#they were just a learning exercise and the discussion part was a big part of it

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

a nuance to the uni/school thing is also i think that like... for most humanities subjects in the uk you mainly won't have "classes" in the form of lessons (languages i think would be a key exception here), you'll have lectures which are a one-way thing and then seminars which are more discussion based and involve reading/prep work beforehand, and at some unis you'll have smaller group tutorials or supervisions

but like. the pedagogical culture is a bit different i think? it is much less like school and more heavily reliant on independent learning. you might only have a handful of contact hours a week and everything else is you in a library doing the reading or whatever; you're not gonna have a lot of short assignments and quizzes so much as, like, a bunch of research essays (how many will vary heavily by course and institution) so it's more like Doing Research than doing Homework the way you would at school, even early on in undergrad

and this is partly due to specialising earlier rather than having gen ed courses so you've got a much narrower range of modules to be doing yunno

(this doesn't apply to like, stem subjects. they've got labs and shit. god knows what they're doing over there.)

[flowerandblood]

Equation without solution 

[ Michael • Gavey x painter student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, trauma, mention of bullying, mention of physical and mental violence ]

[ description: Michael sees no point in worrying about anything, especially relationships, when all he needs is math. His calm, logical world falls apart when a female painting student asks him for help in calculating the best possible composition to create a portrait. Sexual tension, angst, a litte brat taming and domination kink, great childhood traumas. ]

The fragment with Michael in the trailer inspired me to write this. The whole discussion around this oneshot, whether it should be made at all, made me very tired. I don't think we'll get his backstory in the movie, but even if we did, I just felt like writing it - so here it is. Have fun reading.

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

Ever since he could remember, his father had explained to him that an intelligent man is not guided by emotions, but by logic – that's why he married his mother, that's why he went into the army. A long belt hung in plain sight in one of the cupboards of their house, so that he could use it to remind him this when necessary.

His father never hit him with his hand. He did not slap him, considering it humiliating for a man to do this to another man. Punishments were in the nature of a ritual, which he said he did not find pleasant either – he reiterated that only strong people survive in this world, that if a classmate beat him up at school he should not cry, but punch him back even harder.

He was afraid to tell his father when, once again after being hit by Creg, one of the school donkeys, his glasses broke in half. In panic situations he would run to his mother, who would look at him with terrified eyes and only repeat 'quickly, your father must not find out'.

He and his mother shared secrets, which she told him they could not tell his father so as not to upset him – such things were the sweets she had hidden in one of the containers that pretended to be flour, or the savings she meticulously counted when he was away.

She would say that one should always be prepared, but he didn't understand for what.

One day he found a container of sweets standing by his bedside table and his mother had disappeared, leaving him and his father with only a short note, which his father tore up and said they would never mention her again.

He threw away pictures of her, all her clothes, everything, even his toys or his books, which she was the one who bought and read to him. He only managed to hide one, which was a maths exercise book that had slippery, oiled pages from which he could erase the results of equations at will and fill them in again with a dry erase marker.

This book became his favourite; he would only take it out at night when he was sure his father was already asleep and fill in all the blanks one by one, knowing them by heart.

He created his own ritual.

This calmed him down.

Later, however, these tasks proved too simple and tedious, he needed a challenge and asked his teacher, Mrs Rosaline, to recommend something to learn. She did so willingly, surprised by his diligence, and when he came in the next day saying he had solved all the tasks, she started sending him to maths competitions.

Maths was wonderfully logical and cool – you couldn't interpret it in different ways like poetry, you didn't have to get into the mind of the author of an equation to understand the result. Everything was preconceived and safe, a wrong result could always be explained, you could get to the root of it.

There was no reason to be sad, nervous or happy.

He wasn't happy when he got into the best university in the country without any exams, he wasn't happy that he was one of the few to get his own dorm room and a big scholarship.

When, in high school, his tutor announced to his father that he was a genius and that he should start a career in science, his father was furious.

He said that mathematician was not a profession, that all his life he would remain the victim of fate that he had apparently always been destined to be.

His father told him that he was already a man and not a boy, that he would not beat him with a belt to explain to him that he was not a genius but an idiot.

What he had learnt from his father was not to worry about such words – he would grin at him when he tried to explain to him what a mistake he was making with amusement and satisfaction as he watched the man who told him that emotions were a sign of weakness become enraged.

His father was weak.

He was emotional.

Even the army and the fact that he beat him didn't change that.

He thought that this was probably what his father, that is his grandfather, had tried to instil in him, but he had failed miserably.

He truly believed, however, that his father was right.

He didn't need emotions.

Numbers were enough for him.

He could calculate the probability of whether or not he would be able to communicate with someone by analysing quickly in his head with what frequency that person spoke about things that did not interest him.

He didn't consider whether he liked them and didn't even have any idea how he would have known that. He recognised that deciding on the basis of chemical reactions in his brain about his acquaintances was absurd.

Just because he didn't feel anything didn't mean he wasn't laughing or enjoying himself – on the contrary, he smirked a lot, usually while listening to other people's discussions or when he managed to get someone off balance.

Wealthy alpha males who owed the place he had earned only to their rich parents reigned around the university like kings, pretending to be intelligent, studying law, medicine or banking without having a clue what they were doing were his most common victims.

"I could never defend a rapist or a murderer. I don't know, it makes me flinch at the mere idea." Said Kyle once when they were sitting in the library, them pretending to study, actually sitting over open books they weren't concentrating on and talking, distracting him.

When he needed real focus he would study in his room, but when he felt like a bit of entertainment he would go out to listen to them.

It was better than a comedy in TV.

"After all, every man deserves a defence lawyer, he's innocent until the court hands down a final verdict." Matt, a boy who read a lot and could memorise things, replied, throwing quotes from his sleeve without much understanding of them. Kyle snorted, shrugging his shoulders.

"So what? Sometimes you subconsciously know this person did it by looking at them or the evidence is incriminating enough." He replied with a certainty that surprised him.

He corrected his glasses on his nose with his pointing finger, wondering how this moron was going to defend anyone in court if he himself was constantly undermining his client's innocence in his head while he himself wanted to be the judge against him.

"If it was as you say, there wouldn't be so many innocently convicted people in prison. Evidence seems incriminating until one new clue, piece of evidence or witness comes along that changes everything. It is the duty of the defence counsel to look for such details to the best of his ability, and not to judge his client unless he himself wants to plead guilty." He heard a second, frustrated voice and lifted his gaze, noticing a girl standing by the bookcase who had heard their conversation while looking for some book.

He recognised her only by sight, and knew that she had studied painting, so her person did not interest him at all. However, what she said frustrated Kyle and disturbed his nepotistic sense of superiority, so he gave this scene his full attention.

"I didn't know kids drawing with crayons knew anything about such serious matters as criminal law." He said piteously, a mocking sweetness in his voice, his gaze feigning warmth, meant to bring her out of her funk.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw that she was looking at him like he was an idiot.

"I don't need to know this to realise that no amount of money will make you a good lawyer. I feel sorry for your future clients, because you will destroy them yourself." She replied, raising her eyebrows in amusement, completely unfazed by his insult.

It surprised him that she looked happy and pleased to see his angry face, not letting him get a word in edgewise, grabbing the book she was looking for and walking off towards her friends sitting at a table in the distance.

On his way out of the library he heard her voice, heard her laugh, light and unforced – he glanced at her and their gazes met for a moment before he walked out into the corridor.

He had forgotten about her until an incident when, sitting in the university restaurant, he noticed Kyle walking past her and pretending to stumble, the entire contents of his cranberry juice spilled on her dress, leaving big pink stains.

"Sorry, are you okay?" He asked, feigning seriousness and concern. She stood up, furious, without even speaking to him, walking away.

He watched curiously as Kyle sat down with his friends and high-fived Matt, clearly pleased with himself, putting his arm around some silly giggling girl.

After a while, however, that girl came back, dressed up, wearing only a man's long-sleeved shirt all soiled with paint, covering the small part of her thighs that she apparently used as an apron while painting, overknee socks and trainers on her legs.

He felt something strange seeing her soft thighs, thinking of the fact that he himself wore similar shirts, and took a sip of coffee from his cup, watching as she sat back next to her friends, saying something quickly, going back to eating her lunch, unconcerned.

She laughed.

He shuddered when their eyes met and quickly glanced at Kyle, who was watching her from afar, licking his lips, his leg moving in impatience, the girl he was embracing whispering something in his ear, but he wasn't listening to her.

He was thinking.

Usually when he had to move from one building to another he went through a side exit, so as to have a bit of peace and quiet, but on this day he decided to walk through the main square, walking on its right side, looking through the windows.

He was not at all searching for her with his eyes when he saw the rows of easels and people around the model, dressed in historic Renaissance costume.

He didn't feel the heat stroke at all and stopped involuntarily when he saw her sitting with her back to him, her canvas smaller than the others, she sat closer, focused only on the portrait.

He could see her underpainting, just an outline and a sketch, and the lines she had drawn to help herself.

The golden ratio.

He shuddered at the thought that she was deliberately using mathematical proportional division to achieve a subconscious effect of harmony in the whole composition, which was, after all, just a base for the actual layer with chiaroscuro and colours.

He gasped when one of his year mates slapped him on the back, asking what he was looking at, and when he saw what he was observing behind the window, he laughed.

"These artists. They will die poor, but at least in their mind they will have created something outstanding. Until a critic comes along who says what they've painted is ugly." He muttered with amusement, putting his arm around him as if they were good mates, although they were not.

He looked back and noticed with pounding heart that this girl was turning over her shoulder, looking in his direction.

His friend had said something about the Mona Lisa, about how ugly she was and that he didn't understand how that portrait could be considered the most beautiful in the world, but he was unable to focus on it.

The golden ratio.

The balance of the composition.

Her painting was thoughtful.

He was convinced that painters only recognised their own artistic intuition and thus created ugly paintings, which they then called contemporary art.

He didn't think about her, or at least tried to until his mates told him that Kyle was throwing a party, to which he was obviously not invited.

"Apparently he even invited the girl he doused with juice at the time as an apology. Bruce says he recently brought her flowers during her classes and that he seems to have a crush on her."

"Sometimes it's one step from hate to love."

He didn't like the uncomfortable feeling he experienced in his chest, a sort of sting and tightness in his throat – he went back to the equation he had just solved without listening to them further.

Even if someone didn't know there was supposed to be any kind of party going on, they had certainly heard it that friday night, the music, laughter and screams from Kyle's room echoing loudly through the dorm.

Even though women weren't allowed in there there were plenty of them that day – he could hear them running to the toilet, squealing and giggling, driving him furious as he couldn't concentrate on what he was reading. He pulled down his glasses, massaging the space between his eyes with his fingers, closing his eyelids, trying to calm himself.

His emotions wouldn't change anything.

He swallowed loudly when he heard her voice.

He shuddered when he heard a knock on his room and looked uncertainly towards his door.

He feared it was Kyle and his pack who had drunkenly decided they would have fun at his expense.

"Can I come in?"

He felt his heart start pounding hard, a multitude of thoughts running through his head. He tried to analyse whether he should do it or not, what she might have wanted from him, but nothing came to mind, there was a complete void in his brain.

God.

"Come in." He heard his own uncertain voice, and after a moment the door opened and there she stood.

She came in smiling and cheerful, happy for some reason, closing the door behind her, looking around his room as if she had come at his invitation – she was wearing a large long-sleeved sweatshirt with the university logo reaching halfway down her thighs, overknee light wool socks and trainers on her legs.

Fuck.

He wanted to say something, to ask why he owed this visit and what she wanted from him, but all he did was stare at her legs, at the small area of her exposed naked body between her sweatshirt and the material of her socks.

He felt a strong pulsing in his black sweatpants and swallowed loudly knowing what it meant.

He'd only fucked twice in his life, and this'd been fairly inept acts of physical intimacy between a man and a woman, where they'd pursued their fulfilment on him, not caring much about him, maybe even imagining he was someone else, some more handsome boy who just happened not to want to look at them.

It didn't bother him, because he didn't feel anything for them himself – they didn't even arouse his desire, but they were just very horny, and he decided that he didn't want to remain a virgin for the rest of his life.

It had been more of a relaxing than a pleasurable experience and he didn't understand why men were so overpowered by it, but now, looking at her, he felt his brain and his logic start to give up in favour of what was going on in his trousers.

"You didn't go to the party?" Her light, gentle voice snapped him out of his reverie, causing him to lift his eyes to her face, which, to his surprise, seemed very pretty up close, her eyes large and bright, framed by long lashes, her pink lips curved in a smile.

What made her so happy?

Why did she come to his room and ask such things?

"No. NFI." He replied dispassionately, lowering his gaze to her legs again, unable to contain himself, covering what was happening to him with a book. She blinked, furrowing her brow.

"What?" She asked with amusement and curiosity.

"Not Fucking Invited." He explained and she burst into soft laughter – he wasn't sure he'd ever heard anyone react like that to anything he'd said.

"Maybe it's better for you too. I went there for a while, but they act like pigs in a shed. A friend told me I could find you here so I thought I'd take the opportunity." She said calmly, walking over to his desk, leaning over his books. He wondered with a pounding heart how she had the confidence to just walk into a stranger's room and talk to him as if she had known him for years.

He chuckled and shook his head, running his hand over his face in an attempt to hide his nervousness and what his imagination was suggesting.

"Are you going to tell me why you came here, or are you going to continue wasting my time?" He muttered ironically, figuring that by doing so he would somehow discourage her or force her to stop pestering him.

He blinked and lifted his knees higher when she suddenly sat down next to him on his bed, as if just waiting for that question, excitement in her eyes.

"I've heard you're a mathematical genius and that's a very good thing, because I need someone to help me determine the right proportions for my painting."

She said quickly and he felt his heart beat harder, he got warm in his lower abdomen and all he could think about was wanting to back off and run away.

"Isn't the golden ratio and Fibonacci spiral enough for you?" He muttered, knowing that it was these two proportions that were usually enough for artists to create their compositions. She hit her knees with her palms as if he had said exactly what she assumed.

"No! I want to analyse it more, but I don't have the tools to do it. Nor an exact mind. I want you to help me, take a look at my sketch and tell me what you think could be improved. From a mathematical, compositional point of view." She said with an excitement that frightened him in a way, a gush of enthusiasm that he didn't know what to do, how to discourage her with.

"What's in it for me?" He asked, recognising that perhaps a materialistic approach would discourage her, yet she merely twisted in her seat, completely unmoved, apparently recognising that he was entitled to demand payment for his contribution to her work.

"And what would you like?" She asked lightly, and he swallowed loudly, his gaze involuntarily escaping to her thighs, to where he could see her bare skin.

He looked at her face again, hoping she hadn't seen it, but something in her gaze told him she had noticed it, her lips tightened. He his heart began to pound like crazy, he felt like he was just going through some kind of heart attack.

"Do you want this?" She asked softly, warmly, and he threw her a shocked look, wondering if she was implying what he was thinking, his gaze escaping to her thighs again.

Fuck.

Did he want this?

"What do you mean?" He asked coolly, trying to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He felt his pupils dilate as she corrected herself in her seat so that her sweatshirt lifted up slightly, he had a feeling that a little more would have been enough for him to see her underwear.

"You can touch me if you want. Just gently. Don't throw yourself at me." She said softly, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes warm and understanding – he thought she seemed slightly embarrassed, her words sounding innocent despite the obvious subtext.

He wasn't sure if his mind controlled the movement of his hand, the way it involuntarily rose and gently touched her thigh, stroking it in a slow, steady up and down motion. He heard her sigh softly and a shudder went through her, saw her lean back and close her eyes.

He wanted to tell her that she thought too highly of herself if she thought he was so desperate, but instead he just looked at her with his lips slightly parted, fighting with himself.

He glanced at her face again when, after a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him with a warm, misty gaze, as if she had drifted away with her thoughts somewhere for a moment. She smiled, but there was no mockery in it, her expression had something of girlish innocence.

He couldn't focus on anything other than the thought of how soft and firm her skin was – he wasn't sure he had ever touched anything more pleasurable in his life.

He felt both shame and thrill at the thought of how painfully hard he was, swallowing with difficulty.

He didn't quite understand what was just happening between them – his mind wanted to classify this as a prelude to physical intimacy, but he wasn't sure he was right. He felt immense tension and lust, but also a sort of tightening in his pit, intrigue and anxious anticipation.

"If you want, we can kiss. You have such full lips." She said softly with some kind of admiration and sincere desire, from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

He wasn't good at choosing his words when it came to this kind of discussion, and he didn't know completely how to act, so he just stared at her, her thigh under his hand seeming to almost burn him.

Seeing the lack of any reaction from him and the clear shock painted on his face she moved a little closer to him – there was something encouraging in her movement and gaze, some kind of comfort and concern.

She was close, but far enough away to still not invade his space, giving him the sense that she was waiting for his decision.

He stared at her, feeling that his erection hidden in his trousers was about to explode, all swollen and throbbing, and after a moment their lips pressed against each other in a sudden, wet dance of their tongues and teeth, their hands clenched in each other's hair, the loud, lewd click of their saliva echoing in his ears louder than the muffled music coming from several rooms away.

"Be gentle." She just whispered into his mouth between their drawn-out, sticky kisses, and he hummed at her words, smelling the pleasant scent of her shampoo in his nose.

He grabbed her softly around her waist and seated her on his thighs with his arm around her, throwing his book to the side, rubbing against her from underneath, letting her feel what she had done to him.

He heard her sigh in contentment at feeling how hard he was, both of them beginning to pant loudly as she began to roll against him with her hips, herself clearly taking pleasure from it.

He clamped his hands on her buttocks and drew in the air loudly feeling that she had no shorts on underneath, just her underwear alone, and for some reason it turned him on even more.

Had she planned this all along?

She moaned feeling his hands slip under the material of her panties and squeeze her bare skin with confidence – she ran her fingers through his hair as the tip of her pink, wet tongue ran over his upper lip. He felt a strong shiver run through his entire body and involuntarily began to pant along with her, having never experienced anything like this before.

Her touch, though filled with desire, was not cold and crude, focused only on her pleasure, her hands stroking his hair, his cheeks, his neck with tender, caring movements, her puffy, full lips merely teasing him, not wanting to give him any more full kisses, so he only growled, frustrated, pulling her forcibly tighter, sliding his tongue deep into her throat.

He didn't even feel the need to undress her, the very thing they were doing now, the senselessness and yet purposefulness of it made him shiver, her certainty of what she wanted.

Was she really going to do this?

Sleep with a total stranger?

What was the logic in this?

He shuddered at the thought that maybe there was none.

None.

She wouldn't let him think about it – he drew in the air loudly as he felt her nimble fingers untie his sweatpants, slipping them down slightly, exposing what was underneath them, his hard, twitching manhood enveloped by the cool air.

He saw her rise slightly, with a movement of her hand apparently pushing the material of her underwear aside, positioning herself above him as he grasped his length in his hand, automatically directing it between her thighs.

"− I'm taking pills − I'm clean −" She whispered softly and he just nodded, not knowing what more he could answer, looking at her with his lips slightly parted, feeling like his heart was about to jump out of his chest.

She lifted herself up with a loud click of her moisture only to fall back down, riding him in a slow, unhurried rhythm – he just leaned down and sank his face into the hollow of her neck, taking in her scent, pleasantly sweet and fresh, panting loudly.

They both moaned embarrassingly loudly and squeezed their eyelids shut as she lowered herself onto him, slowly pushing the fat head of his cock deep into her body.

He could feel how wet she was, how her fleshy muscles pulsed hungrily against him, how tightly they wrapped around his root on all sides miraculously enhancing his sensation.

She embraced him, stroking his hair, clearly sensing his uncertainty, terror and desire mixed together. Unwittingly, his hips began to respond to her movements with sure, deep thrusts, to which she moaned loudly, something of helplessness and delight in her sounds.

"− do you want to stop? −" She mumbled softly, kissing his hair with gentle, warm click. He lifted his face finding her lips in a greedy kiss before turning her onto her back, recognising that he couldn't take it any longer, that his cock was about to explode.

"− yeah − I want to stop very, very much −" He growled frustrated at the way she was teasing him, resting one hand on the backrest of the bed in front of him, the other holding her hip tightly, slamming into her with rapid, quick stabs of his hips from which she began to moan and pant loudly, startled, looking up at him with her lips slightly parted.

"− don't you feel it? −" He asked ironically, thrusting his cock so deep into her that he felt like he would pierce her stomach, her body arched backwards as if trying to escape from him, his thighs all sticky from her moisture, their bodies smacking against each other quickly with a loud, wet slaps.

"− please −" She mewled and he felt a shudder as well as heat in his lower abdomen, something in the way she said it, in the tone of her voice, in her gaze made him lick his lips feeling that just a moment more, a few more thrusts and he was about to come.

"− please, what? − can't you put a fucking sentence together anymore? − you like it when someone fucks you so rough that you don't have words, huh? −" He hissed and groaned low as he felt her walls clench tightly around his fat erection at his words, sucking it inside, her thighs spread wide in front of him, allowing him to slide into her as deeply as he wanted in a gesture of complete submission.

"− I'm sorry −" She mumbled, looking at him helplessly like a rebuked child looking at a parent, and he thought he could devour her whole right now, fuck her all night if she wanted to, if she would react the way she did now.

"− good you're sorry − fucking brat −" He growled, panting loudly along with her and suddenly, without even knowing why, he kissed her greedily, pounding his cock into her with quick, brutal thrusts.

He felt her come, her walls began to clench on him greedily, not wanting to let him go, her whole body was trembling – she tried to push him away, sobbing and moaning with pleasure into his mouth.

He fucked her through her orgasm until he finally gave in and cum inside her, panting loudly, not recognising himself, his sounds or his reactions.

"− oh God − fuck − fuck − fuck −" He mumbled clenching his eyes, coming down from his peak, still moving inside her, hearing her loud breathing underneath him.

What exactly was that?

He collapsed on top of her, completely powerless, smelling the scent of her hair, her hands embracing his waist. They laid like that in the light of his bedside lamp, breathing heavily, listening to the muffled music, the screams and laughter from the party taking place a few rooms away.

He swallowed loudly feeling that he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began – they were both all sticky from her moisture, her insides hot, pleasantly enveloping him on all sides, giving him some strange sense of security.

He thought it was for some of the hormones that are released after orgasm designed to bring partners closer together and bond.

He shuddered when he suddenly heard her soft, quiet voice.

"So what do you say? Will you help me?" She asked shyly, and he sighed heavily, silent for a long moment.

No.

"Yes."

_____

Part 2 − Formula for perfection

@at-a-rax-ia @daemonskelitsos @alphard-hydraes-blog @travelingmypassion

[magics-neptunes-things]

Hi guys!

After the last one, I needed another with fluff and easy love, so this just come from my imagination. I hope you will like it ♥

Resume : Motherhood is hard, especially when your better half is in training camp far from you.

TW : Little Angst, but fluff :)

PART 2 IS HERE!

______________________________________________________________

Alexia and you met when she was going through one of the worst moments of her life. It was when the footballer made her ACL. For your part, you had graduated as a physiotherapist a few years ago and were looking for a new challenge. When you heard that FC Barcelona were looking for a new physio, you didn’t hesitate to apply. It was hard, but by some miracle, you got the job. The managers didn’t tell you that the job was for the women’s team, but it suited you even better.

A month after you arrived at your post, Alexia began to follow her treatment after her operation. You’ve been assigned as Miss Putellas' special physiotherapist, probably a bit of a probation. You’ve been warned that she might be difficult to handle, her injury having affected her otherwise than physically.

And it was true, in the first few sessions, she barely spoke. She was polite, said hello, thank you, and goodbye. For your part, you remained calm while being empathetic. As you were told, she seemed even more troubled psychologically than physically and you could feel her pain. So you searched about her favorite songs and you made a playlist for her during your massages or during her exercises.

Over time your relationships relaxed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for the time of day when you would have to take care of Alexia. You obviously noticed her beauty and the aura that reigned around her. A friendship and mutual trust was quickly created between you two and she gradually confided to you. On trivial things at first, before your discussions become deeper.

She told you about her father, her family, her fear of not being able to play again and the difficulties she was experiencing with the Spanish Federation. You were shocked to learn what was happening and immediately felt angry. And the first feeling you had was a vital desire to protect Alexia from all this. And the other girls you’re playing with at FC Barcelona as well of course, since you’re the one who plays nurses on the bench at all their matches. But Alexia was coming first.

The first time Alexia could start running on a machine now, you could have cried of joy and relief. She was recovering well, even faster than the best prognosis. And seeing such a sincere smile come back on her face was something really comforting for you. The embrace you exchanged that day gave you chills you still remember.

The day she returned to the team for her first training on the pitch, you were there too, but in the back. Her friends/teammates welcomed her with big smiles and hugs, but at the end of the training she came to you. She once again took you in her arms and whispered a thank you in your ear. No need for long speeches, you knew perfectly well how much this word meant to her.

While you expected this to signal a new distance between the two of you, Alexia surprised you by asking if you were free the same evening to go for a drink. It surprised you, Alexia having the habit of not changing her schedule meal, back to school or bedtime. But when she stuttered "For like, you know, a d- a date?" you couldn't say no.

The rest is history and here you are years later in an healthy, loving et happy relationship. You even got engaged last Christmas.

Alexia always wanted to start a family and your heart melt every time she was interacting with a baby or child. On your second date, she asked you if you wanted children, testifying to the importance she already attached to a future family life between you two. You answered positively, because yes, you wanted to have children and with Alexia would be amazing.

So, a month ago, you welcomed into your lives Santana Eli Putellas. A perfect photocopy of Alexia, even if you were the one pregnant. Thanks to modern methods, you were able to transfer her egg into your body. It was much easier for Alexia’s career, even though she was more attentive to you than ever.

The same eyes, the same mouth, the same hair, the same face, the same look. Even Eli couldn’t figure out which of the two photos was Alexia and Santana when faced with this plot. It’s almost disturbing, but the idea of having created a second perfection in this world suits you perfectly.

Except that even perfection has its difficulties and you realize it more than ever today. For some reason, Santana hasn’t stopped crying since her afternoon nap. Despite her clean diaper, her full stomach, her usual afternoon stroll or her favorite nursery rhymes, you were unable to calm her down. So much so that you couldn’t even answer Alexia’s messages, who went to training camps for the national team.

Even if this camp is held in Barcelona, the team lives in a hotel for a few days, before flying to Canada for their first match. Your lack of answer probably explains why you find yourself having to answer a call from your fiancée after 9pm. You hesitate before answering, your physical state must be scary and Santana is always sobbing on your shoulder. But knowing Alexia’s protective lioness instinct, you’d rather not worry her any longer.

"Hola mi Amor" you try a smile when a frowning Alexia appears on the screen.

"What happened? Why didn't you answer to my text? I was beginning to believe that something serious had happened to you"

"Don't worry, we are fine"

You were still rocking Santana on your shoulder, putting your phone on the counter of your kitchen. After bathing her, you put on her pajamas in the colors of FC Barcelona and she is currently digesting her second bottle of the evening. Whereas normally she takes only one before falling asleep to wake up at midnight and then around 6 am. This baby is really perfect. Except that today something seems wrong.

"Are you sure? You look exausted mi vida"

The concern on Alexia's face is deep and you don't want to worry her. You don't want her to believe that you can't take care of your daughter for a day either. Alexia only left this morning after all.

"We are fine Ale, I pr-"

"Does the best goddaughter in the world make her Mama miserable?"

Mapi’s face suddenly sticks to Alexia's, certainly so that she can also have a glimpse of Santana. Choosing Mapi as godmother was the best idea, the tattooed one being the most adorable with Santana. A chaotic godmother certainly, but you know perfectly well that she too would be ready to take out her claws to defend Santana if necessary.

"Kind of, but everything is under control" you laugh, before realizing that she wasn't listening to you at all, cooing sweat words to Santana. "Did I suddenly become invisible?"

"Not for me" Alexia answer with tenderness in her voice. "I miss you both of you so much, I don't know how I will survive two weeks so far away"

"You will be perfect, as always mi Amor"

She smiles at you, Mapi having a side conversation with your daughter, and you see the concern coming back.

"Can you promise me that you are fine?"

You bite your lip and sight. It was not fair of her to play the sincerity card. She knows that you can't lie to her, even when you want to make her surprise, you have to ask the help of someone.

"Look, she's just having a bad day that's all. Tomorrow will be better."

Alexia opened her mouth to speak and most certainly contradict you, but noise next to her announces the arrival of other people. You smile when you see Ona and Ingrid appear on the screen, Mapi pulling the sleeve of the Norwegian to almost stick her face to the screen ("Look at her, how is she so cute?").

You greet them friendly and discuss with them a few more moments before feeling that Santana starts to agitate again. Before Alexia can see how bad, you tell them you’re going to put her to bed. After promising Alexia to write to her as soon as Santana sleeps, you hang up and gently lift your daughter to put her face up to yours.

"Now that you’ve heard Mama and your Godmother, maybe we can get some rest yeah?"

After a final diaper check, you enter your daughter’s room and sit on her rocking chair. His blanket between you two, a little melody and a lull, it should go well and quickly.

An hour and a half later, you must realize you’re not. Santana continues to struggle with sleep and has begun to cry again. Seeing her like this ended up making you cry. After walking around your house trying to put her to sleep, you went back to her room. You don’t know what to do anymore.

You were thinking about calling Eli or your mother for help when you hear noise on the ground floor. Which shouldn’t happen, since you’re alone in the house with Santana. You listen despite the cries of your daughter and your hear footsteps, making you shiver. Holding your daughter close to your heart, you rush to the kitchen to grab a knife. Putting Santana safely in her crib might have been smarter, but you can’t bring yourself to leave her alone while a danger lurks in the house. The baby stopped crying, like if she understood that something bad is happening.

The noises of footsteps approach the kitchen and panic fades to give way to a cold determination. You have to protect your daughter no matter what. Sticking your back in the fridge, you raise the knife you hold in your hand, ready to hit the figure that enters the room. But...

"Wow! It’s me Baby! It’s me!"

With both hands in the air, Alexia looks at you with wide eyes less than a meter from you.

"Alexia? Wha- what are you doing here?"

"You weren't answering my text again and I... Can you put this knife down please?"

"Oh... Yes, sorry."

You were shaking. The sound of metal that the knife makes when you put it on the marble of the worktop resonates in the room.

"I was too concerned to leave you both alone."

Alexia confesses with almost shyness, certainly fearing that you would take this information badly. You could have, a few hours before. Exhausted from this day, you carefully avoid your girlfriend’s gaze.

"I’m so sorry I scared you. Can I have her?"

Santana started to squirm in your arms and cry again and you gently reach her to Alexia. With a natural ability, the blonde forms a small nest with her arms to accommodate the little body of your daughter. She calms down almost instantly and only then do you realize you have tears in your eyes. After admiring Santana for a few moments, Alexia looks up at you and notices it too.

"Come here" she says, extending her free arm to you.

You cuddle against her, hiding your face in her neck. Her arm squeeze you thigh against her. Her smell helps you to relax and you mumble against her skin.

"I don’t understand what I did wrong today"

"Probably nothing mi Vida. Just like you said, she's just having a bad day. Let me take care of her and go take a hot shower and put on comfortable pajamas, alright?"

You hesitate for a few moments, but Alexia kisses you tenderly before gently pushing you towards your bathroom. You end up obeying, enjoying feeling your muscles relax under the hot water. When you get out, the condensation masked the mirror above the sink. After putting on Alexia’s shorts and t-shirt, you go looking for her in the calm of your home.

She delicately closes the door of Santana’s room when you appear in the corridor.

"Is she asleep?" you ask, incredulous.

Alexia answers with a simple smile and a nod, before taking you into the living room.

"How did you do it?"

"As usual"

Alexia shrugs while smiling and you sighs. That’s what you did, but you are still convinced that Santana simply miss Alexia. You’d rather not say it out loud, though, fearing it would prevent Alexia from focusing on her professional obligations.

"When do you have to go back?"

You try not to pout by asking her the question. It was the deal anyway, you knew very well what could happen when you decided to have a child.

"Not tonight, I informed the coach. I have to be in training tomorrow morning anyway."

The information makes you much too happy, you who promised not to prevent Alexia from following her professional ambitions. But you cannot hide your smile and you stick against her again, in search of affection and tenderness. Accepting your request, Alexia tightens her two arms around you, allowing you to feel perfectly safe.

You stay here for a while, simply taking advantage of the other’s presence. Alexia’s hands play with the tip of your hair while yours fondle her lower back tenderly.

"Did you eat?" you ask her after a few moments.

"No. What about you?"

You pout and Alexia doesn’t need any other words to answer. You just haven’t had time to swallow anything since your breakfast shared with the pretty blonde.

"Let me cook you something. It’s your turn to go put on your pajamas"

You let go of her arms and put a tender kiss on her lips, happy to have her with you when it was absolutely not planned. A few minutes later, you find yourself cooking a fideua, Alexia’s favorite.

Lost in your thoughts, still exhausted from this day, you don't hear Alexia’s steps coming in your direction. You’re too tired to jump when you feel her arms go around your waist, her lips kiss behind your ear making you smile.

"It smells very good mi Vida"

"That’s good because it’s ready"

You tiptoed to grab two plates, paying particular attention not to make too much noise to avoid waking Santana.

"Why don’t we sit on the couch and watch the television?"

Alexia’s proposal surprises you, but you willingly accept. You sit on the couch, letting Alexia settle against you this time. After all, she too is probably tired from her training. Seeing her eat your dish with enthusiasm makes you happy and you find yourself admiring it rather than feeding yourself.

"You're starring"

Alexia smiles and glances at you, making you smile back.

"Perhaps, but it's certainly by admiring you as soon as I have the opportunity that I was able to clone you" you joke softly.

Alexia laughs and puts her plate and cutlery on the coffee table, as you did a few minutes before her. She turns around abruptly before throwing herself into your arms, making you fall over on the couch. Seeing her so spontaneous with you while she tends to constantly master her image makes you melt. And when she puts dozens of kisses all over your face, you can’t help but giggle.

"I guess today’s not the day to tell you I want a big family?"

Her mischievous smile makes you roll your eyes.

"We’ll talk about it in like two years, if you don’t mind."

[applesaucesims]

It was only his second proper ballet lesson, but Louis still felt like a fish out of water. The other boys seemed to know exactly what they were doing, especially César, who had been learning pretty much his entire life.

So, trying to regain his usually so much more confident self, he took to asking his classmate for advice. César seemed to feel very secure in his own skills, so much so that he admitted that dancing just came to him naturally. When it came down to it, he did not recall ever worrying about what could go wrong. Instead, he'd just let his own body lead the way.

While this so-called advice felt a bit more like brag, Louis could read between the lines and apply it to his situation. He had definitely been worrying too much about how he compared to the other students, but there really was no reason to. Everybody had to start somewhere, and they were all here for the same reason - to learn to be a better dancer. So, pushing his worries aside for the moment, Louis let his body flow as it felt right, and for the first time, he felt like he was really a part of the class.

The class's warmup exercises were interrupted, when a man wearing a jacket similar to the students' own uniform cleared his throat behind them. The man introduced himself as Mr. Booth, the teacher who would host the boys' lessons, while the girls were with Miss Lambert. His aura was almost as intimidating as Miss Lambert's, though his casual stance and small smile softened it the tiniest bit.

As Mr. Booth continued introducing his teachings, he made his way to the still silent gramophone, next to which he discarded his jacket and shirt, until he was dressed down to his undershirt. His outfit almost seemed akin to that of the students now, which already gave them indication enough for what his next moves would be.

Gracefully, Mr. Booth started performing a short and simple dance routine. Though it was not quite the same, Louis almost felt transported back into the theatre loge, watching the professional dancers perform on stage. Really, Mr. Booth was a profession, too, so perhaps it was not that different after all.

However, the one big difference was that this dance was performed specifically for the class to practice. Mr. Booth went through the routine one more time, before encouraging his students to repeat after him. Louis watched as his teacher turned to play a classical record on the gramophone, while his own nerves started dancing all over the place again. "Take a deep breath," he thought to himself. "Just let go."

The students formed a line next to their teacher, as they waited for his countdown, and soon the line started moving back and forth, repeating the moves they had just learned. Somehow, the music helped lessen the nerves, too, as it drowned out any worries.

Bit by bit, Louis could feel the moves becoming easier with every run. Soon, his mind faded out his surroundings, and he started imagining himself performing on the big stage. Feeling light as a feather now, a smiled formed on his face, not disappearing again for the rest of the school day.

[TRANSCRIPT]

Louis: "I don't know..."

César: "You're too tense, Lou. Just... take a deep breath, recentre yourself, focus, and.. just let go!"

...

Mr. Booth: "Ahem. Good morning, boys!"

"morning" / "good morning" / "morning"

Mr. Booth: "My name is Mr. Booth. Miss Lambert might have already mentioned me to you."

Mr. Booth: "Yesterday, you already discussed some basics. Did some warmups for what's to come. But, today..."

*crack*

Mr. Booth: "I want you to get into the practice of it all! I've been trained to dance, just like you will be. One thing that's always helped me is visual learning. So, let me demonstrate."

...

Mr. Booth: "Alright. Your turn."

[v3ry-cherry]

gym geto who caught your eye for a moment right after you left the locker room. with the accompany of your friend and in the middle of conversation, you were heading to a scheduled workout in group. he noticed that you two are probably new here because even if he usually didn’t pay much attention to people around him, he was able to recognize some faces. you two made an eye contact for a second because of your little giggle decorated with a bright smile that caught his attention. you, on the other hand, couldn’t miss his sharp features, well shaped muscles and that intense, intriguing gaze

gym geto who almost always wears black. usually there are black shorts, black tank tops and occasionally loose white shirt presenting on his body. he usually keeps his hair in a high bun but sometimes lets it fall freely over his shoulders, especially at the end of his workout when he heads to the locker room. most of the time he also has an earphones with his own playlists prepared for workout

gym geto who starts to remember you because of your admirable face and the slightest tracks of smile. you still bring your friend and talk a lot between excersies so you often have that blissful expression on your face and melodious laughter during conversations that makes him turn his head in your direction every time he hears you

gym geto who start to find adorable everything you’re doing. whether it’s setting up some machines in the gym, exercise on them or doing something on you phone during breaks. he would also notice your progress, growing confidence, softly showing up muscles and changes in your wardrobe choices

gym geto who wouldn’t know how to approach you since he started to think that he really wants to do this. it accidentally happens when you couldn’t move something in the machine and it seemed to be broken so he just went over and tried something that turned out to work. when you exchanged a few words and you thanked him, he walked away satisfied with a big smile and completely squinted eyes because everything went exactly like he imagined

gym geto who was glad you started to greet each other from that day and got into short conversations and little jokes from time to time. he also became the person you turned to most for help or for some random discussions regarding training techniques when you were without your friend

gym geto who once met you at the exit of the building after the workout and it was the first time you talked to each other. during all the way back home you had the opportunity to learn a little more about each other. then he walked you to the bus stop and stood there until you got on the right bus and drove away safely

gym geto with which returns from the gym became an absolute standard and during one of them he finally asked you for your phone number and that's how you started chatting

gym geto who couldn't stop thinking about you. who, even though you haven't gone out on any official date yourself, started to find himself wanting to introduce you to his family, friends and even his coworkers. who dreamed of you two going to the gym together and acting like a couple because you're so wonderful that he just wanted to share you with his little world     

(maybe a little nsfw part 2 soon what do ya think)

masterlist

[browneyedboys]

will you walk me home

you can find my other work here!

Pairing: rafe cameron x reader

Warnings: cursing, frat parties, light discussion of alcohol, overall fluff (let me know if you find something else)

Word count: 2.3K

Synopsis: Second chance encounters with Rafe Cameron lead to discussions of fate and the idea of what happens when you go to frat parties. (second part to libraries after midnight)

a/n: okay so maybe this will be a series?! I'm having fun with this concept and I still promise nothing, feedback is always appreciated! 

The next time you see Rafe Cameron, only a few days later, you’re celebrating. The conclusion of midterms means that you’re slightly less stressed on a daily basis, a cause for celebration. You manage to convince Paige, your big, and some other girls to go to a Phi Gam party with you, only slightly hoping to run into your favorite golden boy. 

An hour or so passes and you’ve managed to go from sober to a flushed, giggling mess. Alcohol always manages to get your blood pumping to exactly where you don’t want it. The loud bass booms through the house and seems to come to rest in your lungs. It’s as they’ve developed their own beat. The slightly suffocating feeling manages to suck you back into reality; you need some air.

“I’m going to step outside for a few minutes,” you call to Paige, watching as she nods and turns to some of your sisters you both had been dancing with before. Shoving through the crowd, you pick up on the panicky feeling in your chest. There are too many people close to you, it’s too loud, and you’ve already had a big week. 

You finally reach the back door of the house, pulling it open in time to quell your beating heart. You usually excel in social situations, well at least enough to where you enjoy yourself. It seems with the intensity of the week a party wasn’t the best idea. Finding purchase on a brick retaining wall, you bring your knees to your chest and settle your head into the space between. The 4-7-8 count of breath that you learned for your anxiety helps a bit. 

Four seconds you breathe in, seven you hold it in, eight you let it go. Crowds never were your thing. Alcohol never really lets you free, it just makes you more giggly or sad, depending on the week. This week it leaned more towards the latter and the crowd around you came crashing down. 

“Hey, you okay?” You’re pulled from your breathing exercise, and in consequence from your thoughts. Lifting your head out of your knees, you find the perfect picture of Rafe standing before you. He holds a drink in his hand, his eyebrows pulled together as he maintains his gaze on you. Blinking, you extract your gaze from him, returning to your shell. 

You nod, a bit too quickly to be convincing, then resume your attempt to regain your breath. “I just…” you pause, marveling at the breeze on your arms, “I’ve never really gotten used to being in a crowd of people yet never feeling more lonely, you know?”

Rafe exhales, you watch him shift foot to foot through the little crack between your legs. His feet then step and disappear as you feel the warmth that radiates off of him settle beside you. A hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, thumb tracing the juts of your spine. 

It’s so quiet behind the booming house you can nearly hear his breathing. You make your best effort to match your own breath to the rhythmic pace of Rafe’s thumb. As it swoops up the valley of your spine you pull air in, down you purse your lips and exhale. Little else seems to pull your thoughts from how nice it is to find peace in another person’s presence.

You’re so used to putting on a front or willing more energy to meet the expectations of others. All your life, it has felt like only a select few people truly manage to see how you are. Unbothered in the natural state, you feel at ease with this boy you’ve only really talked to twice. It’s an entirely cliche thought — but it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. You’re not sure if romantic soulmates exist but they have to in some capacity. People just seem to fit together in such unique ways, it can’t be only a billion coincidences. 

It would crush your soul to learn that the little connections in daily life happen due to mere circumstance. Like people on their deathbed call out to god — you can’t go about your life with no strings. It’s a terrifying thought that nothing draws people together. Fate has to exist. 

“What’s pulling you from life?” Rafe voices barely louder than a whisper. The rises and falls of his speech fits right in with the atmosphere around the two of you. 

You lift your head from your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You tilt your head to the side until you’ve squished your cheek just slightly, taking in the way Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Does it freak you out how many people live on this spinning ball? How every decision you make affects the entire trajectory of your life? How you could pass by the person you belong with because of something stupid?”

“Woah,” Rafe exhales, softly grinning at you, “That’s a minor crisis, I try not to think about everything too much. It’s so much easier to go about day to day life not in my own brain but sometimes I do think about that. I like to think that everything happens for a reason, even something stupid.”

You nod along with his words, if anything, Rafe seems to agree with you. 

“I mean even just me walking out here at the moment when I saw you could be seen as some twist of fate. It’s really easy to get lost in the world at times but I try to not overthink everything. How would you even know that they’re the person you belong with until you take the time to get to know them.”

“But fate has to play a part, right?” You question, lifting your head from your knees. You shift to sit like a pretzel carefully balanced on the wall. 

The uncertainty of your voice throws Rafe for a loop. This version of you is starkly different to the girl who told off his dad a few days ago. The crease between your eyebrows beckons him to solve all your problems like you tried to do for him. With a gentle manner, he smooths out the creases with his thumb. “That’s up for you to decide, honey. If fate is something that makes you feel better about the world then there is no harm in believing in it. What’s the difference between believing in fate and believing in a god? Both offer the same reassurances about what we don’t know.”

“Sometimes it feels like I don’t know a whole lot.” You murmur, the air gains a chill as your words leave your lips. October means the changing of the seasons and a whole lot of things to look forward to, but right now it's all a bit too much. Life feels so demanding. 

Rafe’s thumb traces your brow, pausing on your temple. Warmth cascades down the side of your face before his hand eventually settles, cupping your jaw. “You don’t have to know anything,” Rafe hums, “I mean you’re what, 20? You still have the rest of your life to figure it out.”

“I’m usually a giggly drunk,” you complain, leaning into the warmth of his hand on your face. Your eyes flutter every so slightly as the week seems to catch up to you. It’s so nice to have somebody out here with you. It would be too cold on your own. Even the pause between your own speech feels right. You don’t overthink your every movement around the golden boy. “What happened to me?”

The weight of your head in his hand prompts Rafe to shift closer to you. Your knee overlaps his thigh as you lean into his touch. “I’m sure you’ve had a long week; you’re probably exhausted and then you got overstimulated in there.” He’s so tempted to draw you into his arms and never let you go. He could spend a lifetime protecting you, like the way you did against his dad. “Maybe you should get some rest, call it an early night from the thrills of Phi Gam.” He proposes when the moments when your eyes are closed outweigh the moments they’re open. Rafe feels a new tug in his chest. He thinks an invisible string might tie your pinky to his. 

Your eyes meet his. You trace the shadows across his face, sharply contrasting to how he looked the last time you saw him. Maybe if you spend enough time noting the way he looks at you you’ll understand what it is you're feeling. The feeling that prompts you to ask, “Can you walk me home again?” 

Rafe’s quick to agree, with a short, “Of course, honey.” It turns your insides gooey like his term of endearment. You could get used to Rafe’s company. As you both stand, his hands leave a cold trail in their absence. 

The boom of the party increases as you make your way back towards the house. The lawn, green in the way that only money can achieve, is littered with far more people than when you first pushed through the doors. Perhaps everyone realized just how suffocating the air is inside. You glance over your shoulder as you step back inside, double checking that Rafe is behind you. Or maybe it's just an excuse to take another glimpse at the golden boy. The too warm air rushes into your lungs. It stinks of too many bodies who are at least a little wasted. 

He smiles at you, dropping his lips to your ear. “Do you need to make your rounds and say goodbye?” Rafe’s whisper elicits goosebumps. You shake your head; you can just text Paige that you went home. It’s not like you’re the designated driver or that you were incredibly drunk. It’s too loud for you to vocalize your entire thought process so you just continue through the house. Rafe’s hand find’s purchase on the small of your back as the people get denser. His thumb resumes its pace from earlier, moving back and forth. 

Rafe has come to recognize the scrunch between your eyebrows as a stress indicator. Watching the way it dissolves slightly as he guides you through the house, only for your brows to pull together as a person stills your path. Preston, Rafe’s fraternity brother stands in front of the pair of you. 

“Cameron!” Preston calls out. “I’ve missed you buddy. Where’ve you been?” He sways back and forth with the constitution of a giraffe. Rafe has always had a soft spot for Preston; they went through rush together and endured some stupid shit. He is the closest thing that Rafe has to a family out here. 

“Hey Preston, I’m going to walk Cory home and then I’ll be back okay. We can hang out after that.” Rafe answers in what he hopes will be both his first and last response. He can tell you just want to go home. 

Your eyes follow Preston as he stills, seemingly realizing that you’re right in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Cory, Rafe’s asked me a hundred questions about you since that one night.” The implication of his statement hangs in the air, swirling with the idea of Rafe thinking of you as much as you think of him. 

“Oh, it’s great to meet you too!” You flash him a smile before glancing over your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to catch Rafe looking even a little bit flustered. It’s nice to know that you’re not the only one a little hung up on your shared interactions. Rafe meets your eyes with a faint grin. He doesn’t look pink but you miss the way he shook his head when Preston said what he did. He’s had a few seconds to recover, for which he is eternally grateful. 

“Well good night,” you duck around Preston, who has grown distracted by the lights dancing across the ceiling. Once you make it to the front of the house your idea of the night comes crashing back on you. Midterms and their conclusion was supposed to mean a break from the chaos that is your life but you seem to attract just a bit of chaotic energy wherever you go. 

The air has grown chillier in the few minutes you made your way through the frat house, or perhaps you got used to the stale air inside. Either way goosebumps creep up your arms, something Rafe notices with a surprising amount of speed. He shifts closer to you as you walk towards Pi Phi’s house, moving his arm from your back to your shoulders. He draws you ever so slightly towards him. 

Something about the ease you seem to instill in him causes Rafe to be a bit more direct. “Preston really did just call me out, but he’s right, in all his tipsy truth, I do like you…”

His honesty catches you off guard. “Rafe.” The short walk concludes as the pair of you draw on the start of the walkway to your house. You step out of his bubble, “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he interrupts with a finger gracing your lips, it tugs your bottom lip with a comforting heaviness, “I just wanted you to know. You’ve had a long night and I’m sure you need a few days to process everything. Goodnight Cory.” Rafe takes a step back from you, his finger falling from your mouth. He hesitates just out of reach. 

Against his better judgment he quickly takes a step forward and presses a chase kiss on your forehead. Warmth blooms from the spot where his lips made contact long after his figure retreats back to his frat house. It stays even after you wash your face and put on your matching pajama set. In bed you trace the spot with a memory, smiling yourself into a dream filled night. 

[justabooknerdposts]

Percabeth Drabble: Fall in Love Questions

*Okay, so the idea for this came to me a few years ago—I was watching The Big Bang Theory and it was the episode where they discuss this list of questions that will allegedly make two people fall in love.  Sheldon and Penny decide to go through them—spoiler alert, they don’t fall in love, but they say they do feel closer at the end.  So anyway, I went online to find the questions, out of curiosity, and then, after reading them, I thought it might be a fun writing exercise to play with this as if Percy and Annabeth were answering the questions.  So here it is! 

The Scene: The Jackson-Blofis apartment, early fall.  Percy and Annabeth are sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, leaning back against the sofa—a half empty pizza box sits in the middle of the coffee table, as well as a couple of partially full glasses of Coke.  Golden sunset light is coming through the window.  The baby monitor is also on the coffee table, showing Estell sleeping in her crib.  This is Percy and Annabeth’s first visit back to New York since heading off to New Rome University.  Tonight, they’re baby-sitting, giving Paul and Sally a chance to go out to dinner and a movie.

Re-runs of a sit-com are playing in the background as Percy reached for his third slice of pizza.  The characters on the TV show were talking about a list of questions that will allegedly make two people fall in love after answering them together.  So, Annabeth nabbed Paul’s laptop and, while Percy was debating a fourth slice of pizza, she looked them up.  After scanning the list, she told Percy, “Let’s try it.”

He looked over at her, right in the middle of taking his first bite of his fourth slice.  “What?”

“Let’s try it,” she said again, showing him the list on the computer.  “It might be fun.”

Percy looked skeptical, like their definitions of “fun” didn’t exactly line up.  “But we’re already in love.”

That drew a smile from Annabeth.  “I know.  But we might learn something new.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.”  Percy finished his fourth slice of pizza, then took a drink of his Coke.  “Hit me with the first one.”

Annabeth kissed him on the cheek, then turned back to the questions on the laptop.  The TV droned low in the background.  On the monitor, Estelle’s chest rose and fell as she slept on her back, one arm curled up around her head.  The air conditioner chugged in the window, fending off the last heat of late summer as it gave way to early fall.  Percy’s arm lay along the couch cushions, lightly touching Annabeth’s shoulders.  He had his legs stretched out beneath the coffee table and she was sitting criss-cross, her left knee resting on his right.  It was a peaceful, relaxing evening.  Scrolling to the first question, Annabeth began to read.    

Set 1

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

[CAVEAT for them, can’t be each other or anyone you could just call up for dinner right now].

P:  My mom’s parents.  I never got to meet them, and I think it’d be kind of cool to get to know them.  Learn more about that part of my family and all.

A:  My mom.  I know that’s almost like cheating, but I would honestly just love to sit down and have dinner with her and just, you know, talk.

2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

P:  Absolutely not.  I mean, when I was younger, I kind of wanted to be a famous skateboarder, but after everything, nah, I don’t want to be famous.  I just want to live my life.

A:  I’d like to be a famous architect.  But you already know that.

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

P: Sometimes.  I did before we were dating, when I would call you, sometimes, just to make sure I didn’t sound like an idiot.  And sometimes now, if it’s an important call and I don’t just want to blurt out whatever.

A:  Not usually.  If it’s a really important call, like a phone interview, then yeah, I might have some notes, but usually not.

P:  Huh, that’s kind of funny.  Almost seems like it would be the other way around.

A:  Yeah.  Interesting.

4. What would constitute a "perfect" day for you?

P:  Has to start with sleeping in, for sure.  Maybe my mom making pancakes.  Hanging out with my family.  Hanging out with you.  Just chill.  Maybe at the beach.  Pizza for dinner, obviously.  Hanging out with some friends and playing video games.  Then you and I curling up and watching a movie…and sometimes not watching the movie.  I guess just chilling with the people I love.  What about you? A:  Okay, for me, this might be a little bit in the future.  But waking up in my own home, um preferably next to you, and it’s still early, and I just make some coffee, go to my own office, which has lots of light, and I just sketch for a few hours.  Then, when you wake up, we go out to breakfast, or brunch, whatever, and then just hang out.  Maybe go walk around a park or something, go to a matinee movie or show, maybe meet some friends for a late lunch or early dinner, then yeah, I like the idea of coming home, curling up on the couch together, and watching a movie.  Just normal, relaxed, you know?

P:  Yeah.

5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

P:  Not gonna lie, I was singing in the shower this morning.  And, uh, I sang to Estelle yesterday.  She likes when I do “Under the Sea.”

A:  I don’t sing.  I mean, I guess I kind of hummed to Estelle the last time I watched her.  And, oh, shoot, you know what, I did sing to Peleus before, because lullabies calm him down so he doesn’t eat people.

6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

P:  I have no idea.  I mean…mind, I guess?  That’s a weird question.

A:  Mind, definitely.  But yeah, that’s kind of a strange question.

7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

P:  Do I even have to answer this one?

A:  No, we’re skipping this.

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

P:  Oh, wow, this is an interesting one.  Um, I think we both really care about our friends.  We’re both good at putting important stuff first, especially when we really have to.  And, uh, good-looking?

A:  Dork.  But I really like those first two, and I agree.  I think we’re both tough, like resilient.  I think we both always want to do the right thing.  And I think we both have a good sense of humor.

P:  I like those, too.

9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

P:  Being here right now with you.  And, in general, for the people in my life.

A:  Same.  About the people in my life, too.  But I’m definitely most grateful we can just sit here together like this right now.

10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

A [humorless laugh]: Pretty much everything.  I guess, if I had to say something specific, better communication.

P [takes her hand and laces their fingers together.  She smiles and gestures for him to go]: I don’t think I’d really change anything my mom did, like as a parent.  If I was going to change anything, it would have been that Smelly Gabe wouldn’t have been around and I wouldn’t have had to go to all those boarding schools.  They usually sucked.

11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

P:  Don’t we already know all this?  Are you getting out a stopwatch?

A:  Yes.  It’s one of the questions.  So get ready, Seaweed Brain, you’re going first.

[8 MINUTES LATER]

P:  Okay, that was actually kind of cool.  What’s the next one?

12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

P:  I’m still pretty jealous that Frank can change into animals and I can’t.

A:  Is that seriously your answer? P [considers a moment]: Yes.  I mean, otherwise, I like my abilities.

A:  Yeah, they are pretty cool.  And you have a lot of good qualities. P: I do? A: Yeah, Seaweed Brain.  You definitely do.

P:  Aww, thanks, babe. [He kisses her cheek].  Okay, what’s your answer?

A [after considering]:  Honestly, I wouldn’t mind being able to breathe underwater or will my clothes dry.  That would be useful.  Especially hanging around you. [Nudges him with her shoulder].  For qualities, though, I could probably do better not getting so focused on my own stuff sometimes, so maybe paying attention to what other people need more.

P [shrugs]:  Maybe, but I like your intensity about stuff.  That’s one of your best qualities.

A [looks surprised]:  Really?

P:  Yeah, definitely.

A [leans over to kiss him]:  I like this question thing.  Alright, we’re moving on to the second level.  Or set.  Whatever.

Set 2

13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

A: I think I’d want to know that we’re okay in a few years.  Like, I wouldn’t want the details spoiled, necessarily, because as much as I love planning, it’s also fun if some things are a surprise, but I’d like to know, just in general, that we, you know, kind of get our happy ending. [blinks quickly and swipes hand across eyes]  Oh wow, I don’t know why that made me kind of tear up.  Okay, you answer.

P [considers for a few moments]:  Honestly, after all the shit we’ve gone through dealing with prophecies, I’m not sure I’d even want to look.  I like your answer, but I think I’d like to just be…what’s that phrase?  Blissfully oblivious about the future.  And yeah, sometimes surprises are nice.  Good surprises, I mean, are nice.

14. Is there something that you've dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven't you done it? P: I have to think about this.  You go.

A:  I’d really like to go to Falling Water, Frank Lloyd Wright’s place he designed.  But I haven’t had a chance to go yet.  I used to say the Parthenon, but we’ve been there.  I wouldn’t mind going back, someday, though, when we could actually spend some time there and enjoy it.

P:  Good to know.

A:  There was one highlight of the Parthenon trip though.  [smiles at him, and he returns it].  So what’s your answer?

P [looks down]:  So, I don’t know if this is really a dream, but I’ve wanted to talk to my mom about just…Gabe…and our life before I found out I was a demigod.  For a long time.  I just never want to bring it up though, don’t want to bring up the bad memories, you know?  And I usually try not to look back too much, or dwell on stuff, but I just feel like it’s something we should talk about at some point.  Dang, I actually didn’t really realize that until I had to think about it just now.

A [quietly]: I think that’s a good idea.  Maybe one evening when it’s just you two?  It might be good for both of you.

P:  Yeah, maybe.  [deep breath].  Okay, next question.

15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

P:  Great, easy one.  Saving Olympus.

A:  Yeah, being designated official architect of Olympus was pretty good.  I feel like we could be more thoughtful with this one, though.  What would you say is your greatest accomplishment outside of hero stuff?

P [groans]: You never settle for an easy answer, do you? A: Nope.

P:  That’s okay.  It’s another one of the things I like best about you. [kisses her cheek again when she smiles at him].  Okay, outside of hero stuff?  I’m pretty proud of graduating from high school.  And getting accepted to college.  Because I wasn’t sure that was something I would ever be able to do.  So it feels pretty good.  Surviving almost two years as your boyfriend feels pretty good too. A: Graduating definitely feels like an accomplishment, especially after the past couple years.  But I am actually going to say our relationship, truthfully, because I never thought I’d have something like this.  It wasn’t in my plans, at all.  But coming up on our second anniversary, and going to college together, definitely feels like an accomplishment.

[question answering is briefly interrupted]

A: Percy, we really need to finish this.  I don’t think you’re supposed to take breaks.

P:  Fine.  What’s up next?

16. What do you value most in a friendship?

A:  Loyalty.  And honesty.  Those kind of go together.

P:  Yeah.  And somebody who does the right thing, even when it’s not easy. 

17. What is your most treasured memory?

P:  Underwater kiss.  For sure.

A: Under the Parthenon.  Easy.

18. What is your most terrible memory?

P:  Damn.  I mean, leaving Beckendorf, thinking my mom was dead, thinking Tyson was dead, thinking you might be dead when you were kidnapped, everything that happened in the Titan War, leaving Bob and Damasen at the Doors, a bunch of other stuff.  Should we do that four minute thing again?

A: Right?  What would you say the worst moment was, though?

P: Truthfully…well, no.

A: What? P:  I was going to say when we were dangling over that pit and I realized I couldn’t pull you up.  That was terrible.  But actually, what happened with Akhlys was worse.  When I realized you were afraid of me and what I was doing.  That’s my most terrible memory, because I was out of control and I was enjoying hurting her, and I don’t ever want to be that person again. [clears throat]  Um, your turn.

A: That’s pretty high on my terrible list, too, because that’s not you, Percy.  And yeah, leaving Bob and Damasen at the Doors was awful.  And so much that happened in the Titan War…everything with Luke…Silena…and, gods, those months when you were missing.  That was miserable.  But if I had to pick an absolute most terrible memory, it would probably be after the arai attacked, when you were dying of the gorgon’s blood poison curse, and I didn’t know how to save you.  Because all I could think, other than I can’t lose him, was that you were only there because of me.  Because I didn’t think to cut the spider silk off.  And if you died, that was my fault.  And I would have to live with that.

[brief silence, holding hands]  Okay, next question, right?

P: Uh, yeah, definitely.

19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

P:  Why did these suddenly get so depressing?  And honestly, that’s how I’ve been living for years.  So, no, probably not.  Other than maybe I’d spend less time on homework and more time hanging out with the people I love.  And I would eat only junk food.

A: I believe that.  I don’t know if I’d really do anything different.  Maybe, yeah, spend more time with the people I love.  Maybe try to complete some additional sketches and leave plans for how they could be implemented.  But otherwise, like you said, we’ve been living that way for years.  Now, for the first time, we kind of don’t have to as much.  So, moving on.

20. What does friendship mean to you?

P:  Didn’t we already answer this one?

A:  No, that was about what do you value in a friendship.

P [stares blankly]: Are those different?

A:  Yes.  What do you value is like traits, what friendship means to you is more…I don’t know…broad.  Or something.  I mean, friendship is incredibly important to me.  Especially when I wasn’t getting along with my family, my friends became my family.  So yeah, it’s important.

P:  Yeah, me too.  It’s important.  I mean, especially with what we’ve been through, you need people you can rely on, who you know have your back and care about you.  So yeah, friendship is important to me.  Is that the right answer?

A [rolls eyes]: There’s not one right answer, Seaweed Brain.  But yes, that works.  Moving on.

21. What roles do love and affection play in your life?

P:  They’re good things?  I don’t know how to answer this one either.

A: Try.

P: Okay, I mean, if you want the deep answer, isn’t it all about love?  Not just romantic stuff, although that’s obviously important, but like love for family and friends, too.  I’ve only been able to do some of the stuff I’ve had to do because I love you, my family, and my friends.  Love gives you strength.

A: Wow, Percy.  That’s…that’s a really great answer.

P [shrugs]: It’s true.  What’s yours? A: I think, for me, because of how I felt when I was little, love and affection are almost painfully important to me.  If I want to go really deep, I think I associate them with acceptance.  When Thalia and Luke first took me in, they gave me hugs and tousled my hair and stuff like that, and acted like they wanted me around.  That blew my mind.  When I got to camp, Chiron would pat my shoulder or head when I did well.  Grover and Tyson give hugs to show they care.  So does your mom.  Piper, too, actually.  And then you came along, obviously.  And even when we were younger, just sitting by you, or holding your hand, always made me feel better.  So I guess, to me, love and affection go together.  Like physical affection is such a clear way people show that they care about you.  I know it’s not the only way, but it’s definitely important. [blushes]  Anyway, next question.

22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

P:  Sweet, another easy one.  Okay, your eyes.

A: That’s very sweet, but it says “characteristic”, not “attribute.”  I think it means more internal stuff.

P: What happened to no wrong answers?  But I’m sticking with my answer, because, I mean, yeah, I think your eyes are beautiful, but they can also be fierce and intense and scary, so I still think it fits.

A:  Okay.  Your heart.  You have a really good heart, and I’ve always loved that about you.

P: Thanks.  I’ve always been amazed by your strength.  Like, just with everything.  You have more guts than anybody I’ve ever met.

A: Thanks, Percy.  I love your sense of humor.  You can always find something to lighten the mood, even when things are really bad.

P: I do my best.  I was going to say your intelligence, but that feels like a given, so I’m going with your passion for architecture and stuff.  Like, I love watching your face light up when you talk about stuff you’re excited about.

A: Really? P: Yeah.

A:  So, you can be goofy, and that’s great, but when something’s really important, you get this intense focus that I really appreciate.  And your confidence.  I admire that too.

P: I have confidence? A: Yeah, babe, you do.  Like when you were leading everyone during the Battle of Manhattan?  [smiles slyly] It was pretty hot.

P: Good to know.  Okay, my turn.  I like how you genuinely care about people and you want to help them.  I don’t know if everybody always sees that, but I do.  And I really admire that.

A [biting lip, trying not to smile]:  Thanks.  That means a lot.  You also just took my next one about you, because it was basically that.

P [grinning]: My bad.  You can still use it, too, if you want.

A: No, I’ve got a few others still.  Like the fact that you’re an amazing big brother.  Like how you stood by Tyson that first summer he came to camp, which I know wasn’t easy.  And seeing you playing with your baby sister is the cutest thing ever.

P: Well, it helps that Estelle is adorable.

A: That doesn’t hurt.  Okay, last one each.

P: Already? 

A: Yep.

P: Dang, I liked this question.  Okay, I like how you always manage to surprise me.  Ever since we met and you told me I drooled in my sleep.

A [leans forward and kisses him quickly]: I like your arms.

P: Huh? A [shrugs]: Your first one was my eyes, my last one is your arms.  You have nice muscles.  And, you know, you’re a very impressive swordsman, so it still falls under that characteristic thing.

P: Huh.  Again, good to know.  How many questions do we have left?

A: A few.  Ready to move on?

P: Yeah.  Let’s go.     

23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?

A: Oh gods.  Is this for real?

P: Do we want to just skip this one?

A [sighs]: No, we have to answer them all.  So, my family is getting better, but I don’t think I’ll ever describe them as close and warm.  Although things with my dad are much better.  And everything with Magnus is good.  But my childhood was definitely not happier than other people’s.  Your turn, Seaweed Brain.

P: I’m definitely close with my mom.  And Paul and Estelle.  And they’re all warm.  So’s Tyson, obviously.  Things with my dad have been good, can’t complain.  I doubt my childhood was happier than most other people’s, but there were some good moments, too.  But…never mind.

A: What?

P: But one day, in the future, like way out, when I have kids, I want to make sure they have a genuinely good childhood.  I mean, I’m going to do my best to make that happen.

A [holds his eyes for a long moment]: I love that idea.

P: Cool. [swallows hard] Um, next question? 24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

A [facepalms]: You have got to be kidding me.

P: My mom’s awesome.  Next question.

Set 3

25. Make three true "we" statements each. For instance, "We are both in this room feeling _____."

P: Okay, this is another kind of weird one. 

A: A bit.  Three true “we” statements each.  Okay, so we are both in this room feeling vulnerable?

P: Yeah, that’s true.  We are both demigods.

A: Percy!

P: What?  It’s true.

A: That’s practically cheating.

P: Okay, fine, that one doesn’t count.  How about we are both learning some new stuff about each other?

A: Yeah.  Nice to know we can still do that.  And we both believe we can build a future together.

P: Definitely true. [pauses, thinking] We believe in each other.

A: We do.  And we put each other first, or at least we try our best.

P: I agree with that.  And, most importantly, we love each other.

A: Absolutely.

P: That was a good one.  What’s next?

26. Complete this sentence: "I wish I had someone with whom I could share _____."

A: Umm…I have no idea how to answer this.

P: Yeah, I’m coming up blank. 

A: I mean, my first thought was maybe my love of architecture, but Malcolm and I have great discussions.  Leo, too, is great for talking about engineering and design type stuff.  And everything else I talk with you about.  Or Piper.  Or your mom.  Sometimes friends at school.

P: Yeah, maybe I’m not thinking deep enough, but I think you and I have a lot of those types of conversations.  Or I talk to my friends.  Or my mom.  I thought about my love of video games.  But guys from camp and school are around for that. 

A: Does it count if we at least had a discussion about how we don’t have an answer?

P: I’m good with that.  Next.

27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

P:  Gee, Annabeth, if we were friends, what would I need to know?

A [laughs]: Okay, I’m guessing this question is for people who don’t really know each other.  But if I was going to give an honest answer, even if you already know it, it would probably be helpful to know about my history, and why I hate people letting me down.

P: That’s actually true.  I mean, I felt like I understood you better once I learned some of that stuff.  Kind of similar, I think it would be important for someone to know how important my mom and family are to me.

A: Definitely.

P: And you, obviously.  That was a given.

A: Ditto, Seaweed Brain.

28. Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you've just met.

A: This is interesting.  I mean, I feel like we were pretty honest last time.  That was definitely not stuff I would say to someone I just met.

P: Same.  But I might be able to come up with something else.

A: Yeah, me too.  So, even more honestly, what I like about you is that you’re reliable.  I know you always have my back and I can count on you.  For me, that means everything.  And I also love that you’re kind and sweet and respectful and funny and cute and smart and strong and…well, a lot of things.

P [kisses her]: Sorry, couldn’t help it.  I love that you’re just yourself.  You don’t try to change to impress anybody.  I mean, I know you put a lot of pressure on yourself to do well and achieve your goals, and that’s impressive, too, but you’re always still Annabeth.  You stay true to yourself.  And I love that.

[brief kissing interlude]

A: Okay, let’s finish these last few questions.

29. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.

A: Oh gods.  Um, okay, this one time, I started my period in the middle of class and had to wear a sweatshirt tied around my waist the rest of the day to cover up the small spot on my jeans.  Your turn.

P: I dangled from a billboard in Times Square in my underwear.

A: You what? P: Yeah, it was a whole thing with Grover and Apollo and it was pretty humiliating, so I never told you about it.  Next question.

30. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

P: In front of another person?  When we found out about what happened to Jason and everybody at Camp Jupiter.  I cried in front of you when we went back to your dad’s house.

A: Yeah.  I think that was my most recent time, too.  What about by yourself?

P: I mean, I’m not a big crier, usually.  I might have been upset about all that again, but the time that comes to mind, honestly, was after Estelle was born.  I don’t know why, but I remember standing at my bedroom window, looking out at the city, and I got all choked up.  But that was like, good crying.  Like, my mom was happy, she has Paul, now they have Estelle, I have this great family, this amazing girlfriend, I was getting ready to graduate high school and go to college.  I think I was just kind of amazed that was all real.  What about you? A: Honestly, I think it was something similar.  On the drive out to California, we stayed in that one hotel that had a balcony, looking out over that lake?  I couldn’t sleep, so I went out on the balcony, and I was just looking out, and thinking about everything.  Like that this was really happening.  And it was kind of overwhelming, but in a good way.  And I might have cried a little bit, but happy tears.

P: I didn’t know that.  You could have woken me up.

A: I know.  It was okay though.  I think I just needed that moment to process everything, you know?  Anyway, next one.

31. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.

A: Okay, this has to be for people who don’t know each other.

P: Yeah, but we can make it work.  Unless you’re out of nice stuff to say about me? A: Not even close, Seaweed Brain.  I like how honest you’re being with all this.  It’s really nice.

P: You too.  And I like that smile you keep giving me occasionally, when you like one of my answers. A: I am? P: Yeah.  It’s cute.  Next question.

32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

A: Sexual assault.

P: Yeah, pretty much anything related to abuse.  Not funny.

A: Moving on.

33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven't you told them yet?

P: Wow, that’s an interesting question.  So, I think I do okay about telling people stuff.  But if I’m being honest, I might regret not telling Paul he’s a great guy and I really appreciate everything he’s done for my mom.  And for me.  I mean, I think he knows, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually told him.  Not for any reason, just haven’t.  But maybe I should.

A: I’m sure he’d love that.  And yeah, I don’t think there’s anything I’d regret not telling you. [nudges him with her shoulder].  But I think I’d wish I told my dad that I’m glad we’re getting along again.  And I appreciate the support he’s given me about my college choices.  I just don’t do well being emotional around him.  He’s not great at that either.

P: But I bet he’d love to hear it. 

A: Yeah.  Okay, we’re holding each other accountable.  Sometime before the end of the year, so no major rush, just when it feels natural, we’re going to tell them both, Paul and my dad, what we just said.

P:  Deal.  How many questions are left? A: Just three.  Almost there.

34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

P:  Huh.  Assuming I have my camp necklace on and Riptide is in my pocket, I guess I’d want to grab maybe some pictures?  Or the Minotaur horn.  There’s not much stuff I’m that attached to otherwise, though.

A: Same.  My camp necklace, definitely, but if I have that on already…probably pictures.  Oh, my sketchbook.  I’d definitely grab my journal and my sketchbook.  Is it okay that that’s two things?

P: They’re in the same category, so sure.  Also, we’re making up our own rules as we go anyway, and I’m fine with that answer.

A: Great.  Moving on.

35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?

P: These are some strange questions.  But I guess if the point is to really get to know somebody….Anyway, I’d be devastated, obviously, if something happened to you or my mom, same with Paul or Tyson…or my dad, but I forget about him sometimes for something like this because…well, you know.  But if we’re talking about disturbing, it’s Estelle, hands down.  Just because she’s still so little.  It doesn’t feel like anything should happen to her, like she should just be in this protective bubble because she’s a baby.  I don’t even want to think about anything happening to her.  So, your turn.

A: Ugh, I can’t even stand the thought of something happening to Estelle.  Talking specifically about my blood-related family, yeah, if something happened to my dad, or Bobby or Matthew, or even my stepmom, I’d be devastated.  And probably feel really guilty, somehow, too, for not spending enough time with them.  Most disturbing, though, would have to be if something happened to Magnus.  Just because, you know…he’s already dead.  So it would be awful not knowing what else happened to him or where he went, like if he’s trapped somewhere worse or something. [pauses]  And obviously, if something happened to you, I’d be completely heartbroken.  Then I’d stomp down to the Underworld and drag your butt back.

P [grins]: Obviously. A: Alright, last one.

36. Share a personal problem and ask your partner's advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

A: Wow, this is kind of tough.  I mean, I already usually talk problems through with you.  And honestly, at this particular moment, I don’t have one. [pauses, looking pleasantly surprised] Wow.  I don’t have any serious problems right now.  That’s possibly the first time that’s ever happened.

P: Nice.  So nothing right now? A: Not really.  I mean, I’m a little nervous about starting college, especially with balancing UC Berkeley and New Rome, but I think it’ll be okay.  Any advice on how you’d handle that? P [small laugh]: Honestly?  Not well.  I don’t think I’d be great at running back and forth and balancing everything.  But you will be.  You’re good with organization and time management and everything, so you’re going to be fine, Wise Girl.  If I had to guess, I think you’re just nervous because you want to do well.  But you will.  Because you’re awesome.

A [smiling]: Aww, thanks, babe.  What about you?  Any problems right now? P [shakes head]: Nothing major right now.  Well, actually, now that I’ve said that…I’m kind of worried about my major.  Like for college.

A: Really?  Why?

P [shrugs]: I mean, marine biology kind of makes sense, because of my dad and all.  But I’m not like a major science guy or anything.  So I’m a little worried about it.  Any thoughts? A [considers for a few moments]:  That makes sense.  So it sounds like you’re a little worried you’ve chosen something that you can do, not necessarily something you want to do?

P: Yeah, pretty much.  I mean, I never really thought much about what I’d want to do for a major or a career.  I never thought I’d get this far.

A: That makes sense.  Do you want my advice?

P: Isn’t that the point of this question?  Also, yes, I’d want to hear it anyway.

A: I think you should just stick with it for this first semester, maybe this first year.  Most of the classes are gen eds anyway, so they’ll apply to any major.  Maybe keep an open mind during your classes and see if anything jumps out at you.  There might be something you’ve never even thought about that you end up loving.  And if you decide to change majors, I think that’s totally fine.  And I support you one hundred percent.

P: Thanks, Annabeth.  And I like that idea.  It makes sense.

A: Cool.  [leans forward and kisses him lightly on the lips].  So that’s the end of the questions.

P: Sweet.  Although that was kind of cool.  Is there anything else?

A: Yeah.  The last part is four minutes of eye contact.

P: Holy shit.  Four minutes?

A: That’s what it says.

P: Isn’t that awkward? A [rolls eyes]: Only if you make it that way, Seaweed Brain.  Just relax.  It’ll be fine.  [gets out phone for stopwatch again] Alright, time starts now.

[4 minutes elapse, which include some laughing, some comments, but also following the rules]

A: And that’s four minutes.  Done.

P: Cool.  So, what does that mean? A: Apparently we’re supposed to feel closer.  Do you think it worked?

P [considers]: Actually, yeah, I think so.  I mean, it was nice to talk about some different stuff that we might not have otherwise.  So yeah, I think it worked.

A: Agreed.  That was actually kind of fun.

P: Yeah.  But now can we just relax?  And maybe make out?  Just throwing that out there.

A: Gods, yes.

And that was the end of the question and answer portion of the evening.

[wiisagi-maiingan]

This is going to make me sound bitter so bear with me but I'm actually glad that Duolingo doesn't have Ojibwe. Not because I want my people's language locked behind a paywall or shit like that, but because Duolingo is actually going down hill real fucking fast and I genuinely think that any course they could possibly conceive of would just scare people away from trying to learn AND probably completely fuck over any speakers by teaching them incorrect grammar and pronunciation.

The recent removal of community features like forums and discussions is already very bad (and a scary omen for the direction the program is going in), but Duolingo's quality with regards to grammar and explanations and the like has massively declined over the years. Call me a conspiracy theorist if you want but I think a big part of the removal of the discussions was because of how many people were talking about problems with the grammar, wording, and "correct" answers on exercises. And so that a previously free feature could then be offered as a subscription-exclusive one instead but, y'know, that's just a given.

There aren't really any decent alternatives at the moment that match up to the quality that Duolingo become famous for in the first place. In our current capitalist hellscape, where profit HAS to come before anything else, I'm also not sure if any viable alternatives CAN be made without them becoming victims to the same enshittification that is killing Duolingo's usefulness now.

[beatriceeagle]

i wanted to send the part where bren tried to seduce beau and her reaction but it’s a bit longer than 500 words. so instead i’ll ask some questions (though feel free to talk about other aspects!!)

how did you come up with bren thinking that they were romantically involved?

what was beau thinking while they were dancing?

what do you imagine bren’s training was regarding charming and seducing people?

I have a million things to say about this section, so I'm gonna go ahead and give you the full essay, and make sure I answer those questions along the way. Heads up that there is non-graphic discussion of sexual abuse below the cut.

This was a scene that I actually went back and forth on a lot. I wasn't sure I wanted to include it, for a number of reasons: it's very sudden, and doesn't obviously play into the broader plot; it alludes to a very thorny aspect of Caleb's backstory that I knew I wasn't going to have space to fully unpack; and probably most of all, I kind of thought (and still think) that Beau would probably actually be aware of that aspect, so I was kind of suspending my own disbelief by having her go into it blind.

(I could probably have made the scene work even with Beau being aware, but it would have significantly changed the tenor of it. Also, a fun fact about me is that if I really like a joke and think it's in-character, I will fudge other aspects of canon to preserve it, and “If you’re secretly attracted to me, you have to tell me. It’s the bro code, I think," may be my favorite joke in this fic.)

I ultimately kept the scene because it's pulling weight in a lot of different ways. It puts the idea of sexual abuse very vividly in Beau's mind, which helps to prime her for the letter she discovers in the next chapter. It lays groundwork for the Essek plot line. And most importantly, it creates a foundation of trust between Bren and Beau, because Beau establishes a firm boundary in an area that Bren has been taught that his boundaries do not matter, and begins the process of establishing that her friendship and support are not transactional.

The answers to your specific questions, in order:

1. One of the fun parts of the very early chapters for me was digging into Bren's basic (extremely wrong) assumptions about the world. Among other things, it gave me the opportunity to imagine how Beau and Caleb's relationship would look to him, and the idea that he would mistake their relationship for romantic was the first thing I thought of. Their incredible closeness and affection is visibly obvious, and Bren believes them to be partners in capture and interrogation—and he is, after all, in love with both of his capture and interrogation partners.

2. As I said, I think in actual canon Beau would definitely be hearing alarm bells when Bren asked to dance. In this fic, however, she doesn't know about the seduction element of his training, and to her, dancing with Caleb is in no way romantically or sexually charged. It's something they've done many times before (as I allude to in the party at the Lavish Chateau). So Bren asking her to dance probably strikes her as, at worst, an avoidance strategy to deal with his feelings about having seen how different the dance hall looks. Which it is. Just not in the way she thinks.

3. Okay, this is basically all the stuff I didn't have space to unpack in the fic itself. I imagine that Ikithon's training covered, broadly, four subjects: magic (self-explanatory), history (propaganda), interrogation (torture), and spycraft. They all would have overlapped, but those would've been the four big areas. And what Bren thinks of as "spycraft" training was really an exercise in the systematic breaking down of his personal boundaries and sense of self.

Yes, they were taught all the things that Bren mentions when he talks to Beau about spycraft: ingratiate yourself with the subject, find commonalities and leverage, figure out what they want and present it to them. I'm sure they learned a lot about rhetoric and body language and tools of persuasion. But the actual key takeaway of those lessons wasn't any of that: it was that in order to do those things, they should be willing to go to any length, make any sacrifice, and cross any line. Their feelings shouldn't matter; their safety shouldn't matter; certainly the feelings and safety of their targets shouldn't matter. Only the mission should matter.

So I think that the lessons probably involved sexual abuse, not necessarily in the form of sexual contact, but in the form of overt and intentional boundary-pushing on topics of sex and romance. In fact, I think that there was probably overt boundary-pushing on a lot of topics. (I've thought a decent amount about how Eadwulf's religion could be transgressed in similar ways, for instance.) Because ultimately, the primary goal isn't an education on any particular topic; it's the systematic erosion of the concept of boundaries themselves.

[frownyalfred]

I know it can sound like a weird question, but I sincerely look up to you as a writer.

How do you keep motivation to write and plot such big/complex projects? And how do you have so much creativity to write so many things??

Thank you <333

Thank you anon! I definitely don't really feel like someone to look up to, but I really appreciate it.

Motivation is tricky. I would say it's generally fleeting -- what sticks around is habit. Building a routine where writing is an everyday (loose interpretation of the word) part of your life is important. It's kind of like finally settling into a good exercise routine; once you've really built a habit, it feels kind of awful to go without it for more than a few days.

Creativity is hard though. You can't always force it, routine or not. I've learned over the years what things or discussions spark creativity for me, such as discussing shows or movies with a friend, taking a walk and thinking through a plot, or scrolling through tumblr/tiktok to see what other people are talking about.

I think what helps me is that I'm slowly learning to be less critical about my work, and that leads to a much faster turn around on some fics. I often write things the same day I post them, and I'm okay when they don't do as well, because I got my thoughts down on paper and out, which is infinitely more important than sitting on them until they're perfect.

As for large or complex plots, I still struggle with this. I just messaged my beta this morning about borderline, who was (as they always are) infinitely useful. I think it helps to phrase plotting in terms of questions, possible answers, and problems. Waypoints and goals.

My problem today was simple -- how do I get from point A to point B in a realistic way? I had several potential answers and ten times as many issues with each one. They were able to offer a new answer that got my brain back on track, and it filled in the rest.

My advice, if you don't have an amazing beta like mine, is to find a friend or fellow fandom writer, or even a discord, to talk through your plotting with. Writers want to help you! So do readers. And even if the answers they offer aren't what you want, sometimes hearing what doesn't work tricks your brain into figuring out what does.

I will say that a not-insignificant part of my motivation in the past, and sometimes the present, is comments/asks. I really thrive on being validated with that kind of feedback, but I'm slowly learning to write without it or in the face of negative responses. It's a hard cycle to jump in and out of as a writer, because so much of the creative process can rely on readers or followers asking questions, expressing support, etc.

TL;DR: keep writing and make it a habit if possible. talk to fellow fandom creators and try to figure out what sparks ideas for you. and good luck <3

[julitapurity28]

From Surviving to Thriving: A Deep Dive into My Journey with Anxiety

Anxiety is a word that gets thrown around a lot these days. You hear it in conversations, read about it in articles, and see it depicted in movies. But no matter how universal it seems, experiencing anxiety is deeply personal—what it feels like, how it shows up, and how you deal with it. My journey with anxiety was no exception, and the lessons I’ve learned go beyond the clichés. This is the story I’ve never shared, a story not about a battle, but a transformation.

The Silent Language of My Mind

What nobody tells you about anxiety is that it doesn’t always scream. Mine didn’t. Instead, it whispered—constantly, relentlessly. It filled silences with a quiet hum of doubt and worry. It made me question my every decision, replay every conversation, and anticipate disasters that never came.

The worst part wasn’t the fear itself—it was the shame. I didn’t want to be seen as weak, so I buried it deep. The result? I became a master at surviving: smiling when I felt hollow, working harder to avoid facing myself, and pretending everything was fine. But surviving is exhausting. And I knew I couldn’t keep it up forever.

When Survival Became a Trap

What people don’t tell you about surviving is that it can become a prison. I thought I was managing my anxiety because I was getting through the days. But survival kept me small—it kept me from taking risks, speaking my mind, or dreaming big.

One day, I caught myself turning down an opportunity I secretly wanted because I was afraid of failing. That was my wake-up call. Surviving wasn’t enough anymore. I wanted to thrive, to live fully, to break free from the cycle of fear.

The Breakthrough Moment Nobody Talks About

The pivotal moment in my journey wasn’t glamorous or dramatic. It wasn’t a sudden epiphany or a life-changing event. It was this: I admitted, I don’t have all the answers, but I’m ready to try.

I stopped looking for a single solution and started experimenting. Some things worked, some didn’t, but every attempt taught me something. Anxiety is deeply personal, and so is healing. I learned that thriving doesn’t come from following someone else’s roadmap—it comes from building your own.

Redefining Strength: My Unconventional Tools

Most advice about managing anxiety centers around what to do: meditate, exercise, eat better. But what transformed me wasn’t just action; it was a shift in perspective. Here are some things that might surprise you:

1. I Befriended My Anxiety

Instead of fighting it, I started asking, What are you trying to tell me? Anxiety, I realized, was often a sign that I was pushing too hard, ignoring my needs, or stuck in old patterns. Treating it as a messenger rather than an enemy helped me work with it instead of against it.

2. I Stopped Trying to Be "Fixed"

There’s a myth that healing means eliminating anxiety. I let go of that. Instead, I focused on learning how to live with it. Some days are better than others, and that’s okay. Thriving isn’t about perfection—it’s about resilience.

3. I Created Space for Stillness

Anxiety thrives on noise—mental, emotional, and physical. I started carving out moments of stillness, even if just for five minutes. These weren’t moments to solve or fix anything; they were moments to simply be. This simple practice taught me to find calm even amidst chaos.

4. I Celebrated Tiny Wins

Thriving doesn’t happen in giant leaps; it happens in small, consistent steps. I started celebrating the little things: speaking up in a meeting, getting through a tough day, or even just choosing to rest when I needed it. Each win reminded me I was moving forward.

The Power of Rewriting My Narrative

Here’s something I don’t see discussed enough: anxiety often thrives on the stories we tell ourselves. Mine sounded like this: You’re not good enough. You’ll never get it right. What if you fail?

I started rewriting those narratives—not by denying them, but by challenging them. When the thought You’re not good enough popped up, I’d ask, Good enough for whom? I’d remind myself of times I had succeeded despite my fears. Slowly, the old stories lost their grip, and new ones took their place.

Thriving: What It Really Looks Like

Thriving isn’t a destination; it’s a way of being. For me, it looks like this:

Taking Risks Despite Fear: I’ve learned to step into discomfort, knowing that growth lives there.

Honoring My Needs: Whether it’s setting boundaries, saying no, or taking a break, I’ve learned to listen to myself.

Living Authentically: Thriving means showing up as I am, imperfections and all, and trusting that it’s enough.

Your Journey, Your Way

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that thriving doesn’t have a formula. It’s messy, nonlinear, and deeply personal. But it starts with one decision: to believe that you’re worthy of more than survival.

Wherever you are on your journey, know this: you are capable of transformation. Not because someone else says so, but because the strength you need is already within you. It’s not about becoming someone else; it’s about uncovering who you’ve always been beneath the fear.

Surviving may have been your starting point, but thriving? That’s your birthright.

What’s one step you can take today to start rewriting your story? Share it with me—I’d love to hear about your journey.

[out-of-users]

Bitches, I’m back. And with me, I brought…

KNY Hashira God AU!

Chapter 3: Brutal training, and big boulders

When Tanjiro agreed to train under Urokodaki, he was not expecting this.

Training to worship correctly was the easy part, but training to fight? Oh hell no. He’d be forced to do 100 pushups, but if one was faulty, he’d be doing 200 more.

The only reason he was hanging on was for his sister, still dead asleep.

So that’s how he ended up in this situation, one of Urokodaki’s swords in his hand, slashing at a training dummy. He was on his 50th, when he slashed wrong.

“Do 100 more,” Rang Urokodaki’s voice, clear and gruff. “And don’t stop.”

The red-haired boy could only let out a small hum of agreement, already focused on completing the task.

Days turned into weeks, into months, and then, a year had passed.

He’d been up and down mountains, through waterfalls, done so many new forms of exercise to the point he couldn’t breathe for a few minutes, and learned an entire breathing style, along with total concentration breathing, so of course he thought he was ready for the famously known to all aspiring shrine keepers, final selection.

So one day, after they finished training, he asked the fated question.

“Urokodaki-San, am I ready?” He inquired, ready for any answer. But instead of a yes of a no, he got an unclear answer.

“Meet me at sunrise, in the start of the woods.” He replied. And that was the end of that discussion, until the next morning.

Tanjiro had gotten up exactly at sunrise, gotten himself together, and went to the start of the woods, like he was asked to. He was met with Urokodaki already there, leading him to a clearing with a large boulder in the middle, a rope attached all around.

Urokodaki put a sword in his hand, and with a serious tone, he declared…

“I have nothing left to teach you. When you cut this boulder, you will be allowed to go into the final selection.” And then, he left.

Tanjiro wanted to say he was joking, but he clearly wasn’t.

Even after calling his name, the mentor didn’t return, and Tanjiro’s mind started to wrap around the point that he might never get to final selection. Cutting off heads of training dummies, and avoiding traps was one thing, but cutting a boulder in two?

Best just admit defeat, his sword was sure to snap. But he couldn’t. He was risking the safety of his sister, who hadn’t moved in ages, still a demon, and though they’d been taking care of her, still nothing happened.

So if doing this would bring him closer to the cure, closer to getting the Nezuko back he missed dearly, so be it.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! That was the most prominent sound in the small clearing as Tanjiro’s sword kept hitting pure stone, and doing nothing, to his despair.

He tried for days, weeks even, slashing it with his sword, even headbutting it, but each day to no avail. He was about to lose all hope, when a snap of a twig alerted him. He looked around, but saw nobody, until-

“Look at yourself, that’s not manly at all. Get up, now.” The voice came from on top of the rock, and for a minute, he thought he was just dreaming.

Standing on said rock were two kitsune, each with their own masks. By the looks of it, the one who spoke was the taller one with a mask, a peach colored scar on one of the cheeks, introducing himself as Sabito, the other, shorter one had a blue and yellow flower on it, introducing herself as Makomo.

Usually, Tanjiro would have been in awe, I mean if there were two kitsune in front of you, it would be an impressive shock, yes? But something was off.

They weren’t here for a casual chat, were they?

“You’re training to fight and slay demons, to protect the gods and Mankind?” Sabito asked, almost intimidatingly.

Tanjiro had heard this speech multiple times, and though he was doing this to save his sister, this reason was also a fair one.

“Yes.” His reply was almost instant.

“Then why in the world are you sitting here, moping around? That’s not manly at all, much less a good idea.” His stern words left the clearing silent. “Now, try to cut that boulder again.”

“But I’ve been trying! It doesn’t work!” Tanjiro looked at Sabito like he had two heads, and was speaking a different language, after he told him to try again. Had he not seen Tanjiro try for ages now?

“If I cut mine, you can cut yours. But seeming as you can’t, fight me right here, right now.” He pulled out a wooden sword, and got into the same position as Tanjiro was.

“But..I’ll hurt you!” Tanjiro almost shouted. “I’m using metal, you’re using only a wood sword!”

“No, you won’t.” And that was the last thing Sabito said, before he launched himself at Tanjiro.

A/N: HHHHHOLY SHIT THIS IS LONG OVERDUE! As I like to say, my need for motivation is chronic, but this chapter is iconic. I really enjoy writing this, one of the big reasons was Sabito, (he’s one of my favorite characters lmao), and now y’all have a little badly written cliffhanger to eat up- Take care my guys, gals, and non-binary pals!

-Roman

[howlingday]

The scene from the Simpson where Moe teaches a dancing self defense class, but it’s Jaune lecturing Cardin, Sun, Yang, and Ren as Ruby watches from the doorway.

"Self-defense Dance Classes?" Ruby Rose repeated, reading the classroom door sign.

She peered inside, finding Cardin Winchester, Sun Wukong, Neptune Vasilias, Yatsuhashi Daichi, and her older sister, Yang Xiao Long, seated across from a blackboard. Next to the desk, Lie Ren sat politely, clipboard in hand. Everyone else had pencil and paper, eager to learn.

"Everyone good?" The instructor, Jaune Arc, asked. He was wearing a black T-shirt and gray slacks. He sat halfway on his desk, arms folded. Jaune loved dancing, so she wasn't surprised to find him teaching a dance class. "Everyone here, Ren?"

"Present and accounted for, Professor Arc." A few students snickered at the name.

"Alright, let's pick up back where we left off last class." Jaune stood up, rounding the desk to the blackboard. "Who can tell me to five injuries that could result from a misstep?"

Yang raised her hand, which Jaune pointed to. "A fractured ass?" The students giggled.

"I see that story left an impression." He wrote on the board, 'tailbone'. "And yes, landing the wrong way on your ass can leave you not wanting to sit for weeks. How should you land if you fall?" Sun and Cardin raised their hands. "Cardin?"

"On your ass."

"Yeah, it should be your ass, but what part of your ass?" He pointed. "Sun?"

"On your ass CHEEKS." Sun specified. "The bigger the better!" The students chuckled, while Jaune drew two Cs.

"Yup, that's right." Jaune nodded. "But don't forget to diet and exercise. Make it big, if you want, but don't put your health at risk."

Ruby watched in awe of the classroom, and especially Jaune's teaching skills. She felt like she was learning a lot from this one class. Minutes flew by as she watched dances moves, safety, and spacial awareness were discussed.

"Okay, now for a demonstration." Jaune took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Alright, here's the 4-1-1, folks; let's say some gangsta is dissin' your fly girl." Jaune opened his eyes. "Relax, stay calm, and give 'im one of these."

Ren clicked on the beatbox and funky music began playing. Jaune lept in the air, and began strutting in place, keeping his arms and legs moving, but close to his body. As fast as she blinked, his body writhed like a wet noodle, and he moved closer and closer to the students. Before he reached, he lept backwards, landing on his hands then back to his feet. Reaching back as if to flip again, Jaune pulled out a familiar musket, and fired three rounds into the air, startling the students, Ruby included.

"And that," Jaune panted, "is how you use different styles to blend into a funky distraction, before retrieving your weapon and saving your fine ass honey from a bad rep. Ya dig?"

The students clapped as Jaune wiped his brow. He smiled and made his way to the door. Ruby was caught by surprise and could only yelp as it came open. Jaune chuckled.

"Sorry, I was just-"

"No, no, it's fine, Ruby." Jaune waved off. "But it's a lot more fun in there than out here." He turned back to the class. "That's it for tonight. I'll be here next month, and remember that twerking, while arousing, is not an effective self-defense method."

As the students left, thanking Jaune for teaching them, they all traded ideas for different tactics and exercises to practice. Soon, Ruby was left alone with Jaune.

"I, uh, don't really think dancing is my thing. Especially if it's in front of people."

"I understand, but I think you could really benefit from it." Jaune smiled. "Maybe even toss in a few rifle shots, too.

"Really?" Ruby asked. "But how? Crescent Rose is pretty big. Way bigger than that musket."

"True," Jaune nodded, "but have you considered keeping low to the ground, and using it's weight as a counter balance?"

"Kind of." Ruby shrugged. "Where are you going with this?"

"Tell me, Ruby," Jaune placed a hand on her shoulder, "what do you know about breakdancing?"

[thefirstknife]

I have a question regarding the Witness' motivations and emotions, particularly in response to Byf's interpretation of them (not to be derisive of Byf, I enjoy his content.)

In two of his videos regarding the Witness and its goals, Byf discusses the idea that the Witness is obsessed with control, with dominating both its enemies and its own forces, imposing its will on the universe. However, I feel like this has ignored some of the points that have been raised by other lore analysts, mainly the idea that the Witness seems to view suffering itself as a cruel fate, and that through exercising its will to conquer and either destroy/subjugate species, it is leading to the endgoal of either reducing existence to lifelessness, or escaping the universal cycle of life entirely.

What is your opinions on this? I lean more towards the idea of the Witness being disgusted with the 'cruelty of living,' which has some basis in the rage that Mara felt in the Inspiral entry dealing with her encounter, and it is trying to impose its own 'Final Shape' of universal simplicity in order to try reduce all living things, thereby in its own view reducing suffering. The idea that the Witness simply seeks to control everything seems somewhat reductive.

Apologies if this question appears vague or fragmented.

Yeah, I agree that it's probably more complex than just control. Control is definitely a part of it and a very big part, but I also feel there's more to it. The single-minded focus on achieving the Final Shape, to me, seems like more than just the Witness trying to simply be in control. I feel like it genuinely believes into what it's trying to do. The kind of a bad guy who think they're correct and that they are making things better sort of thing.

Especially with how it talked to the Traveler, or rather the Gardener. Saying "be free." That's the opposite of control. As you said, the bit about the cruelty of living seems to be a huge point for it. It said something about it in WQ and it said it again to the Traveler in Lightfall. A bit post-Lightfall, I believed that the Witness' Final Shape is to revert or remove the rules of the game placed into the universe by the Gardener. Return to how things were before the universe existed, possibly start anew. It's still an interesting theory to me! It would mean that the Witness genuinely just wants to start over and thinks everything and everyone would be better for it. More than just wanting to be in control of the universe. Again, control plays a part 100% but I feel there's more to it than that. Especially given the whole "rage" thing.

Hopefully we'll get to learn more about the Witness soon!

[neuroglitch]

I think metacognitive therapy might be kinda .. cult-ish?

Like it's been rubbing me the wrong way since it was introduced to me through a course I happened to be a part of in my internship. The claims of metacognitive therapy are somewhat controversial, yet from the getgo this lady (the leader of the whole "movement" in my country, no less) came at it with an attitude of "i have found the truth and I'm here to enlighten you". The course contained a lot of arguments and exercises - allegedly the same used on clients - designed to make us realize the self-evident nature of her claims. According to her, metacognitive therapy could treat anything!! Better than anything else!! "It's clinically proven!! I've seen it happen!!" She was a master at deflecting genuine questions about obvious edge cases.

I was scrolling through a closed fb group for psychologists in my country tonight. Someone had shared an article from a big newspaper about how this promising new type of therapy (metacognitive therapy) might become the solution we've been looking for to fix the rise in mental health issues. Heated discussion below. It's a controversial therapy for sure.

I was thinking of how many laymen I've talked to lately who specifically want metacognitive therapy bc they've heard "it really works". And that friend whose bf's doctor talked him into finding a therapist, but it HAD to be metacognitive, even though the guy's issues and personality in no way suggested this (and it resulted in him not going to therapy despite desperately needing it, because no metacognitive therapists were available). I thought about why the fuck the GP has an opinion on what kinda therapist this guy needs, and how preposterous that is.

I thought again about these courses and the underlying theme of "turns out all of therapy ever is just so silly!! If we just do this exact thing for 8-10 sessions we can fix everything better than anyone else! All you have to do is to Believe. And then all you have to do is to use the same techniques we used to make YOU believe, to make your clients believe.

(Basically she claimed directly when asked that chronic mental illness would not - could not - be a thing, if people were just offered the right metacognitive treatment. Imagine my bafflement. )

And then I scrolled down, and someone had asked if anyone who did metacognitive therapy had an opening, bc a friend asked them to look for a metacognitive therapists but they are all in such high demands so it's hard to find. And someone responded something along the lines of "I'm on my way home from the level 2 meta education in Oxford and ..."

And it just hit me like a ton of bricks. This sounds like a damn cult. Like that sounds like some Scientology bullshit.

I haven't investigated a lot yet, but I'm not particularly surprised to learn that "although the evidence-base for MCT is promising and growing, it is important to note that most clinical trials investigating MCT are characterized by small and select samples and potential conflict of interests as its originator is involved in most clinical trials conducted." (Quoted from Wikipedia, I'm too tired to do further research so take it for what it is).

Ps. I'm not saying it's actually a cult and also I haven't done proper research on this concern, but I am definitely sceptical of what they are selling..

[localplaguenurse]

Thinking about dad!Zhongli adjusting to having a son, do you think he'll finally have to exercise some financial responsibility?

I mean, I get it, this guy literally made Mora and could presumably make more if he wasn't posing as an ordinary human, but I can just see Mama side-eying him if he were to try putting it on the Funeral Parlor's tab like he does sometimes. Especially as she had to be careful with her finances raising Kei mostly on her own.

Also, just thinking about the extra expenses for two people having to stay for longer than exoecred in Liyue makes me wince. Are they still covered for by the publishing house? Mama and Kei will probably need things like more clothes and other necessities. Maybe we will get to see her in a high cut cheongsam (and unintentionally giving Zhongli Problems) sometime! At least Kei will look precious?

Also, could I ask about the timeline? Since Mama received news of Rex Lapis being dead but the Sakoku/Vision Hunt Decree is still active, thus after the Traveller completed Liyue's Archon Quests but before they began or finish Inazuma's.

It'd be real funny if all the delays (because I'm pretty sure Zhongli is going to pull strings to keep them around for longer, based on his reaction to finding out she's affiliated with the Yae Publishing House) cause them to miss out on the decrees being revoked.

Some of these are points I'm going to go over in the fic, so I'm not gonna get too in detail. The money thing was actually one of the first things beta and I discussed because she actually kinda sorta hates the constant "haha Zhongli poor man" trope. I told her that I am going to bring that up a few times, but it'd be at least semi justified because the man literally just found out he has a son, he hasn't learned the art of single parent budgeting, and oh boy is he about to. As for Mama and the publishing house, don't worry, Yae Miko is a real one.

This is a micro spoiler but I mentioned it in a comment at some point: where we are right now in the genshin timeline is around the time Teucer pops up in Liyue and before Traveler leaves for Inazuma. Part of the reason I gave Mama appendicitis, on top of giving Kei and Zhongli a chance to bond, was because recovery is gonna take a while (it took me a month before I was allowed to go back to work), and by the time she's 100% in the clear, it will be around the time the decrees are being lifted. Give or take.

Maybe we'll get some cheongsam action, maybe we won't. All I can say is no smut except for what happens in the first chapter, the rest is up to you my dear... (just make sure they're being more careful than last time, it's too soon to make Kei a big brother!)