I wake you?" Iroh was pretending as though he hadn't intentionally caused the noise to wake the Prince. "My hand slipped when I was preparing my tea." Not a total lie, since he hadn't said that he didn't intend for his hand to slip.

"I hope that I didn't startle you too much."

[blahhhh-dead]

Haha story time: TW! Venting about my shit life lmao :p

I was separated from my class for most of elementary school and given no recess at any time in the day. Instead I was told to redo the same page of long division over and over till I got it right while sitting beside the most disgusting dudes that are no doubt creeps now.

In middle school I went to a charter school that forced nationalism and conservative agendas. At that point I had a counselor but no one diagnosed me with anything because I "seemed fine". The teachers would disclose my medical history willy nilly and never made any real accommodations even though I tried to advocate for my quiet self at age 11.

I became extremely depressed and suffered with severe apathy and passive suicidal ideations choosing to stay in my bed and ignore hunger or anything else. I was the only one trying to help myself and felt extremely alone. I often wished I could go to sleep forever and imagine how cool the after life must be. Started maladaptive daydreaming to cope.

Once I heard a rumor about the school janitor that mind you WAS IN CHARGE OF THREE OF THE SCHOOL ELECTIVES. I asked the actual PRINCIPAL, she told me it was fake and made up. Not long after I left that janitor was arrested as a p3d0. Exactly what I'd heard from that rumor.

High-school I was only diagnosed with anxiety and OCD but nothing else. The school was too small to have so many kids making the halls packed and hard to navigate for the first time. The teachers didn't care and never knew what was happening so I was always confused.

I wore face masks to keep warm from cold weather and avoid being perceived only to be told I had to take them off and see my full face. Surprise surprise half a year later covid forced quarantine.

Several students were openly racist, homophobic and harassed girls but nothing was really done. Yet when I played my dumb anime game on my phone under my desk to cope with anxiety I was immediately found out and berated for it.

My anxiety was so bad I felt phsycal pain and struggled to sleep every single night before school. I was so exhausted I barely managed to retain any information or even stay awake most days.

The only female friend I ever had started telling rumors about me behind my back even though all I ever did was be nice and listen to her problems. My only long term friends at the time slowly drifted away then the moment they found a reason too they started an argument and I blocked them both.

I barely made it past freshman year. By the end I transferred to a home study school and segregated myself from everyone I had known at the time. I also started needing guidance medication because the phsycal discomfort from anxiety was had grown too strong and kept me magically spiraling all the time.

The charter school housed a teacher that deliberately sabotaged my autistic younger sister because she didn't seem autistic enough to actually need help. They kicked her out of the school and made my mother cry. I finally stopped maladaptive daydreaming at least.

Graduated with barely enough credits to get by and was on a few different pills to manage my anxiety and help me sleep, one of which made me hallucinate which is why I stopped trying to sleep normally.

All my life people thought I was fine because I made jokes, kept silent when in pain because I couldn't even fell it myself, and was singled out by teachers for no reason at all. After graduating I was diagnosed with ADHD and wouldn't you know it SEVERE anxiety as well as a mind set that made me spend too much energy trying to be careful and mindful of others and deny my own exhaustion and need for soothing.

I never smoked, never broke into places, never got into any fights, never harassed people, never dated, never even had a kiss or a proper crush, never partied or snuck out, I just existed. Never played catch with my dad, never had a sweet sixteen or quince, never had a best friends or even a real close friend, I just kept existing.

I'm gonna be 20 by the end of the year but I feel stuck in the age I was that freshman year. Yet at the same time I know I'm more emotionally mature then I was and smarter then the other small town idiots. I have close friends, I try and take care of myself but my body struggles from the left over effects of neglect, I take more medication and barely leave the house due to fear of other outside my home and safety net.

And yet I'm so much happier then I was before and even if it's slow I'm working to get better and love myself. To be the bright smiley person I pretended to be for decades

Man is so tire now -_-

once again shout out to the kids that were left behind in school, when the teachers failed us, treated us like burdens who couldn't do anything right cuz we had a pretty bad learning disability.

[amorphous-binary]

WRITING BITS & BOBBLES

I tentatively count these as 'spoilers' for: 1) Habitual Affair Ch 10, a random chapter of Idyllic, and the as-of-yet unfinished story for SkyStar Week 2024’s 'ghost' prompt.

Who knows if these will ever be finished and whether I will change 'em up?

Certainly not me.

- binary

Habitual Affair Ch 10:

Ratbat made a show of looking round him, like he knew something no one else did. He preened his ego before he delivered what must have felt like a devastating blow. “Even considering the political instability of Vos?" Ratbat questioned.

    Shockwave's said, “I don't see the relevance."

    “Don’t tell me you've forgotten already?” Ratbat looked at his manicured digits. “The Outpost is still destroyed. Our diplomats say that the tensions between Vos and Iacon have become worse than ever before — and in light of this, you say that you did not consider — Pits, refused to consider — that Vos would escalate? An escalation,” he continued sharply, “which would warrant more care and attention?”

    Shockwave waited for Fortius to chime in, to tell Ratbat off for raising his voice, but there was only the susurrus of a malcontented crowd above. It meant that the Speaker of the Senate was in agreement, or found the questioning to be in such good taste so as to disregard the manner of delivery.

    So Shockwave tried not to take too long to come up with his retort, for waiting here was anything but a virtue: it was the subconscious sign of a liar and a dishonest mech, and Shockwave meant to show that he was neither.

Soggy Pancakes

Was this the sort of thing younglings liked?

Ultra Magnus looked between the comic books he held in either hand; “The Complete Wreckers Collection” and some generic, comic he hadn’t so much as skimmed the title of.

With an ex-vent, he replaced them both on the rack. He had spent the better part of the morning drifting in and out of Iacon’s shopping district, moving like a ghost through the toy stores and the bookshops. He had looked over puzzles. Toy blocks. Considered, for a time, buying some sort of video-game. He had seen everything, but he had bought nothing.

When had Rodimus become so hard to shop for? Ultra Magnus never had trouble buying presents when Springer or Arcee or Smokescreen had been younger. He didn’t have to think about what Bumblebee liked, either, so why—

“Exuse me sir,” came a voice from beside him. One of the workers, no doubt wondering why Ultra had been standing and staring at the display like a baffoon. “Are you getting through?”

“I’m just looking,” he said. And he looked back to the display. Nothing stood out to him. Nothing said ‘Rodimus’.

It looked like Rodimus would be getting another card.

SkyStar Week 2024: Ghosts

Students falling asleep in class was nothing new. Skyfire wouldn’t go far as to label it a problem — boarding school took time to adjust to. Many of the student body were leaving homes with no set bedtime and moving into an environment where it was lights out at eight on the dot if you were a junior, and nine if you were a senior.

But this was the first time all of his Biology class was asleep.

The students closest to the front at least tried to hide it. Mirage’s sleeping helm was tucked behind a textbook. Arcee kept slow-blinking at the board, recharging in hardly noticeable micro-doses. The others weren’t so polite.

Skyfire approached Hot Rod’s desk. The little bot was sitting ramrod straight at his table, hands rested far too obediently in his lap. But he was wearing a visor today, and Hot Rod never wore those.

Sighing softly to himself, Skyfire rapped on the desk. All of his students jolted awake. A chair in the back fell over — Skywarp had been leaning his on one leg while he dozed.

“You know,” Skyfire said, returning to his desk at the front of the room, “I’ve always pat myself on the back for not being a boring teacher. It seems I was mistaken.”

“That’s not true,” Arcee murmured with a yawn. She kept trying to blink the sleep out of her optics.

“Mrmh?” added Mirage. Bless his spark, he probably didn’t even know where he was.

“Yeah, you’re not” — Hot Rod yawned big and wide, going to rub at his optics but instead bumping his servos into his visor— “you’re not boring.”

“Then what is it?” Skyfre prodded. “I can’t exactly teach to a sleeping class, now can I?”

Just as he had a job to teach and shape their young minds, so did the students have a responsibility to show up ready to learn. And though Skyfire was understanding about a great many things, he would be much less so if it turned out that his class had simply decided to be little hooligans all night instead of recharging like they ought to have been.

Mid-terms were coming up, too. Skyfre liked to finish up the syllabus with time to spare for revision. So forgive him, he was a smidgen upset that all his students were fighting sleep — and losing.

The classroom suddenly became deathly still. Little optics glanced at each other, nudging for someone to speak. Skyfire watched the silent exchange half amused and half annoyed.

“Primus,” he chuckled awkwardly, “I suppose I really am the boring sort of teacher. No need to spare my feelings, bright sparks. I can handle it.”

“School’s haunted.”

It was said so quickly that Skyfire hadn’t the time to recognise the voice.

He raised an optic ridge, doing another once over of the classroom. “I’m sorry?”

“I said,” came from the floor. Skywarp. He hadn’t moved since falling off his chair. He looked mighty comfortable on the floor, too. “School’s haunted. H-A-U-N-T-E-D.”

Haunted.

Haunted.

Skyfire ex-vented. He waited, too, for one of his other brilliant students to laugh. To giggle. To snicker — because Skyfire felt quite sure that his class had not lost sleep over a spectre.

[chrisbannor]

Elements of Change

Chapter Fifty-Two: More Than a Weapon

Author: Chris Bannor

It took a week for Ezo to finish reading all of Jacob’s journals. There was a lot of information about his journeys and passions, but nothing about his personal life. No mention of Ezo. No mention of Fairhills or his parents. It was the account of an elementalist and nothing more.

Not that it wasn’t a valuable resource, but Ezo needed his uncle’s personal journal. He still hadn’t found it.

He set down the last journal and rubbed at his tired eyes. Mountainkeep was quiet, and he had no idea where Remec and Kammon were. Ezo needed to move, though, to get out of the dark rooms and stand in the sun for a few minutes.

He left the library and headed outside.

It was late afternoon, and a cool breeze drifted through the area. Ezo walked away from the entrance and down a trail that led further into the trees. A river ran through the woods, and Ezo followed the path toward it.

He closed his eyes when he reached the water’s edge, listening to it bubbling over rocks and fallen logs. The sun fell on his face, and his shoulders relaxed. He stretched his arms up over his head and twisted a bit. He needed to remember to do this more often.

When he looked around, he realized a figure was sitting on a rock in the middle of the river.

“Kammon?”

Kammon had his eyes closed, his hands resting in his lap. He looked up slowly, taking a moment to find Ezo.

“Ezo, are you okay?” Kammon asked.

Ezo smiled. “I’m fine. Stiff. I came out for a walk. What are you doing out here?”

Kammon pointed at his chest. “If I meditate a few times a week, this thing inside me is quieter.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The bubbling grew louder as blocks of earth burst from the surface. “Join me.” Kammon offered.

Ezo jumped across the steps that his lover had created, and sat with his back against Kammon’s. The stepping stones fell into the water, and it quieted again.

“What can I do to help?” Ezo asked. “You won’t let me try to heal it.”

Kammon tipped his head slightly, and Ezo felt the soft brush of his hair against his ear. It tickled, and he smiled, though he refused to move. This was nice. They’d spent every day reading, and Ezo only slept when Kammon forced him away from the books, exhausted.

“Trained healers have tried, Ezo. Including Alvrey.”

He frowned at the mention of her. He felt guilty for leaving them the way he had, but he still believed he’d done the right thing.

“How did it happen?” Ezo asked. “You don’t talk about your past. Tell me.”

Kammon’s back expanded against his as he took a deep breath. “It’s not a happy story. I don’t remember my younger days. I was a street rat. They found me when I was seven and brought me to the University. I had a hard time of it. I wasn’t very trusting, and I had more power than my teachers.”

“They were afraid of you.”

“Very, and I knew it. Not only was I still growing strong, but it was fire, and most of my teachers couldn’t touch it. It’s a rare element to have a talent for.”

“It’s not my strength either,” Ezo admitted.

“So when I finished university, I became War-Sworn. That was when I felt this for the first time.” Kammon tapped on his chest again. “I assumed it was part of the Vow, this creature that feeds off my power. It seems stupid now, but I didn’t trust anyone enough to ask about it. And everyone knew about the drain that happened after you took the oath.”

“The drain?”

“The exhaustion. At first, there was no negative drawback to it. I was stronger and able to defend our kingdom better. After a year, though, I noticed how tired I felt. All the time. It wasn’t just when I pulled on too much magic. The reserves that I had always been proud of were depleted, and I couldn’t hold the power as long as I had been able to.”

“The Vow made you stronger but had long-term consequences.”

Kammon nodded. “For me, it grew steadily worse. I learned to use large bursts of power to subdue my enemies, so stamina wasn’t a problem.”

“What changed?” Ezo asked. “You believed in what you were doing. That you were fighting for something good. You wouldn’t have gone to war if you hadn’t.”

“It happened too many times. News came in after we were told to attack that they’d wanted to talk peace. Or we learned that the soldiers had all been moved away, and there were nothing but civilians in the cities we destroyed. I couldn’t live with that.”

“It wasn’t your choice to hurt people, Kammon,” Ezo said. He couldn’t understand why Kammon joined the War-Sworn, but he knew his lover.

“Every. Single. Time. It was my choice. I could have said no. I could have asked more questions. I should have asked more questions. By the time I realized those in power wanted this destruction, I had already killed so many people. How many of those were innocents, Ezo? How many just wanted to go about their lives? When did my orders go from defending my home to invading someone else’s?”

Ezo didn’t know how to answer that. Instead, he groped around until he found Kammon’s hand and twined their fingers together in a silent offer of support.

“They wanted us to take a village and they’d grown used to me following orders. To me overpowering everyone and not having to risk our men. I’d started to question as we traveled, though. I saw the faces of the people on the side of the road. They were exhausted from war and afraid for their lives. They clung to each other as we passed, hidden in the trees and bushes. They whispered my name in awe and fear. I wasn’t a soldier. I was a weapon of mass destruction.

“And when they told us to take that village, that was all I could see. I offered my sword, but that’s not what they wanted. So I walked away. They ordered their soldiers to stop me, but there was nothing they could do. The War-Sworn I had fought with understood. Only one stood against me.”

“Who would be so stupid?”

“Salinger. It’s why he attacked me like that in Prama. He couldn’t build a shield strong enough to hold off my attacks and he thought I was toying with him. I knew they’d send the War-Sworn in without me, so I didn’t want to injure him. Ultimately, I knocked him out the same way I did Voth.”

“You could have hit him a little harder,” Ezo grumbled. Salinger was a pain in the ass, and Ezo wasn’t feeling sympathetic toward the man who had Kammon shot.

Kammon let out a soft snort. “When I left the War-Sworn, I needed to find some way to use my power that wasn’t destructive. We’re taught to use fire as a destructive force and not much else. I’d watched others build, though, and I wanted that. I could play with all the elements already, but I hadn’t mastered anything but fire. So, I started with earth and added the others as I could. I dedicated myself to that as a way to be something besides a weapon.”

Ezo let go of Kammon’s hand and turned around. Kammon turned to face him. “You’re a hell of a lot more than a weapon,” Ezo said. “No one could deny how strong you are in a fight, but I’ve seen you help people, Kammon. I would be dead if you hadn’t stepped in at Mason Creek. You helped me save that town. You can’t undo the past, but you need to remember who you are now.”

“And who am I?” Kammon asked.

“Mine,” Ezo answered with a smile. “And you know I wouldn’t keep a weapon around.”

“No, but you do attract trouble.”

“So, you’re attracted to me?” he teased.

Kammon smiled, which was all Ezo could ask for at that moment. It wasn’t everything in Kammon’s past. He hadn’t talked about the scars on his body or the nightmares that woke him some nights, but it was a good start.

Kammon leaned closer to Ezo, brushing his lips against Ezo’s temple. “The things I want to do to you, Raven.”

His voice trailed off, and Ezo shivered. “Show me.”

Ezo pressed their lips together. Kammon pushed his fingers through Ezo’s hair to grip the back of his head and keep him close. When Kammon’s free hand slipped under Ezo’s shirt, he didn’t stop his lover.

And if Remec found them in a less-than-presentable state, he had enough common sense to walk away.

Author's Note: Will Ezo ever find Jacob's personal journal and the answers to the questions his uncle left him? Or is he going to have to figure this all out on his own? What do you think?