#not every flaw is a symptom and not every symptom is a flow

[bruciemilf]

Something Something, Joker’s whole thing in DC is that he does irredeemable, awful bullshit, which he always minimizes by calling it a joke, regardless of how critical the damage is to people around him and never takes accountability for it, something something literally the plot always tells you he’s an absolute loser for that and aspiring to imitate that behavior makes you a loser, something something comedy should be an outlet for laughter and pain, not taking joy in hurting someone else

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 01

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 13.1 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note so exited to start this series!! dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Who's that?"

Every gaze in the room turned towards you.

"She's my student—," Dr. Geto responded, a trace of amusement twisting his lip. He didn't have to follow Dr. Gojo's stare to know its target. "—a first-year medical student."

A murmur rippled through the group of students, their eyes stinging like needles in your neck. You were acutely aware of your position—the youngest, the least experienced, an outsider among those who had studied for years.

"What?" Gojo's voice sliced through the air. He turned his scrutinizing gaze towards Geto. "You brought a fucking first-year into my operating room?"

Ouch.

Geto chuckled. "Relax, Satoru. She's good."

Gojo's expression tightened. He turned back to you, those unnervingly bright blue eyes raking over you from behind his surgical glasses. It made your skin crawl. "You, first-year. Bypass, endovascular, or direct microsurgical approach?"

The air in the operating room was thick.

Dr. Geto and Dr. Gojo had been circling the issue for at least half an hour, dissecting strategies as if the patient weren't laid skull open before them, the aneurysm a ticking time bomb in the patient's brain.

None of the students dared to move, too terrified to even breathe. It was a test. But hesitation wasn't in your vocabulary.

"You should do a hybrid approach. Start with endovascular coiling to reduce the risk of rupture. Parallel prep for a bypass, using intraoperative Doppler for flow assessment. Stabilize, then microsurgical clipping. Definitive closure."

Silence filled the room. Somehow the eyes of the other students stinging even more now. Your boldness given such a complex situation was either brilliance or audacity—perhaps both.

Geto's laughter broke the tension. "I might've forgotten to mention—she's my best student."

Gojo's gaze lingered on you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "That's some complex shit you suggest. The endovascular coiling has to be precise to reduce the risk of aneurysm rupture, and then we switch to microsurgery in an already compromised field."

"Complex, yes, but you have no other choice. The endovascular phase provides stabilization, making the surgical field less treacherous for clipping," you countered.

"And the risk of thrombosis?" Gojo pressed.

"Could happen."

"Could happen?" Gojo repeated. "That's your statement on that?"

"It's either the hybrid approach, or the patient is dead anyway," you said, maintaining his unyielding gaze.

"Is this woman serious?" Gojo murmured, almost inaudibly. His gaze shifted to Geto, seeking perhaps a silent judgment or agreement. Geto, following the exchange with an unreadable smile, seemed more amused than concerned.

"So?" Geto prompted.

Gojo's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes raking over you as if searching for a flaw in your logic. His silence stretched taut between you, a wordless evaluation. Finally, the verdict, "Let's proceed with the hybrid approach."

You exhaled sharply, only then realizing you'd been holding your breath.

A flurry of activity erupted as the nurses prepared for the surgery you'd proposed. You watched closely as the surgeons moved with practiced precision around the patient's exposed brain tissue—both undoubtedly the best neurosurgeons in the country.

"Your name," Dr. Gojo demanded, his focus still on the task at hand. "What is it?"

You gave your name in response.

He repeated your name, as if testing how the name felt. "Do you always approach problems with such boldness?"

"If the situation demands it."

Something in his masked face shifted, a subtle expression that might have been a smile. Whatever it was, it seemed out of place.

"Interesting."

─── ·✧· ───

The corridors of Tokyo Medical University were bustling with life, echoing the footsteps and chatter of students. Lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces, you stood somewhat disoriented in front of the map of the University. Finding your way to your anatomy class felt like an impossible task, especially with less than four minutes on the clock.

It was your first day.

And already the middle of the semester.

Definitely not a good start to come late.

The university you used to attend was half this size, and somehow you already missed it. But who would turn down the opportunity to study at the country's most prestigious medical university? Especially with the chance to learn from the most renowned neurosurgeons teaching there?

So here you were.

Two minutes left.

All of a sudden, someone ran into you, causing you to fall to the ground.

"Whoa, sorry! I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see a guy with tousled black hair and noticeable dark circles under his eyes. He quickly extended a hand to help you up. "Are you okay?"

Brushing off your clothes, you nodded and accepted his hand, feeling a surprising strength as he easily pulled you back to your feet.

"You new here?" he asked, studying your face. "You seem a bit lost."

The subtle irony in his comment almost coaxed a smile out of you, especially considering his own worn-out look. "Yeah, it's my first day, and I'm already running late. I'm trying to find Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class."

"No way, that's my class too! Come on, I'll show you, but we need to make it quick," he responded, already moving ahead with a sense of urgency. You hastened to keep pace with his swift strides.

"I'm Yuta Okkotsu, by the way," he introduced himself as you weaved through the bustling corridors. "So, what's the story behind your mid-semester transfer?"

"I was at a different medical school, but then got this offer to transfer here."

Yuta's eyes widened slightly. "An offer to transfer? That's pretty impressive. You must be quite talented."

"I'm not so sure about that, I think I just got lucky."

Yuta led the way through the bustling corridors, his familiarity with the campus evident in every confident turn he took. Finally, you arrived at the large doors of the auditorium where Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class was supposed to be held. Pushing the doors open, you both slipped inside, but there was no sign of the professor yet.

"Made it," Yuta gasped, a grin spreading across his face despite the shortness of breath. "With, uh, time to spare!" He glanced at his watch. "Okay, maybe not."

Yuta, still catching his breath, gestured towards a group sitting near the back. "Come on, you can sit with us. My friends are cool, I promise."

As you followed, you noticed a girl with striking green hair. She was leafing through a thick textbook with an expression that suggested she found the content less than challenging. "That's Maki," Yuta whispered to you. "Don't let her scare you—she's actually really nice."

Maki looked up as you approached. "New student?"

"Transfer student actually," Yuta corrected. "Is Inumaki also running late?"

Before Maki could respond, the doors swung open. But instead of Dr. Ieiri, Dr. Satoru Gojo stepped in, his presence as commanding as when you first saw him.

No way.

The room fell into an instant hush. Dr. Gojo sauntered to the front of the auditorium, his silver hair gleaming in the gentle sun.

"Good morning, class," he began, his voice effortlessly filling the hall. "Dr. Ieiri is unavailable today, so I'll be taking you through the nervous system."

He scribbled his name on the board, one hand nonchalantly tucked into his trouser pocket. Turning back to face the class, he rolled up his sleeves, his captivating blue eyes even more striking without the barrier of surgical glasses.

As his gaze swept across the students, it abruptly landed on you. For a split second, his confident demeanor wavered, replaced by a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"The first-year?"

Following his gaze, all heads turned towards you—dozens of stabbing eyes.

Fantastic, center stage yet again.

You locked eyes with Gojo for a heartbeat, maybe a minute, maybe a year. Heat spread all over your skin. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then he cleared his throat and regained his professional poise.

"As I was saying," he turned his attention back to the class, "—since Dr. Ieiri isn't here, we'll dive deeper into the nervous system. So listen well."

His eyes met yours one more time before he launched into the lecture.

─── ·✧· ───

As the lecture came to an end, the students began to gather their belongings. You also began to pack up your notes, still processing the intense lecture Dr. Gojo had just given. It was clear—he was not a professor who took it easy on his students.

"Should we grab a bite? We've got a few minutes before the next class," Yuta suggested, glancing at both you and Maki as you made your way towards the exit. But just as you were about to step out, Dr. Gojo's voice halted you in your tracks.

"Not you, first-year."

The remaining students cast curious glances your way as they continued to file out of the auditorium. Yuta paused, his gaze shifting between you and Dr. Gojo.

"I'll catch up later," you said to him. He nodded before disappearing with the last of the students.

Turning back, you found Dr. Gojo leaning nonchalantly against his desk with his arms crossed. His intense gaze was focused on you. The room quickly emptied, leaving only the two of you.

"I'm curious, what brings a first-year into an operating room?" he finally broke the silence.

"Dr. Geto invited me to observe."

"Dr. Geto?" he echoed, pushing himself off from the desk and taking a few steps closer. "How did you come to know him?"

"He invited me to transfer here," you explained. "He's overseeing a research project that I'm a part of."

"You what? You mean you're working with him on the neuroprosthetics?"

"Yes," you simply said.

He paused for a moment, then let out a chuff before taking a few deliberate steps closer. "Tell me, what did it take for you to get into this university? To become part of Suguru's team as a mere first-year student?"

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Are you insinuating something, Dr. Gojo?"

His lips curled into a half-smile, his approach halting just a breath away from you. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of suggesting anything untoward, like a student getting ahead by... unconventional means. That'd be highly inappropriate, wouldn't it?"

The air around you seemed to thicken as he loomed closer, his tall frame nearly casting a shadow over you against the backdrop of the window.

"I didn't know you were even Suguru's type," he continued.

Was he for real?

He knew nothing. 

Nothing about the countless hours you'd poured into your studies. Nothing about the sleepless nights spent devouring research papers. Nothing about the relentless drive that had earned you recognition in the scientific community despite your young age. And here he was, accusing you of fucking your way up the ladder.

"Why? Are you jealous?" The words slipped out before you could think.

Gojo's eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. "I can see why Suguru took an interest."

The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, yet you found yourself unable to look away. It was as if he was trying to read your very thoughts, peeling back layers with nothing but his piercing blue eyes.

For a moment, his gaze drifted downward, lingering on your lips. Your pulse quickened, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Too bad, I'm on the neuroprosthetics team too," he remarked. "We'll be seeing quite a bit of each other, it seems."

Suddenly, he stepped back, breaking the intensity of the moment. "Make sure you live up to the expectations, first-year. I won't go easy on you just because you're a rookie."

With those final words, he turned away, leaving you standing in the midst of the empty auditorium, your mind racing.

Was he for real real?

─── ·✧· ───

"Ugh, I hate that guy!"

Geto looked up from his desk, a single eyebrow raised in response to your dramatic entrance into his office. "That guy?"

"I mean Dr. Gojo," you clarified, pacing the room. "I can't keep up with his arrogance."

He leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a calm, measured gaze. "He's not as bad as you think. You just need to get to know him better."

Know him better?

Yeah, that was the least you wanted to do.

"He just accused me of sleeping with you to get into this university!"

The words tumbled out of your mouth, more bluntly than you intended. Your relationship with Geto had always been somewhat informal, feeling more like a friendship. But this level of frankness was a step further than usual. But the anger and frustration boiling inside you made it impossible to hold back.

Geto couldn't suppress a laugh. "Sounds like something he would say," he mused, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

You stopped pacing the room and turned to face him. "Ha?"

"Listen," Geto began. "Gojo is a good man. He's always worked hard, so it might be a little irritating for him to see someone new get the recognition he's worked for years to get."

"But I've worked hard too," you countered.

"I know," Geto leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "That's why I invited you here, to be part of my research team. He'll see your potential sooner or later." A warm smile played on his lips.

"So I just have to wait for his approval?"

"It looks like it," Geto shrugged.

Great.

"Besides we need him on this project, so it's best if you two find a way to get along. You'll learn a lot working with Gojo," he added.

You sighed. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Gojo is not easily impressed. But I have a feeling that you made quite an impression on him with your boldness in the operating room the other day. Not many students would suggest such an approach as you did."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You can take it as one, yes," he replied with a chuckle. He then stood up and began packing his bag. "Oh, and also, we're starting work on the project tomorrow, right after your last class."

Fantastic.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding. "I think it's best we dive right in. Gojo will be there too, of course. It'll be a good opportunity for both of you to start fresh." His smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel he was somewhat enjoying the situation.

─── ·✧· ───

The air was filled with the sterile scent of preservatives.

Anatomy class was in full swing, the only sound being the quiet murmur of focused students. You stood at your desk next to Yuta, Maki, and Toge, each of you meticulously dissecting and examining organs under the microscope. But your mind was elsewhere, lost in a blur of thoughts about the research project starting later that day.

As you sliced an organ in half with a practiced hand, your gaze drifted unfocused, the image under the microscope blurring. A wave of nausea washed over you. Perhaps it was the onset of the flu, or perhaps it was a convenient excuse to avoid facing Gojo later.

"Hey, you okay?" Yuta's voice pulled you back to the present. You realized you had been staring blankly at the tissue sample for longer than necessary. 

"Yeah, just thinking about the project later."

Maki glanced over, her eyes sharp behind her safety glasses. "With Dr. Gojo, right? That's going to be—interesting."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

"Dr. Gojo, well, he's notorious for being an ass," Maki said, her focus still on her own dissection. "He's undeniably a genius, but he's also—brutal. He has a way of pushing students to their limits, often too far."

Fantastic. 

Just what you needed to hear.

Your stomach churned. "I had a feeling about that."

"His standards are high, and he's not exactly gentle in his criticism. If you don't meet his expectations, he'll let you know, and not kindly," she continued. "He's made more than a few students question their life choices."

"Yeah, I've heard similar stories. You either meet his expectations or you're pretty much done," Yuta added.

The thought of working with Dr. Gojo was getting more fun by the minute. 

Maybe you should call in sick.

Toge contributed his one-word insight, "God complex," which seemed to perfectly sum up the mood of the conversation about Dr. Gojo.

"But—," Maki interjected, finally looking up, "—he's still the best in his field. If you can handle the pressure, he's undoubtedly the one to learn from."

Yeah, but what was the price for that?

You let out a tired sigh. 

Returning to your task, you carefully aligned the organ under the microscope. Gojo was intimidating, no doubt, but you had worked your ass off to reach this point. You weren't going to back down just because he was a dick. After all, Geto was also working on the project, so how bad could it possibly be then?

You glanced up from the microscope to adjust its focus. However, you couldn't help but notice Yuta. He glanced at Maki over his microscope with this look—that certain look.

Interesting.

─── ·✧· ─── 

"Your idea is just ridiculous!"

"Oh really? Yours is just shit!"

You didn't know how it ended up like this. It was barely two minutes into the discussion about a critical aspect of the research project, and here you were, shouting at each other. The entire lab had gone silent, all eyes glued to the heated exchange. Geto, leaning against a counter, watched the scene unfold with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Your approach could compromise the entire neural interface integration," you argued. "It's too aggressive and doesn't take into account the potential for neural tissue damage."

Gojo was standing so close, that you could see the flecks of color in his eyes, feel the heat radiating off him. And could probably spit in his face.

Maybe you should do that.

His approach was risky—dangerous even. How could he not see that? 

"It's necessary," Gojo countered. "—playing it safe doesn't always work."

Yeah, you know that. But not in this case, not with this patient. It was borderline reckless.

"There's a fine line between a breakthrough and recklessness," you shot back.

"You're so naive," he retorted, stepping even closer. "You don't understand when it's time to take some risks."

You stared at him. "Taking risks? No, you're just being insane!"

"You—" he started but Geto quickly intervened. 

"Alright, that's enough for now," he said, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, physically creating space between you and Gojo. "Let's take a break."

But Gojo's eyes never left yours, unbroken even as Geto gently shoved him backwards. You stood there, your breath ragged, your heart racing. Around you, the lab slowly came back to life as the others resumed their tasks, occasionally stealing glances in your direction.

"Could you get us some coffee?" Geto asked, pressing a few bills into your hand.

Yeah. Sure.

You nodded. The unexpected surge of adrenaline that had coursed through your veins didn't leave you needing caffeine, but hell, you took anything that would get you away from him. As you made your way out of the lab, you could still feel his gaze on you.

Taking your time, you wandered to the cafeteria. Okay, maybe you just didn't find the way. But you didn't really care. The university was already empty at this hour. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

By the time you returned to the lab, the coffee had grown cold in your hands. Geto immediately perked up at your return, pushing himself away from his desk and walking over to you. "Ah, great," he said with a smile, taking a cup from your hands. "Thanks."

Your gaze shifted to Gojo, who hadn't moved an inch, his attention seemingly absorbed by the computer screen in front of him. Without a word, you placed his cup on his desk.

The rest of the evening was a blur of lab work, discussions, and planning.

You were focused on analyzing a blood sample to identify specific markers and genetic predispositions to determine if a patient was eligible for research. Normally an easy task, but your concentration began to waver.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was well past midnight. The lab was quiet, most of the equipment was turned off, and the only light was the dim glow of a few workstations. Geto had left some time ago, urging you to do the same, but you stayed. It would take longer to continue your work tomorrow than to finish it now.

However, each test you ran seemed to produce inconclusive or erratic results. You rechecked the protocols, ran the tests again, but the results were still the same. Exhaustion was clouding your judgment, leading you to make mistakes you wouldn't normally make.

After yet another failed attempt, you let out a sigh and rubbed your tired eyes.

How was this so fucking hard all of a sudden?

"Let me help you," said a voice from behind you. It was Gojo. You thought he had already left, or maybe you were just so focused on your own task. You felt his presence close behind you as he leaned in to examine the blood sample results on the screen.

"See here," he said, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. He reached around you to steer the controls, his arms encircling you. Your skin heated. "The centrifugation speed and time must be precisely calibrated. It affects the separation of cellular components, which is critical for accurate marker identification."

You nodded slightly, even though you already knew that. Somehow, you were now a bit ashamed of your own sudden stupidity. As the sample was prepared and placed for analysis, his presence remained close, his body heat and the soft cadence of his breathing a constant distraction. The results started to display on the screen, this time showing the definitive patterns you had been seeking.

"No need to thank me," Gojo said, straightening up—giving you some much-needed air to breathe. "You should go home, it's late."

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Yeah, you should really go home.

As Gojo moved towards the door, he paused briefly, his hand resting on the handle. "Burning out won't do you, or the project, any good."

You watched him for a moment. Somehow, in the dim light, his features softened the usually sharp lines of his face. "Are you concerned?"

"Concerned that you mess this project up," he said with a grin on his lips.

You let out a tired sigh. "Of course."

─── ·✧· ─── 

Another day. Another fight.

The tension in the lab was palpable as you and Gojo stood across from each other. The issue had resurfaced. So had the friction between your methods. Your opposing views seemed like an insurmountable chasm.

"You're not considering the long-term implications of your approach," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "We need to think about patient recovery, not just the immediate results."

"The primary goal is to ensure the success of the procedure. Your 'cautious' tactics might compromise the project's objectives," Gojo retorted.

You bristled at his words. "It's not about being cautious—it's about being thorough and responsible. We can't afford to overlook potential complications."

The debate intensified, each point you made met with a sharp rebuttal from Gojo. As the argument escalated, he took a step closer, his blue eyes locked on yours. "Your method will not work, first-year. Playing it safe will kill this patient."

His proximity was overwhelming, and for a moment, you lost your train of thought, caught up in the intensity of his gaze. "My method will keep him alive," you managed to say, trying to regain your composure.

Before he could respond, you glanced at the clock on the wall and realized with a start that you were late for your class. "I have to go," you said abruptly, the urgency of the situation breaking the tension.

"We're not done with this discussion," Gojo snapped.

"Yeah, whatever," you said as you hurried out of the lab and rushed to your class. 

Gojo let out a low hiss under his breath. As you left the lab, Geto approached him, his expression serious despite the hint of a smile on his lips. Some might say he looked scary.

"Satoru," Geto began. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Gojo turned, his posture stiffening. "About what?"

Geto crossed his arms, leaning back against a lab table. "Could you please stop pissing off my precious student?"

"Ha?" he said, raking a hand through his hair. "Are you seriously siding with her?"

"I am," Geto confirmed. "I wanted her on this project because she and I are on the same page."

"Of course you are."

"Satoru, I don't want to throw you off this project, so please try to find a middle ground with her. Give her a chance."

Gojo exhaled sharply, the lines on his face softening slightly. "Your approach is too cautious. It won't work."

Geto maintained his calm demeanor. "We'll see."

"Fine," Gojo finally conceded. "I'll try to—work with her. On one condition."

"And what's that?" Geto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We do it my way if your approach doesn't work," Gojo said.

"Fair enough."

Gojo looked away, his gaze settling on the empty space where you had stood moments before. There was a brief pause, his mind racing.

"Suguru, what exactly do you see in her?" Gojo asked after a while.

"Hm?" Geto looked at Gojo thoughtfully. "She has potential, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, potential," Gojo echoed, his voice trailing off slightly.

Geto tilted his head.

─── ·✧· ───

The sun streamed through the windows of the anatomy classroom, casting a warm glow across the rows of desks. Despite the bright light, your eyelids felt heavy, the endless fights with Gojo replaying in your mind and robbing you of much-needed energy.

You sat beside Yuta, Maki, and Toge, struggling to focus on the lecturer's words. 

"Rough day?" Yuta whispered.

You propped your head up with one hand, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to clear the fog of fatigue. "More like a rough week."

"You look like shit," Maki remarked.

"Thanks."

As the lecturer continued discussing the intricacies of human anatomy, your thoughts drifted back to Gojo. Despite all the arguments you had with him, all you could think about was the memory of his intense gaze, his closeness, his soft voice, even his scent. It made it impossible to concentrate on the lecture.

Yuta nudged you gently when you almost nodded off, your head dipping forward. "You really should get some rest after this."

Suddenly, an announcement woke you up in an instant.

"Now we'll do a quick test." Dr. Ieiri announced. "It's crucial for your upcoming exams."

A collective groan echoed through the class. You froze, your heart sinking. A test was the last thing you needed right now.

Yuta turned to you. "You got this," he said, trying to offer some encouragement.

You weren't so sure. 

As the test papers were distributed, you stared blankly at the questions. Your mind, usually sharp and focused during exams, felt sluggish and unresponsive. One by one, you read through the questions, trying to recall the knowledge you knew was hopefully buried somewhere in your tired brain.

Fuck.

It was all questions about something like skin, bones and that shit. You could recall every little detail about the brain, but bones? Fuck, you really should have paid attention in that class.

Panic set in as you realized that you might actually fail this test.

─── ·✧· ───  

1:07 AM.

You were still wide awake.

Tossing and turning, you found sleep elusive. Everything that had happened lately was replaying in your mind. You had barely been in Tokyo for a few weeks and your life was already so different. You barely had time to fix up your apartment, the moving boxes still there, waiting to be opened. And then the anatomy test—

You needed a distraction, something to focus on that wasn't your own disappointment.

So you decided to head back to the university lab. Maybe immersing yourself in work would help clear your head. The quiet, empty streets at this hour were oddly comforting as you drove to the campus. Upon arriving at the lab, you were surprised to see the lights already on. You pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar space.

No way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

Gojo hunched over a microscope, deeply engrossed in his work. He looked up, his expression one of mild annoyance. "I could ask you the same," he replied.

Nice.

Even in the lab, it seemed you couldn't escape his presence. He was always there, haunting both your mind and your reality.

"You shouldn't work so late. You're still a student," Gojo remarked.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, you've already told me that. But I want this project to work just as much as you."

Gojo looked your way, his striking blue eyes catching the dim lab light. "Don't you ever take a break? Go out? Maybe party or so?"

You observed him for a moment. His hair was disheveled, giving him a more relaxed, approachable look than usual. "I'm not really into the party scene," you admitted.

"I guessed as much," he responded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he returned his focus back to his work.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, somewhat hurt.

"It's not a criticism, just an observation."

Setting up at a nearby workstation, you began reviewing some data on a patient you were about to perform surgery on. He was the first to receive a transplant directly into his cerebral cortex, hoping to bypass the damaged spinal cord and allow direct brain control of a prosthetic limb.

It was the first time such an operation had ever been performed. And Geto would be the one to do the surgery. Gojo would have normally, but he refused. He was still convinced it was the wrong approach. Even though all the data showed otherwise.

Sipping from your coffee, you glanced over at Gojo, finding a strange comfort in his presence. He worked with a focus and intensity that was almost mesmerizing.

3:23 AM. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your eyelids as you completed the final analysis. Now all you had to do was wait for the results. You rested your head on your hand, sinking lower and lower until your head touched the cool surface of the desk. Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt.

Time passed unnoticed until a gentle touch caressed your cheek. It jolted you from sleep. You flinched slightly, your eyes fluttering open. Your gaze slowly traveled up, finally locking with Gojo's eyes. He stood beside you, his thumb lingering just a moment longer on your skin, stroking lightly over your cheek.

"You hungry?"

You straightened up, pulling back a little. Suddenly conscious of the close proximity. A warm flush spread across your cheeks.

Gojo pulled up a chair, turned it backwards and faced you. He unwrapped a small meal he had brought from a nearby bakery, the scent of fresh pastries filling the air. 

There was a casual ease to his movements. Like everything he did. Whether he was slicing through a brain or just existing. He always seemed so unbothered. As if he knew he would never fail at anything anyway.

Blinking tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering veil of sleep. As you moved, a jacket slipped from your shoulders. His jacket. He must have draped it over your shoulders while you slept. It smelled like him.

"Keep it," he said before you could part your lips. "The body cools down after sleep."

"Always the doctor, aren't you?" you replied with a hint of a smile, pulling the jacket back around your shoulders. "Thank you."

Reaching for the pastry he had brought, you became acutely aware of his gaze. The intensity in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"Tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" you asked, taking a bite of the pastry.

"Everything."

You chuckled. "That would take a while."

"I've got time."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling his gaze still intently on you.

"Tell me how Suguru found you," he continued.

"Back in my hometown, I was already in medical university, working on a research project about a specific type of brain tumor called glioblastoma multiforme. My mentor at the time encouraged me to publish a paper on my findings. It seems that Geto stumbled upon my work. That's how I ended up here."

"Impressive," he said. "Why this specific type of brain tumor?"

A lump formed in your throat. "Because my father died of it."

Gojo paused, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"My father was a neurosurgeon, too. I practically grew up in operating rooms," you continued.

"Why did he die?"

The directness of his question caught you slightly off guard. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. 

"The tumor was too aggressive. The surgery was useless, he knew that, but he wanted it anyway. They tried a radical surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible while preserving vital brain function. But it failed. My father was just dead meat breathing after the surgery. My mother never got over that loss. I think she lost her mind."

The gruesome edge of your words surprised him, his eyes widening slightly. You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with Gojo as his stupidly handsome blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul.

Silence stretched between you two.

"I'm sorry," Gojo said eventually.

"It's okay. He's long gone," your eyes lingered on the pastry. "It's what drove me to neurology," you continued, gathering the courage to look up at him. "I wanted to contribute to something that might change outcomes for people like my father."

"Is that why you want to go for the safe approach with the patient in our neuroprosthetics project?"

You thought about it. But it wouldn't help to lie anyway. "Yeah, that's probably it."

Gojo ran his fingers through his hair, releasing a weary exhale.

"Tell me about you now," you said, changing the subject.

He paused, then offered a brief, wry smile. "Not married, no girlfriend, no kids."

"That's not really what I meant."

"Sure?" he teased, the corners of his mouth turning up in a playful smile.

"Why not?" you asked him. This was indeed interesting. He was handsome. Tall. Barely in his thirties. A famous neurosurgeon. He was basically the whole package. Except—

"No time, I guess," he said.

"What a lame excuse," you retorted, leaning back in your chair. You stretched your arms above your head, trying to relieve the tension that had built up in your muscles. A slight smile lingered on your lips as you added, "I guess you're just too much ego for any woman to handle."

"Oh, sweetheart," Gojo replied, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a natural ease. "I suspect you have just as much ego as me."

Suddenly, Gojo stood up and closed the distance between you. You remained seated, looking up at him, your heart rate quickening. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you. The intensity in his gaze was palpable, and you found yourself caught in it, unable to look away. The room seemed to shrink, the space between you charged.

Then, leaning in, Gojo brought his face close to yours, his breath a whisper against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. "Bad for you," he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble, "I do like arrogant woman."

Before you could respond, he straightened up. "Good night," he said. "You should get some sleep."

With that, he turned and walked out of the lab, leaving you sitting there. The air seemed to shift back to normal as the door closed behind him. 

─── ·✧· ─── 

Your legs hurt. Your back hurt. Your hips hurt. Your neck hurt.

Everything hurt.

You stood on the sidelines of the operating room for nearly 6 hours. Standing still on the same spot. You'll never get used to that. It's the worst part of the job. But it was still a privilege to witness Geto and Gojo in surgery, right?

The room was filled with the sound of beeping monitors and the low murmur of the assisting surgical team. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the procedure and the surgeons. They worked together with a quiet efficiency that was fascinating. 

However, as you watched, something about Gojo caught your attention. His movements seemed slightly off. You started noticing it about an hour ago. But no one said anything. His hair was drenched in sweat and clung to his forehead. You could see the slight trembling in his hands, almost imperceptible.

Something was definitely off.

Your gaze lingered on him, studying his every move.

"First-year."

Gojo suddenly paused and looked up, his eyes meeting yours. You flinched slightly, as he caught you starring at him. "You want to try the next part?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hum of the operating room.

Was he serious?

Before you could reply, Geto interjected, "Satoru, are you joking? She's still a student."

Gojo's gaze didn't waver from you. "I know. But you said she's your best student," he replied his lips twitching with a smile. "I want to test that."

"You've done aneurysm surgery before, back in your hometown, right?" Gojo asked you.

Did he google you or what?

"Yes," you replied.

"Then step forward," he said.

You hesitated. Your gaze drifted to Geto for confirmation. Geto hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

Heart pounding, you stepped forward to the operating table. A rush of adrenaline surged through you. You took the offered surgical tools with a steady hand from Gojo, his eyes locked with yours. "We're going to work on clipping the aneurysm now. You've done it before, right?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

"Good." He moved closer, positioning himself so he could guide you while still giving you control. "Start with an incision here," he instructed, pointing to a specific area on the patient's brain with his own instrument.

You could feel his gaze over your shoulder; the warmth of his body near yours. As you made the initial incision, Gojo moved even closer. "Now, carefully dissect the tissue to expose the aneurysm," he continued.

Your hands worked around the fragile brain. You did surgery before. Yes. But this was another level. Every eye of every nurse and doctor in the room was on you. Geto was monitoring the patient's data. He glanced at you from time to time, his expression unreadable. But you were at least three inches deep into a human brain, so there was no way out anyway.

After that, you would certainly have to vomit from the adrenaline.

At one critical point, your hands hesitated. Your heart almost exploded. In that moment, you could either kill this patient or save him. "Calm down," Gojo said, so low and close to your ear that only you could hear it. Gojo's hand cupped yours gently. "You're doing fine. Trust yourself," he murmured. His touch was brief, but it was enough to ground you for a moment.

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you isolated the aneurysm and prepared it for clipping.

"Good," he whispered.

Finally, as you placed the clip on the aneurysm and secured it, a wave of accomplishment washed over you. Hell, you really did it.

"Congratulations, an excellent clipping," Gojo said, his lips forming a smile. "You can step back now."

"Thank you, Dr. Gojo," you whispered. As you stepped back, a wide smile spread across your face, hidden beneath the mask but undeniable in the sparkle of your eyes.

Gojo took the lead again to close up the patient. But his gaze shifted to you every now and then.

Geto's eyes narrowed.

─── ·✧· ───

"You did a good job in there."

Gojo glanced in your direction as you both washed up in the scrub room after the operation.

"Thanks," you replied, meeting his eyes.

"I may have underestimated you," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

Wait? Was that a compliment? From him?

Before you could respond, the door to the scrub room burst open. Geto stormed in, his face flushed with anger. He tore off his scrubs and threw them into the trash with a thud that made you flinch.

"We need to talk, Satoru," he said sharply. His intense gaze was fixed solely on Gojo, as if you weren't even there.

Shit.

Gojo calmly turned off the tap and reached for a towel, drying his hands with deliberate slowness. His face was an unreadable mask. He gave you a brief glance before following Geto out of the room.

"Don't you dare fuck my student," Geto hissed before the door had even fully closed behind them. But it didn't matter anyway, you could hear their voices through the thin walls.

Gojo leaned back against a table. His arms crossed over his chest. "What are you getting at?"

"Don't try to fuck with me, Satoru. I've seen the way you look at her."

"I supervised her, so that she wouldn't kill the patient. That's all you saw."

"Supervision?" Geto's voice was sharp. "Since when do you let a student handle such a crucial part of a surgery? What's gotten into you? What if she had screwed up?"

Gojo's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem? She's proven herself capable, and she performed brilliantly today, don't you think?"

Geto advanced a step, closing the distance between them. His frustration palpable. "This isn't like you, Satoru. You're blurring lines that should remain clear. She's a student. You're supposed to be her mentor, not—not whatever you're turning this into."

The room went silent.

"Your concern is noted, but misplaced," Gojo said. "My interest in her is purely professional. She has potential, real potential, and it's my job to support that."

Geto's expression hardened. "That's right, she has potential, and you're risking that if you can't keep your hands off her."

"What?" Gojo pushed away from the table. "Because you want her for yourself?"

"I can't believe you'd go there," Geto snapped back. "I brought her here because she's damn good at what she does, not for any other reason."

Gojo's face tightened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "You should know me better, Suguru. I was giving her a shot to show her skills, that's all."

In a sudden move, Geto closed the distance and grasped Gojo's shirt, pulling him forward. Their faces were just inches apart. "Listen, Satoru," Geto said. "I'm dead serious. One wrong step, one slip, and you could ruin everything—her career, the project, your own reputation. Don't think I'll stand by and watch that happen."

Gojo's eyes met Geto's, unflinching. He placed his hands on Geto's to release his grip. "I hear you, Suguru," he said. "But you're wrong. My interest in her is purely professional."

"Make sure it stays that way," Geto warned. He released his grip and stepped back.

Geto then turned and left the room. Gojo turned his head to look at you through the small window in the door that separated you. Your eyes briefly met his before he also left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Great.

─── ·✧· ───

This day couldn't get any better.

You stood at the exit of the hospital. It was pouring.

Resigned, you decided to wait near the exit, hoping the rain would stop soon. Minutes passed, but the rain showed no signs of stopping.

"Waiting out the rain?" a familiar voice called out from behind.

You turned to see Gojo appeared. He had changed out of his surgical scrubs and was now in his regular clothes. His muscular arms and broad shoulders visible even under his loose button-down.

"Yeah, it looks like I'm stuck here for a while."

Gojo opened his umbrella. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

You hesitated for a moment.

"Suguru already left, don't worry," he added, as if reading your thoughts.

You frowned slightly. "That's not what I was concerned about."

"Then why are you hesitating?" He took a step closer, the umbrella now over you both. He stood at least a head taller than you, looking down at you with heavy eyes. You studied the tired lines in his face, the slight dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired."

"Do I?" Gojo's voice was deep, his gaze lingering shamelessly on your lips. "Perhaps I am. I've been thinking about you all night."

"Bold statement, especially after Geto's warning."

"I'm not afraid of Suguru."

"Is that why you let me operate today? To piss him off?"

He leaned forward. "I let you operate because you can operate. Suguru is hesitant. He likes to play safe. With me, you'll have more challenge—more fun."

"Are we still talking about surgery?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied with a grin. "Come on, It's been a long day. I insist."

"Okay," you finally relented. "Thank you."

You stepped out into the rain together. The umbrella shielded you both as you walked side by side. You walked in silence, the only sound being the gentle drumming of raindrops. Gojo subtly shifted the umbrella, ensuring you were completely covered. His shoulder got wet.

When you reached your car, you turned to him. Somehow you stood so close now. His breath hot against you skin. Your stomach turned slightly, but you tried to brush the feeling off. "Thank you," you said softly, "—for everything today."

"Can I ask you for a favor?" He asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"Can you help me with a project?"

"Another project? Besides the neuroprosthetics?" you asked.

"It's a private one. I could use your assistance with processing data."

"Let me know when and where."

He smiled. "Perfect."

Gojo smoothly opened the car door for you, still holding the umbrella over your head. "Take care," he said gently, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. You both remained frozen. The world outside the umbrella a blur.

"You too," you finally replied, breaking the moment. As you got into your car, you were acutely aware of his eyes still on you.

He closed the door for you and turned.

─── ·✧· ───

"Sorry in advance if this hurts."

You tried to insert the needle, your hand less steady than usual. The needle missed the vein, making Yuta wince. "Sorry," you wiped sweat from your forehead. Then tried again, quickly changing the needle.

A week had passed since the fight between Geto and Gojo. Since then, Gojo hadn't visited the lab. You didn't know what to make of it. But perhaps it was for the better. Less fighting after all. Gojo still didn't approve of your approach.

Still, you couldn't force your mind to stop racing. Perhaps it was the immense workload you had. The research project, not to mention Gojo's personal research project, and inevitably, Gojo himself.

You were in practical class, sitting with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, focusing on a seemingly simple task—practicing drawing blood. But you failed every time.

Yuta gave you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you've done this a hundred times."

Yeah. Not really, but you should probably not tell him that right now.

You took a deep breath and tried again. Failed.

"It's alright, give it another go," Yuta said, even after you had stabbed his arm too many times to be comfortable.

The needle slipped again and missed the mark. "I'm sorry, Yuta. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Pressure?" Toge asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lot lately."

Suddenly, Dr. Kento, the instructor for this practical lesson, appeared behind you. His stoic demeanor sent a shiver down your spine without you having to see it.

"You're really not good at this," he commented bluntly, not really befitting a professor. But it was true.

Forcing a smile, you turned to face him. "Just a bit off my game today."

Dr. Kento's expression remained impassive. "Drawing blood is a basic skill. You should be able to do it in your sleep," he lectured. "But you look like you're torturing your patient."

"Ehh—," you began, turning back to Yuta and only then noticing his pained expression. All color had drained from his face. 

Oops.

Dr. Kento's gaze then swept across the room, capturing the attention of the entire class. "Everyone needs to master this," he continued. "I expect you to be able to do this by the end of the week."

You kidding, right?

It was already Thursday. He basically meant tomorrow.

As if on cue, the bell rang.

You and your friends began to gather your belongings. As the room buzzed with the chatter of students packing up, Yuta brought up a topic that immediately drew everyone's interest.

"Hey, about the sports festival, which team should we join?"

"Sports festival?" you echoed, feeling slightly out of the loop. Your focus on the lab work had left you missing everything else that happened on campus.

Yuta nodded. "Yeah, it's a big event. Every year there's a sports festival in the summer with a bunch of team sports events and competitions."

Toge, usually reserved, showed a flicker of excitement. "Basketball."

"Yeah, the professors usually form a basketball team against the students. Should we join?" Yuta asked.

Maki already scrolled through her phone, looking up the festival details. "We should register then, hmm ... oh the professor team is already full, and .. oh Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto are in the team."

"I bet they are just as competitive on the court as they are in the OR," Yuta added.

"Join?" Toge asked.

"Sure," Maki commented, scrolling through her phone for more details.

Out of curiosity, you asked, "Does anyone here even play basketball?"

Yuta, scratching his chin thoughtfully, replied, "Well, I've played a bit. And Maki's naturally good at anything, so—" he paused, seemingly realizing what he just said. His face turned a shade redder. "Ehh, I mean, you've played basketball before, right, Maki?"

Maki just shrugged, a confident smirk on her face. "He's not wrong."

"So, are we doing this?" you asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Great.

Now you had to learn how to play basketball too.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself outside Gojo's office, clutching the stack of papers you had prepared for his research project. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you knocked softly before entering.

"Dr. Gojo, I've finished the analysis you requested," you said, placing the papers on his desk.

"Thank you. I'll check these later," he said, not looking up from his computer.

You turned to leave. But just as you reached the door, Gojo's voice halted you.

"Wait."

You paused, turning back to face him.

"Wash your hands. There are syringes and needles in the drawer on the bottom right."

"What?" you asked, not sure what he wanted from you.

He looked up from his computer. "You're embarrassing me," he said bluntly. "You know what Kento said to me earlier? He said, and I quote, 'Are you stupid? How can you let a student operate on the brain who can barely get a needle through skin?'"

You felt a knot forming in your stomach.

"It was just not my day, really," you stammered, trying to defend yourself, though your voice lacked conviction.

"How many times have you done that before?" he asked, his gaze intimidating.

You were lost for words.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, more to himself than to you. He stood up from his desk and rolled up his sleeves.

Before you knew it, you found yourself sitting next to him, wearing gloves and poised with a needle in hand. Gojo's arm was outstretched towards you, the veins visible beneath his skin. You stared at his arm. Somehow your mind now completely blank.

"Aren't you going to tie a band around my arm to make my veins more visible first?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, right," you muttered, your cheeks flushing. You wrapped the band around his arm and secured it tightly. Your fingers trembled slightly as they touched his firm skin. The contact felt unexpectedly intimate. It made your heart race.

He watched you, his expression softening slightly. "Easy now," he said in a more encouraging tone. "It's not hard. Just focus."

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your trembling hands. The needle hovered over his vein, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of the silence in the room, punctuated only by the sound of your own erratic heartbeat.

You hesitated.

"Use your little finger against my arm to anchor your hand," he said.

Following his advice, you rested your finger against his skin, feeling a surprising steadiness in your hand.

"And angle the needle slightly," he added. "It's about finding the right entry point—not too steep, not too shallow."

You adjusted the angle of the needle accordingly, aiming for the vein. The tip pierced the skin, and this time, it slid into the vein smoothly. You let out a heavy exhale.

"Good," he said. "Now, draw the blood gently."

As you carefully drew the blood, you could feel Gojo's eyes on your hands, monitoring your technique. Once the procedure was complete and you carefully removed the needle. "Much better," he rolled down his sleeve, a slight arch of his eyebrow. "How is it that you've never really done that before?"

"I don't need to draw blood if I'm operating on the brain," you said with a shrug.

Gojo watched you, a stunned expression flickering across his face.

"The nurses usually handle that anyway," you added, hoping to clarify your point.

There was a moment of silence as he processed what you just said. Finally, he shook his head slightly. "I'm just going to ignore what you just said," he replied.

Changing the subject, he leaned back in his chair. "By the way, I saw your name on the list for the students' basketball team for the upcoming sports festival."

You raised your eyebrows, peeling off your gloves. "Oh, you did?"

"Yeah," he said, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "I didn't know you played basketball. But I have to admit, I'm curious to see if you're as good at basketball as you are at clipping aneurysms."

"I haven't really played much before, so you might want to lower your expectations," a small smile tugged at your lips. "Have you played before?"

"I used to play pretty regularly when I was in universtiy," he said.

Great.

If he was anywhere near as good at basketball as he was at surgery, you were fucked.

"You should teach me then," you quipped, not quite meeting his gaze. As the words left your lips, you immediately realized the implication. You turned to him, a blush coloring your cheeks. "It's just a joke."

His smile widened. "Oh really? Too bad, I'd have liked that."

The room fell into silence.

You found yourself staring at him, and he returned your gaze.

His silver hair had a few strands that were slightly out of place. Your eyes studied his face as if seeing it for the first time. The typical intensity in his blue eyes had softened, replaced by an almost gentle expression. His sharp jawline moved slightly, as if he were pondering something.

Breaking the silence, you finally spoke, your voice softer than intended. "I wonder what you were like back in your university days."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's hard to imagine you not being the controlled surgeon you are now."

"You think I'm controlled?"

"No, that's not what I meant," you hurried to clarify. "I mean, you're always so focused, so—precise, and—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in closer, his intense gaze holding you captive. The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. You could feel the warmth of his breath, barely a whisper away from your skin.

Gojo reached out, his hand gently cupping your chin. He lifted your face slightly, ensuring your eyes met directly.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I might lose my control sooner than you'd expect," he said, his thumb lightly brushing your jawline.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on, he slowly withdrew his hand and stepped back, breaking the connection. He turned away from you and walked back to his desk. "Thank you for your work. You can leave now."

─── ·✧· ───

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the university's outdoor basketball court. Maki, Toge, Yuta, and you had gathered for practice, despite the lingering summer heat.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," you said, dribbling the basketball on the sun-baked concrete. "None of us are exactly pros."

Maki, tying her hair back, grinned. "Speak for yourself. I've got some hidden talents." She effortlessly caught the ball and shot it toward the hoop, scoring a basket. "See?"

Yuta laughed and retrieved the ball. "That's just beginner's luck, Maki. Watch and learn." He took a shot, but the ball bounced off the rim.

"Practice," Toge said.

"Yeah, we really need more practice," you finished his sentence.

"Hey, watch this!" Yuta called out, attempting a fancy dribble move, only to lose control of the ball. It rolled away, and Toge scooped it up and passed it back with a short, "Focus."

"You're one to talk," Maki teased, swiping the ball from Toge and lobbing it towards the basket. It swished through the net effortlessly. "I still got it!"

You caught the ball and wiped the sweat from your brow. "I never thought we'd be practicing basketball as medical students."

Maki turned to you with a curious look. "Speaking of training, how's the research going? You've been spending a lot of time with Geto and Gojo."

You began to dribble the ball, more or less. "It's intense, but I'm learning a lot. Dr. Geto is incredibly intelligent, and well, working with Dr. Gojo is—an experience."

"An experience, huh?" Maki said with a grin "Is that code for 'Dr. Handsome has some unique ways of teaching me'?"

You flinched. Yuta quickly snatched the ball from your unfocused grip and shot it through the net.

"Dr. Handsome?" you echoed.

Maki opened a bottle of water. "Don't tell me he's not good-looking—they both are."

"I mean, they both definitely have their—charm, I guess."

"Charm, huh?" Maki teased, taking a sip of her water. "I've seen the way Dr. Gojo looks at you. There's definitely something."

"It's not like that," you protested, though your defensive tone might have suggested otherwise. "He's just an incredible surgeon to work with, that's all."

"He did let you operate with him, though. That's all I'm saying," Maki added.

"Aneurisym," Toge chimed in.

Yuta, bouncing the ball beside you, added, "Yeah, he let you operate on an aneurysm with him, which is pretty crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Can we focus on the festival game instead of me?"

Maki laughed. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it. But seriously, how's the project going? I mean, besides the whole Dr. Handsome thing."

Yeah, where to start on that.

Taking a deep breath, you told them more about the research project. 

─── ·✧· ───

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. You were still on the basketball court, practicing your shots. The others had already left. The court was quiet, except for the rhythmic bounce of the basketball and the occasional swish of the net.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through. "Hey, First-year."

Startled, you turned to see Gojo approaching the court. He was dressed in athletic attire—a black, skin-tight t-shirt and shorts that looked criminally good on him.

"Dr. Gojo," you said, a bit surprised to see him there. "I didn't expect to see you practicing."

He picked up a basketball and began dribbling with ease. "I like to keep my skills sharp," he said, shooting a casual glance in your direction. "And I heard there was a new challenger on the students team."

You let out a tired sigh. "I'm just trying to make sure I don't embarrass myself too much at the festival," you admitted.

"Have more confidence in yourself, first-year. You're operating on brains, there's no room for doubts." Gojo shot the ball towards the hoop, scoring effortlessly. "And by the way, stop calling me Dr., just Gojo is fine."

"Alright, Gojo," you said.

Gojo passed the ball to you with a casual flick of his wrist. "Come on, first-year. Show me what you've got."

A cold shiver ran down your skin. Oddly, having to demonstrate your non-existent basketball skills felt more intimidating than clipping an aneurysm in front of him.

You positioned yourself at the three-point line, bouncing the ball a few times to find your rhythm. With a deep breath, you aimed and threw the ball, but it bounced off the rim and rolled away.

Gojo walked over to retrieve the ball. "Yeah, you'll definitely embarrass yourself if you play like that."

Ouch.

"Can you do anything besides brain surgery?" he probed further.

Ouch.

"You know that hurts," you said.

"It's all about posture and precision," he said, closing the distance between you two. He halted just before you. "May I?"

With a nod, you consented. He moved in closer, positioning himself directly behind you. His presence enveloping you in a comforting warmth. He smelled like sweat, but oddly, you found it rather attractive. 

You could feel the light touch of his hands as they gently guided your shoulders, aligning your stance with the hoop. His closeness was suffocating, and you found yourself acutely aware of every movement he made.

"Bend your knees a bit more," he advised, his voice a soothing whisper near your ear. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against the side of your neck, causing your heart to beat faster. His hands moved down to adjust your arms. His touch warm against your skin.

You tried to focus on his instructions. But the closeness of his body, the gentle pressure of his hands on your arms, made it damn hard to concentrate on anything other than him. 

"Now, when you shoot, focus on a fluid motion," he added.

As you prepared to take the shot, Gojo's hands rested lightly on your hips, steadying you. You should have pushed them away. Touching you like that was far beyond appropriate. But you didn't. You wanted him to touch you even more in that moment.

With his guidance, you took the shot, and this time the ball sailed through the net with a satisfying thud.

"You see? You have it in you," Gojo said, leaning back slightly but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze. Your heart immediately dropped.

Even in the waning light you could see it clearly.

"Are you high?" you asked, a slight frown creasing your forehead.

For a moment, Gojo seemed taken aback by your question. He quickly masked his expression with a casual smile and stepped back, creating some distance between you. He began to dribble the basketball, his movements fluid and practiced, yet there was a hint of unease in his actions.

"It's nothing," he said, focusing intently on the ball rather than meeting your eyes. "Just a small injury during practice."

"And you decided to what? Throw in an opioid for that small injury?" you pressed.

He stopped dribbling and faced you, his expression becoming more serious. "No, of course not," he replied with a hint of defensiveness. "It's just a minor strain. I didn't take anything strong for it."

You couldn't believe what he just said. He—a surgeon—a doctor—out of all people.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it's been a long day, and I might have pushed myself a bit too hard. But I'm fine, really."

You studied him closely. "You expect me to believe that?" you took another step closer. "What did you really take? Codeine? Morphine?"

A flicker of something undefinable passing through his eyes. "You're crossing a line," he replied, his tone firmer this time.

"Me? Crossing a line?" you countered. "Since the first day we met, you've been pushing boundaries, and now you say I'm the one overstepping?"

Gojo's expression hardened. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine." His words were steady, but the slight tightness in his jaw suggested otherwise.

You didn't buy anything he just said. The feeling that something was off clung to you, refusing to be dispelled. His usual clarity seemed clouded, his sharpness dulled. His eyes slightly red. His skin paler than usual. It was unsettling to see him like this.

After a brief pause, he picked up the basketball and held it loosely at his side. "I think we're done here," he said. "You should go home."

You watched him for a moment longer. But then you decided to turn and walk away, leaving him alone on the court. As you made your way, his words replayed over and over in your mind. 

Was something wrong with him? 

Should you be worried?

After all, you worked together. And also—naturally—you were worried about him, right? Like any student would be worried about his professor, right?

The evening air suddenly felt so cold.

─── ·✧· ───

The lab was quiet except for the occasional hum of machinery and the soft clinking of your tools as you worked. You were deep in concentration, analyzing data for the upcoming neuroprosthetics project, when the door opened with a soft click.

"Ah, there you are," Geto said as he stepped in. "I've been searching for you. We've finally got the green light for our surgery. Everything's lined up and ready to go."

You straightened up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "Really? That's great. When?"

Geto walked over to your workstation, a subtle smile on his face. "In two weeks. Are you excited?"

"More like nervous."

"Ah, that's natural. But don't worry, it will work. You've done an excellent job."

You felt a swell of pride at his words. "Thank you. I'm glad I could help."

Still, there was a question on the tip of your tongue, something you had been pondering since last week. Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, but then stopped. Words failed you.

"What is it?" Geto asked, knowing you too well.

"Is something wrong with Gojo?"

He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. His expression shifted slightly. "Don't worry about him. He's just stressed lately."

Somehow you didn't buy it.

"Even so, you shouldn't get that close to him."

"I'm not—" you wanted to interject, but he cut you off.

"I'm not blind," he said firmly. "You have a bright future in science. Don't risk it by getting too involved with him. Satoru is a brilliant surgeon, but his personal life is a mess."

What should that mean?

You looked away, unsure how to respond.

Geto then changed the subject. "By the way, I have some more news for you—good and bad. Which would you like to hear first?"

"The good news, of course," you replied.

"Here," Geto said, handing you a journal. As you took it, the bold lettering on the cover immediately caught your eye. It featured an article written by Gojo.

You opened the journal, your heart racing as you skimmed the pages to find the article. And there it was—a comprehensive meta-analysis that you, too, had worked on.

"No way," you murmured, your eyes scanning the text in disbelief.

Below the article was your name, listed alongside Gojo's, credited for your pivotal role in the data analysis and interpretation.

"He mentioned me." 

Geto nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "That's a pretty big deal."

You were momentarily speechless. Being credited alongside someone as renowned as Gojo was insane.

"Now for the not-so-good news," Geto began.

You looked up at him from the Journal, your eyes still sparkling.

"You failed your anatomy exam."

─── ·✧· ───

The sports festival was in full swing.

Cheers and laughter filled the university campus. The summer heat beat down relentlessly. You already felt a little nauseous that day, and the sun only made it worse. Yeah, you weren't really cut for the heat. At least the bleachers were partly shaded.

You sat quietly besides with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, watching various events unfold on the field. Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn't bring yourself into the festive spirit. Your mind was elsewhere.

Maki nudged you gently. "Still thinking about the exam?"

You sighed. "Yeah, I have to pass the next one, or I'll have to do this year again."

Yuta leaned over. "You'll go it, I'm sure. Plus, you got mentioned in Dr. Gojo's paper—that's huge!"

"Huge," Toge said again to underline it even more.

You managed a small smile. "I hope you're right."

Maki patted your back. "Dr. Handsome will sure put in a good word for you."

You sighed again. "Not this topic again."

Suddenly, the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, announcing that the basketball match between students and professors will begin shortly.

Yuta turned to you and the others. "Looks like it's our turn. Let's start getting ready."

You nodded, through a wave of nausea washed over you. The heat of the sun was merciless, more intense than you'd expected, and it seemed to be draining your strength by the minute.

Maki stood up. "Alright, team, let's show them what we've got!"

Should you vomit now, or later—or both?

Having changed into your sports attire, you joined your teammates on the basketball court. You began to warm up your muscles, even though the heat made that almost unnecessary. You felt your face burn. Nausea churned in your stomach. 

You paused, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping it would pass.

Then, the professors' team made their entrance onto the court. Among them were Geto and Gojo. They began dribbling and passing the ball between them, occasionally doing stretches that showcased their well-built bodies.

They looked confident.

You calculated the odds of how badly this match might go for your team.

Why did you even sign up for this?

Your gaze inadvertently met Gojo's across the court. For a fleeting second, your eyes locked, sending a wave of unease through you. You haven't spoken to him since. Quickly, you averted your gaze and focused back on your stretches.

As Gojo and another professor continued their warm-up, they passed the ball back and forth, aiming for the net. Then a shot from Gojo missed its mark, sending the ball rolling your way. 

As if he ever missed a shot.

The ball stopped at your feet, and before you could react, Gojo was there, sprinting up to retrieve it. He halted right in front of you. "You don't look good," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it.

"I'm fine," you said. "I think it's just the heat."

Gojo reached out, his hand cool against your forehead. "You're overheating."

You quickly pushed his hand aside. "You might want to keep a professional distance, don't you think?" The words came out sharper than intended.

Gojo frowned slightly. "You should sit this one out."

"I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine," you responded, mirroring his words back at him.

He took a step closer. "You're stupid, you know that?"

Before you could respond, Geto's voice called out from across the court. Gojo turned at the sound. "Coming!" He gave you a last look before quickly walking away. You watched them do a stupid boyish handshake as Gojo rejoined Geto.

At least he was not high today, you thought.

The crowd was already roaring with cheers and applause as both teams lined up. They all here to witness my downfall, you thought, struggling against the nausea that threatened your focus. 

Right off the bat, Gojo weaved through your team's defense, fluid and precise. He flicked the ball to Geto, who faked left and then took a clear shot, scoring the first basket of the game. The crowd erupted.

Yuta sprinted down the court and dribbled past Gojo. He passed the ball to you, and you took your chance at a three-pointer. The ball arced beautifully, but it rimmed out at the last second. 

At least you tried, right?

Not missing a beat, Toge snagged a pass from a professor and pivoted into a counterattack. He found Maki open. She didn't disappoint, scoring a layup to tie the game. Your team was holding up surprisingly well, mostly thanks to your friends' efforts.

Then, Geto feinted, passing to an open Gojo. With a swift move, Gojo scored another point, eliciting a fresh wave of cheers from the spectators. But Yuta was quick to follow, dribbling down the court. He passed to Maki, who nailed another crucial basket, closing the score gap.

In the final minutes, the game was deadlocked. Gojo had the ball, expertly evading your teammates defensive efforts. He made a break for the basket. Yuta, determined to block him, overreached and stumbled backwards, heading straight for you.

You barely had time to brace yourself.

The collision was inevitable. 

Yuta crashed into you, and both of you went tumbling to the ground. The game halting abruptly to the sound of a sharp whistle.

"Are you okay?" Yuta blurted out.

Why was Yuta always running you over?

You rolled over to your side, feeling the heat of the ground beneath you. Everything spun, nausea swirling with pain. "I might need a minute," you managed to say, the world tilting around you.

Almost instantly, Gojo was there, kneeling beside you. "Don't move." He began to examine you for any immediate injuries, his hands tenderly scanning your exposed skin. "You feeling dizzy?"

Your response was a pained sound, a clear sign that you were far from okay. "You might have a concussion. We need to get you checked right away," Gojo said.

"I'm fine," you started to protest, but Gojo had already lifted you into his arms in one fluid motion. He held you close to him. Instinctively, you clung to his neck, feeling the pounding of his heart against your own. It made your stomach clench.

"I'm fine, really," you said again as he carried you off the court.

"Ah shut up, I know you're not." His eyes fixed on you, as if you were the only person who mattered at that moment. "You're really stressing me, you know that?"

─── ·✧· ───

The room felt so small. 

His presence filled the whole space.

"There," Gojo said softly as he inserted the needle into your arm. "This should help with hydration and ease any nausea."

You watched as he secured the needle in place. He adjusted the flow of saline, his eyes meeting yours, a playful smile on his lips. "So much for not needing to handle a needle, huh?"

You rolled your eyes.

Then he cupped your chin and tilted your head back slightly. "Watch the light," he instructed, flicking a small penlight on and off before your eyes. His fingers warm against your skin. "Good," he said, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Maybe you should stick to brains, instead of sports," he added.

You smiled weakly. "I'll never touch a basketball again in my life, I guess."

His smile widened.

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"No need to," he replied. "Just do me a favor and stop making me worry about you all the time. It's draining."

Your stomach tightened. Gojo turned away and removed his gloves, tossing them into the trash. As the saline drip worked its magic, you began to feel better, the nausea and dizziness slowly receding.

"You mentioned me in your paper," you spoke up, breaking the silence.

Gojo turned to face you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I did."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've done most of the analysis." 

"You could have done it without me."

"I know, but I wanted you to be a part of it."

Knowing that the analysis of such an important issue would get a lot of recognition, he should have added.

"Why?" you asked again, already knowing the answer.

"Because I want to support you."

"But I'm just a student, and you're—" You trailed off, feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. His crystal blue eyes seem to pierce right through you.

"And I'm what?"

He stood up and closed the distance between you, his hands coming to rest on either side of you on the bed. The nearness of his body made your breathing hitch in your throat. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, the subtle scent of his cologne blending with the sterile air.

His face was so close, his lips almost grazing yours. Your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. 

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "—my professor."

"Too bad, isn't it?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand reasons why this shouldn't happen, why you should push him away. But your body betrayed you, leaning into him, closing the distance, seeking the touch of his lips against yours.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

Your core heated, turning molten. Your lips parted slightly, surrendering to the moment. 

You could tell how much self-control it took for him to not kiss you. You could see it in the way his jaw was set, his brow subtly furrowed, his eyes glued to your lips. Yet, he waited for your consent. 

His lips were a mere breath from yours—so cruelly close. Every fiber of your being yearned for him to close the gap, for him to lose against his self-control.

Suddenly you heard your name and a knock at the door.

The door swung open abruptly. Gojo flinched back, the spell between you broken. Regaining his composure, he stepped back, putting a professional distance between you two. You straightened quickly, trying to hide your flushed face.

You wished desperately that he'd kissed you.

Geto stood in the doorway, his eyes flickering between Gojo and you.

You could tell what he was thinking.

next chapter ->

author's note: thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts !! if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

[toskarin]

Since Bethesda was so insistent on moving away from Morrowind's combat system for Oblivion and Skyrim, what would you have replaced it with?

contrary to what it might seem, I don't think replacing the skyrim combat system wholesale with sekiro or dark souls is really a viable solution to the problem, because it's fun for a mod load order, but it definitely makes the game feel unskyrim

so I'd approach this more from the angle of "what needs to be added to fill the void left behind by the simplified combat"

design rambles below the break. this is less of me offering actual solutions and more of me just saying what I'd do if I were given all the resources and executive power in the world for it, from an armchair. and it goes without saying these are all just Opinions

one of the largest basic design issues with modern bethesda melee combat is that it's tied really hard into melee being a single button input. if they want to stick with that, they should at least implement directional attacks and blocking (which I'll mention now is not something new for TES) with a simple aiming scheme, possibly similar to mount&blade's

stealing something else from m&b while I'm at it, two attacks colliding from the same direction within a tight frame window should clash

enemies need to have attacks you don't want to get hit by. somewhere in their list of moves, enemies need to do something different that necessitates either dodging, blocking, or otherwise reacting in any way. they also need to gapclose, but that's a given

healing consumables need to have a cooldown. as funny as cramming items in your face by the stack during combat is, it's a bandaid to an enormous design flaw in melee combat not being interesting. if you really wanted, you could keep some of that flow by having a skill for mixing preexisting potions together into single doses

addendum to that previous point, players should have a hotbar that allows lower cooldown consumption of certain items, which cannot be reconfigured in combat

magic needs to be stronger and riskier. heavy armour should eat into your damage and efficiency significantly, medium armour should do it just a little bit, and casting past your magicka pool should start consuming health at twice the rate it consumes magicka

blocking should have a higher damage reduction cap (it is currently 85%-95% DR depending on armour) but scale depending on how precisely you block an attack and eat into your stamina much more (with a stagger at zero, to steal another mechanic)

as they are, the entire shout system is a symptom of bad design. having a cooldown-based system that gives non-magic characters spells removes the strongest incentive to play magic characters. I'm actually not sure what to even do about this one that doesn't involve cutting all of the overlapping skills and keeping its focus on weird utilities? as a rule, I kind of hate every gameplay concept that uses "this is something only the player can do" as its skeleton, so this is a tough one for me to poke at

hitstop

[wordsdontmeananything]

undiagnosed: five years of chronic pain

it starts like this:

you're 21, junior in college

and gradually, like a

frog being boiled

you feel a pain spring up

in your shoulder.

the denials are first:

just sore,

it'll go away in a few days.

and slowly weeks creep by and the pain

is not going anywhere and

it spreads to your back and hips and legs

and you lay on your couch curled up

and moan

more days than not -

and then the doctors.

they start with the obvious:

you have failed in some way.

excuses include:

too little exercise,

poor diet,

weight gain,

anxiety,

dehydration,

bad posture,

sleep deprivation,

backpack is too heavy -

you consider yourself

in relation to your peers

and realize: i am no worse at these things

than any of them.

the question occurs to you:

why, then, would i have this pain

when they do not?

it is a logical deduction,

and yet your mind slips off it.

it is so easy to blame yourself.

so, for awhile, the excuses are enough.

until, suddenly, they are not

and you demand something more.

back to the doctors.

the usual suspects are considered.

by this time you have realized

that doctors can be fallible,

so you have done your own research.

you follow along as, one by one,

conditions are ruled out.

the deficiencies: your b12 and d

are within acceptable ranges

but, i don't know,

give it a try?

so you get shots of b12

and you take your vitamin d once a week

and hours spent moaning on the couch

remain relatively stagnant.

now for mechanical causes:

x rays and orthopedics.

minor flaws in your bodily anatomy are noted

and suggested - mild scoliosis,

slightly bulging disc,

shallow hip joints.

none of them fit quite right.

the blood tests, of course

inflammatory markers,

rheumatoid arthritis and psoriasis and

lupus and lyme,

eagerly you await the phone call

that gives you the answer,

that fucking answer,

here is what is wrong and now

we can finally try to fix it

or at least, slow its progress.

or, at least, name the thing.

and you are told

that there is nothing they can find.

with each negative test

despair wells up inside you.

in between visits, you research.

collect possible suspects

and pick your favorite

to cling to.

this will ultimately do nothing

but disappoint you

and now the doctors get

a little more creative.

you see specialists -

rheumatologists,

neurologists.

Ehler's Danlos,

ankylosing spondylitis,

multiple sclerosis,

all bubble to the surface and

you hope with every test

for something to finally prove

that you really actually are feeling this pain

that you aren't making it up

and every time

you are crushed

when the MRI is clean,

when the genetic test is normal,

when the symptoms

just don't match up.

you start to doubt

you're feeling anything at all.

there are some days

you try to reason with your brain,

convince yourself it isn't hurting

what you're feeling isn't pain,

this is how every human feels

and you're just too weak to handle it.

your depression

is cavernous.

and the time between appointments

stretches,

shuffled from specialist to specialist

six months, a year of waiting

to be seen,

the pain ebbing and flowing

and getting better and getting worse

without reason

and you try to track

what triggers it

but come up empty

as you wait and wait and wait

for the next doctor

to tell you the next test

that will come up negative once again

and send you into despair all over.

and with every negative test, you hear

"well, that's good!

one more thing to rule out."

but your list of candidates grows smaller

and what happens

when they're all crossed out?

the word "idiopathic" looms in the background,

tossed into the bargain bin of diagnoses,

the implicit failure of the science

you used to trust with your health

admitting that your symptoms

are a ghost in their machines.

at some point during this process

you find it impossible not to cry

during each new appointment.

you ask for copies of your scans

so you can look at them,

praying to see evidence

that the radiologist missed,

skimming medical journals and trying

to teach yourself,

while also trying not to convince yourself

of something that is not there.

and you are so, so tired.

it's easier to just stop trying.

live with it.

it's not really so bad, most days.

and the whole world

is against you, anyway.

but, you realize

that there isn't another way.

you cannot give up

you can't let your doctors

forget about you

you have to fight

you have to make them listen

you have to believe

that your body isn't lying to you,

that something is wrong,

you know yourself,

i know my own body!

i know what pain feels like!

i feel it!

i feel it!

what i'm feeling is fucking real!

and, once again, i write down

all my symptoms,

collect my records,

and make

the next appointment.

[arcanistsdelight]

Okay, I'm a transwoman, and it's time I talk about the list. This is going to be a long post.

What list, though?

The list of things that were *definitely the real reason* of why I felt like I needed to transition - according to my mother.

It's been over a decade since then, so the list I provide here will not be comprehensive, just the big players that I remember well enough to discuss.

Body Dysmorphia Depression SAD (Seasonal Depression) Bipolar II PTSD

Some non-falsifiable uh... *conditions*: Just an effeminate man Maybe it's the bisexuality? Literal Demons

When I started seeing a therapist to seek a diagnosis for gender dysphoria, we worked our way through that list, at my insistence that we take every potential diagnosis seriously. We talked through them one by one. It took over a year, and a lot of journaling to disprove those that could be disproved. Here's what I learned:

Body dysmorphia is the persistent belief that there is something wrong with the way you appear - typically a small unnoticeable, or non-existent flaw, but not always.

Whoa - that does sound pretty familiar, right? Being concerned about my body and how I appear. That hits home with gender dysphoria really well. So, let's inspect the specifics - what was I so concerned about? Oh... there was nothing wrong with my body... I just didn't feel like it was my body, well, that's dissociation. That's a different symptom. Did I think there was something wrong with my body? No, I was in good shape - I was in the military at the time, my body was hella fit. Was there something that would make me feel more comfortable in my body? Well, it really just came down to the fact that I wasn't a fan of being perceived as male, because that didn't reflect how my brain was processing the world... sounds more like gender dysphoria than body dysmorphia and there's a solution. Let's not rush things though, let's work through the list.

--

Depression is a common comorbidity with gender dysphoria, and this was an accurate diagnosis! Aaaand that made it a very difficult thing to parse. What direction was the depression coming from? What would alleviate it? Well, fortunately, the answer, after nearly 3 months of journaling, one-on-one therapy and a lot of introspection became clear. I was depressed because I had a fair amount of dysphoria about how people addressed me, and how I looked, about how my muscles grew and the way I-myself, and the world at large, perceived me.

--

SAD - Easy, nope. Not Seasonal, the ebb and flow of my reaction to gender dysphoria was just a reflection of my own ability to repress and cope, which I was a master of. You want me to live in denial? Baby, I got you. I know all the tricks... I'll only have a complete mental breakdown every 2-3 years.

--

Bipolar II - Maybe, it's entirely possible. There is definitely a more-energetic and driven/less-energetic and sad cycle in my life that does sometimes resemble a very mild form of Bipolar Disorder. Also, entirely unrelated to what I am experiencing with gender dysphoria. I can be productive, happy and energetic and screaming on the inside; I can be depressed, sad and screaming on the inside; I can be not screaming at all in either of those states. The screams of my dysphoria do not relate to the cyclical pattern of my joys and sorrows.

--

PTSD - Yep, I got that too. Specifically, in the form of CPTSD, and specifically, related to how I've been taught to hate myself for my entire life. No the PTSD didn't cause my trans identity, being a queer youth in a christian town raised by christian parents caused my CPTSD. It wouldn't have mattered what the particulars of my queerness were, it would have all resulted in the same beatings, bullying, and awareness of just how sinful and evil I am in the eyes of the christian god. The cause of that lay with our culture's unnecessary violence and hatred towards those of us that are different.

--

Now, for the non-falsifiables up there, I couldn't really disprove them, hence the title I've given them. Maybe I am just very effeminate... but at some point, does that really matter? I am the type of feminine that I would like it to be known and recognized in everyday life, please and thank you. I am also bisexual, it's true! I would like to be a woman no matter the partner. As for demons? Well, take that up with your god, I can't do shit about it, that sounds like a purview far beyond my own. If he can't control them, how the hell should I? And yes, I spent years in my youth praying for help from god.

So... I did it, I went through the list, and I convinced my mother that I am definitely trans... right?

No. The list never mattered. It was fully a waste of a year of my life, a lot of money and the time of a skilled psychologist. My mother still denies that being trans is a real thing. It doesn't matter that hormones have stopped the depression, that I live far happier and healthier than I ever have before. There is nothing I can do to prove my identity to another human. You just have to trust me, you just have to find some way to believe that I am who I say I am.

I don't believe in extra gatekeeping. Because I tested the gates, they couldn't stop me, only keep me from knowing myself a little bit longer, only give me more time walking the razors edge of suicidality. They won't realistically stop anyone else either, because if you're sure you're trans... you're trans, it's not something else.

[oneplusoneequalstwoblog]

Root Cause Analysis Delivers an Answer to our Race Fixation

A reader told me, “My head hurts when I read your pieces!” I thought, “Good! You’re thinking for yourself now.” To a certain extent, writers are prisoners of a requirement to share stories that are either unique, new or put a different spin on something you thought you knew about already. Often, writings by well-known authors are either superficial or just plain inaccurate. Sadly, that doesn’t seem to stop them, though!

I’m always looking for new or under-discussed subjects to tell important stories, which can enlarge an understanding of familiar themes. But taboo topics exist which have the power to hurt people or are so controversial that some of us are not ready to have those potentially divisive conversations. Yet, authors, thinkers, and others privately discuss subjects not generally aired openly.

American Thinker is a high-level thought-piece outlet for conservative-leaning writers. Due to editorial space restrictions, writers are limited in the depths of their arguments and presentation of proofs. Most of us agree our country is in crisis, but symptoms rather than root causes are frequently cited as causative. Root cause analysis (RCA) is the method of discovering the root causes of problems to identify appropriate solutions.

I believe there are two issues from which most societal problems flow. RCA allows you to identify first-order issues that too many writers frequently bypass. Such sidestepping may be due to an underlying paradox.

Racism is a paradox, i.e., logically untenable and simultaneously self-reinforcing. But is Racism a cause or effect? If it is more an effect, why do some push the Racism narrative despite the considerable progress we’ve accomplished in rooting out old-style vestiges of Racism? Can everything terrible about America be rooted in Systemic Racism allegedly practiced by white people?

What if Systemic Racism is a falsehood perpetrated by a system using it to advance specific narratives such as;

To create victims of virtually everyone except white males

To paralyze people of good character. People are effectively neutered through government policies, activist special interest groups, and even our educational systems.

To create narratives based on lies that creep through every aspect of society. Such lies are often unquestioned by people who fear being ridiculed or canceled.

To ensure that citizens will have less opportunity and less happiness, and will engender deep distrust toward society and our government.

America’s position on Race is intentionally flawed, and official sources specifically reject identifying any racial difference in intelligence or ability to succeed. Conversely, far too many governmental policies attempt to fix natural discrepancies despite scientific evidence to the contrary.

Although trillions have been spent, all that has been done in the name of Diversity, Inclusion, and Equity leaves us where we began. Why? Because DIE is not the actual objective, while control of the individual is the Destroyer’s endgame. Since the early 70s, the government has increased its control of our people through laws, policies, and the millions of zealots and drones released on us by our failed educational systems. For example, a popular source of information, Wikipedia, too often uses one-sided pseudo-science on many controversial pages.

Regarding Race, Wikipedia states, “Today, the scientific consensus is that genetics does not explain differences in IQ test performance between groups, and that observed differences are environmental in origin.” This statement is not valid! But the assertion predominates online because definitive answers to scientific information regarding differences between the Races are suppressed through overly broad claims that cannot survive scientific rigor. Big Tech controls much of what you see in search results.

Ask yourself the question, what if the Woke view is wrong? What if our bedrock beliefs for the last 10,000 years are being subverted through intentional contrivance and misdirection solely to achieve absolute control over us? Racism and the passage of time are the Destroyer’s tools of choice used to hammer us into submission with as little pushback as possible.

Regardless of where anyone falls on the intelligence scale, they have a God-given right to achieve whatever is possible for themselves without regard to bias or predisposition. However, the results that one earns in life or a career are neither guaranteed nor assured. Life is not fair. Practical people understand this; the demi-gods who wish to control us know better while promoting their goals to achieve Marxism, one-world government, or control through Climate Change mania or even strict population control, are foreign and abhorrent to Americans.

If you reject Racism as an issue in our country, these may be the results:

Excuses for failure are removed. People try again to succeed, maybe this time catching the golden ring. Hope and effort are the human conditions that the Destroyers seek to undo.

We begin to repair our fractured society, allowing individual accomplishment to be the only metric that matters. Once we accept that humans live predictably along a scale from poverty to riches, from successful to unsuccessful, we once again become more comfortable in the skin tones God gave us.

Respect for personal achievement rather than through class protectionism, which manufactures victims by the tens of millions.

Our educational system is reborn. We spend a gazillion dollars more than other countries on education and fail to teach fundamental topics of reading, writing, arithmetic, civics, and actual history, which should once again become our primary focus.

Identify the Destroyers. Name them to make them real to us. Hold them accountable for the damage they have done to our young. We must identify their selfish avarice and be responsible for the millions who have perished already and their future victims yet to be consumed.

Change the Electoral System to make it impossible to manipulate. Same-day voting, such as is done in most of the world, should be mandatory. A personal appearance at the ballot box is essential, and absentee voting should be reserved only for restricted legitimate reasons.

God is returned to our pluralistic society, which has somehow forgotten his importance.

The concept of Racism is cruel. Hatred for races other than ours is evil and should never be condoned. Since Racism lives in the heart and minds of people, it is not something the government can prohibit or even eliminate through legislation. Men and women must succeed or fail on individual merit.

White people created much of what is good and, unfortunately, some of what is bad in this country. Now, efforts are being made by another group of mostly white people to enslave us all. Government as constituted today is blasphemous.

The government today masquerades as Daddy, wreaking havoc among us! The anger created by a government putting its thumb on the scale of each individual’s life must be countermanded. Remove artificial constructs designed to erase the immutable truths of Natural Law.

And we must understand that freedom can never be free. Every true American must instinctively realize that, and individuals must rise to accept the responsibility of maintaining our freedom. Unfortunately, if we ignore the reality of that challenge, we and our democracy are well on our way to perishing from this earth.

Reference Link : https://1plus1equals2.com/root-cause-analysis-delivers-an-answer-to-our-race-fixation/

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[tsugarubecker]

Rewatching Love, Victor season 2 and all I can think as I’m watching is that Benji is cooonstantly putting his own feelings aside and instead striving to put himself in Victor’s shoes and empathize with Victor. Victor, for his part, gladly takes that from Benji and then proceeds to fail to put himself in Benji’s shoes in return. (We’ll leave Benji’s issue with conflict avoidance/not stating what he wants aside for a second but we’ll get to that shortly.)

Long-ass post, prepare yourself :P

Example exchange: in ep 6 after Isabel is so nice to Rahim and Benji fails to be #stoked about it, Benji comes up to Victor at the coffee shop the next day and says something like hey, sorry I wasn’t supportive when you were so excited that your mom was being nice to Rahim. And Victor just goes thanks for saying so yeah she was really being nice to him and I think we made some real progress yesterday!

Like. Okay. rewind noises

Let’s do that whole exchange over again but in the way a healthy couple would, shall we?

Benji: Hey Victor. I’m sorry I wasn’t supportive yesterday when you were excited about your mom. I know you wanted me to be excited with you. Can I tell you a little bit about my own feelings around your mom?

Victor: of course you can.

Benji: Okay. To be honest, I feel really hurt when your mom gives me the cold shoulder. And that’s been something I’ve been dealing with for a while now. So, as much as I want to be supportive of you and excited for you when you see her seeming like she’s making some progress, it’s hard for me. Because it would hurt for me to get my hopes up that she’ll treat me better, only to be disappointed.

Victor: Damn. Wow. I’m so glad you told me how you feel about that. That makes a ton of sense. I would really like your support, because I love my mom and this whole thing with her is hard for me, but I understand now why it would be painful and complicated for you to get too excited. Now I get it. Thanks for telling me. I’ll keep that in mind when I bring it up to you from now on and we can navigate all of it together.

fast forward noises OOC cause I just wrote that as I thought about what I would say in a similar situation, but you get the idea.

Returning to Benji for a sec. I’m a cliiiiinically conflict avoidant person, and I recognize a lot of myself in Benji. He doesn’t want to take up space. He makes funny stories and jokes out of his trauma (strip club, crashing car into Wendys). He doesn’t stand up for himself even if he has a legitimate reason to be upset - he finds reasonable reasons to apologize for his part in the situation and tries to make amends. (Certainly not always a bad thing, just can definitely be a conflict avoidant thing.) I mean, we saw him behaving this way even in s1. Think about on their anniversary when Derek said “can we just go catch that show” and Benji said “you go ahead, I’ll catch up” instead of “hey, I know you don’t care about anniversaries but I do. This means a lot to me. I want to spend time together.”

So yeah, Benji has some serious issues with avoiding talking about his own feelings, standing up for himself, etc if it basically doesn’t “go with the flow” of what the other person is thinking or feeling. Conflict avoidant. He doesn’t want to rock the boat. I don’t know why, yet. I don’t think we as the audience know why at this point, but I hope the writers will get into it. Probably isn’t “because alcoholism” - rather, I think the alcoholism is another symptom of the same issue.

Victor, for his part (and I’ve touched on this in another post), probably has spent so much of his life being the fixer for his family that he kind of unconsciously latches on to people who will give him a break from that and take care of him (think Simon, for instance??? Lol). And he forgets that it’s not black or white, it’s not one or the other: care or be cared for. In a relationship it goes both ways. I really think he got this massive crush on Benji, put him on a pedestal, made him out to be perfect; almost saw him as kind of a savior. Someone who could come, sweep him up, and make everything okay. Fulfill all his fantasies. Victor doesn’t seem to see Benji as a real person yet. And he doesn’t seem to realize that he needs to proactively take care of Benji, not just let Benji keep taking care of him. That they need to meet each other halfway.

And speaking of avoidant people, Victor does seem to have a pattern with this behavior doesn’t he? Dates Mia -> not working out -> run to someone who is new and seems perfect. Dates Benji -> things are complicated and hard -> oh look a handsome boy who is wonderful in every way (runs to someone who is new and seems perfect) (and will fix all his problems). Boy needs to stop running off to the next person who’s gonna “fix all his problems”. He needs to invest in his current partner. He needs to invest in being the one to care about his partner, being the one to put in the effort. Not just being the one to be cared for. He needs to stop waiting for someone to come sweep him up and fix all his problems. It’s not realistic, Victor. Get yer shit together & learn how to be a better bf. For reals. Smh

That went off on a little tangent lol, but honestly, at the end of the day, none of this is really even either of these guys’ faults - yes Victor puts Benji on a pedestal and is just beginning to see him as a real person with complexity and flaws, but to be fair Benji basically did the same thing: put Victor on a pedestal. “I broke up with him. I just want to be with someone where I can be myself and that’s enough. That’s how you make me feel, Victor.” = a really similar pattern to what we’ve seen Victor do. Relationship failing, abandon ship for the shiny, new, and better-seeming option. I’m not saying that that’s always the wrong choice. I don’t think that it is. But I am saying that both Benji and Victor are experiencing something very natural: having big crushes, letting infatuation and rose-tinted glasses go to their head, and then experiencing whiplash when their partner isn’t perfect. Honestly I think we’ve all been there to some extent.

At least in s3, now that they’ve seen some low times and their rose-tinted glasses are off, they should get a chance to create a deeper bond if they choose to do that (I feel confident that they eventually will). Benji needs to own his conflict avoidance and start advocating for his wants, needs, and feelings. Victor needs to recognize that although Benji seemed like a dream boy and is way more experienced yada yada, he’s not there to save or take care of Victor - he’s just a person, who also needs to be taken care of sometimes, and Victor needs to meet him halfway in their relationship and do that for him. They need to be able to exchange care as equals.

There I fixed their whole relationship you’re welcome afhffjhgfgjfgjg

(…….oh god I just realized how the writers are gonna have Victor figure out that sometimes he needs to take care of Benji too, and it’s totally gonna be bc Benji relapses with alcohol. Probably. Sounds like a TV-show move, doesn’t it?)

[bladedwoe]

𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

i love hearing little headcanons and facts about characters that aren’t usually talked about, so i threw this together. feel free to copy and do yourself!

WHICH WAY DO THEY HANG THE TOILET ROLL, OVER OR UNDER? Astrid has no real big preference. Whatever feels right in the moment with little forethought, but usually over.

HOW DO THEY SLEEP? DO THEY HAVE ANY ROUTINE THEY MUST DO FIRST? DO THEY STEAL THE COVERS, ETC? Astrid often sleeps on her side, curled up in the blankets wrapped tightly around her and preferably a loved ones arm around her middle for comfort. Before sleeping, she always lights a few candles in the room, she can’t sleep in full darkness just for caution reasons. She would like to be able to see whoever may sneak upon her and working so much in darkness, she knows the strength darkness brings to sneak attacks. She does also steal the covers though.

HOW DO THEY HOLD A PEN? DO THEY HAVE ANY WRITING QUIRKS? Since Astrid was hoping to be the child that would bring her family out of poverty and rise from their original social class, Astrid has neat cursive handwriting. She often writes slow and takes her time with it, allowing her words to freely flow onto the page, from a habit from her youth to make sure her handwriting is readable and perfect. She tends to relax her hand when writing since she learned that produces a better penmanship than really tightening up and gripping the quill/charcoal/whatever writing utensil.

WHAT TRADITIONALLY UNCONVENTIONAL FEATURES DO THEY HAVE? ACNE, CROOKED TEETH, UNIBROW, ETC ETC?* Astrid is very, very concerned about her appearance. A lot of it comes from her mother focusing on her appearance a lot and Astrid’s, since both Astrid’s personality, connections, and appearance all played a role in securing a husband or friends that are wealthy/a higher social class (nobles and the like). So she tries to fix every flaw and tries to stay as youthful as he can (despite me and others joking that she’s a m.ilf). She covers over her acne scars (though she didn’t get too much acne in her youth), covers up any wrinkles or scars. She has a few wrinkles on her forehead and around her lips that she attempts to conceal.

WHAT IS THEIR SHOWER ROUTINE? Astrid bathes more than anything and it’s an area of self care for her. While she is concerned with her appearance and takes times in the bath to apply creams, moisturizers, etc, she does like to sprinkle the heads of flowers in her baths and use a lot of floral perfumes and light candles that have a pleasant smell. She treats this as her unwind time and her “reward” for a successful job with a wine glass in hand. So usually her baths are long and she makes sure to wash through her hair thoroughly, wash over her body and clean up any dry skin she often deals with. She does really enjoy having her hair washed by the way.

HOW DO THEY DEAL WITH ILLNESS? She denies it at first, even if she has seen firsthand the other Dark Brotherhood members fallen ill with a cold, fever, or a stomach bug. She can’t be sick, it’s just the changing of the seasons. That’s why her throat is sore and that’s the reason for her headache. She works through it, going through her maps, her letters, and still plans out assassinations and sends out the members of the Dark Brotherhood to take care of a contract. She doesn’t tend to leave the sanctuary during this time though, since it’s usually during the time when the weather is so bad that it’s preferable to stay indoors. So she often sends out others to find contracts for the Dark Brotherhood (when they don’t have the Night Mother/Listener around, they used word of mouth and rumors of the Black Sacrament being performed to fill their contracts and meet the person). When her symptoms really restrict her work flow, she will rest and often she’ll stay in her room and in her bed until she is fully over the illness. Usually, her husband will be the one to give her meals, but she prefers peace and quiet and rest during her sick days.

ARE THEY A VISUAL LEARNER? KINESTHETIC LEARNER? AUDITORY LEARNER? I would say Astrid is a kinesthetic learner, but I think she’s more of a learner that works off of written instructions. Directions, a step-by-step method written out in fine print is the easiest way she learns. She prefers written instruction because she can refer to it later on, but for combat-related endevours, she prefers to learn it on her own. So that would be where kinethetic learner would be her way of learning with constant physical practice with something.

WHAT DO THEIR HANDS LOOK LIKE? Because of her concern of her physical appearance, she prefers to wear gloves and use ointments and creams to rid herself of her dry skin. So her hands are pretty soft for the job she has because of her preference with gloves. But if you look at her hands, you may spot a few pointy veins here or two, but she prides herself on having pretty youthful and wrinkle-free looking hands.

WHAT MUNDANE BAD HABITS DO THEY HAVE? DO THEY ALWAYS LET FOOD EXPIRE? DON’T WASH THEIR HANDS? CHEW WITH THEIR MOUTH OPEN, ETC? Astrid often can’t keep her temper under control and it can really be her downfall, same with her general paranoia and preference for having control over others and her situation. She will pick at loose strands on her clothing when nervous and will kind of really tense her face when concentrating, which only will add more wrinkles to her face over time. These aren’t really “bad habits” per say. She is generally pretty hygienic and cares a lot about how she looks to not have any outward bad habits.

HOW DO THEY USUALLY SPEND THEIR BIRTHDAY? Astrid won’t outwardly tell anyone it’s her birthday, btu the way she carries herself: her smirk, her confident posture, and her eyes that are telling something makes it pretty apparent. She never really cared too much over her birthday when she was younger, but she liked the attention it gave her. She liked the gifts and the attention her birthday brings. She says she likes to keep her birthday low-key to appear humble, and she does to an extent, but she does expect others to wish her a happy birthday, to give her something nice, and pay special attention to her on this day. She will often stick by the Sanctuary and host a little party with her Family, but she does partake in a little trip to commit a murder here and there if she feels like she has been at “home” for too long.

WHAT IS ONE COMMON MISCONCEPTION OR INCORRECT FACT THAT COMPLETELY BELIEVE? Well, I suppose this might be a misconception: but she doesn’t believe in the Night Mother at all and the whole Listener system, mostly because the Night Mother hasn’t been around for a while to assist the Dark Brotherhood when it fell all over Tamriel, there was no chosen Listener and the Dark Brotherhood was left in shambles because of it. So there’s a reason why she’s skeptical. In general, she believes in odd beauty methods and ways to stay youthful. She has tried the blood method and believes it to some extent hat blood keeps one looking youthful. But she believes in many incorrect “methods” to keep looking young.

WHAT ARE THEIR RED FLAGS OR #CANCELLABLE TRAIT? Her whole want for control and to control others. To some extent, she sees people for their purpose and usefulness to her, even though she does seek for a sense of belonging, and her desire for power is her biggest red flag. She isn’t against manipulating others to get what she wants. The whole betrayal thing she does at the end of the questline can be seen as questionable.

ARE THEY THE TYPE TO MAKE A SHOPPING LIST, GET WHAT THEY WANT AND LEAVE OR DO THEY MEANDER? DO THEY TRY TO CARRY ALL THEIR BAGS AT ONCE OR BREAK IT UP? Astrid often tries to carry all of the bags herself or have someone else around to help her with that task. It depends on what she wants. Sometimes she doesn’t have many things in mind that she doesn’t need a shipping list, but other times, she does make a list. It depends on how much she needs really.

WHAT IS THEIR GO TO CURSE WORD? Astrid actually doesn’t curse too much. It comes from her youth where saying a crass word was seen as unladylike, so she often refrains from it in habit. She personally doesn’t see the use in swearing to get a point across, but she isn’t going to judge anyone else for doing so. She finds it humorous if someone swears a lot. Her go-to curse word is “damn” or “hell”.

WHAT DO THEY COLLECT? CANDLES, BOTTLES, COINS, SHINY ROCKS, ETC? Astrid likes to collect many things: skulls, shiny items, daggers with interesting cravings, different coins, and different looking wine glasses and cups. She’s the type to find something interesting and pick it up, she doesn’t collect one specific item.

WHAT IS ONE CONSPIRACY THEORY THEY BELIEVE IN? I guess the whole Night Mother not being real and the theory of her being another God/deity/whatever entirely. I can’t remember what Daedra people say the Night Mother might be, but she believes in that theory from the rough years the Dark Brotherhood went through without the Night Mother choosing a Listener.

DO THEY LIKE TO PLAN THINGS IN ADVANCE OR ARE THEY THE TYPE TO SHOW UP SOMEWHERE UNINVITED? Oftentimes an interaction, even a simple meeting, has a level of planning to it. Astrid does see the usefulness in planning things out, but she also sees the strength instinct can have in a situation. She does show up to places uninvited if she has a reason for it, but usually for that purpose. It’s often to seek someone or something out. Even if something seems natural, a meeting or whatever, there was a plan she has in mind for striking up a conversation than a circumstantial run-in. Astrid often is two steps ahead of someone, but she often underestimates the other person and gets too into her ego. 

WHAT’S ONE THING THEY THINK THEY’RE TALENTED AT THAT THEY REALLY, REALLY AREN’T? I think Astrid can be a good reader of people, she’s charming and often has the right idea, but I can see her being really charmed by someone, or underestimating someone’s strength, and being betrayed in the end without previous forethought. Or thinking she strung someone along and last second, they betray her. it’s all connected to her ego and her want for control. Sometimes she’s so confident in her abilities, in her charm, and prowess that she lulls herself in believing that she tricked someone and they are just naive. When really it’s the opposite and she was too blinded to look at it realistically to see the signs., 

[oliviajames1122]

Five Signs of a Damaged Car Air Conditioning Condenser

Most car models have the AC condenser situated in front of the radiator, where it is vulnerable to damage. How to identify a failing AC condenser.

Nothing is worse than switching on the A/C on a sunny day just to have the air blow back at you at a high temperature. However, that is exactly what can happen if your A/C condenser is malfunctioning.

The last thing you need during this heat wave is a malfunctioning air conditioning system, so if you notice any problems with it, seek for car garages in Reading and make an appointment with a mechanic so they can completely check the cause of it and fix or replace any damaged AC system components.

A car's air conditioning system was once seen to be a luxury. Today, we frequently take it for granted because it is a basic function.

Every time the air conditioner is used, you want it to function successfully and efficiently. The air conditioning won't operate well, if it operates at all, if any one of the components in the system malfunctions.

If your car's air conditioner isn't blowing cool air like it should, schedule an appointment with a technician by searching online for vehicle service near me garages. This will aid in the mechanic's ability to identify and resolve the problem. Hot air flowing from the vents, or a burning odour are the two main signs of an AC condenser issue.

One essential part of this air-cooling and air-drying process is the air conditioner condenser. You won't be a very happy person in the heat of summer if your A/C condenser is malfunctioning. Here are the functions of this component and the warning indications of a damaged air conditioner condenser.

The A/C condenser is typically the culprit for issues relating to a build-up of heat, even though some of these issues simply point to a problem with something in the air conditioning system. This is because the condenser's primary function is to remove heat from the system.

If you are also curious about what faulty parts resulted in previous MOT tests to fail on your car, go online and complete a MOT history checker.

These are the top 5 symptoms of a malfunctioning AC condenser:

1.Warm Air Coming from The Vents - If your air conditioning condenser is failing, you will likely notice lukewarm air coming from the vents when the temperature is on cold as the first sign. The A/C condenser should be checked for obstructions or flaws that restrict airflow when you expect cool air but are instead struck with a rush of lukewarm air. The system cannot function at its peak efficiency if the passage of the gas and liquid is interrupted here. Go online, find garages in Reading that specialise in the AC system, and make an appointment for your vehicle.

2.Burning Scent - When the car's A/C system accumulates heat and can't be released, ultimately the temperature of all the parts rises to the point where some of the parts begin to burn and generate a smell when the A/C is turned on. This is a major issue, and you will probably need to replace several system components because they might have melted so badly that they are useless.

3. Overheating While Idling - For those very same reasons, a vehicle that isn't adequately cycling refrigerant through the air conditioning condenser won't be able to effectively remove heat, which will cause it to accumulate in the system. When the car starts driving again, the air flow that the A/C condenser normally receives cools it. However, if a defective condenser builds up too much heat, this typical behaviour won't be adequate cooling.

4.Visible Coolant Leaks - Because the A/C condenser houses refrigerant under high pressure, leaks are more likely to occur if the component has any weaknesses. A common part of the condenser's ageing process is leaks caused by broken seals, but the entire component should be replaced before all of the refrigerant leaks out of the system.

5.Dashboard Warning Lights - Some contemporary vehicles include a dashboard warning light that illuminates when the air conditioning system has a problem. For more information on whether you should be on the lookout for this, consult your owner's manual.

Reasons for a Faulty AC Condenser

Normal wear and tear of the seals and tubes in the component brought on by ageing is the primary factor in an A/C condenser failing. Unfortunately, the whole condenser unit must be replaced because the seals alone cannot be replaced.

Debris inside the condenser, which either prevents the coolant flow or travels in the refrigerant and damages the A/C system components when it comes into contact with them, is another reason for a defective condenser.

These particles frequently originate from an AC compressor that has cracked, releasing metallic particles into the system. Both the AC compressor and condenser will need to be replaced if this is the issue.

Ice crystals can form and result in obstructions and mechanical damage comparable to those caused by metallic objects if moisture enters the system through leaks in the seals.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

There are numerous things wrong with ED these days but considering they largely have the same writers I am dumbfounded by how bad it is these days. I mean every flaw is more glaring during Aaron and Ben scenes but it's noticeable across the board. Writing can't save Aaron and Ben but making it laughable during their scenes doesn't help.

It is hard to pinpoint one problem. I'm sure it's a whole combination of things.

I mean Covid certainly hasn't helped. It's created a lot of isolation and there's a lot less crossover between stories and when they do that it has to be really purposeful and then it feels more contrived. Also just less people in the pub and cafe and such just kind of pulls some of the heart and soul out of the village on it's own. It has also affected story flow because the block filming method is back in full force so you just get too much of one thing and then other stories get dropped for weeks and lose all momentum.

But it can't all be blamed on Covid. I do think the producers are a major factor. There doesn't seem to be any real creativity in the stories they are coming up with and so many of them lack purpose and a reason for being. Things just sort of happen out of the blue, are intensely focused on and then just drop off the face of the earth like they didn't matter in the slightest. And yes some of that is due to Covid related scheduling, I'm sure, but they can't blame it all on that.

And when you get into the isolation side of things, the show just hasn't put any focus on friendships. Every time a character has a scene with a friend instead of just their usual bubble of people, the scene feels like a breath of fresh air. If they made more effort to do that, stories wouldn't feel so repetitive.

And their relationship stories are a joke pretty much across the board. Ben and Aaron are just a symptom of the greater disease. Haha. The only people who feel like they got any relationship focus are Vic an David and Liv and Vinny as a result of the plots their relationships were attached to. At a push you could say Marlon and Rhona getting back together but they nearly messed that up with trying to make them into Chaddy 2.0 with that curse nonsense. And there was so much history between them already that they didn't have to do as much. But Matty and Amy, Ben and Aaron, Nate and Tracy, terrible. Will and Kim also came out of the blue and they've done very little to make them feel believable to me. They just sort of shoved Mack and Charity together and decided it was a thing. Brenda and Eric are only a couple because they are in real life. Priya and Ellis can be cute but they haven't had nearly enough focus either to really make it feel worth while. Sure you can't have people touch during Covid, although that's starting to change now, but if they put an ounce of effort into the build up to a relationship starting, then it wouldn't matter as much. And if they let us see people when they're happy as opposed to just when they're having problems or a milestone, then relationships might feel more real too.

So with stories not feeling like they have a point, they become just a collection of scenes that either don't fit together and lose momentum or you've seen so much of that you just want it to go away. And with relationships feeling so hollow and a lack of friendships, there's just nothing to invest in these days.

And I have to believe that's a producer problem and perhaps a storyliner problem because the writers are all mostly the same. Even Maxine can't really sell this nonsense when she gets an episode. I mean the storyliners aren't all that different either, although there are some that are different.

I just want a new producer who has a real vision and has better plans to counteract covid restrictions.

Sigh

[lifeexperience]

Maribat March 2021 - Half time

In my AO3 account I am also updating the 'A playboy billionaire, an ambassador and the secret love-child' title, and sometimes I add(ed) commentary why I write something the way I do.

Masterlist

From the last fifty days here is all the plus note:

First day

In Red Robin (2009-2011) comics Vicki Vale was a little bit too noisy for her own good, that's why I used her personal annoyance against Bruce Wayne in this story.

Third day

Vanessa Rios was an assistant district attorney in Gotham in the Robin (1993-2009) run. Here I am using her as the Wayne's legal team head. Tamara Fox, Lucius Fox's daughter, is friends with Tim Drake in Red Robin (2009-2011) comics and here too. Also she is an intern with the HR department who knows about the BatFam alteregos.

Fifth day

In the comics, Alfred always followed Bruce to his 'trips' (in 'Batman and Son' to London, 'Batman & Robin Annual' to an scavenger hunt, in 'Batman Inc.' to every country where they found representatives...) However because of Damian's unpredictable behaviour he stayed at the manor with the children in this story.

Sixth day

So Young Justice thing is a little complicated to me if I dare to say something about it. There was the 'Young Justice: The Secret' and its sequels. Then there were 'The New52' and 'DC Rebirth' era, plus the animation show. And they all are kind of okay..ish, furthermore I wanted to keep the principles like the main members (Tim Drake, Connor Kent, Bart Allen and Cassie Sandsmark), however I never liked their too childish behavior in some of the works (and the mixing with 'The Titans). So in this story, here, they are more adult..ish, but more relaxed and cheerful than 'The Titans' ever was (like in comics, not in the shows).

Eighth day

In the 'Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir' show they showed Lila as a manipulator without any remorse, which got me to think she has antisocial personality disorder (ASPD). I am not a doctor but I had some basic lesson in psychology, and I have a natural curiosity about things so I always research everything. With diagnosed ASPD the person has to be older then 18, however I read its symptoms can show up in childhood, and it can lead to an earlier diagnosis like 14-15 years old early.

In the case of Lila she deceives people and uses them (✓). Don't makes long term plans or thinking through about her behavior (✓), however has a set on some goal she wants to achieve (✓). She has a sense of superiority above of her classmates and adults in her environment (✓), nevertheless does't have any remorse or guilt to mistreat them (✓). Uses charisma and her fake charming persona to get something or someone (✓), however didn't value them more than tools or prizes (✓).

I didn't see any real aggressive behavior from Lila beside akumatizations (✓), but on its own I think it's enough evidence, that she has this disorder (and not the many that she claimed). In normal aggressive way Lila didn't show herself (like physical violence, loud angry outbursts, big fits in front of everyone) yet, rather she uses Akumatization to hide that kind of behavior (when Adrien tried to stand up she became willingly Chameleon, or the Heroe's Day, or Oni-Chan). So her Akumatised forms and helping to Hawkmoth are the evidences that she has aggressive behavior, however they are not the classic forms (but we also can remember the threatening in the bathroom, but I think that was more intimidation and showing her superiority then pure aggressiveness).

And I wanted that recreate and strengthen this 'fact' a little bit so it would be more obvious than in the show.

Ninth day

In the comics there are so many take on Bruce Wayne it's kind of hard to count it. We could list the Batman persona, when he kind of let his children do what they want within his no-kill-rule (like living alone at fourteen with bunch of other teenager - 'Teen Titans' or 'Young Justice' or as it looks like to go rough - Robin, Red Hood). And there is the obvious martyr-parent take, when he has to know everything about his children, but he is always silent about the important things ('Death of the family' - 'Batman and Robin: Born to kill' - 'The Hunt for Robin'). And one of my favorites the worried-tired father take, when he is kind of showing his emotions and trying to love his kids ('Super Sons' - 'Robin Rises' - 'Prelude to the Wedding: Nightwing vs. Hush' ...).

And I decided to use the last with a more active take from the first (like he lets everyone do their thing but he is monitoring them within reasons). In the comics there are many accusations about being someones father (with Julie Madison or Mariah Shelley), and here in my take he is trying to be responsible (for the sake of his children, mainly for Damian and Jason) and checks every claim out personally (so they also can do DNS test).

Tenth day

Alya Césaire is a complicated someone in the show. At first she is portrayed as a fierce helper for the protagonist, Marinette. She is stubborn and reckless, but royal to her best friends.

Then came Lila and the makers sharpened her stubborn tunnel vision. This I saw it first at the 'Lady Wifi' episode, when she clearly didn't remember about the first day, when Ladybug saved Chloé (or ignored it). After that she always fixated on 'Adrienette' (or everything else if it's interesting - Dark Cupid) when the girl, herself had other things to do (Princess Fragrance, Puppeteer 2, Reflektdoll 2, Timebreaker). So it was not that big surprise when her tunnel vision turned to Lila, and she (and everybody in her class) forgot about that they all met Jagged Stone and with his crocodile already.

Yeah, it's all true, however unlike Lila, Alya didn't show any other big social flaw. And she is 14 years old and middle child, which is kind of important in someone personality. She has to be a mature figure and a little child at the same time in her sibling's eyes. She has to compete attention in their parents eyes and be smart about it.

Moreover if we look at the Collège Françoise Dupont's students, they are all spoiled, not just Chloé or Lila or Adrien. Yes, they are not that bad like the three, but they are all sheltered to a certain degree. Their family don't have financial problems (famous chef, designers, mayor, famous bakery, curator in the most famous museum, police officer, famous pantomime, ...), plus they are all in a prestigious school where they can't meet people with everyday problems (and rich spoiled kid is not an everyday occurrence in my country). And beside some vision problems (Max, Sabrina) they are all healthy and the first time to meet a disability is when Lila arrived. So it's natural if they don't really know how to interact right with her (putting aside that whole lie thing).

And I think they, especial Alya, need first a little life experience, before they could be called responsible about their acts. And here I am trying to write it this kind of way, where they are all flawed, but they can learn from it.

Human being can be shallow and not perfect. These children only heard one perspective from Lila, and another from Marinette. In the show the makers not exactly specified about how well the classmates know Marinette and how depth Marinette and Alya friendship is, so there is already some trust issue.

Like yeah all of they are going to concerts, cinema, each others, however they didn't show so far any serious conservation between them (maybe the only exception is Adrien-Marinette combo). Until this year when Adrien and Alya got transferred in the class, the classmates don't even help Marinette with Chloé bullying. And one year friendship - how beautiful is it tho - is not that depth and stable, especially with that many secrets they have. And Lila 'charming' personality came into this still fragile relationship at the right time to prove this.

I am not saying that the makers is doing good to simplifies the relationships. Because rather they missed so many ziccers for the sake of promote new hero designs and the overwritten romantic scene, it's physical hurting me. But they are right that we are talking sheltered-traumatized-too naive kids, who sometimes had unearned magic powers (looking at Chloé, Alya, Kim).

And I didn't ever going the length of mentioning the adult characters. It's an other kind of wormhole.

Marinette was the only one who openly disobeyed Lila's wants. She stands up against her lies in the public so she is a real obstacle for Lila. While Adrien is only trying in the background without any witness (I don't say it's bad, because with some case it's better, but not here), and the boy is too valuable to Lila.

Lila already showed in the series she didn't stop with the lies and she is brave enough to ruin someone carrier with them (Marinette - 'Ladybug', Nathalie and Gorilla - 'Oni-Chan', Alya - 'Volpina'). And Adrien watched all of it in the front seat, and he kind of knows that Lila's main target here to discredit and broke Marinette/Ladybug (and Adrien, himself also, but it's his perspective and he is very sheltered and naive about it).

And this story she got another one to ruin. Bruce Wayne, himself. And as her fake charming side melts away in her anger as she is focusing more and more on her targets.

Eleventh day

Speed Force is one of the Seven Forces of the Universe. It grants the power of the speedsters. And some of them merged with it (for example Barry Allen). Speed Force has a direct connection to the time flow and with the Multiverse (or now Omniverse). The biggest event of it is the Flashpoint (2011) which started the New52 era. And Batman doesn't want to mix this kind of force with a really mysterious ancient magic.

Nightrunner's first appearance was in 2011 in Detective Comics Annual #12. Within the Batman Incorporated line Bruce recruited Bilal Asselah, French-Algerian citizen to represent Batman in Paris. Here he is a mentor/background assistant to the Team Miraculous and a representative of Batman Inc.

Fourteenth day

Wang Fu is not the most mature character in the show and I think it says it all. Being an 186 years old is the Great Guardian after he accidentally destroyed the temple, he is kind of shameful and amateur. And if we contrasted him with Batman... yeah. Batman is NOT happy and takes the control from the old master.

Fifteenth day

I know Cyborg, alias Victor Stone is currently shown as a founding member of the Justice League (since 2011), however I am prefer him more in the Titans. And it's not just because of the animation show form 2003, but also in the comics he is more himself with the first Titans then with the -all mighty- Justice League. And I also wanted him to have a little cameo in this story because in the Super Sons (2017-) he was kind of like a babysitter for the boys. And to me it's kind of funny how many times the bats short circuited him (Robin Rises, Super Sons: Parent Trap, ...).

Sixteenth day

Damian Wayne is a complicated character. For ten years he was teached to kill. He only learnt about his mother at eight. He only learnt about his father at ten. Thalia used him for anything from power play to plotting someone death. Bruce loves him, but he is so moronic about his own emotions it's kind of painful to read sometimes. And there is the thing where Damian is never enough, his mother cloned him (Heretic), his father has other wards (mainly Red Robin). Dick Grayson went incognito spying when the boy had finally a healthier relationship (Grayson: The Superspy). His best friend, Jon Kent was suddenly older then him (2018 Superman #16). Alfred was killed in front of him (2016 Batman #77). Yeah, Damian is a jerk, but he has every right to be a jerk in my opinion. And I wanted that recreate here as Lila is a liar and threatening his 'only' position as a blood son. His only weapon to prevent it to have a fit and doing what was teached to him.

Fulltime

[archived-gtronpa-account]

Happy to see your back :O! I have a tiny shuichi an big Kaito request but don’t push yourself !

Bby you're sweet awww

Also you got good taste dear I had a blast writing this one it literally only took me the past few hours. scared but admirative Shuichi is a small blessing !!!

____

Word count: 1200

Summary: Shuichi is a simple borrower. All he wants to stay away from humans and out trouble. But Kaito is a stubborn human, and he has other plans in mind.

____

His uncle was sick again. He wouldn't admit it, he wouldn't want to seem weak or burden his young nephew. Shuichi could never think of his caretaker as a burden, but he could think that his overprotective uncle wouldn't let him go borrow medicine for his sake.

That was the first hole in his plan. He had to sneak in the bathroom and in the medicine cabinet around noon so as not to attract suspicion from his uncle. The second flaw in his too poorly thought out plan was that he didn't even know what medicine he should take.

So there he was, short on time, inside a cramped and dark cabinet, trying to read every label of every box and every bottle to find something suitable. The only way his situation could be worse was if a human came in; the thought made him nervously chuckle under his breath.

His laugh died in his throat when he heard a voice approach the room.

When the human came in, Shuichi had already dashed behind a bottle, praying and praying he wouldn't get caught. His prayers came more feverish when he heard the creaking of the cabinet's door and light poured in. There was shuffling somewhere above him and Shuichi shut his eyes tight and reasoned with himself that he would be fine, he didn't have to be so worried everytime he almost got caught because he almost never got caught.

But when rationality reached his troubled mind and he assured himself he was fine and safe, "You really don't have to hide from me, y'know?"

It seemed that day was another exception to his 'almost never caught' norm. He reached a shaky hand to his heart and breathed, in and out, in and out; that was the most he could do to swallow back the sob forcing it's way up his throat. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he really didn't have to be so worried about the human boy talking to him, he was too nice and didn't bother him too much, but the thought did little to comfort him when he could feel a pair of eyes burning in his back.

Tentatively, he steeled himself and peeked out. The boy had been looking down and away from him, before glancing up his way. Even if Shuichi had expected it, his heart still skipped a beat.

"Hey there, Shuichi!" He flinched and looked away. With all the courage he could muster, he stepped out, eyes still glued to his shoes, ignoring the bright, carefree energy radiating off the other and his casual greeting.

"Please sir, don't try to talk to me again." The weight of the human's gaze over his head threatened to crush him, but he resisted the urge to go back in hiding and stood his ground.

"C'mon man, no need to be so uptight, I already know you're here and you already know I won't tell anyone. 'Sides, you don't gotta call me sir or something, it's so weird, I'm not that much older than you, right? You can just call me Kaito. Anyway, did you need something?" So talkative, so loud. Half his words turned to a roar in Shuichi's ears. He picked up his previous breathing pattern; breath for four, hold for seven, breath out for eight. He'd thought he could handle an encounter with a harmless, friendly human, but Kaito really didn't make it easy.

"I can't tell you anything," he forced the words out between labored breathes. Getting braver still, he looked up, up, up, and stopped short of Kaito's beaming face, instead finding it easier to focus on his rather ugly goatee. "We shouldn't even be talking to each other."

"Look," the boy brought a hand behind his head in an awkward stance, and Shuichi's flinch at the gesture went unnoticed, "I dunno a thing about you and all, and if you need to be all sneaky-secretive, I'll respect that. But I just wanna help out if you need something, you know?" And Shuichi knew that well enough, he really did. Kaito hadn't failed to prove his point time and time again.

"I don't… I really can't…" Shuichi bit his lip. He faltered and lowered his gaze back. "I came for… uh, that medicine, the one for fever and coughing."

Every second Kaito didn't answer, Shuichi's anxiety further spiked, thinking he'd said something wrong, when finally he heard, "…Any other symptom?" And quickly shook his head in response. "Alright. The meds are right behind you though, so you might, uh, wanna move."

Shuichi was quick to do as instructed. He stepped back, flattened himself against the furthest corner and held his breath as a gigantic hand reached in his cramped his little space. The image of that hand reaching to him to snatch him in a fist was all too clear in his mind. He was capable of that, Kaito could snatch him in the air all nonchalant and teasing in attempt to force him to warm up and trust the human. And even if Shuichi cried and begged in that hand, he would certainly not be lowered, instead brushed off or comforted a hundred feet above ground in a cramped fist. Thankfully, none of that happened, and Kaito only handed him out a pill and gave an odd glance at the tense tiny person and his rapidly rising and falling chest.

Shuichi took careful steps towards the outstretched hand. He snatched the pill up, and immediately retreated back to his corner despite the hand backing out just as fast. With the last bit of courage he had left after the exchange, he was able to look up to the human in the eyes and wheeze out, "Thank… you…" sounding like he was on the verge of fainting.

"Dude, are you okay?" He couldn't blame Kaito for his worry. Shuichi could only imagine the pallor of his face and the terrified grimace on it. He didn't need his sympathy though, all he needed was to go back into the walls and back to safety immediately. He opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't force anything out, so he silently nodded.

For a second, Shuichi thought he saw Kaito's shoulders drop and his expression shift. But when he blinked, he only found the giant smiling brightly down at him with a puffed out chest. Kaito took a pills bottle he'd left on the sink, and Shuichi absently wondered if his grandparents were sick again.

" 'Kay, I'll be leaving then. But Shuichi, if you ever get lonely and wanna hang out or anything," he brought a hand to pat his chest, "The luminary of the stars is always here for you!" And he spun around with a small wave, his jacket flowing behind him almost like a cape as he left. No matter the fear, the stress, the wariness, and even if Shuichi was left faintly trembling, Kaito's boisterous attitude and his heroic title still would never fail to make the tiny boy crack a smile.

[just-stop]

From AFLW to roller derby, experts say its time to take concussion in women's sport seriously

When the Crows chase their third AFLW premiership on Saturday, captain Chelsea Randall will be watching from the sidelines.

A concussion from a collision during last week's preliminary final left her ruled out of the match.

It's a bitter sweet way to end a season — but as Sarah McCarthy knows, a concussion can have much longer consequences

In 2016, Sarah was the jammer for her Sydney roller derby team, skating at high speed in the league's Grand Final, aiming to get past the opposition and score points.

Risks of contact sport

Sarah McCarthy received a knock to the head during a roller derby match.

"I was a few feet in front of the pack, looking over my shoulder," she tells ABC RN's Sporty.

As she skated, a competitor's elbow hit Sarah's neck and jaw hard and she crashed to the ground.

She doesn't remember if she passed out or not, but recalls feeling briefly sick.

She got up, sat out for awhile, but later re-joined the bout, feeling reasonably ok.

It was Sarah's second concussion that week, having had an earlier blow at training.

The next few months passed in a blur of sickness, dizziness and ringing ears.

"I could barely make it past lunch time without falling asleep. My head felt like it was in a vice 24 hours a day," she says.

What was worse, says Sarah, was the memory loss, heightened emotions, and constant haze in her mind as she struggled to manage a big work project.

Sarah's experience is not out of the ordinary. Experts say sportswomen are at higher risk of concussion than male athletes, and the effects of concussion in women tend to be more severe.

Sarah still lives with the ongoing after effects of her concussion even today.

Almost five years on, Sarah continues to live with the implications of Post Concussion Syndrome.

"I struggled verbally, and I still do now if I have a poor night's sleep," Sarah says.

"It's almost like I'm sitting on a chair in a room with a curtain around me and all of my vocabulary is just beyond the curtain. And I can't reach it or I use the wrong words. I forget people's name all the time," she says.

"I'm fatigued every day. I still can't exercise. I can't handle stress, I can't handle light, I can't handle sounds."

What happens when you're concussed?

Dr Adrian Cohen, an emergency and trauma physician who researches concussion prevention, says concussion is not as simple as was once thought.

He says concussion results in less blood flow to the brain.

This means brain cells, called neurons, don't get enough oxygen and glucose. They also suffer a "structural deformity".

Basically, Dr Cohen says, the brain has a "metabolic crisis" and neurons stop working properly.

Why is concussion more common in women?

We don't have enough data on the size of the problem, Dr Cohen says.

But research and scrutiny of concussion in women in sport is growing — largely in the wake of developments in elite men's sport such as the AFL and NFL.

"Doctors like myself who work in this area are definitely seeing it more often and we're seeing it with more severity," Dr Cohen says.

He says women sustain more concussions than men in high-impact sports such as rugby league, rugby union and Australian rules football. Women also take longer to recover.

One possibility is that women may be more likely to report concussion.

But Dr Cohen says there are complex physiological factors at play.

"There are structural differences between men and women's brains," he says.

"They actually have a slightly faster metabolism than male brains, and they have slightly greater oxygen flow to the head.

"The cells themselves can be thought of as being slightly hungrier. So in the context of an injury that disrupts the supply of glucose and oxygen, it can help explain why they suffer more damage."

He also says women are joining high impact sports without years of tackle training and have had less opportunity to build up the strong neck muscles crucial in protecting against impact.

Dr Cohen says these factors are not an argument for reducing women's participation in contact sport — the benefits, he says, far outweigh the risks — but he is urging for new ways to minimise those risks.

"We have to outlaw illegal play that causes damage, we have to get people off the field when they have an injury, we have to recognise concussion," he says.

He is part of a team developing a new device which he says can quickly and accurately assess a player for concussion.

"Instead of just asking somebody whether they're okay, and putting [them] through a 10 minute test, which seems fundamentally flawed at the moment, we have got to put this in the field of objectivity."

Concussion and migranes

Dr Rowena Mobbs, a Macquarie University neurologist who researches and treats the effects of concussion in sportspeople, says there is truth to suggestions that women experience concussion symptoms more severely.

"But there is this really important overlap of chronic migraine after trauma, and the term for this is post-traumatic headache," she says.

"When we talk about migraine ... they're the same multitude of symptoms that can occur in concussion.

"So you can be dizzy and clouded in your thinking, lethargic and have double vision. And we know that women are at three times the risk of chronic migraine than men."

A woman on roller skates playing roller derby can be seen flying up the court.

Experts say more research is needed into concussion in sportswomen.(Liam Mitchell Photography )

She suggests there could be an association between chronic migraine syndrome and concussion, a kind of double whammy for women.

"It's really a complex area," Dr Mobbs says.

"It's fairly new to research because, unfortunately, there's been so much preferred research in men in sport, and we're only just now approaching female concussion."

In Australia, the Sports Brain Bank works on diseases such as chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and other brain disorders associated with previous concussions or head impacts.

Dr Cohen says there are several Australian sports women who've pledged to donate their brain to the Sports Brain Bank.

"But in general terms, these women won't have been playing the games for as long, and at as high a level," he says.

He says concussion and its long-term consequences "are a numbers game".

"The more impacts to the head you have, the more likely you are to suffer short, medium and long-term consequences. Therefore, the more likely it is to show up as CTE. But we're going to be seeing it in women unfortunately, in the not too distant future."

Invisible injuries

Concussion rules are changing in Australian football codes — the rules that mandated Randall miss the AFLW grand final were brought in earlier this year.

Dr Mobbs welcomes these new rules, but hopes the conversation in elite sport will extend to how concussion is managed at training and in community sport.

In 2019, the Australian Institute of Sport released an updated set of concussion guidelines to improve player safety and address rising concerns in the community around the links between concussion and CTE, which has been linked to dementia and behavioural problems.

Dr Mobbs wants measures like restricting heading the ball in soccer training to be considered.

"We must look after people's brains," she says.

"We can preserve what we love about the sports, they can still be played hard, but it just means that we've got to all get together and think of ways we can preserve brain health for these players."

Sarah McCarthy wishes she'd been stopped from returning to play in the 2016 grand final, and regrets not taking time to immediately rest after the injuries.

She has advice for other people who experience concussion.

"First and foremost, stop everything - stop," she says.

"If you can, stay in a dark room, don't do anything that's too mentally taxing. Don't exercise.

"If I had taken that four to six weeks to rest [and] not have too much mental and emotional stimulation, I think my recovery would have been a lot quicker."

[swordsparkling]

STAND NAME: 「LUCARIO」 STAND MASTER: LORI JOESTAR Namesake: reverse of the Japanese transliteration of oracle (referring to its supernatural abilities involving aura), lykos (Greek for wolf), lucarius (Latin for (one) of light or luminary); Wolfmother - Australian hard rock band Type: Close-Range Stand, Natural Non-Humanoid Stand, Parasitic Stand Abilities Destructive Power: A Speed: B Range: C Durability: C Precision: B Developmental Potential: A Aura Manipulation: Lucario can manipulate the energy of the spirit’s essence, or aura as it is commonly known as, in various ways. Lucario can use this ability to increase its power, along with other abilities it develops over the course of Grand Regalia, such as attracting and repeling the aura of others, sense others through it, and project it as physical attacks. The types of aura that Luracio can use are stored in different parts of the physical body - such as the forehead, spine, throat, heart, and stomach. It can absorb these auras, while removing it from the source, and into its body, gaining multiple advantages either by enhancing itself, gaining the drained power, using it as a power source, etc. The power of the aura also changes with one's mood, which makes it varies its strength. As aura is the fundamental force that allows life to exist, grow and flourish throughout the universe, Lucario can control that part of life-force that dwells within human beings and other living beings including its own user, allowing it to achieve great capabilities through multiple means. There are 8 different kinds of aura that Lucario can draw from a living being:    ▪ Red Aura - Deals with the physical nature of the body; this is Lucario’s most typical type of aura to use, and the most versatile of all the auras it can use. It can form multiple constructs with it, as well as shape it into any kind of physical weapons and objects out of it (i.e. knifes, swords, chains, claws, brass knuckles, etc.) and form aura blasts and cutting blades. Lucario can plunder red aura from almost every living being, including its own user. However, doing this actually causes Lori great pain and exhaustion, as well as amplify her migraine. Lucario’s most powerful move is forming all the red aura into a giant spinning sphere and blasting it straight at the target. This attack can shred anything in its path and drastically damage the human body entirely. Lucario can also throw the sphere as a long-distance attack, although it will deal less damage that way. Not only that, but Lucario can transform the red aura into different kinds for other purposes. Lori can expand her aura, enhancing her presence outside the normal limits (often meaning notably beyond her own body). While this itself doesn't give any particular powers, she is able to sense anything that happens inside her presence. However, as potent as it is, red aura is needed to make it into another type of aura and vice versa, since Lucario cannot create any on its own. ⦁ Dark Red Aura: A stronger version of red aura. As a person becomes angry, they imbue negativity into the aura they project, which Luracio can use to amplify the power of its attacks greatly. Along with that, Lori can be able to combine this aura with her physical combat skill, allowing her to augment any of her body parts as well as her physical condition, or simply use the aura for any other defensive or offensive purpose. With this, she can use all her skills to their highest potential. This effectively lowers any chance of failing to complete a set task or risks that may result in an undesirable outcome. She will has complete and utter control over her skills and instinctively knows which of her abilities will best suit any number of situations. ▪ Orange Aura - Deals with emotions; Lucario gives Lori the ability to see what emotion the target is feeling by looking at the orange aura emitting from them. This type of aura can let Lori sense what the target is feeling, and what thoughts they are having. By making physical contact with the target (usually holding a person’s

hand), Lori can perceive their thoughts and memories, as well as the emotions of others through their memories as well. Lucario can even drain the orange aura from any person if their are displaying negative emotions. Lori can instantly understand an opponent's method of thinking and fighting and anticipate their moves. Once she understands their enemies' strategy, she will be able to find their flaw and weakness and take them down with little effort. It is helpful in emergencies against difficult opponents where ordinary methods will not work against them. The orange aura can be converted into dark red or green aura. ▪ Yellow Aura - Deals with self-energy and willpower; only Lucario can create this type of aura itself, as it cannot be emitted from any person or animal. By converting red aura into yellow aura, Lucario can give this to any person to help invigorate them. However, Lori cannot use this type of aura on herself. The yellow aura can make any person feel better when they are sad or upset. This way, the affected person can emit more red aura for Lucario to take. Lucario must be able to touch the target with the yellow aura, allowing it to flow on the person in order for it to be effective. While it is in effect, the yellow aura can form armor around the person's body or a shape from solid spiritual energy for protection and physical boost. ▪ Green Aura - Deals with healing; Lucario can transform red aura into green aura to heal anyone with any ailments or symptoms, or at least lessen the pain of the afflicted area(s). Lucario can project an aura of healing and mending energies, focusing the energies it emits from the User and those affected have their physical wounds healed. It can even, at a greater extent, cure infectious diseases and poisons, can heal one's mental state and/or even heal one's soul. The aura can sanitize others of any impurities, such as pollution, diseases, alcohol, poisons, restore stamina by sanitizing lactic acid buildup, etc. It  "cleanses" others of any impurities within their physical bodies. This applies only to said impurities and does not extend to healing any actual wounds. Unfortunately, Lori herself cannot use the green aura on her own body, as it has no effect on her. ▪ Blue Aura - Deals with intelligence; Lucario uses this type of aura to decrease the intelligence and awareness of the target to distort their mind. When Lucario touches the target, or shoots it as a small blast, it makes them temporarily less smart than what they usually are, usually in a span of 30 seconds. Lucario’s use of blue aura is usually used as a method of disabling the enemy. Lori can use this aura more and more, effectively inducing stupidity with someone, causing them to become clumsy or incoherent and essentially lowers their cognitive ability to dangerously low levels. The blue aura drains the thinking capabilities of others beyond the norm, not by decreasing intelligence, but instead by reducing the capability to use the already existing abilities to their maximum effect. ▪ Indigo Aura - Deals with mental communication; When Lori touches someone with this, it allows her to telepathically communicate with that person to avoid speaking verbally. Lori can also eavesdrop on that person’s thoughts silently to pick up any information she wants to gather, from whatever distance she and the target are apart. The range of this ability is not exact, although Lori believes that she feels if she and the target are more than 10 meters apart from each other, she can't use her telepathic ability. Lori can also use indigo aura to open a telepathic link between her and her friends for mental communication, in case one or more of them cannot talk, or need help in a situation, or if they are to gather to a secret location that one of them designates on. ▪ Violet Aura - Deals with awareness of illusions and obtaining a higher consciousness; this kind of aura can be used by Lucario to help Lori focus her mind and dispel any illusions or sounds she hears that are a project of the enemy trying to distract her, and

help heighten her senses exponentially. Lori can also cast this aura on her allies to strengthen their minds, as well. By using this aura, the person can enter oneness with their spiritual essence as well their mind, making them able to develop a high level consciousness over bodily processes, as well reduce stress and pain of the body. The person is also able to detach oneself from worldly concerns, achieve spiritual enlightenment, and gain control of all of their abilities. Super Strength: Along with its aura-manipulating abilities, Lucario has outstanding strength, being to break through steel and any enemy Stand’s defense. It has been stated that Lucario’s punches are normally thrown in a consecutive and continuous pattern, moving at a speed of 500 km/h and with a force of over 400 pounds per hit.

[the-imperfect-manifesto]

Farewell, Shadow

And then the embrace of water - weightlessness, fluidity... A fresh caress that countered well the all-consuming heat of Texas. All my thoughts were silenced. My heart pain, gone... Neck tension, chest tightness - all so suddenly, and so subtly and almost imperceptibly... Gone. When those symptoms are so prevalent, relief is almost... Silent. Like an whisper one can miss if they're not listening for it. The silent thorn that always digs inside - the angel whispering death... They were no longer around, and I almost missed it. But how could I not miss it when everything around me is life? Verdant, vibrant, windswept, fresh... The riverbed massaged my feet as the water teased my skirt - go on, give in... Dive- Splash. So does that confirm it? That there's nothing wrong with my heart or my health - that for two years I've not been struggling with a silent killer doctors cannot find, that it's all in my head, and by consequence... That the past isn't over? I thought I'd toughened through the trauma, that I was strong - so strong not even the mightiest of blows this life can deal had scarred me... That I was Light, and Laughter, and that nothing could destroy that. Tempered like a blade, tested by the fire - iron within. And now it's ego death - the pill to swallow! And no one likes to learn a part of them - a part that they identify with - has a flaw... A crack that molds the structure. A stroke that ruins the painting. An inevitable do-over. But I... I am Minna - and I will never give up. I will not be slain by pride or ego - even if it's pride of something true and tested like my strength. And so... I have to let Him go - let go of the warrior: my stalwart, warm Shadow... He who walked with me through life - he who bared his claws out, when the world had turned too hostile. I have to let you go now, in these waters... Let you bleed like ink-made-shadow, into this calm creek. We were strong, my love, my Shadow, and we made it - we somehow made it! ...But now we need to cry our tears, become vulnerable, and ask for help. Because you, my friend, can be unbreakable, but I cannot: I am real, and every blow you take has left a crack in me - and I can't take this anymore. So lie, my stalwart Shadow, fearless as I know you've always been - lie into the water, and let its current take you. Life is flowing, so should we~ The water... Feels so good now.

...Let the road take me wherever it might lead. I walk in Light now, without my Shadow... My Sweet Shadow. -S