#we don't owe you 'normalcy'

[s1mons1mons1]

will never stop thinking about how, despite how many times you tell people, they will say they understand a character/person's mental state, issues, conditions, and mental disabilities... and then act like what you told them went in one ear and out the other. it's always a thing i see. holding a person/character accountable for their actions is important yes, but saying you understand what they suffer from/how they live their life with what they have and then joking about them, saying they're creepy/"uncanny", and not considering it could be none of your business is kind of,,, no very much infuriating.

i feel so bad when people like me who already find it hard to live/have found a comfortable way of living with conditions they have get judged/prodded and poked at like a scared animal in a corner. i am not something you can just observe behind a glass. while i can't stop you judging me i really don't wanna hear your half assed unconsensual opinion on what i should do to "cure" my mental disabilites/conditions. my life will not stop or get worse because i didn't take your advice.

[irisintheafterglow]

[bernie sanders voice] i am once again.. thinking about coparenting megumi with boyfriend!satoru.

"so you're both megumi's..."

"guardians," you smile politely, praying stupid shit doesn't leave the mouth of the boy next to you. it's wishful thinking.

"yes," he beams so tenderly that you resist the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust. he takes your clammy hand lightly in his and turns back to megumi's teacher. "we had him young." a soft ow comes from under satoru's breath as you kick him under the table, forcing an expression of normalcy onto your face.

you hated parent-teacher conferences because it reminded you just how abnormal megumi and tsumiki's situation was. they had no parents, nor did they have any close relatives that cared for them the way a family should. that left you and the white-haired idiot in the tiny seat next to you to fill in that duty, and between missions and training students, you weren't around as often as you wanted to be.

"i...see," the teacher says hesitantly, eyeing your boyfriend with obvious unease. after a moment, she regains her composure and refocuses on you completely. "is there anything you wish to discuss before we begin?"

"not for me, no."

"when can we get him bumped up a grade? or have him skip one altogether?" every single word that comes from satoru's mouth is a joke but it still has your face burning with embarrassment that you were associated with him. "you know, i skipped a few grades when i was young."

"i can tell," you whisper and he pinches the flesh of your thigh between two fingers in defiance.

"i believe that skipping grades would be unwise at this time, as we haven't done any testing yet-"

"he was kidding, i swear," you say apologetically and, thankfully, the teacher continues as if on a script.

"i see. well, megumi is progressing wonderfully in the class. he's very adept at reading and writing, but he does struggle with math sometimes. it's nothing to be worried about; many children struggle with math at his age." you nod in understanding but grimace inwardly. megs always wanted you to help him with math homework since satoru became frustrated with the problems faster than the actual 2nd grader.

"for being the strongest, he's not that smart," megumi stated bluntly one night while you helped him on a coffee table in the teacher's lounge. you'd sent satoru on a walk around campus after his distress was clearly bothering megumi, who ended up suffering more from satoru's "help" than benefiting. "you're not around that much anymore to help me so i don't know what to do." his tiny eyebrows furrow and you reach out to run your fingers through his spiky black hair.

"i'm really sorry i'm not around as much anymore. do you want me to ask nanami? he handles math all the time."

"i think that'd be worse than satoru."

"you can't get much worse than satoru, buddy," you concede and his mouth turns up a little bit. nothing like a little insulting his mentor to get the boy's mood improved. still, his frown returns like it's his default expression.

"what if i can't do it? what if i'm not like everyone else?" it made your chest ache in a different way when megumi or his sister said something like that, like they were well aware that they weren't normal children. your heart panged for them and mourned their loss of a "normal" childhood just because they were born into a big three clan. it wasn't fair and it was something you lamented to satoru almost every week. you couldn't tell the boy any of that, though, no matter how much you wanted to explain why he wasn't like the rest of the kids in his class.

"just try your best, okay? sometimes, that's all we can do. you're already doing great by asking for help. it's not your fault if someone doesn't know how to help you, so just keep trying." he nodded determinedly; after another hour past dinnertime, you finally finished walking him through the rest of the problems while satoru draped his lanky body over the couch behind you, watching defeatedly over your shoulder.

"is there anything we can do to help him with math?" you ask, unconsciously weaving your fingers with satoru's and giving it a light squeeze. he squeezes back three times. i-love-you.

"he just needs a little reassurance that he's on the right track sometimes."

"mmm, don't we all," you murmur and you don't expect the teacher to laugh softly under her breath, muttering her agreement. before you know it, you've organized megumi's papers into his folder and picked him up from the playground outside his classroom, taking his hand as you walk back to the car.

"your teacher says you're doing well in class."

"really?"

"mhmm, though i didn't need her to tell me that since i already know." you shoot him a small smile, leaning into satoru's body as his arm wraps around your torso. "you, however, need to learn some manners," you lightheartedly tease, knocking your elbow against his abs. "you were not helping in there, you menace."

"it was boring, what do you want me to do?" his tone is so carefree, so comfortingly satoru it made your heart melt.

"it's a parent-teacher conference, not parents. you could have waited outside if you were so bored. went to play on the playground or something." his head dips close to your ear and you feel some strands of his hair brush against your skin.

"but then i don't get to watch you be all mature and put-together."

"trying to follow my example?"

"trying to break your composure," he corrects with a sly grin. "i'm the fun one, after all."

"that's one way to put it," megumi deadpans without hesitation and you stifle a snort.

"i'm one of a kind!"

"you're out of your mind, is what you are." before he can protest, you press a kiss to his cheek and he turns a slightly opaquer shade of pink. "but i wouldn't have you any other way."

[its-avalon-08]

could you do a schumacher!daughter reader fic pretty please😇 somethin g soft and sweet

anon you read my mind <3

little schumi (ms7!daughter)

(p.s. i showed by father this gif and he has tears in his eyes, side note: my dad loves michael schumacher)

The familiar scent of burnt rubber and ozone hung heavy in the air as Y/N Schumacher navigated the bustling Formula One paddock. Unlike her brother Mick, who was gearing up for qualifying, Y/N never felt the pull of the racetrack. Instead, she gravitated towards the human stories that unfolded around it.

A gruff but gentle hand landed on her shoulder. "There you are, little Schumi," boomed a voice that could only belong to Kimi Raikkonen. Y/N grinned, returning the signature Kimi side-eye. "Kimi! Did you see Valtteri's new helmet design? It's outrageous!"

Kimi snorted. "Looks like a flock of angry parrots attacked it." They shared a laugh, their easy camaraderie a testament to the years Y/N had spent soaking up the paddock atmosphere. Every driver, engineer, and mechanic knew her, a familiar smile in a world of high-octane adrenaline.

Fernando Alonso, a close friend of her father's, spotted them and sauntered over. "How's my favorite Schumi doing today?" he asked, ruffling her hair. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't you have a qualifying session to win, Fernando?"

"Practice makes perfect, but spending time with you is always a priority, pequena," he winked. Y/N knew the playful banter was a way to deflect from the unspoken. Her father's condition was a shadow that loomed over the entire F1 family.

Just then, a young reporter, all bright eyes and eager questions, approached Y/N. "Ms. Schumacher, a few words for Sky Sports? Can you share your thoughts on your father's health?"

Y/N's smile faltered. Everyone knew this was a touchy subject. Sebastian Vettel, who was just passing by, overheard and stepped in. "Let's leave Y/N out of this, shall we?" he said, his voice firm but kind. "She doesn't owe you a public statement."

The reporter looked flustered. "But sir, it's a question everyone wants answered." Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And everyone will have to understand that some things are private, especially when it comes to family." He offered Y/N a reassuring smile. "Come on, Y/N, let's grab some coffee before the chaos starts."

Grateful, Y/N linked arms with Sebastian. The paddock might be a competitive arena, but the drivers, the ones who understood pressure and risk, formed their own kind of family. They understood her silence, her need for normalcy in a world obsessed with speed.

As they walked, Y/N overheard snippets of conversations. "Poor Y/N," someone murmured. "She must be going through hell." Another voice added, "Leave her alone, haven't they been through enough?" Y/N offered a small, sad smile. It hurt, but it also warmed her heart. Her father, with his quiet strength and unwavering determination, had built a legacy that transcended wins and podium finishes. He had inspired loyalty, respect, and a fierce protectiveness that extended to his daughter, even in this fast-paced, unforgiving world.

Reaching the small coffee shop tucked away in the paddock, Y/N settled into a booth with Sebastian. "Thanks, Seb," she said, her voice soft.

Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, your dad would be proud of you. The way you handle yourself, your kindness… it's something special."

Y/N smiled, tears pricking her eyes. Maybe she wouldn't be on the racetrack, but here, in the heart of the paddock, amongst the roar of engines and the smell of racing fuel, she felt a part of her father's legacy.

time skip

The post-race debrief was abuzz with post-adrenaline chatter. Y/N, perched on the edge of Lando Norris' chair, listened with a half-ear as he recounted his epic battle with Daniel Ricciardo on the final lap. They may be from different teams, but their young love story was a paddock favorite.

"…and then I went for the undercut, and bam! Second place!" Lando finished, a triumphant grin splitting his face. Y/N leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Amazing job, my champion," she whispered, earning a playful swat on the arm.

Suddenly, Charles Leclerc burst through the door, his phone held aloft. "Did you guys see this?!" he exclaimed, brandishing a news article. Max Verstappen, who was sprawled on the couch next to Lewis Hamilton, snatched the phone. "What is it, Charles?"

Max's eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the article. "Seriously?" he growled, throwing the phone onto the coffee table. Y/N's heart lurched. It couldn't be good.

Lewis picked it up and read aloud, his voice heavy with disapproval. "'Mick Schumacher: A shadow of his father's talent?' This is ridiculous!"

Y/N's blood boiled. How dare they criticize her brother, especially so harshly? She felt tears prickling her eyes, her fists clenching. Before she could react further, Lando was by her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "Don't let them get to you. Mick's a phenomenal driver, everyone knows that."

Carlos Sainz, ever the comedian, piped up from across the room. "Besides, who needs talent when you have good looks like Mick, right?" he winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Y/N forced a smile, her anger slowly simmering down. She knew they were trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciated their support. "Thanks, guys," she sniffled. "It just… it's frustrating."

Lewis, his calm demeanor ever-present, spoke up. "Let the results speak for themselves, Y/N. Mick's still young, and he's already proving himself. This kind of trash talk doesn't deserve your attention."

Max, still fuming, grabbed the phone again and typed furiously. "There," he declared, showing the screen to the rest of them. "I just tweeted my support for Mick. Let's see how those journalists like that."

Y/N let out a laugh, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. These weren't just her teammates, they were her family, her chosen tribe. They understood the pressure, the scrutiny, and the unwavering loyalty that bound them together. They wouldn't let some random article bring her down.

Lando nudged her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you know who the real untalented one is," he whispered, leaning in close.

Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"

Lando winked. "The one who keeps losing to me on the simulator, obviously."

Their playful banter erupted into laughter, the tension completely forgotten. Surrounded by her closest friends, Y/N knew that no matter what the headlines said, she had her own championship team, one that valued love, support, and a good dose of healthy teasing.

time skip

The air crackled with a bittersweet energy as the F1 paddock celebrated Michael Schumacher's birthday. Banners emblazoned with his iconic number 7 adorned the pit lanes, and mechanics sported specially designed caps. Yet, beneath the celebratory facade, a current of unspoken grief hummed.

Mick and Y/N Schumacher stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front against the tide of emotions. Their gazes were fixed on a freshly painted mural across the track. It depicted Michael, mid-race, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of red. The artwork was a poignant reminder of the man they missed terribly.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Y/N said, her voice barely a whisper.

Mick nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "They captured him perfectly." A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Mick spoke, his voice gruff. "It hurts, doesn't it? Seeing him… but not really."

Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. "It's the worst kind of absence, Mick. We know he's there, but…" she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mick pulled her into a side hug, his protective aura a familiar comfort. "I know, Y/N. I know. But you're not alone. We have each other, and we have Mom. We'll get through this, together."

Y/N leaned into her brother's embrace, finding solace in his strength. "I know," she murmured. "It's just… I miss him telling me bad jokes after qualifying."

A choked laugh escaped Mick. "Yeah, those were the worst." He paused, then added, "But he still loved them, didn't he?"

Y/N chuckled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "He did. He loved seeing us laugh."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, the paddock noises a distant hum. Y/N looked up at the mural, a flicker of determination replacing the sadness in her eyes. "We'll make him proud, Mick. Both of us."

Mick met her gaze, his blue eyes mirroring her resolve. "We will. We owe him that."

A hand landed on Mick's shoulder. Sebastian Vettel stood beside them, his expression solemn. "He is proud of you both," he said softly. "Every single day."

Y/N and Mick exchanged a grateful smile. In that moment, surrounded by the people who knew their father best, they felt a surge of strength. Michael Schumacher's absence might leave an aching void, but his legacy, his love, and the unwavering support of their F1 family would forever keep his spirit alive.

[ffii-book]

Hey Shannon! My co-host and I read through your translation of the Final Fantasy 2 novel for our podcast, Final Fancast; we wanted to express our tremendous gratitude for all your hard work on the translation and for sharing it with the English speaking world. I'm not going to ask when's the next chapter" -- you don't owe anyone that. But we wanted to check in and make sure you're still alive since the last update was during the plague year. If you're still alive, we're happy. But we worry. :<

Hi!! Wow, I didn’t even realize this was going on right around Covid. I’m sorry if I’ve worried anyone, but good news is I’m still alive! I went through some big life changes in the last 4-5 years, so I’ve been heavily sidetracked from a lot of personal projects that I never intended to drop. I do want to pick this back up again now that my life settling back into normalcy. I really enjoyed doing this and discovering all the cool ways that the novel enhanced the II storyline. I have new laptop and everything so it seems like a great time to start getting back into it.

Thank you and everyone for your interest in this little project, it really means so much to me!

[motelsnleatherseats]

Sam's 17 and he's already made up his mind that college is the best thing for him to escape the hunter lifestyle, to run away from feelings that had been trying to scratch their way forcefully out of his chest. He's tried to convince himself that he's been good at covering his tracks while looking into different schools, but Dean can tell he's up to something, especially when he suggests that they look into a case that just so happened to be in California.

Sam can tell Dean's up to something as well when he suggests they take a day to go to the beach instead of working on the actual case, but he goes along with it anyway, trying to stock up on good memories before he fully jumped ship. But it's just the two of them, and it makes Sam's longing intensify, makes him crave normalcy, but there's nothing normal about the way he feels about his big brother.

Dean's freckles have intensified under the California sun, and the skin stretched over Sam's cheek bones are dusted a light pink from the faint sunburn. They're sun-kissed and warm, sandy soles of feet and palms from sitting on the beach as they watch the sky paint itself rich red and orange as the sun melts into the watery horizon.

"I've seen the applications, you know," Dean murmurs to cut the silence, the sound of the waves rolling in gentle crashes mimics the way Sam can hear the blood rush through his body as his heart drops. He glances at his brother, expression already apologetic, but he's surprised to see there's no anger on Dean's face. "Didn't peg you for a California guy."

"Dean.."

"Sammy." Sam swallowed at the lump in his throat that had formed. "I get it. I know you've been looking for a way out. I see the way you look like you want to jump out of your skin every time Dad's far enough away to give a head start," he spoke, dropping his gaze down to the water for lingering moment. He truly understood Sam's plight, but it didn't make it any easier to know that if he did turn tail and run, that meant he left Dean behind too. "Can I even say anything that would make you want to stay?"

Sam's heart breaks.

"I just want to be normal," Sam finally answers, his voice quiet and weak -- vulnerable. They've had this conversation before, much louder, much angrier, but it feels like this one is more final. "I'm tired of being a freak."

"Sammy, you're not a freak," Dean responds before he's on his feet and he's tugging Sam up to stand as well. He's grown, his little brother not so little anymore, and he'd bypass Dean in height in the next year or two, no question about it.

"You don't get it. It's not even about the monsters or the hunting, there's something wrong with me. It's like I'm sick, and it's bone deep," he lamented, finding it hard to hold his brother's emerald gaze.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asks before he reaches a hand out to lay on Sam's shoulder and Sam ducks away from it, afraid that any touch will make him crumble.

"It's you," Sam finally spits out, and Dean's expression falters. There's hurt there, and it feels like a stab in the gut to Sam. He'd backed himself into a corner and he owed his brother an explanation. "It's -- it's how I feel about you. These thoughts that I have.. they're eating me alive. I feel crazy, a-and broken. You're my brother. I shouldn't feel this way, it's wrong and there's no way--"

"Whoa, hey, okay. Stop, okay? Stop." He reached for his hip this time, and Sam's violently shoved into confusion as his throat tightens and his heart is beating so hard, he could feel his fingertips pulsing. "Look, if you're sick, then I'm sick too."

"What?" Sam's voice barely holds resolve and the look in his eyes alone is pleading for further clarification, and Dean keeps his hands planted on him to anchor his brother, knowing how quickly the kid can fly off the handles when he's self-loathing. He's got to pull him back from the ledge, and the only way to do that was with softness.

"Yeah, Sammy. I feel it too. And I know it's wrong, and we shouldn't.. but I can't lose you, kiddo. I can't do this alone," Dean spoke and Sam's eyes ached suddenly as they filled with tears before he moved his hands to his brother's shoulders, caught between wanting to embrace him or shake the living hell out of him. Why now? Why after he had already made up his mind?

"We can't," Sam choked as Dean pulled him closer, mere inches apart and his heart was nearly in his throat.

"Maybe we could," Dean offered, hope braided into his words. "What can I say to make you stay?" They were close enough now to have their noses touching, and Sam looked like he was barely holding it together. "Sammy.. stay with me."

Sam couldn't tell if this was Dean's Hail Mary, his last and final attempt to sway his decision, but as their lips pressed together in Dean's last 'please Sammy', a tear rolled down the younger's cheek. It was everything he could have wanted, and everything he knew he couldn't have.

[jellyfitzjelly]

Long before Dammon and Zevlor got together, Zevlor got his armor repaired extra carefully and had best pick of weapons and always walked into the forge just as there was a discount, how interesting...

my god OKAY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH THANK U ANON I LOVE THEM!!! It's not exactly what you requested, but I hope that's ok!

[READ ON AO3]

When Dammon had finally arrived in Baldur's Gate, the first months had been the hardest. It wasn't the lack of jobs or the stares in the streets that made it hard. It was the crushing of his dreams. He had hoped to leave smithery behind, to take up his old occupation and find again a semblance of normalcy in his life, but the guild had rejected him. They didn't even grace him with an appointment or a letter of rejection. That had been the hardest to process when he arrived here. He'd never be a tinsmith ever again. Another thing Avernus took from him.

Dammon found work in a blacksmith's forge. His apprentices made life hard for him for at first, but showing his talent to the master and knocking out a few teeth gave him peace. At least now he had a stable income, even if it was a poor one: the forge was by no means famous. Yet the young man had the shock of seeing Zevlor walk into the forge one day. Dammon had had a big fat crush on him ever since the then Commander had rescued his family's shop from a gang of thugs trying to racket his father back in Elturel, years before the Descent. The young man never believed Zevlor betrayed them, and he was relieved to learn later by Tav that he had been right. Even then, Dammon had only crossed paths with him once: when Baldur's Gate was under attack.

"Dammon! What a pleasant surprise," Zevlor greeted him with a smile. "I am happy you found a job."

"Thank you, Zevlor," the young man replied, feeling his heart race. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to have my armor and my sword looked at. Since I've got the good luck of finding you, I'll task you with it."

"Of course!" Dammon eagerly agreed. "Leave them in my care, they'll be as good as new!"

Zevlor chuckled with a warm smile. It made the young man's heart swoop to see him in such high spirits. He had been so worried about him. He left him with the armor and sword that came from his Hellrider days. His boss wasn't happy to see him so dedicated to his commission, since he was neglecting other clients, but he didn't care.

Dammon waited eargerly for Zevlor's return every day, rehearsing what he would tell him, how he would smile... It was stupid, of course, but he couldn't stop himself. When finally the old Hellrider came, his mind blanked out and he found himself stammering.

"Zelvor! What brings you here?" he asked reddening before cursing himself.

"I see I've been easily forgotten," he chuckled with mirth, making Dammon flush even darker.

"Right! Right, sorry. Let me fetch you your armor and sword!"

"My gods, you did an incredible job, Dammon," he told him with quiet awe, as if the young man had done an outstanding job.

"Please, I did my best, but you would have been better off with a professional," he deflected.

"You are a professional. I have the proof before my eyes."

Dammon blushed again, heart racing and butterfly in his stomach.

"How much do I owe you, Dammon?" Zevlor continued.

"150," he lied, cutting the price by half.

Dammon didn't want to ruin him. He was probably struggling financially.

"Only?" Zevlor frowned. "Are you sure? I don't want you getting into trouble, Dammon."

The young man shook his head.

"Don't worry, sir. We often have discounts around here," he lied some more. "My boss knows. I won't accept a coin more."

"Just Zevlor, Dammon. I'm not a Commander anymore," he told him with such fondness in his voice Dammon felt his breath stolen away.

"You'll always be my Commander," he blurted out.

He cursed himself the second the words were out. Zevlor stayed silent, but his features softened in a way that made Dammon want to kiss him until he had no breath left.

"Well then, I suppose you'll be my blacksmith," Zevlor told him with a smile.

Dammon never felt such joy in his new life before.

[blackquillchillin]

For the prompts: 16 or 20 or 42!

20: "Please. For me." "...okay. For you."

Bobby waited, arms crossed as the door opened, and a pair of guards went in. they emerged a few minutes later, one on each side of the Prosecutor, each gripping an arm. heavy chains were set around his wrists and a set around his ankles as well. After three days in solitary, the man looked positively demented. His hair was no longer tied back, flying out in all directions, and his grey eyes, usually clear and bright, glaring out from the shadows cast by his bangs, stared straight forward, focused on....Bobby couldn't tell what. The ever-present shadows under his eyes were larger and darker then ever. The guard on Blackquill's right nodded to Bobby, who returned it, and fell into step beside them, as they headed down the hallway.

Once they reached Blackquill's regular cell, the cuffs were removed, and he was more or less shoved inside, the door clanging shut behind him. Bobby watched him though the bars as the guards moved on, to some other inmate, some other task. Blackquill said nothing, staying more or less where he had stumbled when pushed. It was only after several minutes that Bobby broke the silence.

"Why did you do it?"

The other man did not answer, but he did finally move, sinking onto his cot, and staring once more, past Fulbright, past the stone walls, past everything. Bobby hated it, he wished Blackquill would just close his eyes, or move his gaze, or something-but he had to know. He had to know why. they had been doing so well.....

"Sir. Why did you attack a guard? you were doing so well, I really thought we were making progress-"

-He cut off when Blackquill started to laugh. a single, mono-syllabic "Heh." followed, a moment later by a second one, then a third. Bobby frowned, and found himself holding his sleeves tighter.

"it's not funny."

"Come now," The Inmate's eyes finally focused on Bobby, and he found himself wishing they hadn't, "Asking a prisoner why they bite the hand that beats them? You know the answer to that, surely."

"No! No I don't! Sir, please, rehabilitation don't involve-"

"I'm in no mood to argue with a figment. Move on, move on, I've other apparitions to see."

"w-what?"

"Do you believe yourself the only man who appears to me? the only being who haunts my subconscious? Nay, though the lack of blood is pleasant at least. a whole figment, for a change." His eyes moved past Bobby again, and the awful, crooked grin that had formed disappeared, his brow furrowing. "it's too soon for someone real."

Did....Did he not think bobby was real? Suddenly Bobby's uneasiness was replaced with-well, joined by-concern.

"what..what do you mean by that?"

"It's too soon. No one visits directly after solitary. I won't see anyone real until mess....or time in the yard. I wonder which is next...."

"Won't you see the guards?"

"Oh, yes, how silly of me to overlook my escort who shoved me in a cell and walked away. Bloody hell, you're daft today."

"Today? Do I appear to you on other days?"

"Not usually. Come now, cease the questions. If you ARE real, tell me something I wouldn't know."

"like what?"

"Mm....Tell me of..Tell me of the outside world. What are the lawyers doing? the judges? the little ladies who need to cross the street?"

"I'm....not sure..."

"Please. For me."

"....okay. Okay, I'll tell you."

And that is how Bobby Fulbright spent the last few hours of his day, regaling Simon Blackquill of tales of the free world, with all its mundane normalcy, While Blackquill, eyes half closed, listened to every word.

I hope you enjoyed! I had fun writing it. I don't have a lot of practice writing scenes that take place in the prison, so I hope I did alright. Thank you again to @gigimirasol for sending an ask! I still owe you one more prompt!

[franki-lew-yo]

--A post about voting--

Provided you don’t actively vote for Drumpf, I am NOT interested in hearing who you’re voting for this November and whom you think I should or shouldn't vote for. That’s my survival strategy- not “lets be apolitical and not talk about the bad things in the world 8Dlol!” but an active “ I don’t owe you my ultimatum about who I give or don’t give my vote for .” 

I see a lot of -not conservative- people bemoaning how the Dems are incompetent, racist and corrupt -and genocidal!- and acting like they’ll save us from the mess they created is false hope and ignorant privilege; I see a lot of people begrudgingly tagging ‘vote blue’ because they know the system is beyond repair and now isn't the time to fight it, because they know for certain that Trump being president again will definitely make everything worse than it already is.

I’m not going to lecture you on that decision YOU'RE making because of the hell we’re in -just as I expect you to not lecture me about my decision I'M making. 

You know what I care about? 

I care about climate change, the right to protest, decolonization, the rich finally getting taxed, the police state I’m in being defunded, the war in Ukraine/Russia ending, the genocide(s) being carried out in Sudan, Congo and Palestine WITH OUR HELP ending, our damn healthcare improving, gun control being passed, women’s and people of color’s rights to their land and bodies being protected, fascist movements dying, LGBTQ folks not being trialed or killed for existing --just to name a few.

That’s what I care about. That’s where I hope, I pray really, that my vote goes to. Shame on you for insisting that people like me and my mutuals, whichever "3rd party only" or "don't divide the system" side they're on, don't care about these things. We're thinking of and worried about them all the damn time.

I’m tired of being 'loyal' to parties- I have no patriotism or pride in my country; look at where even the most scrutinized version of patriotism got us, Lin-Manuel! Normalcy? What even is normalcy anymore? We’re fighting for diplomacy to not threaten to hang a vp, not “normalcy” -we’re fighting to stave off absolute dictatorship; we still aren’t and have never really been ‘normal’. All I am loyal to is to human rights and social justice. When I vote and when other people like me vote, it's not because we don't care about people or care more about some people than others- it's because we want the pain to end and we're tired of living in a world where we're either responsible for or suffering from that pain.

Do not bully people over their power and emotions regarding our craphole country. You don't know their life.

All comments wanting to debate me on this are getting blocked and/or deleted.

[siriannatan]

Poking a Dragon - ScfWhimmy

Just a random idea I got. Hope it's as cute as I think it is :D

fWhip could absolutely not focus on his paperwork. He was frankly tempted to close his curtains. And he'd have a good excuse, being a vampire (and half-dragon) to sit in the dark. But he liked to have some semblance of normalcy in his life. Especially when the sun was not beaming at his office window, and would often open it. Mostly out of habit but it felt nice even if he was technically dead. Made him feel like he was never changed. So why?

Because Jimmy and Scott apparently had nothing better to do as rulers than spar in fWhip's gardens. Right where he could see that they decided to, due to nice weather, do it shirtless... Why must the sun literally burn fWhip? Why can't it let him watch his unfairly tall and handsome boyfriends practice with their oversized (for fWhip but what did he know, he preferred the range offered by his crossbow) weapons? Both Scott's rune blade and Jimmy's tide caller trident were as long as their owners were tall. 

The view was so tempting that his tail was long out of his control. Everything around his desk long smacked away as fWhip spend more time staring out his window than at his work. And growling when any of his staff offered them drinks and snacks. But what could he do? He couldn't forbid his staff from stopping his boyfriends from getting a heatstroke. And he couldn't go and... He had no idea what he'd do. Stand and stare there. Drooling or something.

He could send someone to tell them he wants to talk. And paperwork could wait...

So he did. Purposely ignoring Scott looking out his window and waving. Trying to process as many papers as he could before Jimmy and Scott were in his office. He got through a respectable amount before they walked in. 

No weapons in sight - good for fWhip's heart, shirts barely buttoned. Snacks in hand. "I thought you didn't like tropical fruits," he hummed as Scott bit on a banana.

"You don't have many sweets out," the elf pouted. Adorable.

"Staff's in charge since I no longer need food," fWhip grinned, baring his fangs. Jimmy chuckled as Scott took another, aggressive bite. "Why must you two spar in my gardens? Don't you have better places to do that? Where my roses aren't endangered?" he changed the subject.

"We tried but got interrupted every five minutes," Jimmy sighed, flopping to the couch. "And we weren't anywhere near your flower."

fWhip just sighed. Of course, that's why. "So you're just avoiding work?" he hummed as he got his papers in order for tomorrow. Today his dragon brain was more interested in cuddles. "Please let me know you're over next time, so I can prepare the correct snacks at least," he sighed as the two grumbled and complained.

"We didn't want to interrupt, your helpers said you're busy..." Jimmy tried reasoning.

"They said they could ask but we thought you wouldn't mind..." Scott interjected with his most charming smile.

fWhip just sighed. His morons were just so cute. "Next time tell me. I'm not going to look like a bad host if anyone happens to see you two," he shook his head. "And you owe me cuddles, now," he added, hands on hips.

They did not mind after-exercise cuddles. Even if fWhip chased them into a bath first, graciously joining them since he was a good host after asking his staff to bring some cake for Scott. Jimmy would eat literally anything fWhip offered him, in astounding amounts. They even surprised him by almost forcing him into biting them. 'It's only fair since you put so much effort into feeding us,' Scott said over his cake, just before complaining that it had sour cherry jam in it. fWhip happened to like it while he was alive so Scott would have to leave with sweet and sour cake.

[harmonyckrs]

Act 3, Scene 1 of Twisted Veronaville: Some New Opponents Arrive

THE LAST PAGE

Tank: Ow...huh? Where am I?...Buck? Are you okay?

Buck: Yeah, I'm fine!...did we get kidnapped?

Tank: Last thing I remember was us walking home...

???: Hello, Tank...and Buck. We are the Knights of Order, and we brought you here for a very important mission.

Tank: Huh? What-

???: We need you to find and kidnap your brother Ripp, and bring him to us...he's being used by two criminals who are trying to mess with everyone's fates...and then we're going to need you to break up a couple and set up another in order to restore normalcy to Veronaville.

Tank: Fates?...Veronaville?...huh?

???: Just do what we say! You seem to be good at that, anyway.

Buck: Tank, I don't like-

Tank: Sure. I'll do it.

Buck: What?

Tank: If it gets us both out of here, then I might as well.

Hamza: Good day, (sir/ma'am)! I was wondering if you've seen a man with dark skin about this tall? Unkempt hair that's slightly over his eyes and probably wearing a colorful shirt with a silver necklace and little silver earrings?

Bianca: Don't think so, sorry. Is there a reason you're asking?

Cyd: Nope. Why?

Kent: What's it to you?

Hamza: He's my brother. I've been looking for him for...forever. Have you seen him? I have a photo, if you'd like.

Kent: (Wait, that's Aktu! He didn't tell me that he had a brother, though!). I've never seen that man in my life.

Bianca: Still haven't, but I'll let you know if I see anything!

Cyd: Oh, he looks a lot like my ex. Haven't seen him since I moved here from Strangetown, though...

Hamza: Okay, thanks! I've got to go now, but maybe we'll talk again later!

Little did the Knights of Order know, their actions had summoned a unwanted man into the town of Veronaville - one that would be a threat to both sides of the Terrestrial family.

General Buzz: I told that man that he couldn't take my eldest son, and what does he do?...I'll make him-

Pascal: Buzz?

General Buzz: ...Vidcund? How did you escape my-oh, my bad. Pascal! You look different.

Pascal: (What did he mean by escaping?) Yes...I wanted to try a new look. What are you doing here in Veronaville, General Buzz?

General Buzz: Rescuing my son.

Pascal: (Son and not "sons," huh? Still the same as always.) Would you like my help? I've been getting familiar with the area of Veronaville, and I can help you track him down with my knowledge.

General Buzz: Well, you've always been the most respectable out of your siblings...sure. Why not?

Pascal: (I'll have to cancel that meeting with Aktu and Sita. This is far more important...) Wonderful! I'll take you back to my place.

Pascal: So yes, that's everything I know. How are you enjoying the food? I tried to follow one of the recipes Lazlo gave me.

General Buzz: It's pretty good. A bit of a sour taste, though.

Pascal: (That would be the poison.) That's a shame. I'll be sure to put in less lemon next time.

Pascal: I'm glad you're enjoying the food regardless, though. I've never seen anyone eat that quickly.

General Buzz: Haven't eaten in about eight hours.

Pascal: (The exact amount of time you have left before the poison takes your life.) I see...do you feel anything?

General Buzz: Huh?...well, I do feel a bit tired, but that's probably from the trip here. Why do you ask?

Pascal: Well...sometime before I came here, I visited Loki in jail to confront him about killing my baby. And there was something very interesting he told me...

Pascal: He said you were the one who gave Tycho to him.

General Buzz: Yeah, and?...I thought we were supposed to be allies. If this is the only reason you came to talk, I'm going to leave.

General Buzz: ...Why can't I move?

Pascal: Don't worry about that, Buzz. Remember when you paid off the police to do nothing about you speeding on the road while drunk and hitting Nervous and Ophelia?

General Buzz: Yeah, so? I'm the General! I practically run that town!

Pascal: No, you don't! Nobody in Strangetown likes you! Your own children don't even like you! You're a failure and a disgrace, on top of being a murderer and child kidnapper!

General Buzz: At least I have a child.

Pascal: ...Hmph.

General Buzz: Why are you dragging me outside now?

Pascal: It's a nice night. Thought you'd want to see the view of the stars before I bury you alive.

General Buzz: Revenge isn't going to bring back Tycho and Nervous.

Pascal: You're right. So since there's nothing that can bring them back, there's nothing that can save you.

General Buzz: They're...going to find out it's you...

Pascal: I covered all my tracks. I deliberately came here earlier than the other Knights of Order so that everyone would assume I went missing, and you came here in search for Tank. For all anyone knows, you went missing in search of him.

General Buzz: But...Vidcund...

Pascal: He has an alibi. He's in Strangetown, and don't think I didn't hear you when you asked me how I "escaped." You have him captive, don't you? If he's still there, then there's no way he could've traveled eight hours to Veronaville just to kill a man.

General Buzz: ...

Pascal: Now, before I pour dirt on your face, tell me where you're holding him.

General Buzz: ...Fuck...you.

Pascal: Fine. Then tell Olive I say hi when you see her in Hell.

While General Buzz dies a slow and painful death six feet under, the patriarchs of the Capp and Monty were about to be alerted of their grandsons' actions.

Romeo: Nonno! Nonno! I just saw something horrible!

Patrizio: Ah, lemme guess...monster under the bed.

Romeo: No! I'm not a baby anymore, Nonno! Mercutio was kissing a...a...

Romeo: (He kept my secret for me...but I can't do this! Those Capps are evil! And he's going against the very own advice he gave me! This is for his own good!)

Romeo: A Capp! And Tybalt of all of them!

Patrizio: (HE'S GAY?) WHAT? No child living under my roof will be a...a...

Patrizio: A Capp lover!

Patrizio: Consort must be up to his old tricks again...

Consort: Tybalt, may I speak to you?

Tybalt: Yes, Grandfather?

Consort: Patrizio told me that Romeo told him that you were kissing Mercutio.

Tybalt: Why does it matter to you? Hermia gets to bring her boyfriend over, but I can't?

Consort: Hermia is a GIRL. And Puck isn't a MONTY. There is a difference, Tybalt, and I thought you of all people would know that. You already saw what happened with Kent.

Tybalt: ...

Consort: It's alright. I'll let you remain in the house, on one condition.

Tybalt: Which is?

Consort: Once you are to turn eighteen, I'll be setting you up in an arranged marriage.

THE NEXT DAY

[galindathegay]

About two weeks ago, my ex reached out to me in a very work-like e-mail asking if it was too late to start our friendship over. The initial reaction was who the fuck do you think you are? I'm finally piecing my life back together after chaos she started three years ago. I tried reaching out to her as a friend, and she slapped my hand away. What made her think she could come back?

And then I turned the situation over in my head. She and I went through the exact same catastrophe. Devon did his best to guide me through the pain of it. Things got so rough that something between us ruptured as a result, and we're still trying to fix it, but at least he fucking tried. At least he's still with me and wants to work through this. How did Lore and her wife try to heal things? Did something happen?

My curiosity got the better of me. I answered her saying I was open to talking. Because, really...what do I have to lose in this situation? Her friendship? It'll suck a second time, but I've done it before. If anything, I'm the one who has everything to gain. I still have Devon and Joe. I still have a house in my name. I have two families now - and both of them adopted me as their own instead of it being a blood obligation. If I gain Lore as a friend again - if I can stop calling her my ex, finally - that would be a huge win.

She sucked at being my girlfriend. She was amazing at being my best friend.

When it comes to talking about what happened between us and the aftermath - in which Lore told me she does owe me an apology - we're putting a pin in it. A couple of years ago I would be kicking and screaming, demanding that thorough apology and explanation for why she used me and then discarded me. Now? In 2024? Y'all... I'm tired. We both are. We're well into our 30s. A little bit of normalcy is mandatory at this point. I still have questions, and I have let her know several times already that I have questions. But I'm ready to call a truce until she gets through her personal Hell.

Because what she has told me is: Her marriage is ending. She's trying to move out by June. Her family doesn't understand. I am one of only two people who talk to her now.

Clearly she reached out to me because she was in pain and knew I would be a source of comfort. I know what it's like to feel like everything is falling apart. I also am familiar with how isolating it can be, both actual and self-perpetual. She rejected me when I wanted to repair things with her. I was drowning, and she did nothing. Did I have the right to be as cruel to her as she was to me?

I do. We both know it - she's said as much. But my feelings of schadenfreude have a limit. I'm throwing her a life preserver.

So far our conversations are about anime, weed, work, and memes. I am actually very happy with this set-up. We don't talk about personal things, which is great because that's a literal phobia of mine that I'm working on. Baby steps toward solid ground feels like the right call, given our shared experiences. I hope she feels comfortable enough to tell me more about what's happening in her life as time goes on (while respecting I refuse to talk about much of mine), but all-in-all I'm pleased with the glacial pace.

That being said, if she insults me again (or projects her issues on my relationships again), I'm pushing her off the boat and restarting the propeller.

[thessalian]

Thess vs A Return to Normalcy

Updates from the workplace, and the news is ... for once, not terrible.

See, turns out that Scruffman came in on Sunday, along with the other part-timer (who has been petitioning for more hours and I think she's going to get them at this rate), and really registered the massive dent I made in the backlog. Because seriously, that whole week we went from just under 300 to just under 150 and that was about 95% me. So we're finally back down to the low-mid double digits in terms of the size of the typing queue, and I have a feeling Scruffman had a general sense of, "Ooh. [Thess] did a lot. [Thess] should not have been doing that much, I know that."

Scruffman does not have the best communication skills, mind - especially not over email. He sent an email going, "Give me a bell ASAP" and actually included his number, which I have had stored on my phone for literally years, so I thought there was going to be something urgent and horrible. Because, you may recall, he was going to touch base with me today about potentially having to drag my poor fibro-riddled carcass over to fucking Hampstead owing to lack of bums in seats. I was concerned that this was going to be a call where Issues were brought up.

However, no, this was his way of saying, "I has a concern and want to make sure you're okay after the hours you put in last week". I didn't pull punches, either. He asked how I was doing, which is how he starts all telephone conversations, really, and I just told him, "I seriously overdid it last week". I could hear the gears turning as he was going, "Oh. Yeah. Oh, right" before moving on to the whole thing about the various unexpected absences.

So ... turns out that Violet, Goblin, and Temp are all out at the moment, though Goblin and Temp are apparently coming back on Friday. He's got Other Part-Timer coming in tomorrow, so it's really only Thursday where there might be a requirement for me to come in. But apparently that's only if Scruffman himself takes ill or something else goes entirely to hell. It was pretty clear that he was trying desperately hard not to make me go into the office, particularly after the couple of weeks I've already put in. He also recognised that I do more typing when I'm at home than I do at the office, and then surprised me further by going, "I don't necessarily mean overtime or anything!" like he very much doesn't want me to have to do any more of that either.

So the overall gist is, "Things are back to normal, we will try to manage things without forcing you on to public transport, thank you for all the help and we promise we're not going to make you do too much more of that!" I'm not sure what happens with my overtime - whether it's Time Off In Lieu or actual money, but I think I'll find that out when Head Honcho comes back from his own holidays ... or rather, when I come back from mine because he's away until next week and I'm off next week.

I very much need to be off next week. I haven't fully recovered yet. But at the very least my house is full of nice foods to have that don't require too much in the way of cookery. I did up a pork roast last night so I have leftovers from that. There's a roast chicken that's good in the fridge until Friday, which gives me time to do things with the leftover pork roast and with the duck legs and pork chops I got on sale with this month's grocery shop. But tonight, since I am exhausted (whoever was typing with me today also left me with the longer bullshit - thankfully there were no ten-minute atrocities but if I see one more placenta report this week I'm going to lose my damn mind), it will be leftover roast pork with mashed potato and an asparagus/tenderstem broccoli medley, with an appetiser of gluten-free mozzarella sticks (which, yes, still have the lactose issue but I have Lactaid so I can still have my breaded hot cheese) and possibly a salad. I did actually eat today! Okay, not lunch, but two pieces of gingerbread as breakfast went really well with my morning coffee.

[dubhdove156]

Rant post:

I take major issue with a lot of modern psychology.

For starters, the standardization of the mind is dangerous. The mind itself is abstract, poorly defined, and next to impossible to measure. Yet the foundations of psychology were based in what a "healthy mind" is -- that is, an ideal mind. The reality is that the brain is the most complex structure in the known universe, and there is no one universal, perfect mind. Every mind is different, and modern schools of psychology have mostly become methods of enforcing societal and cultural norms. Not only marginalizing, but stigmatizing and demonizing minds that don't fit this ideal, yet none do, neurotypicals are just those who could adapt well enough to social/cultural expectations to meet some criteria of normalcy.

I don't deny that many disorders are distressing, but we have to understand and accept that much of that distress would subside if neurodivergent people didn't have to live up to the absurd expectations of a society which is progressing at an exponential rate.

For example, 3000 years ago, if someone were sick, they'd visit their village priest or medicine-man. 70 years ago, you'd call up your local family doctor directly for a visit. Today you have to call an office, speak to a stranger who will have no further impact on your life, schedule an appointment in a week, sit in a waiting room for an hour with a dozen other strangers, have your appointment, then be told that your insurance can't cover this particular appointment and you owe money.

Humans were never meant to have social interaction outside of their immediate community -- you pass more people in any given day than your ancestors did in a lifetime.

Yet when you tell your therapist that calling your doctor's office to schedule an appointment causes anxiety, they tell you that you're the problem, that you're ill, that your fears are irrational.

You know what I see? When I see someone cutting themselves, I see a relation to a bird plucking its own feathers out due to stress. Yet these psychologists blame the fucking bird when it's been locked in its cage for 3 months. The bird isn't sick, the bird isn't wrong or irrational to react that way to a distressing environment. The problem isn't the bird, the problem is the cage.

Look at it objectively: children are killing themselves every day, and we just all accept that they couldn't handle the pressure of the world. They aren't sick; the disease isn't depression, anxiety, PTSD, OCD, etc, they're symptoms of a society that doesn't forgive those who can't keep up.

I am 25 years old, and in my time I have seen more world events, technological advancements, social progress, etc than any of my ancestors could ever imagine. I don't believe I'm wrong to have ASPD, instead I think that it's a very rational result of and reaction to a world built upon our worsening suffering.

[vixovavalentine]

Entombed (Part 4)

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REMINDER: I DO NOT OWN JJK OR ANY CHARACTERS OR ART OR ANYTHING. ALSO PLEASE DON'T STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS. THAT'S JUST RUDE. :)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Nothing this chapter, maybe a tiny bit of fluff here.

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It was the day after your release from the infirmary and it seemed everyone was being extra cautious around you with the exceptions of Gojo and Nanami. Who had informed everyone that morning during class that you were completely harmless, though Megumi and Itadori still seemed a bit skittish to give you any pats or even the high fives they normally gave. Nobara was the complete opposite to your surprise, she simply asked. "If I pass you my phone to show you a picture of this cute guy are you gonna break it or fry it or something?" When you told her no, she shoved it into your hands and began scrolling for you making faces and squealing about shirtless men. Making the boys grimace and roll their eyes. After all the mess of the last few days, being in class and feeling the slight normalcy again helped heal the blow you took to your wounded resolve, but Nanami's words ran through your mind. This was serious, and you had to learn to be better. You had to get stronger, and this was how you were going to do it. You were going to go all in.

Before class let out for the day Gojo clapped his hands excitedly. "REMEMBER EVERYONE SUSHI TONIGHT!" Nanami just stood stoic as ever but continued for Gojo, as if to stop Gojo from being more eccentric. "We are celebrating Y/n making a full recovery. We're going to Sushi-Go here in Tokyo." Nobara squealed in delight and Itadori high fived Gojo. "YOU ROCK SENSEI!" Namami just stood against the wall nodding in your direction. " Everyone be ready to leave at 5:00 by the front of the school. Ijichi will be driving us. Dismissed."

Gathering your bags Nobara chatted excitedly about getting sushi and how the guy in the forth picture she showed you had rock hard abs that she'd like to, as she put; "Ride off into the sunset with." Then winked making you burst out laughing and turn red. "Good god woman you're absolutely feral!" You teased. Nobara stuck her tongue out. "In our line of work is it so bad? I could die any day and If I had the opportunity I'd take it in a heart beat, and I mean really take it." Winking at you again, all you could do is laugh.

"Have I ever told you, I love your sense of humor Nobara?"

"That's why we're friends and by the way." She turned and pointed her finger into your chest. " You still owe me a shopping trip. Don't think your little stint in the infirmary made me forget." Making your way to the door you groaned.

"I didn't go to the infirmary on purpose! I literally almost died." you whined. "Yeah, yeah, you burned something with your hand and got stabbed in the arms and blacked out. We almost die all the time. WE'RE GOING THIS WEEKEND Y/N! You're not gonna be on a mission for a while from what I hear so you won't have that excuse not to go next time." Stomping her foot and smiling victoriously. "It wasn't an excuse I literally--"

"Y/n" You heard next to you. Stopping your little jesting with Nobara you realized it was Nanami that was calling to you. "Yes, Sensei?" You straightened up, facing him. "I'd like a moment with you, if you could." His gaze shifting over to Nobara. "In private."

Nobara looked a little irritated but then she smiled and simply said. "I'll see you after you're done. We'll get ready together." and walked off with Itadori and Megumi. After they were out of sight Nanami walked you to a set of doors and gestured for you to go inside, walking in you noticed that this room guessed was the faculty lounge.

"Take a seat."

You did as instructed and took a seat on a long comfy looking green couch that took most of the room. Nanami sat across from you and began to speak. "I hope you've taken my words to heart Y/N. You seem calmer today. How are your hands? How is your mind after everything? You didn't really say yesterday in what way you were feeling. This whole situation was a mess but I wanted to hear from you, what you're feeling about your training. Are you going to continue or are you still feeling unsure?"

It was nice to know Nanami cared enough to check in with you; you were his responsibility as a student you knew that but, for some reason it really warmed you.

"I haven't had any issues with my hands at all and believe me I went around touching things for almost all of yesterday. I think I'm good there, and I think Gojo was right. It's got to be something mental. As for continuing my training, I don't think I have a choice. I thought about it and I realized that even if I do leave, I'll never forget. The curses won't go away and I don't want to be afraid forever. I'd never forget what I know and I want to get stronger. This whole experience just showed me how weak I am, I want to go on."

Nanami's seemed to relax a tad more.

"I'm happy to hear that Y/n. I know everything is up in the air right now with your technique but there really is no better place to learn. Regardless of Gojo's lack of tacked. He was right." You thought for a moment you saw Nanami shutter. "Never let Gojo know I said that."

A small chuckle escaped your lips. "You're secret is safe with me."

"Good, we'll work slowly and figure out what we can about your technique. You'll be taken from your usual lessons and paired with myself or Gojo for your own personal training. Rest assured, Gojo won't be pulling anymore antics, at least not for a while." Taking a long sigh you realized this wouldn't be the last of Gojo's antics which to be honest amused you.

"This whole new life is expect the unexpected. I learned that the hard way but it's a way to learn. Plus who knows, maybe one day I'll be able to see through Gojo's antics myself." Nanami smiled slightly.

"That's a good way to look at it y/n." Reaching into his jacket Nanami pulled out a small box and set it on the table in front of you.

"But regardless of Gojo's antics I still felt it right to give you a proper apology on my end. So please take this as a token of my sincerity and know going forward, I'll make sure not to but you in a compromising position again." You took a look at the small box in front of you caught off guard by such a kind gesture. Nanami was always so stoic so this was really surprising to you.

"Sensei you really didn't need to, I don't even blame you. There's nothing to forgive."

Everything he said, you understood. If you were Nanami and some strange new sorcerer came in with some power that was unknown, you'd be curious too. At least that's what you thought to yourself.

"But I'll say thank you Sensei and I forgive you. Just next time, let's hope things aren't so lethal." you teased and took the box and went to open it. Opening the box you saw inside was a small charm. It was strange looking wrapped in black fabric. Being completely honest with yourself, you had no idea what it was and felt immediately embarrassed for not knowing. "Thank you....what is it?"

Nanami just nodded and took it from you to examine it with you. "See here" Nanami pointed to the text. "It reads Yakuyoke. It means to ward against evil. I don't believe in silly things like this personally, and it won't do anything for you on the battlefield, but I thought it might help having something like this with you."

It was extremely thoughtful and to be honest, even if it was just a piece of fabric with some text it made you feel better, maybe not safer. but better. You'd be lying if you said it didn't give you a lump in your throat. "Th-Thank you Sensei. I'll cherish it." You took the charm and slid it into your pocket.

"That's all for now Y/n, But remember. Once we start training again. Give it your all. Take this experience and use it to make yourself better. If anything, use the charm as a reminder." Nodding, stood and you bowed to your Sensei and departed.

Nanami stayed seated smiling to himself. Things felt like they were on a good note for now, and that's all he could ask for going forward. Giving you that charm would do absolutely nothing for you on the battlefield, but maybe it would help the uneasiness in your mind. Your spirits were good and he was happy for that, but Nanami was no fool. There would be a next time, there would be more death. More anguish....

Sighing at his own depressing thoughts he sat himself up almost ready to leave his seat when the doors opened and in trotted Gojo, hands in his pockets making his way to the couch. Sitting across from Nanami, "That was cute."

"You heard our conversation?" Nanami questioned.

"That charm won't save her in battle."

"No, it won't. If you were listening I told her as such but maybe it'll help the battles in her mind. Knowing that we are here."

"So, What made you get her a gift?" Gojo prodded.

"She's my student and she was hurt due to my negligence."

"You've never felt compelled to get anyone anything unless it was forced Nanami. You felt sorry for her."

"I did. Maybe even a bit guilty too."

Gojo stretched on the couch and mumbled. "Yeah me too. I mean Itadori's first mission was a disaster but he knew at least somewhat to expect. His first curse was with Megumi and he even has Suku-" stopping in his tracts. Gojo shot up from his relaxed position. "Does Y/N know about Sukuna?"

"No." Nanami realized. "Sukuna hasn't manifested himself on Itadori in front of her yet."

"I wonder why, he's not usually silent around anyone." Gojo pondered. Then remembered your black markings..

"Nanami do you still have that picture on your phone?" Nanami nodded and passed his phone to him. Scrolling Gojo found the picture of your unconscious body again and examined it.

"Nanami.. These markings remind you of someone?" Nanami took another look and grimaced. "How come this situation feels like it just got a whole lot more complicated." Sighing Nanami began to massage the bridge of his nose, dropping his phone on the table.

===============================================

Gojo had heard your conversation with Nanami. He was a little irritated to be honest. He and Nanami had thought of the same thing. Getting you gift, Gojo was just going to get you a card with some money in it. He didn't know you that well and money always worked with women and god knows he had enough of it. But seeing your reaction to Nanami's gift. He wanted to get you a better one. Nanami got you a gift that touched you, maybe Gojo could think of something just as good. He went ahead into the city to try to find something but as he searched he was still plagued with the sudden revelation he and Nanami deduced. Well, mostly him. He'd give Nanami assist points. This situation had taken a very unexpected turn, but as you said in your conversation with Nanami. "Expect the unexpected"

"What a curious one you are.." He thought of you. During the time you were in the infirmary he could tell you had been depressed, even shaken. He wondered even to himself while you were there if you were just going to bow out and quit your training. It wouldn't have been smart knowing how curses were. If you did leave you'd probably die. So Gojo had secretly been hoping you'd just pull through it and when you did it was a relief to him. You'd spent all that time training with him, failing miserably. But you were trying. He hated to admit it, but if you decided to leave he would feel a little bummed out.

Regardless, He had to find you a gift and all this thinking was making his headhurt.

"Urgh." He groaned and decided to treat himself to some ice cream before dinner for all the trouble this was causing him. On his way to his favorite ice cream shop something shiny caught his eye.

"No way!" He laughed. A small stand with numerous small pieces of homemade jewelry caught his eye, one piece in particular. Examining it he smiled big. "This'll be perfect."

===============================================

Everyone arrived to the restaurant on time thanks to Nanami's direction and everyone was enjoying their dinner.

"SAKE!" Gojo cheered grabbing a large piece of sushi and stuffing his face.

"No. This is a student dinner." Nanami sighed and placed his napkin on his lap before taking a bite of his food.

"You're no fun! This is to celebrate Y/n! We should party?! Have fun!" Gojo whined.

"I'm having fun and the sushi is great." You smiled brightly towards Gojo and took a bite of your sushi. Nobara was eating to fast y/n couldn't tell how many pieces she'd eaten.

"I love this restaurant!" She said in between bites. Itadori was laughing at Nobara's feral eating and Megumi just sat eating his sushi quietly.

For Gojo, this party was too tame but decided it was the perfect time to liven it up a bit.

"EHEM." Gojo clapped his hands together. "Attention my precious students and Nanami."

Everyone stopped eating and turned their attention to Gojo who quickly made his way to your seat. Coughing to clear his throat he began,

"In honor of Y/n living through her first fight with a curse and living through the complete utter ass beating you got from it. I got you a present!" Smiling widely Gojo shoved a small box into your hands.

Nanami raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you the reason she got into such terrible shape in the first place?"

Gojo just waved Nanami away. "Nonsense, that's all in the past now. Like Y/n said she doesn't blame anybody and she'll be able to tell my antics sooner or later right?"

You flushed red. "You heard my conversation with Nana-"

"Just open the gift." Gojo poked you and you swatted his poking finger.

"Okay okay! Thank you Sensei." Nobara, Itadori, Nanami, and Megumi all watched you unwrap the paper around the box. Gojo stood over you proudly waiting for your reaction. Discarding the wrapping paper you opened the box.

With one glance you burst into laughter and turned the box around to show the others. With the sight Itadori, Nobara, even Megumi began to laugh uncontrollably. Even Nanami couldn't help but chuckle. Inside the box was a necklace with a small charm, and that charm was a frying pan.

[rivilu]

Aand it's here! An intro to Orion. Takes place on the way to Ostagar, don't know what else to say so here you go! Enjoy.

The fire cracks as it burns next to him. Leaves rustle in the breeze. That, and the small slicing sound of his blade against his bow. That’s three. Breathe in, Breathe out Strange how that feels like a lot. Breathe in, breathe out Unsure if the terrible cloud of numbness looming over him is from the grief wreaking his heart, or the blight coursing through his veins. The next moment, his knife is buried in the grass, fingers now pressed firm against the bridge of his nose. No, no this can’t work. If he doesn’t deal with these emotions now he’s going to be far too vulnerable in the battles to come. If he lives that far. He has to live that far. A deep breath, and his head turns up to the night sky. There’s far too much at stake. Death a luxury he’s far from able to afford. Think of it, deal with it now. While time is still on your side. Breathe in, breathe out. He knows Tamlen would not want him to wallow. But how is he to think of that day with any lens other than sorrow? It feels as though he aged a decade between the morning he set out to track him, and the moment Duncan told him that the cause was lost. That he was gone. How can fate be so cruel? That a single day, one that starts out so mundane, can take a turn for the worse so sharp that it instantly, permanently severs all pretense of normalcy that had held this part of his life together for so long. One moment they are bantering as they always did. “I’ve never known anyone so eager to wander. I bet you’ll end up a flat-ear some day, living in the cities like a shem’’ Tamlen had said, met with a huff of laughter from him, and a flick to his ear. If only you knew. “Ow!” “I’ve told you before. Being better than the shemlen may not be a high bar to clear, but calling city elves by a phrase only a word away from what they use to degrade all of us? Don’t make yourself a hypocrite. You’re better than that.” And the moment following, he’s waking up in an aravel, barely breaking through a fever. Alone. Would you have listened? Would you have heeded my warnings, had I been more a friend to you than a brother? Did my worry, my instinct to protect you, feel like it was smothering you? Was it the cause of your undoing? Stop. Breathe again, don’t choke from the shock it brings since you forgot it. No, no. That is your mind telling you these things. Tamlen wouldn’t want you to think this. He would never- Don’t taint his memory that way. He was not the poison that you are. Stop. What had he said? He’d asked him hadn’t he? Why he wanted to stay in the cave. “Aren’t you curious? We could be discovering our history. Minstrels would write songs about us!” “Tamlen.” “..If i were to bring some valuable ancestral artifact back to the keeper, she might forgive me for.. well, you know” Ah. Of course. A long winded sigh, and he takes the blade back in his hand. Goes back to carving. Two decades of resentment creeping back into the edges of his mind. The futile, unending quest for the keeper’s approval. Of course. Blind trust in her. What she wants. Expects. She is right, she knows best. She is infallible. Like walking into a fire. Of course. Do you you feel vindicated? No. That what you read between the lines of her behavior, That what drove you away from them all in the first place, you were correct about? No, no stop it. Are you happy? knowing that what doomed him is something you predicted? No. This was never what he wanted. Not at his expense. Never at his expense. Stop, pause, breathe. It is done. In the past. You cannot change it. You failed him. The one person you wanted to protect more than anything. The pain, the guilt will linger. That is the way of loss. How can you expect to save anyone else? But it will pass. Worthless It will pass.

He puts the knife down a final time, sheathes it. Blows the dust and shavings off the finished carving, turns it in his hands. A bear, for Dirthamen. The Creator he revered. He stands up, walks closer to the fire. Holds the bow from top to middle. A longbow; his mother’s weapon of choice, as he’s been told. One he was always expected to inherit. A role he was meant to fulfill, since that of his father was not meant to be. And he did. A tighter grip, and the snap of wood. Did. But no longer. His hands move lower, to the other end of it. “You belong to more than just yourself” were Hahren Paivel’s words. But did he ever even belong to himself? The only choices he ever made that truly were his own, were when he was away. All else was lies. Placations. A second snap. And he brings the two broken ends above the fire. He’s done living for them. It was only a matter of time. They are swallowed by the flames as they fall, and all he’s left with is the middle piece. The carving. He will not follow his parent’s footsteps. He will not let his legacy be a tragedy. He may never be able to bring Tamlen back, but he will avenge him. He will see to it that the blight is ended. “Falon'Din guide you safely brother. I will make it up to you”

[supremebunbunoverlord]

Daniel x Zoe

Little Daniel’s POV

Holy shit! Did this really happen again?!

Ugh, I've been so busy with all these crew stuff that I didn't even notice that I came in the wrong body....

AGAIN!

Gosh, I wish for a bit of a normal life...

Normalcy...what even is that?

"Piggy! You're here again!" Zoe skipped over to me excitedly.

Piggy...why does she call me that? Because I'm on the heavy side?

Lowkey rude but okay, go off I guess.

"Yup, Daniel got sick so I'm covering his classes for today."

"Will he be here tomorrow? EKK! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT IN FRONT OF HIM?!" She turned away and began to bang on her head.

...eh?

"Yeah, he'll be here tomorrow."

"You should come more often, piggy!" She hugged my arm with a smile.

"Hey Marshmallow, where is Daniel?" Joy asked. "Jay! The language!"

Lordy, Jay sure knows how to cuss!

"He's home sick so we get Piggy today!" Zoe beamed.

"I'll pay him a visit after school then."

Please don't....

Ah, finally!

Lunchtime!

Gosh, I was starving the whole day, what are they serving today?

Once I got my food, I sat and began to eat when I realized that Zoe was missing.

I looked around but no one else seemed to notice.

I glanced down at my food and heaved a sigh.

"I'll be back, guys."

"Okay!"

I walked out of the cafeteria and looked around.

Where could she be?

After about 15 minutes of walking around the school, I remembered I have a phone and her number.

Just as I was about to press the small phone icon, I heard a sad heavy sigh.

I peeked out and saw Zoe sitting alone under the open windows.

"Zoe?"

She jumped and looked up.

"Piggy?! What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you, but what are you doing out here all alone?"

"Oh...it's nothing."

"Something is obviously wrong. Hold on."

"Piggy, what are you doing? Hey, careful!"

I climbed out the window and fell on my back.

"Ow..."

"Are you alright?!" She ran to my side and help me sit up.

"I'm okay. Thanks." I grinned at her, pushing some of my hair out of my face.

Her face lit up with a bit of red.

"So what's wrong?"

"It's nothing... really..."

"Zoe it's clear to see that you're lying. You know you can tell me anything."

She glanced at me and let out another sigh.

"Piggy.... people keep saying I'm easy...I'm not! I'm not what they say I am..."

"Don't listen to the haters, Zoe! They're just jealous of you! You're not easy, you're just nice!" I took her hand in mine.

Her face turned a darker red.

"You're the sweetest person, anyone would be lucky to have you!"

"You think so?" Her eyes lit up.

"Yeah! You're the bestest friend anyone could ever ask for!" I beamed.

Her smile disappeared and she glared, smacking me.

"PIGGY, YOU JERK!"

HUH?!