#this had me cracking open the book

[demialwrites]

This is after the Shinra building is hit and Rufus is moved to Kalm. Continuation of this

You sat on the bed in the second store of a house on the Shinra-owned property in Kalm. It was a miracle that Rufus survived at all. You should be concentrating on that fact but the chaos makes it difficult. Rufus is sitting in his wheelchair, staring out the window at the refugees from Midgar streaming into Kalm. You want to ask him what he thinks will happen next and what you should be doing, but you don't want to break his concentration. He's not even resting his cheek in his hand, like usual.

"This is just a transition to something else," Rufus says out of nowhere.

"To what?" The words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

"No one knows the answer to that."

Of course. You shouldn't have asked. If only you didn't have to rely on someone else like this, your guilt says, joining the chaotic swirl of other emotions inside you.

"Not yet," Rufus adds, a minute later.

You go to ask him what he means so you can continue to hold onto the sliver of hope those two words bring you, but then the doorbell rings. It's too early for the Turks to return from their current assignment and also, they would call first. Rufus sits up straighter.

"Hide," he orders.

You obey immediately, sliding behind the bed against the wall.

The men who eventually break into the house argue with Rufus while you lie, frozen, in your tiny slot of space. It feels smaller and smaller the more the argument drags on. Rufus is bullshitting his way out of it best he can; you can tell. But he's in rough shape and can't fight his way out of this when words won't work. Ultimately, the men get frustrated with him and Rufus falls silent. What you hear them say each other tells you they're kidnapping him. It's not hard to figure out why. People want what others have, especially when desperate. The men carry your sliver of hope out the door.

After some silence, you pull yourself up from behind the bed. That they left the wheelchair behind somehow makes it much worse. You call Tseng.

"Hello." His tone indicates he's in professional mode.

"They took Rufus."

"Who did?" Tseng asks, without asking what happened.

"I don't know. They didn't say any names."

There's a pause and then, "Leave the house. Wait somewhere out of sight. I'm sending Reno and Rude to your location."

Tseng hangs up. You normally bristle at being spoken to like you're one of them but today, there's no time for that petty feeling.

You're taken to a Shinra company house in Sector 5, the only individual who is not a Turk that is being allowed inside. Admittedly, it gives you the only little bit of positive excitement in recent days.

So maybe that's why you're standing here, defiantly telling Tseng, "I can't just sit here and do nothing."

You're finishing up a private discussion before the Turks have a bigger discussion about what to do next. About how to find the president.

"I have to know you're safe," he says quietly, but with finality.

You feel chastised but then he presses his forehead to yours, his hand in the back of your hair, holding you like something precious. Right. He can't lose you, too. Not before they find Rufus. You knew you would have to be truly useless one day. It hurts. But you have to endure it.

"Sorry. I won't do anything. I'll be good."

Tseng hugs you tight and kisses your temple. Then he leaves your space, letting anxiety fill it in, to go talk to the others. You have to be good and sit and wait.

[afniel]

Going into The Fight (trying to sleep without jumpscaring myself awake over nothing (in which 'nothing' is spiders, hornets, or most recently a creepy closet door that opens, I guess? that's what got me last night. twice)) wish me luck

[erros429]

drives me a little mad when people say that they didn’t see the romantic tension in beacon bees era…… like first of all, if you didn’t see the chemistry in burning the candle then you’re very clearly just not looking . and second of all, of COURSE they were going to interact like friends. because that’s what they WERE at the time. like?? what do people not understand about friends to lovers?? the buildup for us may have been 10 years, but for them it was like. 2. and for a good chunk of that, they were separated and healing from trauma so obviously it was gonna take them this long. use your brains to think critically, i know you can do it .

[firstwcman]

family: doing fine. no need to sleep. : )

lilith:

( encyclopedia of herbal medicine - 550 herbs and remedies for common ailments )

[catzgam3rz]

My uncle gave me all his D&D 3.5 and Pathfinder books last June and I never actually got around to sorting them but I guess today is the day ;w;

(Yes all four boxes are full of books and they aren’t sorted so that’s up to me too!)

[samuraisharkie]

I have never been more furious at my issues with reading quickly.

[konstantya]

Welp, just found some reasonable copies of Jean Ferris' Into the Wind trilogy, and all from the same bookseller, so I finally sprang for them.

[eclipsecrowned]

now ex-friend spends all of yesterday talking about how she thinks she has serious problems and should maybe go to therapy, which everyone agrees with given her pattern of behavior getting worse over the last few years. it was enough to give me pause in following through bc 'shit i don't want to be the asshole that leaves a friend when they genuinely need help and support/if this is a temporary issue she just needs help to overcome' and thank god for pupper and ax hog-tying me and dragging me away from that belief.

because.

mutual third party informs me this morning i made the right decision in cutting her loose bc her messages to them are just 'maybe i should get back into h*rry p*tter to cope UwU i shouldn't give up on my writing UwU' and literally says this is the best thing for her to do like multiple people online and irl haven't said 'yeah it sounds like you are genuinely going through it girl maybe some outside help is the key.'

[britneyshakespeare]

should i start reading russian avant-garde theater

[nighthawkes]

rediscover the euphoria of checking out a book from the library

[captainadwen]

sometimes i wish i could turn off days like hitting a light switch when im done with a room

[abigailspinach]

I mentioned how expert and exacting Chaz became in my care. Now I must tell you of her love. In the hospital, day after day, she was my staff of strength. In the rehabilitations she cheered me through every faltering step, and when I looked at a flight of three steps I was intended to climb, it was her will that helped me lift my feet. To visit a hospital is not pleasant. To do it hundreds of times is heroic.

The TV show was using “guest co-hosts” and Richard Roeper held down the fort. But after the first surgery failed and I nearly died, it must have been clear to her that my TV days were over. She never admitted it. She had faith, she encouraged me, her presence gave me strength. She brought my friends to see me. Studs Terkel came several times. Father Andrew Greeley was cheerful and optimistic. She brought McHugh and Mary Jo, Gregory Nava, Jon and Pamela Anderson, the mayor’s wife Maggie Daley, the actress Bonnie Hunt (who had once been an oncology nurse at Northwestern). Chaz had become friends with the healer Caroline Myss, and brought her to my bedside to evoke positive thoughts. I did not and do not believe in that kind of healing, but I see only good in the feelings it can engender. I am no longer religious, but every single day Chaz took my hand before she left and recited the 23rd Psalm and the Lord’s Prayer, and from this I took great comfort.

After I was allowed to return home for the first time, Chaz decided I was ready for the Pritikin Longevity Center near Miami. We’d been going to Pritikin, first in Santa Monica and then Florida, since before we were married, and their theories about diet and exercise became gospel to me (sometimes more in the breach than the observance). I had for years been an enthusiastic walker, but now, after rehabilitation, I was using a stroller and it was slow going.

I couldn’t eat the largely vegetarian diet at Pritikin, but Chaz knew the cooks would blend a liquid diet to supplement my cans of nutrition. She also informed me that I was going to walk, exercise, and get a lot of sunshine. Because it was painful to sit in most chairs, Pritikin found me a reclining chair that faced a big TV. I had brought along a pile of books. I cracked open the sliding doors and a fragrant breeze came in, and I would have been completely content to stay there just like that. It was not to be. Chaz ordered me on my feet for morning and afternoon walks, with my caregivers trailing along behind me with a wheelchair. I’d go as far as I thought I could, and Chaz would unfailingly pick out a farther goal to aim for. She was relentless.

In the gym everyday I cranked through 20 minutes on the treadmill and then worked out with weights and exercise bands. After the gym she took me outside to sit in the sun for half an hour. She explained how natural Vitamin D would help strengthen my bones, which were weakened during the muscular degeneration of weeks of post-surgical bed rest. I resented her unceasing encouragement. I was lazy. It was ever so much preferable to sit and read. But she was making me do the right thing.

She did it all over again after my next three tours through the Rehabilitation Institute. Four times I learned to walk again, and each time she took me to Pritikin or Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Mexico, which I had grown to love. I parked the wheelchair for good, I was no longer using a stroller, I was walking, not quickly or for miles, but walking. And getting Vitamin D. At home, we took walks around the neighborhood and down to the Lily Pond in Lincoln Park. We began to go to all the screenings again. She found Dr. Mark Baker, an exercise therapist, to regularly work with me.

It must not have been the most pleasant thing in the world to trail along as I walked slowly. She must have wished we could still be taking our trips overseas. When she thought I was ready for it, she took me back to London and Cannes, and every autumn to the Toronto festival. I know that left on my own I would have stayed at home in my favorite Relax-the-Back chair. That I am still active, going places, moving, in good health, is directly because of her.

We planned all along to produce a show that would continue the Siskel & Ebert & Roeper tradition. Chaz did all the heavy lifting, the negotiations, the contracts. We were going to be the co-producers, but I told her she was born for the job. She repeatedly told me I needed to appear more on the show, even with my computer voice. My instinct was to guard myself. I can never be on television as I once was. She said, “yes, but people are interested in what you have to say, not in how you say it.” The point is not which of us in correct. The point is that she’s encouraging me. She has more faith in me than I do.

I sensed from the first that Chaz was the woman I would marry, and I know after 20 years that my feelings were true. She has been with me in sickness and in health, certainly far more sickness than we could have anticipated. I will be with her, strengthened by her example. She continues to make my life possible, and her presence fills me with love and a deep security. That’s what a marriage is for. Now I know. 

[mayordeas-clone]

genuinely, where the actual hell would i be today if i didn't just decide to get back into vocaloid music for the heck of it during the pandemic

[lazaruspiss]

so the good news is that yes a lot of people can wrap their brain around the concept of there being different rules for childrens content and 18+ fanfiction. the bad news is that there is a weird amount of people who need to read more ie: the definition of media and the articles that they assume agree with them based off of title.

People know that the whole "don't portray [harmful action] because viewers might recreate it" thing is a rule for children's shows right? It's supposed to be shit like "don't show peppa pig playing with fire so we don't get sued if a kid watches it and burns their house down." Not like, fanfiction for adults.

Edit: this was me venting about fandom cops. not me making some nuanced hot take. don't be weird in my comments.

[cactustreesmotel]

top 3 books you want to read this summer

this ask is making me stare at my bookshelf in despair (so many books so little time...) but first of all: finish harlem shuffle!! then read trumpet by jackie kay!! and then hopefully read come, thou tortoise by jessica grant before september!!

[pseudowho]

"--and this is the staffroom," Gojo sing-songed, swinging open the door on your First Day Tour, with you a few steps behind him, "--ah! And that's Nanamin. Say hi, Nanamin!"

A tall, suited blond man looked up from his spot on the sofa as you peered in; at first, he simply nodded to you, disinterested. Then, Gojo spoke again while leading you out.

"--he's not very fun, don't worry-- no sense of humour."

Your final glimpse as the door closed, was of the blond man's irritated scowl.

It was true; Kento clearly didn't make people laugh, for he was either too mean or too subtle to be funny. This was the case, at least, until you. And you had no idea what your laughter did to him.

You had formed an alliance of respect, an easy bond that would have been camaraderie if not for Kento's standoffishness. You felt him hover nearby on joint missions, close enough to lunge to your rescue, but far enough that he could resist your magnetism.

Talking, and surveying the abandoned school, you spoke aloud as you walked down the stairs.

"So perhaps I'll take the East Wing, and you take the We--ergh!"

You reeled back, having walked headfirst into a buckled ceiling. Kento stepped to your aid, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and lifting your chin to look at your forehead. He huffed, barely a puff of breath through his nose, wiping dust from your forehead before grumbling.

"You'll be alright. Not much in there, anyway."

You burst into laughter, and Kento electrified, absolutely rigid. You patted his chest, still giggling as you walked away, cooing back over your shoulder in a way that utterly melted him.

"So mean."

You soon learned that Nanami Kento was possibly the funniest man at Jujutsu High. Dry and unforgiving in a way that made your brittle colleagues crumble, you found yourself, instead, choking back laughter every time he crippled one with another savage put-down.

When Yuuji arrived late to a mission, Kento stepped over to him and, poe-faced, pulled up his shirtsleeve to show Yuuji his wrist.

"This," Kento hummed, flat, "is a watch. You can buy one at any good supermarket."

When a waiter slopped coffee over Kento's shoulder, Kento dabbed at it to the waiter's frantic, apologetic bowing. Kento raised a placating hand and insisted to the confused waiter.

"It's alright. I never liked this suit anyway."

When you stood at the staffroom window with him, watching a monsoon in companionable silence, Kento murmured over the rim of his mug.

"Lovely day."

He had timed it just-so, and barely concealed his lopsided smirk when you choked on your tea. Shoko walked in, drenched, looking at you and Kento in dismay. You coughed, opening your mouth to speak, but Kento got there first, firing shots.

"Is it raining?"

Shoko scoffed, sputtering, while you buckled against the windowsill.

Kento grabbed a hand towel and an umbrella, heading to the door. As Shoko reached for the towel, Kento pressed the umbrella into her hands instead, his expression flat, but his voice edged with a feral pleasure that made you come undone.

"You'll need this."

Kento's meanness was tempered only by his self-deprecation, and when you took as good as you gave, you felt his icey facade melt away completely, revealing such warmth.

It was no wonder you were drawn to each other, when the only reason neither of you laughed together, was because you were in a constant stand-off for who could remain poe-faced the longest. Kento always won.

Still, you felt the need to break him; you had cracked smiles, or the occasional chuckle out of him, but nothing more. You knew nothing more than the truest irony would do it.

The day came; you arrived, to your usual staffroom rendezvous, covered in blood. Kento paled, abandoning his book to rise immediately and reach you in three long strides.

"--you're hurt-- we'll go to Sho--"

"Kento. Stop. It's not my blood-- it's Gojo's."

Kento did a double-take, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, so you explained.

"Gojo invited himself to teach me about Curses that are 'above my paygrade', so he took me to one. I told him this Curse was clearly more powerful than it looked, and Gojo told me to step back so he could handle it. Said he'd even do it without his Infinity on. So I stepped back."

Kento's nose flared, barely perceptible.

"...and?"

You took a deep breath. "So, Gojo has a broken nose--"

Kento broke down with a wheeze, before bursting into a rich, deep rolling laughter that split the clouds with sun. His hands clasped the windowsill, his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders shook with wicked, throaty mirth.

You felt yourself becoming drunk off him, utterly intoxicated by his laughter. Kento couldn't stop himself, trembling with schadenfreude to the point of indecency.

Finally, sighing and straightening as if exhausted, Kento wiped his eyes with the side of his finger, and smiled at you with sweet adoration. Laughter still threatened to break through as he begged you.

"Would you-- would you like to go out for dinner? With me?"

You paused, your expression pained.

"Ah...no. No, thank you."

Kento froze, his face beginning to fall. You looked down at yourself, and announced, still deadpan.

"It's just-- I'm covered in blood, you see--"

That sent Kento over the edge again.

You remained content throughout the years of your marriage, for Nanami Kento to be viewed by others as boring and humourless. You found yourself jealously greedy of his rare laughter, anyway.

After marriage, you viewed it as the highest badge of honour to make him laugh like that while he was buried inside you.