#Cross-Disciplinary Learning

[latest-info]

The Importance of Cross-Disciplinary Learning

Introduction In today’s fast-paced world, the boundaries between different fields of knowledge are increasingly blurred. As we navigate through an era of rapid technological advancements and complex global challenges, the ability to draw from multiple disciplines has never been more crucial. This approach, known as cross-disciplinary learning, involves integrating insights and methodologies from…

[krawdad]

Defunct kevin didn't get into the specifics of why the animatronic Lincoln was smashing stuff and moving around erratically when hooked up to the inconsistent world's fair power supply. But he did explain how they programmed the movement to electrical tape and how that works. And I already know how magnetic tape recording works.

When a tape player gets inconsistent power the tape speeds up and slows down. Because the tape speed was fluctuating signals the tape was sending the figure were the wrong pitch and the wrong length. It was telling the wrong motors to move for a different amount of time than intended. That's why he smashed the chair and didn't work right.

[timbitshockey]

there are, of course, fluke hits and bad luck in any contact sport. there will be times that players miscalculate a check or turn into contact unaware or run into each other too hard accidentally. in those moments i feel sympathy for all players involved, especially when the player who caused an injury is clearly emotionally affected. i remember when pat maroon (who is certainly not a saint on the ice) accidentally clipped evander kane’s wrist with his skate — he stopped playing hockey in that moment despite the game continuing, and he desperately attempted to get a ref’s attention and get kane help. that is what happens when you accidentally hurt someone.

when specific players continually and repeatedly end up the aggressor in “fluke hits” and “bad luck” while showing absolutely no remorse, i don’t understand the urge anyone has to try to defend their actions as technically legal or obviously unintentional. he doesn’t feel bad about it. why do you feel bad on his behalf? if you’re a fan of a player who consistently uses attempts to injure others as a strategy then you should own it with the same pride the player does. bennett did that to stolarz on purpose and avoided accountability with the media and will recieve no disciplinary action. he must be ecstatic right now. his teammates, many of whom play with the same intent to injure, must be celebrating how much easier their road to the cup has become.

this is one of the most frustrating things about this sport and it’s a failure on every level. the players, the coach, the team, the refs, the department of player safety, the league. everyone knows that there are players on this team who aim to injure opponents and nothing is done, just like nothing is done for the troubas and wilsons and rempes across the league. as long as it makes for good tv, right? as long as some dude in a sports bar somewhere says this is good old hockey the way it should be played and buys a bennett jersey and watches tkachuk on the tonight show.

after stolarz was clearly severely hurt — throwing up over the bench and being taken to the hospital on a stretcher, remember, as the league will attempt to downplay the results of the play style they refuse to punish — i saw tkachuk attempt to slam his knee into mitch marner’s, nowhere near the puck. mitch dodged the contact, and tkachuk chased after him with a cross-check, visibly frustrated he didn’t catch one of the leafs star players by surprise with a painful and illegal hit. to me it seems pretty clear that that is not someone who learned a valuable lesson from seeing the effects of a teammates’ “fluke hit” and “bad luck.” that is someone attempting to injure a key player on a team that is injuring key players on purpose as a strategy, which is a strategy the team has been using throughout round one and throughout playoffs in the past and throughout the season.

and why wouldn’t you use that strategy? the league won’t punish you and you don’t feel guilty. everything is working the way it was designed to on every level — players to coaches to teams to the refs to the department of player safety to the league.

i don’t want to watch someone sustain a serious and life-ruining injury on my tv. most people don’t. the only thing that’s heartening about this situation (aside from the news that stolarz is out of the hospital, and his recovery will be on the forefront of many of our thoughts for the rest of the postseason) is seeing more and more pushback against the way this system is designed every time a player takes advantage of it. be angry and be loud and hope against hope that they’ll listen eventually.

the stanley cup is just a trophy. it is not worth more than players’ health, safety, and long-term quality of life. get over it and get mad.

[theotherwesley]

Here is what I am learning: Sometimes, one finds oneself in the unenviable position of being, say, in one's 30's, looking back at work you did when you were 19, or at work from current talented 19 year olds, and thinking "wow, why is this better than the stuff I've been struggling to do during a long dry spell?" There is nothing particularly unique about being a young adult (except maybe energy/time) that makes a person good at doing stuff they're working hard at. At 19 many people, probably including yourself, were in college, amongst peers, being exposed to new things, making cross-disciplinary connections, thinking critically, practicing with the intent of improving, actively using your brain and building synapses, and ideally being encouraged to do so while in a stable environment. The missing ingredient is not Youth or Talent-- it's regular brain exercise and not trying to be creative in a vacuum. Your brain can start working out at any time, it's not stuck where it is. Read long stuff, research something that interests you, engage with a topic outside of your current level expertise that you have to work to understand, watch something older than you are, talk to someone on a regular basis, practice something without the intent to share it. Don't try to do it all overnight. Sleep on it. The flexibility comes back, I promise. It's a recovery process and works the same as any other recovery process.

[blessedbucky]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕍

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 15.5k (IT JUST KEEPS GETTING LONGER WHY)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the before.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, awkward teenage sexual awakenings, denying that you're thirsting on your bffs and you're plunging in DENIAL river at the thought of CRUSHING on your bffs, masturbation, wet dreams (ish?), the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, and good ole fashioned meltdowns

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: (ಠ_ಠ) no seriously dude stories really do have a mind of their own because HERE WE ARE. 15.5 THOUSAND WORDS. and that was BEFORE hidden inventory. i've still got so many brain worms for post-hidden inventory that i said "my god the tumblr post will be so fucking long let me just cut this in half and give the besties an update while i'm at it"

Story Masterlist

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART I]

You know that they’re there. You’re not sure exactly where, but you can feel their eyes on you—sharp and predatory. You know that you may not be the best sorcerer around, but you think that this is a mission only you can do. You can’t let yourself waver here! There are people who depend on you now!

“We truly appreciate this, Senpai.”

They’re close, you can feel it. You’ll have to make your final stand here. Maybe you can trick them, so they don’t come at you with their all. Yes, you’ll talk and make it look like you’ve let your guard down.

You slow to a stop and turn around to face the two boys behind you with a smile. Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento—the only two to be enrolled this year. Both of them come from non-sorcerer families, so like you and Suguru last year, they’re here a week early to have a crash course on the jujutsu world. Hmm, now that you think about it, that could be why you’re so protective of them. You remember how overwhelmed you were by all that information thrown at you.

Nanami was dead serious with his thanks, as he is in general. Paired with Haibara, who is open and warm, you hope that his sharp edges will soften. Just as you hope that Nanami will teach Haibara to learn how to focus. He’s very laidback. You’re not sure that he realizes how dangerous sorcery can be.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Haibara starts nervously, “but isn’t this…excessive?”

Oh, poor, sweet, naïve Haibara. There are still stars in his eyes. It blinds him to the truth that you have to do this because no one else can. Only you can stand up to those saccharine smiles and escort your precious juniors to class. Without you, either they’d be kidnapped or Nanami would break and be expelled because he hasn’t built up an immunity yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, shadows move.

However, you were prepared for this!

You’ve learned from experience, so you know that one will try to sneak up behind you and snatch you up. With a mighty cry, you brandish the bottle that you had hidden in the front pocket of your uniform. Giving your back to your juniors, you spray Suguru right in the face with water.

“Gah!”

You spin on your heel and push between Nanami and Haibara to reach Satoru who stands behind them with a sadistic grin. His hands were going for their collars, but he’s lost when you spray him in the face, too. It doesn’t matter that the water is stalled by Infinity. They’ve lost the game today.

“No!” You hold the spray bottle up threateningly. Satoru accepts his defeat by dropping down to sit on the ground and cross his arms over his chest. “Let them get to class! There’s not gonna be any weird hazing rituals on my watch!”

“When did you become a member of the Disciplinary Committee?” Suguru teases while he slides in beside you to lean an elbow on your shoulder. You brandish the bottle, but he takes a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “You win this round, Squid. I won’t bother you or your ducklings for the rest of the day.”

Did you hear Nanami breathe a sigh of relief? You’re not sure. But you definitely hear Haibara squawk loudly. You look over your shoulder, watching as Nanami takes the chance to escape and books it away from the scene, practically dragging his classmate along with him. You can’t say that you blame Nanami. You know other people tend to think that Satoru is a lot to deal with and now that he and Suguru are so close…at times, they’re downright unbearable.

With an irritated sigh, you ask them, “Can you stop with the duckling thing?”

“Why? Worried you’ll get another nickname, Mama Duck?” Satoru taunts.

You won’t tell him that he’s right.

“The real question,” Suguru interrupts as he gently tugs at the strap of your backpack, “is where are you going?”

“A date,” you answer bluntly.

“What?!” Satoru yelps.

Suguru quickly follows up with, “With who?!”

“Talk about Mama Duck,” you mutter.

“Papa!” Satoru whines. Because he’s still on the ground, he starts tugging at Suguru’s pants—more like a child than the mother he pretends to be. “Sketch is in her rebellious phase!”

“You’re not reading any of my Ouran manga anymore.” In preparation for the anime adaptation that’s about to premiere, you’ve been burning through the manga. And Satoru once declared that he wanted to read what you did because he wants to know what kind of things you like, so he’s been reading it along with you. “I’m meeting up with Shoko. We’re getting our nails done and grabbing food.”

“Boo.” Satoru leans back on his hands with a huff. “Suguru, let’s go on our own date to make them jealous!”

“You guys are extra childish today.” You put a hand on your hip. “If I stop at the konbini on my way back, will you cut it out with the temper tantrums?”

“Rude.” You wait. Suguru and you stare at each other. He’s the one to crack first. “Some unadon, please.”

“Parfait!” Satoru chirps.

“Actual food, Satoru,” you and Suguru intone at the exact same time.

“Ugh. Fine. A katsu sandwich and the parfait.”

“Good boy.” Satoru has an interesting reaction to your praise. His face turns bright red, probably out of chagrin. He jerks away from your hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair and yanks his legs up against his chest. You hold your hands up like Suguru had done not long ago. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize. “I should’ve asked before I tried to touch.”

“It’s not that!” Satoru snaps his head to the side, looking away, scowling at nothing. “You know that you and Suguru are allowed to touch me whenever! But don’t talk to me like I’m a dog! Jeez!”

You cock your head to the side. “Is that how it came off? I was being genuine. You usually put up more of a fuss when we try to get you to eat regular food.”

“Squid.” You turn to look up at Suguru. There’s this weird smile on his face as he watches Satoru. Forced, maybe? But then he turns his attention back to you. “What time are you meeting Shoko? Shouldn’t you get going? I don’t want you to freak out over being late because we held you up.”

Your eye twitches. “But you’ll hold up our juniors from going to class?”

The tension in his smile melts away for something coyer. “We want to welcome them. Get to know them better since they’re in the dorms with us now. Isn’t that the responsible thing to do as their upperclassmen?”

“I can’t believe you preached to them about how important our roles are, but you want to interrupt their studies.”

“It’s nothing official,” he tries to dismiss. “Sensei won’t throw them to the wolves on their first day. They could catch up once the term starts.” He raises a brow. “I can’t believe you preached to them about having fun when they can, but you want to keep them tucked away under your wing,” he throws back at you tauntingly.

You roll your eyes. “Go jerk each other off or something and leave the rest of us out of it.”

They’re both still sputtering when you walk away with a smug smirk.

Oh.

No wonder Satoru and Suguru had been so upset about the idea of you on a date. You’d completely forgotten that it’s cherry blossom season. There are definitely no open benches. Thankfully, you’re prepared! You brought a blanket in case the benches were still wet from the morning dew. You’re happy that you’re still early despite Satoru and Suguru’s distraction because you have time to hunt down a spot that’s as far away as it can be from other people on the open lawn.

You spot Shoko before she sees you. You stand up and wave a hand in the air to catch her attention. Around the stick in her mouth, she’s grinning as she approaches. Then, because you’re weirdly attracted to having assholes for friends, she asks loud enough for other people to hear, “Are we on an actual date, pretty girl?”

And, normally, you’d be embarrassed by that. Right now, though, when she’s close enough, you’re smacked in the face with the bitter smell of smoke. The end of what you thought was a candy stick is bright orange. “Shoko!” You flap a hand nervously in her direction, motioning toward that thing in her mouth. “You leave us for a month and you’re smoking now?!”

“Aw, man. I’d hoped getting you all flustered would’ve helped you ignore that.” She laughs easily. “Here.” She plops the plastic bag in hand on the blanket. “I wanted to drop this off before I go put out this cigarette. I don’t want us getting kicked out for me not being in the designated smoking area.” She waves a hand. “Be right back.”

You’re still in a tizzy when she gets back. “This is bribery,” you accuse when she’s close enough. When she’d proposed this, you suggested the both of you buying your own meals, but she insisted on paying. Now, you know why, and you also know why she got a bunch of your favorite foods and drinks. “I can’t believe you,” you continue to complain. “You’re going to be a doctor. You have surgeons as parents. What do they think about this?”

“They’re smokers, too.”

You huff in disbelief. “That seems…irresponsible.”

“They do have a kid that could heal any complications that come from it. That’s why I do it. I get the chemical rush and none of the damage. Seems like a win-win to me.” She plops down on the blanket next to you. “You’re not helping the Mama Duck allegations, y’know.”

Ugh. Having more than one friend sucks sometimes. If only they could move those online chatrooms to cell phones. You could scold them all at once about this weird obsession they have with giving you embarrassing nicknames. “It’s not bad to care about people!”

“You’re too sweet for jerks like us, pretty girl,” Shoko says with a laugh as she holds out okonomiyaki as an offering.

You eye the plastic container before you snatch it from her hands. “No octopus, right?”

“Vegetarian,” she replies. You smile brightly and flip the container open. Between the both of you chowing down, she asks, “Did you work on your technique over the break? Gotten anywhere else with it?”

“Ugh, yeah, and it’s gotten me in a weird place.” She raises a brow at your answer. You absentmindedly chew on the end of your straw. “I still can’t control them. It’s like I’m giving them a suggestion and the weaker they are, the more likely they are to listen to what I have to say.” You frown. “I was on an assignment with Suguru and another sorcerer last week, y’know. They used a shikigami.” You fidget nervously. “I pacified the shikigami and Suguru’s cursed spirit.”

Shoko nearly drops her drink from the shock. “Seriously?”

You nod. “We don’t know what to make of it. I could maybe understand Suguru since the cursed spirits are technically their own separate thing. It’s like an extreme master-servant deal. But with a shikigami…that’s just a physical form of a sorcerer’s cursed energy.”

“How easy was it?”

“Not at all. I passed out,” you admit sheepishly. “I thought I was pacifying the cursed spirit we were after, but…uh…I guess the other two were caught in the range. The shikigami was a lot easier, actually. It might have to do with the amount of cursed energy. When this was all happening, it felt like an uphill battle. Suguru has more cursed energy than me and it’s like I’m muting his connection, so I guess I’d need to overcome his. If he wasn’t so tired, I don’t think I would’ve won.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it all boils down to cursed energy.” You tilt your head in question. “Like…you’re suppressing cursed energy itself. Not only cursed spirits. What are cursed spirits if not a massive amount of negative cursed energy? If you look at it with that perspective, it only makes sense that you can pacify shikigami.”

“I want to say that it feels like you’re reaching, but…” Well. That’s the only logical outcome when you add up the pieces. It’s started now because you’re getting stronger, refining control over your own cursed energy. “I don’t like this,” you whisper when you start thinking too much. “Wouldn’t the next step be pacifying the sorcerer? I…I don’t want to control people.” You shake your head furiously. “No. I could never be that strong.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself there, pretty girl. If it boils down to a cursed energy match, you have a lot.” You try to wave the comment off. Sensei has mentioned something along those lines, too. “I’m serious. You can’t compare yourself to Gojo and Geto since they’re freaks of nature. You’ve got such an insane amount that you’re getting close to freak yourself. If you had a more threatening ability, you might be considered Special Grade.”

“Can we not talk about me anymore, please?”

“Alright, alright. Let me tell you about the fun I had over the break. They gave me access to the morgue.”

You’re…distracted…

It’s hard not to stare.

It was only a moment, but you still watch him intently. You’re reminded of those pictures that are drawn in such a way that you can see multiple interpretations and when someone points out their own perspective, you can never not see it anymore. This is like that. It doesn’t matter if you demand that he tuck his shirt in like some scandalized lady of the house from the Heian period because it’s burned in your brain now.

Such a small, simple thing. A flutter of his shirt when he leaped in the air to shoot the basketball, and you saw beneath the figurative curtain. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you knew that a simple belt wouldn’t be enough to hold up Suguru’s heavy, baggy pants, but it never clicked. Not until now. Not until you saw a flash of the high waist of his pants.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why does it feel like your brain would be playing the old internet dial-up sound on a loop if someone could read your mind right now?

It was a waist! You didn’t even see skin! If you’re going to drool over something, it should be his arms. With his sleeves rolled up like that, you can see the few veins that run along his upper arms. With him holding a basketball like that, the size of his hands become more apparent. Suguru…really took that punch at last year’s Goodwill Event personally and he’s started to work out a lot more. You can tell. Not that he wasn’t fit before with all the farm work he did in the village, but…

Holy shit, what are you going to do in summer? You think you heard Satoru mention that they had more people to play basketball with now, so they could do teams, and…and don’t guys do the whole shirts versus skins thing? They wouldn’t with only two to a team, would they? What are you going to do? Suguru is more massive than ever now. More muscled than ever.

Is the heat still on? You’re so hot right now. And more than that…

“Yo! Sketch! Hey, look out—”

Something heavy thumps against the top of your head. You clutch at your head, watching the basketball bounce away, more flustered than hurt that you were…were…in a daze. Because you saw your best friend’s waist. When did Suguru get curves? Oh, no. Does this make you a pervert? You might be a pervert!

“Squid?”

The stupidly curvaceous man of the hour squats down in front of you. Hair has fallen out of his tight bun, bangs now framing both sides of his face. You duck your head, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. You watch his fingers twitch, but he puts his hands firmly on his big thighs.

“You lookin’ to get a new nickname, Sketch?” Satoru calls out as he approaches you and Suguru. “You’ll get one if you don’t stop being such a space cadet.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “You’re so caring, Satoru. Really, you’re dripping with compassion.” He shakes his head before moving his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you okay? Is it a bad day?”

“Is it a crime to daydream?” You scramble for something to explain your behavior. “I don’t know. I…I was trying to remember what that cursed spirit looked like.” You shake your sketchbook. His brows furrow in confusion when he looks at it because it’s almost done. You panic. “Uh…like…did it have fur or not? I can’t remember!”

“It was scales…” Suguru informs you slowly. “Are you okay? Really? Not feeling sick or anything? You don’t usually forget big things like that when it comes to cursed spirits.”

The gym door slams open, the sound echoing, and making you yelp.

Sensei shouts all your names as if you’re in trouble…which, to be fair, you probably are since you were supposed to be spending this time studying in the library. Technically, you could spin the sketch as work since you are supposed to record curses that you encounter, but you don’t even want to defend yourself. You’ve never been more thankful to be in trouble in your life. Sensei has learned that the best punishment is to separate you all from each other. You need some room to breathe.

“Since you have so much energy to burn,” Sensei starts heatedly, “you can come help with the first years.”

“Ugh,” Satoru and Suguru groan in unison.

You smartly slide off to the side to make way for Sensei. He rushes forward to knock them both over the head as a reprimand for the rude response. The hit makes them drop to their knees and they accept that they’re in for a lecture. Sensei doesn’t demand the same gesture from you because he knows that you’ll stay where you are. You do tune him out partway through, though. This is definitely a lecture more targeted toward Satoru and Suguru because you’re more than happy to help with whatever the first years need.

When Sensei calls out your name, you snap back to attention. “You’ll spar with Satoru today,” he declares. It’s hard to retain your politeness. Turns out that you’re not exactly escaping, after all. It could be worse. He could make you run the track again which you hate because you don’t have anyone to keep you company, so you get bored just running in circles.

Then, you process his words fully. “Satoru?”

“Suguru is going to work with Nanami and Haibara today,” Sensei explains. “Satoru still needs a lot of work on his hand-to-hand combat.” Suguru snickers quietly while Satoru sputters at the, frankly, correct assessment. “You’re next best after Suguru. He’ll benefit from sparring with you. It might also help him with having some restraint.”

“What the hell, old man?!” Satoru shouts. “Suguru, shut up!” Clearly, Satoru isn’t that preoccupied with getting an answer. He just stomps out of the gym with a red face while Suguru quickly follows after him to pile on the teasing.

Both you and Sensei sigh when they’re out of sight—for different reasons, of course. Sensei goes on to scrub a hand across his face. You don’t doubt that he’s questioning his life choices right now. Kusakabe, when he visits Sensei and you escort him to where your teacher is, has told you that Sensei complains about how Satoru and Suguru are some of the most promising yet most frustrating students that he’s ever had.

“Sorry, Sensei.” You feel the need to apologize on their behalf. Sensei shoots you an irritable look now. One of your biggest lectures is to stop doting on Satoru and Suguru. “Sorry,” you mumble again with a wince. He stares at you a few seconds more before he heads out of the gym. You quickly follow after and step in line beside him. “Um…you said that we needed to get used to helping Nanami and Haibara more. Something about escorting them on missions?” That had caught your attention during the lecture. “When does that start?”

“I’m not sure,” Sensei answers honestly. “It depends on how today goes. Haibara’s family owns a dojo. Nanami has taken kendo classes since he was a child. I want to see how well they incorporate cursed energy into their techniques.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s been a month…” He hums in agreement. “We were going on our first assignments within a month.”

“Your class is a special case. You’re all extremely talented. Satoru and Suguru are in the process of being assigned Special Grade status. I’ve also been speaking with Kusakabe about putting your name forward for Grade 1 in the future.” Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to stare at him in shock. “Though, I’m not sure that you need the recommendation. Those at headquarters are very interested in your abilities. They’ll be speaking with you soon.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Your mind is spinning right now. “Why? What more can I tell them?”

Sensei stops and turns to stare at you like you’ve grown another head. “You discovered that the Red Room Curse exists as an extension of a cursed spirit’s technique. You used the break to research, something you didn’t have to do. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known that it had created a cursed tool in the Taisho period. It was found yesterday, if you were curious. It’s been sealed away.”

You frown. “Doesn’t that just mean they should do more research themselves?”

“They should,” he agrees. But they won’t and now you’re here, he doesn’t say. You can do it for them. “Like any high schooler, you should start thinking about what you want to do after graduation. You and Shoko have more options open to you than the rest of your peers. As your name spreads at headquarters, it trickles down to the clans, so they may offer you positions, too.”

And you can’t help but blurt, “Couldn’t you have sprung this on me after sparring?”

Sensei chuckles softly. “It wasn’t meant to cause you stress. What you do or don’t do with your technique is up to you. This was to help you see your worth, more than anything.”

You blink at his honesty. “Y’know…you’re actually a good guy, Sensei.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he grouses.

“Ah, but it was?”

Sensei sighs. “I know.”

“This is stupid,” Satoru complains as the two of you stand off to the side and watch Nanami and Haibara throw themselves at Suguru. They try to clumsily infuse their moves with cursed energy which Suguru is quick to point out and guide them on how to better let their cursed energy flow. “Why not let the guy with a shield handle this?”

“The inconsistent shield?”

Ah, maybe that was a little too mean. Satoru is in a weird place. The last few months, he’s felt like he’s started to slide backward in terms of progress. He still can’t fire off his technique, Red, consistently. Whenever he does try, it leaves him exhausted. Not to mention that, suddenly, his Infinity has started to lower at the most random of times. Satoru has no reason why. Thankfully, it’s not a lot. Sensei and Shoko were honestly shocked because it’s never dropped around them. It’s only you and Suguru that have seen Infinity act up and Satoru wants to keep it that way.

Satoru doesn’t dwell on your words. “Not you too, Sketch! What’s with everyone bashing me today, huh?”

“Anyway.” You roll your eyes. “Getting hit is the point here. Suguru can feel their output better that way and correct them. And it’s not enough for them to hurt him.”

“I’m good at controlling and channeling my cursed energy, too!”

“Yeah, but you can’t explain it well.” Before he can loudly whine again, you interrupt. “For you, it’s so easy that you don’t think about it. It would be like explaining how to breathe.” You pause. “Also, you’re way too rude. You need to be delicate with these things and that’s impossible for you.”

“Is not!”

You turn to stare at him while you dryly ask, “Are you done stalling now?”

His cheeks are flushed with chagrin. “I’m not stalling!”

“Let’s get started, then. I want today to be over. I’m exhausted.” You are tired, true, but you mainly want to run and hide away in your room. Those…thoughts…about Suguru…they still linger in the back of your mind. You’re pointedly not trying to look at him specifically, instead focusing on Nanami or Haibara.

“Fine.”

Satoru makes a show of stomping away. You follow after him with a shake of the head and quiet chuckle. Just a little pushback from people for once and he can’t take it? Suguru will definitely give him more shit later. You wonder if Suguru will lecture him in the showers—

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Where the fuck did that come from? You’re so struck by your own brain’s train of thought that you almost trip over your feet. As you meet Satoru on the other side of the field, you purposely put your back to the first years. You pray that you won’t bump into them. You don’t know that you can stand to face Suguru right now. You’re done. This day has been weird and hellish. You’ll just have to apologize to Satoru later for your impending brutality. You can’t take it easy on him today if you want to be dismissed by Sensei as soon as possible.

“Start already!” Sensei shouts from the other side of the field.

You’re not sure whether Utahime would consider you a friend yet, but since Shoko has the hugest crush on her but is too scared to ask her on an actual date, you’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. A favorite activity of hers is dancing. It makes sense because it’s an integral part of her technique. More often than not, when you and Shoko visit Utahime in Kyoto, you three end up dancing the night away in her apartment.

And you, practical person that you are, have started to infuse what you’ve learned into your attack style. It’s useful against people like Suguru and Satoru who are so much taller and physically stronger than you. Because, like all things, there are disadvantages to their size. You’re more nimble, more flexible. They naturally swing high which has you mostly going low—sometimes, even dropping to do the splits. When they try to kick, you can dance away or, if you react fast enough, you can catch their leg to sweep them off their feet.

It's been some time since you’ve sparred with Satoru, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not watching. You know how he fights, but today…it’s different. He’s as dodgy as you are. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he’s pulling his punches. Never let it be said that he’s not a fast learner, so maybe he’s adjusting to match your fight style. He’s like a snake, trying to lash out to get his fangs in you, trying to wrap around you. You narrowly miss getting locked down when he snatches your sweatshirt by pulling yourself out of it.

Just when you think you have his moves down, it only gets weirder. His cheeks are pink. You didn’t think you were going hard enough at him to make him sweat, but maybe you’re wrong. Now, he’s purely on the defensive…or so you think. You should’ve known better. You make the mistake of trying to throw yourself fully on the offense. So, when you aim a high kick at him, he snatches your ankle and roughly yanks you.

It happens fast. You try to catch yourself with your hands, twisting your torso to try to get them on the ground. It doesn’t work in that respect, but it does hook your ankle around Satoru’s neck enough to tip him forward. The back of your head smacks against the ground painfully. The breath is knocked out of you when Satoru’s heavier body lands right on top of you.

“Ow, ow, ow, Sketch. You kicked my head!”

Words are stuck in your throat.

Because, suddenly, you have become hyperaware of your own body. And it’s not exactly like that’s…abnormal…but this…isn’t overstimulation. Or…maybe it is? A shiver runs down your spine. The points of contact where Satoru’s bare skin touches yours are like live wires—heated and sparking.

With the first few buttons of his shirt popped open, your cheek is smashed against his bare skin. Since you’re in a short-sleeve shirt, one of his stupidly huge hands are wrapped around your arm. And…and when he tries to lift away from you, his…his knee slips up and…accidentally nudges up between your thighs…

You bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s not enough to hold back the tiny whimper in response to the rush of heat that zips up your spine.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Above you, Satoru goes rigid. You’re mortified. He heard. “Ow!” It’s all you can think to do. You hope that he falls for your desperate attempt to make that sound like a pained whimper. You need out of here. Fuck the consequences. You squeak out, “I yield!”

“Cool!” Satoru sounds as equally panicked as you do. “My prize is your sweatshirt!”

“Whatever! Can you m—”

There’s a burst of cursed energy. Then, you two become a dizzyingly mess of limbs. You yelp and instinctively grip at Satoru, but because he lifted his arm, his shirt rode up, so you’re grabbing at his bare waist and digging your nails in. He squawks at the rough treatment, trying to lean away, and his hand ends up groping one of your tits when he tries to get his bearings.

As soon as your sweatshirt that he pulled toward him with Blue is finally in his hand, Satoru moves away from you. He chokes when he’s yanked back viciously by the back of his collar. Suguru uses so much force that it briefly lifts Satoru’s knees off the ground. Satoru, weirdly, is protective of his prize because he only reaches back to swat at Suguru with one hand while the other keeps your sweatshirt pressed against his body.

“Satoru!” Suguru shouts. “What the hell? We don’t use cursed techniques in sparring—”

“I’m okay!” You scramble to lift yourself up from the ground. “I am okay!” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but Suguru isn’t buying it. You can’t blame him. There’s a tremble in your voice, sweat lining your skin, and your heart is pounding away in your chest. “I hope that everyone has a good sparring session! I’m done!”

Sensei and Suguru both call out your name, but you’re already power walking away from the field.

Despite what some people may think, you’re not stupid or naïve.

But…with how much time it took you to figure out what it was that you were feeling today since that time in the gym…you might be in denial.

In the communal showers, under the lukewarm spray of water, you have your hands pressed to your scalding hot cheeks. You continue to take deep breaths. None of this helps. There’s a very real urge to clench your thighs together. Because there’s a very real ache between them. Because your mind is an endless loop—sweat-slick skin and the hair stuck to it, flashes of skin from shirts ridden up, the outline of defined muscles hidden under white shirts, massive hands…

You slap your hands over your face which…doesn’t help. Since you’re alone, you crouch down without the fear of judgement. If you weren’t alone, you think you still wouldn’t care. You’re in the middle of a crisis. Is this a moral crisis? No. Wait. Oh, no. Is this what they call a sexual awakening?

No. That’s stupid. You’ve obviously felt desire before. Kind of. It was about as lukewarm an experience as the water that pounds against your back right now. Your thoughts had been scattered, nowhere in particular, so maybe that’s why it’d been dry—both literally and metaphorically.

This…this is so different from back then. This is warm. It’s heat. You’re throbbing. You didn’t think that you could ever feel this way. You’ve never wanted to touch yourself so badly. And that in itself isn’t a bad thing. You’ve never understood the point in shame over a natural bodily reaction and doing something to satisfy it. It never flustered you as much as your fellow classmates to hear the boys make sexual innuendos.

No, this shame comes from who you want to think about as you touch yourself. Even now, past your distress, you want to drop to your knees, slip your hand down between your thighs, and know what it’s supposed to truly feel like. But you know…you know that if you do that, their faces will be at the forefront of your mind.

You’re not supposed to think about Satoru and Suguru like this!

They are your best friends!

How the hell are you supposed to ignore this? You finally understand what some people mean when they say they feel like a cat in heat. It’s fine. You’ll just…get your mind off it. Ugh. So, going back to your room is a bad idea. If you’re left alone with your thoughts, you’ll never stop thinking about it. What can you do, though? Why is your go-to always hanging out with friends? You don’t want to be around people anymore. You’re so mentally exhausted now.

Right, okay, you’ll drop to your other default.

There was a bird nest in the big tree outside the classroom window. If you’re lucky, the mama bird will stay still long enough for you to draw her.

As always, drawing manages to knock you out of your head.

It calms you down to the point that between one blink and the next, you’re asleep. Not that you realize that until the ground falls out from underneath you and you jerk awake. There’s a part of you that knows whose arms you’re in, though, so your brain is still calm enough to try and drag you back to sleep.

With a sigh, you slip your arms around his neck and shove your face in the crook of his neck. “Sketchbook,” you mumble as almost an afterthought.

“I’ll come back for it later,” Suguru whispers. “You have to stop sketching outdoors when you’re so tired, Squid. You’ll catch cold.”

“Okay,” you agree sleepily.

Suguru chuckles quietly. “Forget it. I’ll lecture you tomorrow.”

“This one?”

You take a step to the side, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Shoko. You hunch over to examine where she points at on the display case. It’s a cute tongue ring with a charm in the shape of a heart. “Pretty, but too flat.” She raises a brow in question. “I like it when they have the little ball on the end. See?” You open your mouth to physically show her the piercing and how you roll it against your teeth. “It’s really satisfying to play with.”

On the other side of the display case, Utahime clicks her tongue. “That could easily turn into a dangerous distraction.”

You tilt your body to stare at her through the crack of display cases. Deadpan, you ask, “You have a problem with my tongue piercing but not with Shoko’s smoking?”

“I’m trying to save you from her bad influence,” Utahime shoots back.

“Hey,” Shoko complains.

Then, hypocritically, Utahime points at her side of the case. “What about one of these?” Clearly, if she’s making suggestions then she doesn’t care all that much about your piercing…ah. Wait. She was joking. Maybe a little. You’re still trying to get a read on how Utahime communicates.

You step over to her side of the case. You can’t catch yourself before you let out a shudder and scrunch your nose in disgust. It’s a bead, sure, but it’s those rubbery ones with equally rubbery spikes. Just the thought of that touching the inside of your mouth is nauseating. “Um…thank you for the suggestion, but…no.” You try to keep it polite as to not offend her.

Utahime snorts. “Okay. Stick to metal.” She blinks. “Oh. What about this one?”

The price tag makes you internally cringe, but then you actually look at it, and you immediately know you want it. You have the money saved up for it, anyway. It’s probably plastic, but it’s shaped and shiny enough to look like it’s made of diamond. At that price, it might be made of that off-brand diamond. The charm on the end is in the shape of a dragon’s head.

Excitement surges through you. You practically bounce over to a store worker to have them unlock the case and take the tongue ring to the register. As soon as it’s paid for, you skip out of the store and make a break for the nearest restroom. Just as you have it torn open and are washing it with hand soap, Shoko and Utahime burst into the restroom behind you.

“You’re really excited about this,” Utahime remarks.

“Ahh.” Shoko finally gets a good look at the tongue ring when you hold it up in the light. “No wonder you’re so excited. It’s like a little rainbow dragon.”

The tongue ring almost goes down the drain when you nearly drop it. Looking over your shoulder, you glare at her. “That’s not it at all!” The defensiveness isn’t helping your case, you realize, so you turn back to the mirror. “Jeez, Shoko, not everything I do is about Suguru or Satoru! Can I not get something because it looks cool?”

In the reflection, you watch Shoko put her hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, I didn’t mean to offend you, your highness.”

“Inside voice, please,” Utahime reminds you. Then, to Shoko, she says, “She’s right, y’know. Not everything has to revolve around those two. A woman can dress up solely for herself. We know Duck isn’t the type to make herself uncomfortable for someone else.”

Slowly, you move to face Utahime, expression blank. “What did you just call me?”

Shoko, smartly, uses Utahime’s embarrassed stream of apologies as a chance to escape.

You need new fucking friends.

As you and Shoko meander your way up the main staircase that leads back to campus, she casually asks, “So, what’s going on with you and Gojo?”

Ha. As if you’d admit the truth. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed how quiet Gojo’s been.” For a moment, you stupidly think that she’ll keep the focus on Satoru, but you’re not so lucky. “As for you…it’s hard to explain because quiet is your default, but you’ve been really…dodgy. Acting like a nervous wild animal that runs whenever someone gets close.” Oh, you are praying that she doesn’t connect the dots. No dice. “That someone is Gojo and Geto.”

“You know how they are, Shoko. They’re always so touchy. I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that,” you lie. Well. It’s part lie. What you can and can’t handle always goes day by day.

“No, see, I know that’s a lie. Like Utahime said, you never hesitate to tell us when you’re uncomfortable. If you’re having a bad day, you let us know about it.” Shit. “Geto and I are just trying to figure it out. This started after you and Gojo sparred. I thought maybe you’re scared of Gojo and Gojo is scared that you’re scared of him, but you two are acting weird around Geto, too. So, it can’t be that—”

You try to interrupt in as less a panicky way as possible. “It really isn’t that deep—”

“I thought it had to do with the giant crush that Gojo has on you, but like I said, he’s acting like a flustered virgin around you and Geto—”

“Crush?” Shoko holds out an arm to catch you when your foot catches a step the wrong way and you stumble forward. You jerk to face her, eyes wide with shock. “What are you talking about?! Are those cigarettes laced with something, Shoko? Do you need glasses or something?”

Shoko laughs. “Sure, the person that struggles with social cues is going to lecture me.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“When did I say you were?”

“What I mean is that I could tell if he has a crush on me. He’d act different around me, right? Satoru doesn’t know how to be subtle. Since he acts no different around me than he does anyone else, the only logical conclusion is he doesn’t feel any different for me, either.”

“I can’t believe you’re coming at this like a math problem. No. Actually, I can believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, emotions aren’t logical. Second, and more importantly, he absolutely acts different around you and Geto.”

You huff. “You just proved your point wrong. If he has a crush on me, he wouldn’t treat Suguru the same, would he?”

“Ah. Wait. You’re right. Unless…ooh.” She knocks one fist against her open palm as if she’s had an epiphany. You’re terrified to hear what she’s come up with. “Unless he’s got a crush on both of you. That’s what it is. It makes so much sense. Oh, man. I’ve got to talk to Nanami and Haibara now.”

Your head is spinning. “No, you’re not talking to them about this! I don’t even think there’s a word to describe how far you’re reaching right now, Shoko!” You shake your hands, desperately trying to get out your nervous energy. “Look, I’d understand if he has a crush on Suguru. They’d be a hot couple, okay? But don’t…don’t bring me into this! That’s…anyway, isn’t that cheating?” Your voice quiets. “Isn’t that…wrong?”

“It’s not like any of you are in a relationship. So, no, I don’t think it’s cheating. I still wouldn’t. Cheating is if the other person doesn’t know you’re involved with someone else.” She shrugs. “I might be a biased opinion. There are a lot of people who say that me liking girls is wrong. So, if everyone cares about everyone else involved, then what’s wrong with more than two people in a relationship?”

Oh.

Well, that’s…

You don’t know what to do with all this.

“Okay, that’s…that’s true. I can understand that. It’s like another one of those things that people worry about when there’s no reason.” She nods in agreement. “You’re still wrong about the crush thing, though. Why would someone have a crush on me? No one ever has. Why would they start now?”

“No one has had a crush on you that you know of,” Shoko corrects cryptically. “Are we going to ignore you called them hot?”

“Are you blind?”

“No. I’m gay.”

“Shoko, I like girls, too. It doesn’t make you less of a lesbian if you admit they’re aesthetically pleasing.”

“Sure, but their personalities are so awful that it just ruins everything else.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t just you being uncomfortable that it’s like looking in a mirror when you see them? You all have the exact same sense of humor. You’re definitely as much of an asshole as them.” She bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. You know it’s true.”

Shoko wipes at her tears of laughter. As she starts to walk forward again, she remarks, “You talk big, pretty girl, but you can be an asshole yourself.”

If there was one thing that Shoko was right about, it’s that you’ve been obviously skirting around Satoru and Suguru. For three nights straight, both your mind and body toss and turn as you try to figure out where this sudden awareness of their bodies is coming from.

Technically, you’ve been through this before with Suguru, but…was it to this degree?

It’d been one of those rare days that you were allowed to work out in the fields with your parents. When you’d hunted Suguru down to not be so bored as you pulled crops, he’d been hunched over with no shirt on. It wasn’t the first time that you’d seen him without a shirt, per se. You’d both gone swimming before…

You’re not sure what it was. Maybe it was like how your grandparents, who lived in a different village, would remark on how much you’d grown between monthly visits. You would look in the mirror every day, so the changes in yourself were infinitesimal compared to someone that only saw you once a month. It could’ve been that, on that day, your brain had finally caught up on all the ways that Suguru had grown.

That skinny boy with his bony elbows and knobby knees and short, wild hair had grown. He’d finally hit a growth spurt the year before and was taller than everyone else in the village now. He towered over you, skin golden and dripping with sweat. He’d started to slowly grow his hair out and it was long enough to be pulled back in a stubby ponytail. He hadn’t been as toned as he is now, but it was still enough for your eyes to follow along the subtle swell of his biceps.

Jeez, that had been the last year of middle school, you think. Are you having another one of those moments? Did Satoru get caught in the crossfire?

The real question is…why aren’t you as aware of everyone else at school as you are of them? Like you told Shoko, anyone with a pair of eyes can see that they’re aesthetically pleasing. You’ve known that Suguru is a heartthrob since middle school. But…so is everyone else at school.

Shoko is a bombshell. That beauty mark? That poster that had made you blurt out your attraction and caused your mother to smack you, you’re pretty sure the model had a beauty mark, too. Shoko has the whole femme fatale thing going on now that she’s smoking. It’s not like you can blame it on height thing, either. Nanami is as tall as Suguru, the both of them just barely under Satoru. Even with the…stoic loner vibe and haircut…he’s also very handsome. Ruggedly so. Haibara is boyishly handsome, too, and very fit since his family runs a dojo.

So, why?

Why is your body reacting like this to only them?

It’s fine, you tell yourself. You can acknowledge that they’re pretty. There’s nothing wrong with that. You are, as many adults have complained about before, a hormonal teenager. It’s a little embarrassing, your body fixating on them, but you need some good old fashioned exposure therapy. You miss the normalcy that comes with them. You’re bored without them around. Your brain will whip your hormonal body into shape.

The morning after you’ve made your decision, you, admittedly, might…go from zero to a hundred. Despite your exhaustion from the lack of sleep, you think this will be a good day for your senses. Knowing that Satoru and Shoko are the type to show up at the last minute, you rush to meet Suguru on his way to class.

When you see him, back turned, head ducked as he looks at his phone, bag over his shoulder, your feet speed up. And then you throw yourself at his back, locking your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. Suguru is so surprised that his phone clatters to the ground, yanking out his earbuds.

Suguru lifts his arm up, looking under it, and you poke your head out further to show him it’s you. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly in regard to the fright. You crouch down to pick his phone and earbuds up.

“It’s fine,” he breathes out. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.”

“Sorry,” you repeat. “I feel bad now. You ask me if I want to be touched. I really should’ve done the same.”

“Should I renew my blanket permission? You don’t have to ask me.”

“Permission renewed.”

Suguru chuckles lowly as he tries to turn around in your arms. You take a step back, letting him have room, but you don’t make it very far. He snatches your wrist and yanks you back toward him, making you squeak in surprise. He wraps you up tight in his arms. Your body is tense, you know, only made worse by the rapid beat of your heart and heat prickling across your skin, but you’re trying not to act weird.

“Sorry for being…” You don’t know how to describe it without being incriminating. “My head has been in weird places.”

“Why haven’t you talked to me about it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble before pressing your face against his chest.

“Since when did you start to feel shame?” Suguru teases. You dig your fingers into his side meanly, knowing it’s a spot that gets him squirming. Sure enough, he tries to wiggle away from you. “Cut it out,” he demands with a laugh. You do as he asks. “Let me be serious, Squid. I want you to talk to me, okay? Have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be yourself or say what you want around me?”

“…no,” you admit after a pause.

“Why start now, then?” His grip around you goes unbearably tight. He buries his face in your hair and confesses, “I was worried that I scared you with how rough I got with Satoru.”

“Suguru!” You fist your hands in the front of his blazer and shove him away enough to make him look at your face. “That might be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me!” His brows furrow in confusion. You nearly shake him. “I will never ever be scared of you, okay? I think it’s physically impossible for my body to think of you as a threat.”

Suguru raises his arms in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Squid. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”

“You’re the most important person to me. Why wouldn’t I take that personally?” You step back and cross your arms over your chest. “How would you feel if I asked if you were scared of me?”

“It might actually be physically impossible for you to look scary.”

“Never mind. I’m not talking to you anymore,” you declare with a huff before you start stomping away.

Suguru chases after you with a laugh.

The next day, in the late afternoon, you’re on your way to the bus stop, planning to head into the city for something to eat. You like this bus. Since the school’s campus is so far out, the bus is smaller, and there’s only one seat per aisle. No one will sit next to you. You don’t have to make small talk, either. You finally dropped money for a MP3 player, so when you have earbuds, you’re simply written off as a rude teenager and usually aren’t bothered.

At the torii gate, though, your dinner plans change because Satoru is waiting for you with your sweatshirt over one arm and a bag of takeout dangling from his other hand.

The two of you sneak inside an empty classroom, glowing orange with the afternoon sun. He shoves a desk in front of the one you sit at, giving you both room to eat the ramen he bought. Wordlessly, he passes you the sweatshirt. At first, you were confused over how he even got it, but you realize it’s the one from when you two sparred. It’s still warm, you think, and smells like the really expensive laundry detergent.

Unthinkingly, you shove your face against the fabric, taking a lungful and soaking in the soft warmth. You rub your face against it. Satoru snorts before he speaks directly to you for the first time in…a few days, probably. “It’s like looking at a kitten.”

“That’s rich when you’re cuddling with those soft Digimon plushies,” you grumble. You carefully fold it up and shove it down in your bag. “You didn’t have to wash it, y’know. What? Did you spill something on it or stain it or something?”

Satoru shouts, “No!” His face is bright red, though. The reddest that you’ve ever seen it. It’s answer enough.

“Don’t be so defensive. It’s okay if you did.” Your leg is bouncing from nervousness. This is so bad. You shouldn’t be nervous around best friends. “Are we done being weird around each other?”

He is pointedly not looking at you as he divvies out the plastic containers. “I’m…um…I guess I should apologize first. I didn’t scare you or anything, did I?”

You blink, honestly confused and trying to figure out why you’d be scared. “It was just Blue?”

“Yeah, but still…”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” You break your chopsticks apart but pause. “I’m more disappointed than anything. Using your technique because you’re too lazy to walk and get my sweatshirt? What if the school was suddenly attacked and you didn’t have any cursed energy left because you’ve been flinging it around everywhere?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Do you even know how much cursed energy I have? Using it here and there isn’t going to kill me. And what kind of hypothetical is that, anyway? This is the safest place in the jujutsu world.”

“The Special Assault Team could storm campus with machine guns or something.”

“Okay, then I’d have Suguru use Hong to deflect the bullets while something else in his arsenal eats them.”

You shake your head. “And he’d do it, too. For all the lectures he gives you about being spoiled, he’s the worst.”

“Heh! So do you,” he sings.

The worst part is that he’s right. Still, you feel the need to defend your honor. “Who can say no to the jujutsu world’s prettiest princess? Lord Gojo is such a demanding little thing. No one wants to deal with one of his tantrums.”

“I know you’re trying to be an asshole, but I am the prettiest princess in all the land.”

The two of you continue to make innocent jabs at each other while you eat. In the middle of dinner, Suguru texts, asking where you are and what you’re doing. You tell him, knowing that he’ll be here sooner rather than later. Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, he’s at the doorway in baggy sweats and a big white shirt. His long hair is down, still dripping. Did he seriously come here from the showers?

You swallow, a lump in your throat. It’s fine. This is fine. His nipples are hard and poking against his shirt, but that’s a natural bodily response. Just like how you squeeze your thighs together.

Fuck. You need to run your mouth before this gets weird. “You need to blow-dry your hair. You’ll get sick, walking around with wet hair.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Are you lecturing me? Miss Barefoot-in-Snow?”

“I like to see my footprint in the snow and the crunch is nice.”

“Wear socks, at least.”

In unison, you and Satoru give a scandalized, “And have wet socks?!” You’re too busy shuddering at the thought, so Satoru continues on your behalf. “It’s like you want her to die!”

“Remind me to put my blazer over any puddles that you might have to step in, Lord Satoru,” Suguru says dryly.

“More proof to the princess allegations,” you mutter.

Satoru harrumphs. “I never denied being a princess.”

Suguru fully steps inside the classroom, approaching you both, grabbing a chair along the way. “I don’t even want to know.”

A month of normalcy passes, and you naively think that all is right in the world once again.

It’s been an exhausting day.

As it happens when the weather starts to warm up, cursed spirit activity is on the rise again.

For Nanami and Haibara’s first mission, you are the one tasked with their supervision. You weren’t anyone’s first pick, but there was no other choice. The more experienced sorcerer assigned was called away last minute to handle a higher grade. There’s a situation somewhere in Hokkaido, potentially Special Grade. A lot of sorcerers have been seriously hurt, so Shoko went with Satoru and Suguru.

You were given one hell of a lecture when you argued with Sensei about him going with the first years instead. A chance to study a Special Grade? You didn’t want to pass that up! Then, maybe you hadmade a bitchy remark about how a potential promotion to principal is getting to his head.

Anyway, the assignment with the first years went fine.

You were lectured yet again, this time by Haibara of all people. There’s a possibility that you…sort of pacified everything in the area. In your defense, the briefing said there would only be a pack of low-level spirits. A separate, higher graded spirit must’ve been close by, heard the violence, and slipped past the veil to get in on the action. When Nanami was smacked away with enough force that he cracked the wall he landed against, you panicked.

Ugh. You’re definitely not beating those Mama Duck accusations anymore.

You force yourself through dinner with them because you wanted to be polite and felt like you owed them since you cut the mission short. It’s dusk, almost night, but the lights of the city and restaurant are still too bright. They decide on a place that’s packed and so loud. By the time you three step outside, you have a pounding headache and nearly fall asleep against Nanami’s shoulder because you’re drained.

After you’re showered and dressed for bed, you flop back on your mattress with a weary sigh. On instinct, you reach for your cell phone, checking for any new messages like you have been the last three days. It’s late. You don’t expect much from them. Satoru used Blue at maximum output three times, Shoko reported. Suguru swallowed the curse when it was weak enough. Satoru will be wiped out and Suguru will be in bed immediately to digest the curse.

Everyone has been sending you pictures. The most recent and most likely last batch of the night are from Shoko. One that shows three bottles of nail polish, one that shows Suguru and Satoru hunched over as they paint their nails, a zoom-in of Satoru with his tongue poking out in concentration, and the last a shot of everyone’s finished nails. Satoru chose an electric blue, Suguru went with black, and Shoko has a baby pink color.

You spend way too long staring at that picture. There’s something in the pit of your stomach, seeing Shoko’s hand so close to theirs. It’s small compared to theirs. You wish that it could be your hand there. You want to run the tip of your finger along the line of their prominent veins. You’d hold both your hands up so they could press one of theirs against it, just to see how much they dwarf your own. What would the fit be like if you laced your fingers through theirs?

Your phone chimes with a text from Suguru. Face hot, you quickly back out of the conversation with Shoko, feeling guilty for a reason you can’t pinpoint. As soon as Shoko told you that Suguru swallowed the curse, you immediately texted Suguru, wanting to check in and remind him to remember to grab some instant rice for the morning. It’ll be easy on his stomach. You made him send a picture as proof. After he did, he wanted to know if you’d eaten yourself. You sent a picture of your meal. Suguru hadn’t responded to that text until now.

I’m proud of you for going out. I always worry about you being lonely, his text says. You’re about to roll your eyes at his mother hen tendencies, but then his next message rolls in. Be a good girl for me until I get back. Night, Squid.

The phone slips out of your hand, the edge of it landing painfully on the bridge of your nose. You jerk up from the mattress, clutching at your nose. Why is your face on fire? He…he was teasing, right? Be a good girl for me. They…they were just some words. You shake your hands, trying to dispel the sudden surge of panicked energy. Be a good girl for me. Great. That’s stuck in your head now. Shit.

Goodnight, Suguru, you reply back with slightly sweaty fingers. Sweet dreams.

Eh. They’re never that sweet without you around.

Is…is this…no. No. This isn’t flirting. It’s just…being a friend. That’s something friends would say, right? Yeah. This is just another roundabout way of saying that he misses you. Yeah, yeah. I miss you, too, you send back. Maybe some of Satoru’s sweetness can rub off on your dreams.

Fingers crossed. See? Friendly banter. If he was flirting, he wouldn’t pull Satoru into the conversation, right? I’ll text you in the morning when we’re leaving.

Rolling over on your side, you curl up into as much of a ball as you can and shove your face against your pillow. You have to stop yourself when you realize you’re rubbing your feet together again because you can’t fall asleep like that. Just go to sleep, you tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Over and over and…

…the mattress dips down. One side and then the other. You’re on your belly, arm shoved under the pillow that your face is still shoved into. You tilt your head to the side, eyes still closed, too exhausted to open them. You know these bodies that press up against each side of your own.

Someone’s hand presses against the small of your back and it’s almost like lightning shoots up your spine. In nothing but your sports bra, it’s bare skin against bare skin. But that’s nothing compared to the rush that comes when he leans down to press a kiss to where his hand previously was, so close to your ass, to your…

“Be a good girl,” Satoru quietly sings as the tips of his fingers land on the back of your calf. Your fingers are clenching the sheets. You gasp as his fingers teasingly begin to meander up your legs. Dancing around your inner thighs. “Mm, you’re the prettiest princess in all the land.” Oh. Oh. He’s so close. He’s going to feel how wet you are. “Heh, hell yeah, I am. Are you as pretty down here as you are everywhere else?”

“Satoru,” you gasp before you shove your face back against the pillow.

Another hand splays around the back of your neck, slipping up and around, cupping the side of your face. When he guides you to turn your face back toward him. A thumb runs along your bottom lip, dipping inside your mouth. Just a tease, though. You’re the one that sucks it back into your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Suguru whispers against your ear. “Sweet girl.” He pulls his hand away, fingers teasingly running along the band of your sports bra.

“Suguru.”

“Let us handle it.”

And your eyes open before they’re closing again. You’re rolling your face against the pillow. As you’re clinging to the last vestiges of your dream, you don’t quite yet comprehend that it’s your hand shoved down your shorts. The line between dream and reality is a blur.

Sheets tangled around your legs are what you imagine what it would feel like to have theirs around yours instead. Your warm breath that fans out across your face as you’re panting against your pillow could be mistaken as theirs while they’re whispering into your ears. The heat inside you is almost unbearable, pitching up into a fervor, only spurred on by the desperate rolling of your hips. It’s like liquid fire rushing through your veins, burning and burning as you hump your hand.

Finally, blissfully, you are overwhelmed by pleasure.

It all crests. Your entire body locks up and trembles. In an attempt to chase after the addictive yet fading sparks, you try to jerk your legs up to get up on your knees, but it’s too soon after your limbs were locked up. Your leg painfully cramps and throbs and you’re fully thrown out of the dream’s clutches.

Clutching at your throbbing leg, you roll over on your back and stare up at the ceiling while you suck in shaky breaths.

What did you do?

What did you just do?

All you can really think to do is shout, “Fuck!”

You’re not there when they return the next day. Just before six in the morning, Sensei called you and said that you needed to report to Kyoto as soon as possible. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re thankful that you don’t have to see them today which only adds to the guilt that’s set in the pit of your stomach like a stone. Why couldn’t this be like a normal dream that fades away before you’re out of bed?

A better question—why did you have a dream like this to begin with?

There’s a Kyoto manager waiting to pick you up from the train station. Before you slip in the car, they hold out a hand. “I’ll need your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

Their eyes seem cold, but you try to convince yourself that’s not the case. You don’t do well with catching on to how other people feel and often mistake cold with cordial. “You’ll be meeting with a few of the higher-ups.” Your eyes widen. And you have nothing to be in trouble for, but your heart rate picks up regardless. “These meetings are expected to be kept private, but your phone is confiscated as a precaution.”

“The higher-ups?” The manager nods wordlessly. “Why?”

“I wasn’t trusted with that information.” The manager steps aside and motions toward the open door. “I’m your escort. Have you had breakfast? They’ve permitted us to stop for something if you need it.”

You don’t take the manager up on the offer.

The higher-ups are already waiting for you when you make it to campus. There are only three in the room, none of them speaking, only sipping at some tea. You recognize Principal Gakuganji, but that’s it. Even worse, they’re seated around a chabudai. They’re not close enough to touch, but it’s still a much more intimate setting than if they were all behind a desk with you in a chair across the room.

Gakuganji states your name and then motions to the empty spot at the chabudai. “Sit.”

The three men introduce themselves—Gakuganji, of course, and the other two are elders of the Zen’in and Kamo clans. You don’t bother to remember their given names. You doubt that you’d ever be in the realm of familiarity with these people and, yeah, maybe you can’t read the room well, but you know they look down on you. Satoru has warned you about elders in clans and those high up on the food chain.

Superiority complex bigger than mine, Sketch, Satoru had said. And with nothing to back it up! They’re weak as hell! Even the geezers in my clan!

Gakuganji is the first to speak. “Yaga should have instructed you to bring your drawings and notes. Did you?”

“Oh. Um. Yes.” You reach inside your bag to pull out the sketchbook. It makes you twitchy when you place it on the table and Zen’in immediately reaches out to roughly grab it and slide it over in front of him. You try not to cringe when you see it slide through some tea that spilled over the rim of his cup.

You’re not allowed to watch Zen’in long. Gakuganji asks, “Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“I was informed that you had multiple sketchbooks. You’ve kept them since before you entered Jujutsu High, correct?”

Zen’in grunts. “Is there any organization to this?” Your hands fist the hem of your skirt. The disgusted curl of his lip is downright offensive. You keep those pages clean. They’re not cluttered with doodles. You limit one curse to each page. You’ve always had neat handwriting. What more does he expect? “Tch. You’ll have to go through and identify which are with Geto Suguru.”

A cold chill runs down your spine.

“Have some patience, Zen’in,” Kamo snaps. “We’re here for more than that.” Kamo is the youngest which is to say that he’s probably barely hit the retirement age. He smiles at you. “I apologize on his behalf, young lady. Continue, please.” You suspect that he’s meant to be the one you warm up to.

Very suddenly, viscerally, you become keenly aware that you’ve stepped inside a room full of snakes. What’s worse is that a misstep isn’t going to poison you alone. Suguru’s shadow is in the room. You don’t quite understand why your instincts scream danger. Normally, you wouldn’t trust them. Something tells you that you need to right now.

“I threw those away,” you lie. You’re a good liar. With a naturally emotionless expression and flat tone, people have as hard a time reading you as you do with them. “I only had one with me before I became a sorcerer, but I threw it away. It was full and I didn’t see a need for it. It was too messy to be submitted.”

Kamo’s lips twitch. “It’s truly only that one?”

“There are six-hundred blank pages, so I planned for it to last a long time. I have another one that’s more personal. Just to work on my art.” You nearly breathe a sigh of relief. For once, your meticulous nature of keeping a hard line between what you use your sketchbooks for comes in handy. “Here.” You set your smaller, personal sketchbook on the table.” I apologize for not getting it out before. I thought you meant only what I’ve done with cursed spirits.”

Gakuganji takes your personal sketchbook, only briefly skimming through with pursed lips. “I’m sure you’ve been told, but you’re expected to turn in your work to headquarters when it’s full.” You nod slowly. “We’ve been getting feedback about you, not only from Yaga but from other sorcerers. You were the one that helped with the Red Room Curse, yes?”

“Yes.”

Zen’in snorts. “You’re telling me that old urban legend was real?”

“Walk us through your thought process,” Gakuganji requests without acknowledging Zen’in.

“The internet, in the scheme of things, is relatively new. In my studies, I’ve learned that cursed spirits tend to stay away from technology. They usually interact with it only to destroy it. So, the curse using the internet as a tool to curse and travel was a huge red flag to me,” you explain. “Legends and cursed spirits can go hand-in-hand. An existing spirit inspires a legendary monster or the negativity around a legend will create a spirit.”

“Imaginary vengeful cursed spirits,” Zen’in grunts. “We know.”

“Not always,” you correct curtly. His eyes narrow at you. “There’s that old saying…legends have a sprinkle of truth to them. It’s smart to look into these cursed spirits. An imaginary vengeful spirit could have actually started out as a regular vengeful spirit that’s connected to an area or bloodline which is what happened here. Someone cursed a relative in the Taisho era, the spirit bound itself to a red journal, and gained power until it found an easier, faster way to spread itself.”

Kamo hums thoughtfully. “There was another incident last week.” You already know the one that he’s talking about. “Has Yaga told you the outcome of the situation?” You shake your head. “Did the sorcerer on call with you explain what that cursed object was?” Another shake of the head from you. “That was one of the fingers of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, and you were right about the seal being weak. The seal was reinforced.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you know?”

“The activity of the cursed spirits in the area,” you lie again. Rather, it’s not the whole truth. But you’re worried that the truth could come off as a concern for them.

When you were in the range of that finger, something inside you just…knew. The cursed energy that radiated from it…there was a sense of anticipation. It’d been disorienting because the spirits in the area had the same feeling, too. It left you reeling and jittery from secondhand adrenaline.

These men don’t need to know that you’re feeling cursed spirits. No. Cursed energy. As the days tick by, you’re getting closer and closer to your dreadful theory being proven correct. You don’t want the higher-ups to come to that conclusion, too. You’re not sure what would happen if they thought you could influence anyone with a shred of cursed energy.

“We’d like to offer you an internship of sorts,” Gakuganji speaks up. “Each of the major clans have a storage of cursed objects, tools, and weapons. We do this so everything isn’t centralized to the school campuses, in case of a successful raid. Starting your third year, we’d like you to visit their main compounds and examine their collections.”

You catch yourself before you agree. “I would need cursed spirits to see how they act.”

“That’s not a problem for the Zen’in. We have a pit full of them.”

Again, you bite back the urge to ask this man why the fuck his clan has a pit of curses. “The pacification alters their behavior. It would only be effective if I hid myself from them, but that doesn’t protect anyone else in the compound. I don’t feel comfortable with that kind of risk.”

Kamo and Zen’in burst out in loud guffaws. The sudden noise makes you visibly wince. When they quiet, Kamo explains the hilarity by saying, “You’ll be in compounds with some of the strongest sorcerers in the world. We can handle some low grade cursed spirits.”

Your brows furrow. “Won’t there be children—”

Zen’in rolls his eyes and waves off your concern with a callous, “They need the practice.”

Is this seriously what it’s like to be born into one of these clans? These men are at the highest place in their clans, in jujutsu society. Better than anyone else, they should understand how rare sorcerers are. Why would they be so careless with the lives of their clansmen? You understand that this is ruthless work, and to coddle children can be a death sentence in itself, but this just seems cruel for the sake of cruelty.

Was Satoru’s world this cruel?

“I’d like a partner with me,” you force yourself to politely request. “Please.”

“One of the first years,” Kamo reluctantly agrees. Your mouth opens to protest, but he holds a hand up. “No Gojo will step foot on my clan’s compound. As for the Geto boy, it’s pointless. His control over cursed spirits is as manipulative as your pacification abilities, right?”

“Yaga says that Nanami Kento is showing promise,” Gakuganji adds.

“For once, I agree with Kamo. I’d burn my compound to the ground before I let a Gojo waltz in,” Zen’in spits on the ground, to which Kamo and Gakuganji make displeased noises. “And I’m not adding more fodder to the army of that brat with the Curse Manipulation.”

An offer, they say, but even you with your struggles to grasp social cues knows that this isn’t an option. No one in your position can say no to the higher-ups. With a smile that’s probably more of a grimace, you grit out, “Nanami will be fine.”

Sensei is in the longue outside the room where you met with the three elders. Said men who had been escorting you out, all rush on, leaving you in your teacher’s care. Not that you want to be around him right now. You might be more furious with him than the people you just met with. Sensei is next in line to be principal. He’s essentially a liaison with Lord Tengen. There’s no way he didn’t know what this conversation would be about. You wonder if he’s the one that suggested this.

Maybe you’re overreacting, but it feels like he’s stabbed you in the back.

There’s a lot that you want to say, but you won’t. There’s no point in it. It’ll only send you to your inevitable breakdown. You feel that rumble inside you. But…maybe you can get some answers out of Sensei before that happens. So, you demand to know, “Why are they like that with Suguru? He hasn’t done anything!”

Sensei drops down in a chair, sighing tiredly as he goes. “It’s…not only Suguru. This is a lack of trust in anyone that’s been marked as Special Grade.”

“Why? What did they do that was so wrong?”

“Do you know what it takes for someone to be considered Special Grade?”

“Anomalies in the system,” you recite. His own words, you might add.

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. The truth is that Special Grade sorcerers are those who have potential to devastate. You’re a logical girl. You can understand that Suguru has access to an army. Satoru, when he’s at his full potential, will most likely be the strongest sorcerer of the modern era—”

“Fear,” you spit. “This is fear.”

“Yes,” Sensei confirms without a beat. “They’re afraid. There’s currently only one other Special Grade sorcerer. Before this generation, the rank Special Grade had only been reserved for cursed spirits. To suddenly have so many, and all at once, it’s only made the higher-ups more afraid.” He hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not fair, I know, but this is how it has to be. That much power comes with certain responsibilities.”

Your fists clench. “I understand that, Sensei, but where’s the trust? All our lives, we’ve been…no one has ever trusted us. We came here because we wanted to be around people like us. We wanted to be accepted. What’s different between our village and here? Nothing. Sometimes, I think it’s worse. We’re not weapons. We’re people.”

“They know that.”

At your breaking point, you shout, “Do they?!” There’s so much more you want to say. I’m not spying on Suguru. I’ll lie on every single one of those pages that I send to headquarters. Somehow, you have the wherewithal to realize that that’s not a smart idea. Sensei is on your side, but not as much as you thought before. He’s chained by the higher-ups. “I’ll make my own way back to Tokyo.”

And you make sure to slam the door on the way out.

As you’re storming out of the building, you throw your hood up and shove on your sunglasses. You’re storming through campus with a trembling bottom lip and tears slowly trickling down your cheeks. You had hoped that it would be dead, but you’re not that lucky. There are a few students, a few more mature sorcerers, and you keep your head ducked down. You’re biting your lip raw to hold back the sobs threatening to spill out.

You make it as far as the outside of Kyoto High’s barrier before you can’t take it anymore and duck off the path. You drop down on a small boulder and cry. Between gasping breaths and desperately trying to wipe away tears that won’t stop, you pull out your cell phone.

Because you can’t do it. You can’t be around strangers. A two-hour bullet train ride is too daunting. Thinking of the smells of meals that people eat to pass the time, of the noise from even whispered conversations that would be loud to your overworking mind, of only an armrest separating you from another person and how that would make your skin crawl. An even worse hell would be a grueling five-hour drive with a manager back to Tokyo.

Please come pick me up, you text with trembling fingers. Not even thirty seconds later, your phone is ringing, but you quickly deny the call. No, you rush to text. Can’t talk, you add before he gets the wrong idea. Crying too hard to talk, you admit. The confession only makes you sob harder, of course. You can put your fist through monsters, but you can’t talk on the phone with your best friend without bawling like a baby.

Okay, Suguru responds back. I’ll take Hong there.

Manta ray back? I don’t want to be around people.

Whatever you want.

Thank you, Suguru.

Through the canopy of the trees, you see the glitter of Hong’s rainbow scales. You’ve managed to stop crying. And you thought that you’d be okay, but seeing the concern on Suguru’s face when he finds where you’ve hidden yourself away just brings it all back.

At this point, it’s not even so much the meeting. This is pure frustration with yourself. It’s shame and embarrassment. Just a little stress and you buckle. You hate this body. You hate this brain. Why can’t you be stronger? Why can’t you push yourself through the pain? Why does there have to be pain at all?

Suguru doesn’t speak. He sits down in front of the boulder, leaning his back against it. You spread your legs, allowing his shoulders to fit between them. He knows your tights are a barrier from skin contact, so he can freely lean his head to the side, resting against the inside of your knee.

Then, Suguru waits in silence.

You need his rock-solid presence but can’t bear him watching you in this pathetic state. It only makes things worse. Normal people would want to be comforted, to be hugged, but that’s just more stress. You can’t talk like this, so you feel stupid. You feel eyes on you, so you cry harder because you’re ashamed that you got here in the first place. If you were back on your campus, you would hide yourself away in your room until you’re calm. That’s not an option here.

And…and Suguru knows this. He knows you. He won’t look at you, won’t acknowledge that you’re breaking down. Why are you so kind? You think of those three stupid, old men. How can you be afraid of someone so kind?

“Su—” you choke on his name. You can’t speak past the lump in your throat. Angry that you can’t even manage his name, you ball up your fist and start banging it against your thigh. Like that can make your body cooperate. Or…it’s punishment. It might be that.

“Squid,” Suguru whispers as he reaches out to gently take your wrist. “I know you’re mad at yourself, but don’t do that. Why don’t I tell you about the cursed spirit we saw? We can make a game of it. I try to describe it. You try to draw it.” You shake your head furiously. “You’re stuck in the loop, aren’t you? Don’t you want out?”

The loop, you call it. The way you’re stuck in an endless cycle of berating yourself for being like this. You’ll never stop unless you have a distraction and his presence isn’t enough.

When Suguru hands you your sketchbook and a pencil, you take it.

There are a lot of tear stains on the paper by the time you calm all the way down, but it does the trick.

“Eh? That doesn’t look like it at all,” Suguru mutters when you hand him the finished product. “I didn’t think I was this bad at descriptions,” he remarks with a chuckle. “Still cool, though.” Slowly, he gets to his feet, patting his pants down to get all the dirt off. He turns around and holds out a hand to you. “Ready to go?”

You take his hand as an answer.

You don’t let go.

Suguru’s eyes widen a little when you thread your fingers through his. The two of you stand there for a minute before he’s squeezing your hand and guiding you back out to the main path. A manta ray spirit is waiting there for you both, low enough that you can step on it. You’re forced to let go of his hand, but you don’t want to lose that point of contact. You’re seated behind him, cross legged. You slip your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead against his back.

Suguru covers his hands with yours and never stops during the whole ride back.

You decided that you wouldn’t tell anyone about the details of that meeting until you absolutely had to. The parts of it that you had to agree to, anyway. You won’t talk about them wanting you to spy on Suguru and keep track of his spirits because you’re not doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy that you refuse to be part of. Unlike the higher-ups that see Suguru and Satoru as tools to be kept track of, they’re your best friends.

Eventually, they’ll notice that you’re not marking which spirits are his. You’ve already started to come up with excuse—you forgot, you’re too focused on capturing the spirit on the page, you had it in your mind when you were preparing them to be sent to headquarters but forgot it. They’ll catch on, probably. After that, you’ll just lie. And it kills you inside a little, but you’ll have to stop marking the date on them. It really will make it harder to remember which assignments were with Suguru and which weren’t.

Suguru knows not to ask you about what made you so upset. Maybe he’ll give a half-hearted try in a week or two, but it’s too fresh. You’ll only get upset when you remember all the negative emotions that came with a breakdown. The only smart thing those old bastards did was to have you meet with them on a Friday.

It’s Sunday now and you feel a little better. Your defiance has helped mute your anxiety a little, you guess. After going the rest of Friday and all of yesterday without speaking, you think you can manage it today. Words don’t feel as heavy. It’s not as much a daunting task as it was before. Just like going to spend time with Satoru and Suguru is a little less tiring. That’s the thing, you love to hang out with them, but it still drains your battery. It doesn’t drain as fast or as much as it would if you were around some random strangers, but down goes that metaphorical battery all the same.

Satoru is already at the meeting place—one of the many koi ponds sprinkled around campus. You don’t want to deal with grass against your skin today, so you spread out a spare blanket from your room. Satoru hums before he’s scooting over to sit down on the blanket next to you.

The two of you are side-by-side, watching the occasional koi break the surface with a splash. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Satoru rocks back and forth, fidgeting with the hem of his pant legs. You’re not surprised when he finally asks the question because you’ve been expecting it. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you answer honestly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” From the corner of your eye, you see him frown. “Is it…because it’s me? I know I’m not good with…feelings and stuff. I can just fuck off if you wanted to just spend time with Suguru and talk and stuff…”

You smile. It’s small but sincere. “It’s not that, Satoru. If I wanted to talk about it, I’d feel okay doing it with you, too. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to cry again.”

He cringes. “Yeah, I don’t want you to cry, either.” He’s at the edge of the blanket and starts picking at blades of grass. “Is there anything I can do so that doesn’t happen again?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You’re surprised to see him flinch, like you’re hurting his feelings. He usually has thick skin. Ah, but he’s also used to being the answer to everyone’s problems. You don’t think there’s much that he can’t do. “The breakdowns are a part of me. There’s always going to be a potential to have one.” You pause. You’d rather not have him stress over this. “I can try to ask for help before it gets to that point, though. I don’t know—can you extend Infinity to protect others?”

“Ha, no. Not yet.”

“Well…I could use your blackout glasses? Light makes me the most sensitive.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, same.”

“I won’t use them, then.”

“I can handle it for a little bit if it’ll make you feel better,” he mumbles. “I kinda get what you’re going through. I used to get super overwhelmed when I was a kid, before I could control Infinity. I would get really angry, though. There were a few times that I’d grit my teeth so hard that I’m shocked now that my teeth didn’t get chipped. I guess a part of me was scared to cry in front of tutors, so I’d be angry instead.”

You do the thing that Suguru stopped you from doing when you were in the midst of it—beating a fist against your thigh. “I get mad, too. Just at myself.” Your brows furrow. “Oh. I get angry before that point, I think. Sometimes, when I’ve been by myself, I’ve punched walls.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. You think…is that a sigh of relief from him? “I don’t feel so bad now,” he admits embarrassedly. “The clan was kind of understanding how sensitive I am with lights because of the Six Eyes, but…they never really got how much everything else built up.” He’s fidgeting even more, uncharacteristically nervous. “I never wore tabi socks with my yukata when I went out, in case there was some water somewhere. I hate how clothes feel on my skin when they’re wet. It’s…clingy.”

It’s slowly dawning on you. Curious, you ask, “How do you feel about cotton balls?”

You watch a shudder roll down his spine. “After my first cavity, I made sure I’d never get another one. I almost sent the dentist across the room with Blue when he put those things in my mouth.”

“Eye contact?”

“Ugh, I hate that stupid shit. My old man meets with people from other countries, and they’re obsessed with it. I’m so lucky I’m in Japan.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. “I wish I was around you when I was a kid. The sunglasses idea saved my life and my reputation. Now, people can’t figure out where I’m looking.”

“Reputation? You have one of those?”

“Rude,” Satoru complains and pokes you insistently. “People think you’re all sweet, Sketch. You’re as much of an asshole as I am, y’know. People just forgive you because you have that pretty face and cute smile. It’s the same with Suguru, too. You’re both the golden kids!”

Your heart skitters at hearing pretty face and cute smile, but he included Suguru. It’s just an observation. An exaggeration in your case, definitely, but whatever. “It’s not being an asshole. I’m just blunt.”

“So am I!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, and I’ve also studied other people, so I know what’s too far.” You hesitate. “Usually.” Another pause from you before you finally settle on a reluctant, “Sometimes. But definitely more than you.”

He’s pouting at you. “You could be nice and teach me.”

“You don’t care enough to learn.”

“I care about people!”

“I know that.” Hmm, how do you explain it? “I’ve kinda learned from seeing you interact with Nanami and Haibara that you use that bluntness as a way to help. Put you and, say, Suguru together. You both see the same flaw and point it out. You’re not as nice as Suguru, but you don’t waste time with niceties. They’re there to learn and be critiqued. It’s not a good idea to inflate their egos. That gets people killed.”

Satoru nods enthusiastically. “See? See! You get it!”

You rush to add, “But…you should give them encouragement. It sucks to constantly be told how you’re not doing things right. I know that way too well. Just ask Suguru.”

“You’re way too soft for this line of work, Sketch.”

This day is important, though you won’t realize that until much, much later. But isn’t that how life is? Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.

Today is the last day that you will see Satoru and Suguru smile genuinely for a very, very long time.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

For the newly added Klee and Clara

Having there older sibling S/O person thing! Put on some charisma to try & bail them out of time out

(Genshin Impact/H:SR) Sibling!Reader trying to get Klee and Clara out of time out

"Retry the speech check, just reload and retry!" - The Russian Badger

Jean sighs as soon as she sees (Y/N) enter the room. Putting down her pen for a moment, she then looks at them approaching.

(Jean) "(Y/N)..."

(Y/N) "Master Jean! I am so sorry for the trouble Klee caused today!"

(Jean) "She knew the consequences when she decided to go blast fishing-"

(Y/N) bowed apologetically.

(Y/N) "It was my fault, Master Jean. There was something in the waters that spooked me, and she was only trying to help. I swear she didn't do it on purpose."

Jean watched their expression with close scrutiny before lowering her shoulders and giving a sympathetic look.

(Jean) "And you are telling me the truth?"

The sharp gaze of the Acting Grand Master made (Y/N) fidget.

(Y/N) "Yes, as embarrassing as it is..."

Jean walked over and put a hand on their shoulder.

(Jean) "I understand. You are a good older sister/brother for wanting Klee's situation cleared up."

(Y/N)'s expression suddenly beamed-

(Jean) "And as an older sibling myself, I know when another one is lying."

-And quickly reverted to fear.

(Jean) "(Y/N), you know the consequences."

...

Klee was sitting in "solitary", which was really just a relatively empty room inside the Knights' Headquarters, barring a few shelves, tables, and chairs.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and (Y/N) awkwardly walked in, with Jean behind them, arms crossed.

Klee jumped up in surprise, running up to her sibling.

(Klee) "Big bro/sis? What are you doing here?!"

(Y/N) "I uh...got put in time out as well."

(Jean) "You'll be able to come out when you think about what you have done wrong."

Jean gently closed the door, and both of them heard it lock, her footsteps slowly fading away.

(Klee) "Aw man, now we're both in big trouble..."

(Y/N) smiled as they knelt down to pat Klee's head.

(Y/N) "Don't worry, I have a backup plan."

They slowly reached into their pouch and pulled out a wrapped fish, charred to perfection from Klee's bombs.

Klee gasped as her eyes sparkled, looking at their brother/sister.

(Y/N) put a finger to their lips playfully.

(Y/N) "Not a word of this to Jean, got it?"

Klee nodded enthusiastically before the two shared their meal together.

Neither of them really learning their lesson, much to Jean's dismay.

A/N: Good luck with the speech check on THIS one, good lord.

Svarog stood stoically in front of a terminal, the light from his mono-eye gently pulsating.

Upon hearing (Y/N)'s footsteps, he turned around to face them.

(Svarog) "(Y/N). What is it?"

(Y/N) "Why is Clara in the corner?"

The light pulsated for a moment before turning around to the terminal once again, but still giving a reply.

(Svarog) "Clara has disobeyed a direct order to not eat the dessert before her dinner. Therefore, disciplinary protocols are in effect."

(Y/N) paused for a moment to remember what he was talking about.

(Y/N) "You mean the jar of cookies? It was only the one gone-"

(Svarog) "It does not change the fact it will ruin her appetite. Early sweets lead to fullness, which leads to food being wasted. Something that cannot be tolerated for someone of her age."

(Y/N) walked up to the terminal, giving puppy eyes to their robotic father figure.

(Svarog) "As the older sibling, you must not spoil Clara. Nor should I.-"

(Y/N) "It's just been a while since she got to have a cookie, Svarog. Surely you can remember that!"

His head slowly whirred to face (Y/N).

(Svarog) "My memory circuits are functioning normally. It has been twenty-seven days, eight hours, and fifty seven minutes since you and Clara have last had dessert.-"

(Y/N) "So that's why you can go a little easy on her! Clara didn't want to disobey you, but she was just having a craving! I promise she'll eat every last bite during dinner."

Svarog remained silent, barring the mechanical noises emitting from his body.

He turned completely to (Y/N), in what nearly sounded like a sigh from his gears moving.

(Svarog) "Your argument is...logical. Reducing disciplinary protocols, your presence is required."

(Y/N) smiled at that, following him outside the room to where Clara was standing quietly in the corner of their living room.

(Svarog) "Clara. You are permitted to leave time out."

Clara's head looked up in surprise before turning around and seeing her family, wiping one of her eyes.

(Clara) "I'm sorry, I won't do it again-"

(Svarog) "Do not apologize. My measures were...harsh for your actions."

(Y/N) "Next time you want to take a cookie before dinner, just ask either of us, okay?"

Clara looked at Svarog as he slowly knelt down and wiped away a tear gently with his mechanical hand.

(Svarog) "Your brother/sister is correct. Given permission, you will not be punished."

(Clara) "...T-Thank you!"

She gave Svarog a hug before running up and doing the same to her sibling.

Svarog watched silently, but both of them could tell he was at least happy to not see Clara sad.

(Svarog) "I must go back to monitoring the other humans outside the camp. Dinner will be prepared at 6:00 PM."

Svarog nodded and walked back into the control room, leaving the two alone.

(Clara) "Did...you convince Mr. Svarog to let me leave?"

(Y/N) ruffled her hair gently.

(Y/N) "Mhm. Just had to remind him that treating yourself won't spoil your dinner. Let's go out for a little bit until dinner so you can work up your appetite, alright?"

Clara smiled and nodded excitedly.

(Clara) "O-Okay!"

[mushroomcrepe]

In a single touch

Prompt : a jayvik 🔨⚙️ college!au in which Viktor only had to flirt once to fold his lab partner and big popular man Jayce.

Tags : friends to lovers or some shit, they know what's up but no one talks about it, nerds working on Hextech together as ✨quality time✨

Disclaimer : first fic ever wrote. Fasten your seatbelt because you're about to enjoy some cliché ass very badly-written oneshot. All thanks to @anendtopursuit who convinced me, love you muah, hope you had a good laugh

-----------

It's been years since Jayce and Viktor became lab partners. Years since they met on Jayce's college disciplinary board reunion - about whether or not the man deserved to be expelled after literally blowing up his dorm room. Their unpromptu meeting and their shared passion of science made them feel unstoppable together. The absolute genius of Viktor in the robotic field and the innovative mind of Jayce in new technologies and smithing were qualities they were proud of.

They became friends naturally, barely talking to other people and almost living together since their routine was either working in the lab or working at Viktor's dorm - just them and their coffee pot.

Jayce is quite the eloquent man, but he isn't as much of a social butterfly as his big muscular peers. Viktor was pleasantly surprised to learn his body is shaped by the hard work of smithing his own materials for experiments.

Viktor isn't isolated, and certainly not shy, but he is so invested in his work than no social event could bother him out of it. His honesty and sarcasm sure was new to Jayce. He let words roll so smoothly that the winner of their friendly bickering was almost always the same.

As their project went on, Viktor noticed how their -already close- friendship slowly became more affectionate, even intimate. It was mainly thanks to Jayce, who seems to greatly enjoy surrounding Viktor's mind and body with his warm presence.

It all started with his hands always finding their way to Viktor. Shoulders, arms, hands, face sometimes, waist once, hips sadly never (surely this isn't appropriate to think about it, thought Viktor). It wasn't the vulgar hands of the strangers trying to get him to bed, neither were they the friendly contact of encouragement from a colleague. His touch held confort, and care, and were never leaving the other's body for some reason. Not that he disliked it.

So much care and love radiats from Jayce actually. Viktor pretended to not notice the yearn in his eyes, the long stare making him feel like he was trying to scan his whole body, or the glances at his lips.

Viktor isn't physically expressive like his partner, but god knows he feels this way too. He knows his eyes also convey the love he has for him, in their own way. Despite his work centered words, he showed just the amount of care for Jayce to notice as well.

That's how their relationship evolved, and a few years after, here is two close friends, dancing around each other but too absorbed in Hextech project to actually consider making a move (ah, nerds).

Viktor often contemplates about deepening their relationship. He never doubted Jayce's eyes, what he sees in it is as clear as water. And he knows that now they have more time for themselves, Jayce is beggining to think about it too, considering how much more restless he is becoming around Viktor. But the man is too much of a gentleman, he always keeps himself in line, perhaps terrified of scaring his beautiful lab partner away.

Viktor likes to play with it sometimes. When they are working hard on a sleepless night again, he takes pleasure in watching the immediate switch of Jayce posture after he casually praises him. He likes to see him losing his ground after offering to sleep in his dorm room late at night. Oh and he definitely enjoys returning the burning stare he often gets.

He never cross the line either, never clearly shows his intentions. This back and forth hidden behind friendship is keeping on, a pleasant moment of fun fated to evolve greater one day.

However, a new problem is disrupting his little private peace. Jayce just became a member of the student council, and the rise of popularity didn't take long to follow. Right now, juniors are trying to get him in their good grace with friendly smiles and sweet eyes. They came up all the way to the two men's lab in the middle of an experiment of their latest Hextech work what ? Studies ?

It's been 40 minutes now, the experiment was definitely left aside by Jayce as he was standing in front of Viktor but far enough to not bother, politely answering their questions.

The smaller man was annoyed at first by the interruption, but quickly let it pass it as he finds his partner's confident senior-like posture and tone to be quite the sight.

Well, i guess it is amusing to hear him try to get away from the conversation.

He's close enough to hear Jayce's polite laugh. He's trying to show his best side despite the wrinkled pants from sleeping on the lab couch, the tired shirt rolled up on his sleeves, his tie neglected and loose.

He looks good like that.

Viktor hums at the thought, but gets back to assembling a robotic arm. The juniors empty questions aren't interesting enough to keep him distracted. He doesn't notice the appreciative glance of Jayce at his own tidy but tired appearance.

"Mister Talis, can you tutor us ?"

"Please, show us what's this Hextech the professor been praising about !"

Jayce looks embarassed "Ha... V. and I are too busy for the moment. And i can't show you the details of Hextech. i'm sorry." His sorry is surprisingly strict, a way of saying it's Viktor and I project, not yours. Jayce likes his personal peace with his partner more than he likes sharing his vivid passion of Hextech, it seems.

"Who ? Ah, your lab partner right ? We're sure he won't mind a few hours alone."

Lab partners. So this only is what people think we are ? Eh. Viktor laughs and continues to listen as he keeps his focus on the arm prototype.

"yeah come on, we can get coffee too !" Suddenly two juniors grabs Jayce's strong arms, getting insistantly closer. He turned his eyes to Viktor, imploring him to find a way out. "Save me, V...!" screamed his face, but Viktor didn't even look up from his task "Don't dare give me the puppy look, Jayce Talis. I'm assembling the motion sensor for the system stabiliser"

He could feel the pout on Jayce's face more than he saw it. Then suddenly eager voices loudly cheered "wow can we see ? Viktor can you show us-"

Jayce instantly interrupted "No. We both need to work right now, let's just talk another time, ok ?" He's frustrated, why couldn't they simply leave them alone ? Should he make them get the hell out ?

Viktor didn't miss a single second of this Jayce. He raised his eyes in time to watch his unusual upset and commanding face. Having him refusing to let the juniors get closer awoken a sleeping fire in Viktor. The Jayce he knows is a doomed people pleaser, always trying to make everyone satisfied. So that firm expression of refusal, standing high on his ground, it just called the feelings Viktor holds for so long.

However Jayce seems now to be in a conflict with himself. He doesn't dare to risk the council's reputation when he's just a fresh new member. He finally grits his teeth and forces a smile, not caring about the juniors holding his arms as he is too busy thinking of a new way to handle the situation. He doesn't notice Viktor slowly getting up from his chair.

Well, he couldn't let his poor partner in such a delicate situation, doesn't he ? It's definitely not because he wanted to see more, and certainly not because he wants to show Jayce he liked how he defended them right now.

As he grabs his cane, an idea appears through his brain. Maybe he'll take care of two issues in one hit.

"Jayce ?"

"Ah you solved the problem, V ?"

Jayce's attention turned immedialty to his partner, which send him another shot of this pleasant feeling. Viktor kept walking closer, close enough to make the juniors step back from Jayce arms in curiosity.

"Eh, i'd need my partner for that, Jayce." He shrugged. At the unexpected suggestive tone, Jayce didn't take long to blush and stutter.

He rarely calls me his partner.

"huh- oh-yeah sorry let..let me just finish to answer their questions and i'll come back-"

Viktor doesn't let him finish and grabs softly Jayce by his shirt, letting his finger slowly move along his torso in a fake attempt to tidy up the wrinkled shirt

"Jayce, will you be good and help me get back to our home ? I have a task only you can do". He almost breathed the last words, a glint of burning dare in his eyes. Then he decides to walk by his lab partner and the confused juniors, not looking back.

As he calculated, he only had to walk a few meters outside the lab before hearing Jayce successfuly make everyone to leave (he was struggling with that just a minute ago), locking up safely the matierials and lab door, and finally catch up to Viktor's side. In no less than 30 seconds. And now Jayce is restless and hovering him with attention. Yes, a puppy.

"Eh, acting so eager, are you a kid ?"

"oh come on, you know how happy i am to help you right now"

"well you don't even know yet about the task i'm giving you"

"whatever, i'll do anything you need me to" Jayce answers quick, ready.

"anything then" Viktor pauses, "Sadly i can only tell you once we will be home"

"what's with this secret task ?"

"I'll show you what i want" a burning stare in answer was enough to know Jayce was getting hopeful. The truth is, Viktor really does have a smithing task for him, but now an opportunity to get what he craves to claim is appearing, and it's Jayce's lips.

He smiles, his partner is too easy to read. He feels Jayce hand and arm casually sliding on his waist. Then his thumb start to sofly move in circles on his side, smoothing his bad leg's hip. Viktor quietly hums.

Oh Jayce, you actually didn't need much from me to act this sweet.

--------

The end (yes now)

[bats-and-birds-24]

Chapter 2:

Talia could hear the muffled sobs from behind the door.

Her father must have informed him then.

The two sentries standing guard before Jason's room acted as though they heard nothing. The result of intense disciplinary training from the league.

She dismissed them with a mere wave of the hand. Talia barely noticed their deep bows as they left their post.

She knocked twice. No answer. She cracked open the door to see a young man on his knees, eyes red and puffy from crying.

Talia lifted Jason's face up to hers. 

She found no trace of the bright young boy with a sharp tongue and sharper wit left in him. What she had before her was a young man broken by the burdens of life placed on him at too young an age.

His body no longer had the scrawny build of a malnourished child. Now, he was a tall teenager with a fighter's lean build.

There was still time for him to grow and Talia knew that in time, her sons would surpass Bruce in both height and strength.

"How could he replace me?" Jason croaked out.

The question broke her stream of thought.

"He didn't replace you habibi, he most likely had to take on another Robin after your death. You know how Gotham is." Talia soothed him, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"I know how Gotham is, that's why I'm mad that he has a new Robin. He got lucky with Dick, and he should have learned a lesson about putting kids in spandex and having them jump off roofs and fight costumed asylum escapes when I died. Now there's another stupid kid who's following Batman around and will probably get himself killed as well." He raged.

Talia's heart hurt as she hurt her son speaking ill of her beloved, but she steeled herself.

He needed to know the truth.

"Jason, are you aware that the reason Bruce made you Robin, is because you were marked?"

"What's that mean?" Jason asked, confused as he collected himself.

Talia sat on the floor beside him and began to explain, "There's a curse in Gotham where a select group of people are marked with a symbol of the bat. They are destined to become vigilantes by choice or by circumstance."

His eyes widened, he got up and began to take off his clothes and turned his back to the mirror. 

"Why didn't he say anything?" His voice barely a whisper.

Talia sent a fond glance towards Jason, "He wanted you to have as normal a childhood as possible. Also, at the time, Bruce didn't have much proof aside from the matching marks. He needed to know more. You know Bruce, he never says anything, unless he has all the facts."

Jason staggered back to his bed, "I think I'm going to need a minute."

"Of course." Talia nodded.

She shut the door behind her.

The muffled sobs were now replaced with an eerie silence.

Her footsteps were the only sounds left to be heard.

Jason stared up at the ceiling, his entire worldview shattered for the third time in two months.

The first was when Bruce, his dad, failed to save him from the Joker. The second was when he realized that not even death was concrete in his life, as he clawed his way up from his own grave. The third, when he was told that he was marked, the choices he made, not really his.

The last one grated on him the most. He could live with Bruce not being as perfect as he once thought, he could live with coming back to life, but when faced with the prospect that the life you lived was already decided for you, that crossed the line.

It was as though he was a kid again, back in Crime Alley, where society already decided he was a criminal, and given the lack of opportunities, it really was the only viable path for him.

He grit his teeth. Everything he had gone through, nearly starving to death every winter in the Alley, watching his mother get high on drugs, becoming homeless after her death, to becoming Robin after a fateful encounter with Batman. It was all predetermined, his choices irrelevant.

He could live with the fact that he got blown up by the Joker thanks to his own mistakes, but if it was already meant to be, what was the point of doing anything? Was his life just to suffer for Gotham's sins? 

Jason contemplated offing himself with one of the many weapons at his disposal, but then decided against it. Odds are, his mark won't let him die that easily, at the very least Talia wouldn't. He'd probably get dunked in the Lazarus pit again and lose what little sanity he had left.

In thought, he glanced out the window, at the rows of assassins training.

He wondered what his replacement was up to. Feelings of resentment aside, he felt for the kid. Bruce probably didn't tell him about the mark either, out of concern for his childhood (Jason had to roll his eyes at that, if B was so concerned about their innocence, then he wouldn't have them beating up criminals in the streets) or fear that he'd run away.

Jason tamped down a surge of jealousy, it wasn't fair that some rich kid from Bristol was living his life.

He stretched and headed out to the training grounds. If his life was already destined to be a mess of vigilantes and criminals, preparing for it was the least he could do.

[toudan]

OF REBIRTH AND SOLACE – UKITAKE JUSHIRO X READER

He shares your pain and you share his, intertwining your souls in a way even the gods could not break. You are his just as much as he is yours.

TAGS.⠀gender-neutral reader; married life, fluff and hurt/comfort, light angst, vv self-indulgent. SFW. ~900 words

A/N.⠀he could fix me but he would want us to do it together. this is just a huge excuse for me to be sappy

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

When you love, you love ardently. A part of your soul becomes intertwined with theirs just as they crawl into your veins and seek a home in your heart. Body, mind and soul, Ukitake Jushiro is yours, and you’ll do anything you can to keep it that way.

How could you not, when he looks at you as though you’re the one who hung all the stars in the night sky with your own hands? He looks at you like you’re the one who brings sunshine after the rain. He worships you like the only religion he’s known in his entire life is you, the one he’d so willingly given his whole being to. He holds your hands and kisses them knowing what they are capable of, what they have done. He’d give you the world if you asked, even if you don’t believe you are deserving of it.

Your name carries weight in Soul Society as a disgraced noble with blood on your hands. They don’t know you as a victim; to them, you are the offspring of a sinner on the prowl, a monster borne of evil and recklessness. The people’s sentiments are not unknown to you. Words like daggers pierce through your skin and threaten your very core time and time again, but you do not fight back. You bear the burden of your father’s blood, the result of his anger and hatred for the world.

You don’t believe there to be honour in your existence, but you continue to live. Hundreds of years have given you all the time you needed to build yourself back up again, salvaging the parts of you that were broken by those you once trusted. Even now, you’re still learning to love, to accept the love you’re given, to trust once more, and to have pride in your life again. You may be your father’s child, but you are not him. 

“My love,” Jushiro calls to you, his voice snapping you out of your daze. The scent of jasmine and green tea envelops you with comfort as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses a chaste kiss to your temple. In response, your lips curl into a small smile and you feel heat rush to your cheeks, your heart beating hard against your chest. “What’s on your mind?” 

You sigh quietly. You haven’t quite learned how to bring yourself to tell someone what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling yet. Vulnerability has never been your strong suit. A strict, disciplinary upbringing and the need to be respected—feared—set you a few steps back. In your entire life, you’ve grown most accustomed to either letting your actions speak for themselves or simply holding them back. But then comes your husband, the very personification of warmth himself, making you feel so safe and cared for that you’ll gladly give him a piece of your heart.

“The same things,” you murmur. To some, it’s vague and cryptic, but between the two of you, it’s progress. “I promise it’s nothing to worry about, Jushiro. It’s all good thoughts.”

He smiles softly. “About us?”

“About us and what my life has been since I met you.” Your words are slow, cautious, like you’re still processing them yourself. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this content in my life. It’s like I’m living the way I should be. With you.”

Jushiro gently turns you around to face him, cupping the side of your face with his hand and caressing your skin with his thumb like he always does. He’s fond of being close to you, having you in his arms or even being in yours. With you, he feels as though he’s in spring or summer, where the days are bright and lovely and always something to look forward to. He’s lived a very long time, loved and lost, felt the years pass by and weaken him little by little, but being with you makes him feel young again. It’s never too late, he thinks, and it certainly never is too late to start anew. 

“You make me the happiest man alive as well,” he says. The way he looks at you practically has you swooning, overflowing with nothing but love for him, and the reminder that this man loves all of you unconditionally is enough to bring tears to your eyes. He hushes you gently, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head as he rubs soothing circles on your back. You hold on to him like a lifeline, listening to his heartbeat with your cheek pressed against his chest that lulls you into tranquillity. 

You love it here. You love being with him, and you love that he’s patient with you. You love that he’s so understanding and compassionate, that he never pressures you to open up to him. He shares your pain and you share his, intertwining your souls in a way even the gods could not break. You are his just as much as he is yours.

“I love you.”

The vow slips past your lips with much more ease compared to the first time you said it years ago. Your hand comes up to tuck his hair behind his ear, running your fingers through his silky smooth strands before he laces your fingers together, the warmth of his skin passing on to yours. The smile he gives you in return is more than you could ever ask for. As bright as the sun, as lovely as the spring. He leans down to kiss you, a promise of his own. 

“I love you too.”

[miakate-writes]

damage control ᯓ caitvi

2 ᯓ caitlyn ᯓ happy progress day!

read on your preferred site!: AO3 & Wattpad

The clock on the wall ticked past 2:10PM. I folded my hands neatly on the conference table, crossed one ankle over the other, and waited.

Patience was a practiced skill - like marksmanship, or PR strategy, or surviving another drop in from one Jayce Talis. Violet Lanes was late, of course. No surprise. I had read the reports.

Across from me, Jayce sat half-perched on the table’s edge, sleeves rolled, tie loose, grinning like this was all entertainment.

“She’ll show,” he said casually, nudging a folder toward me with his foot. “Eventually.”

“I’m aware of her habits.” I flipped open the folder, eyes skimming the press clippings, sponsorship notes, and a thick wad of disciplinary reports. “Punctuality isn’t one of them.”

Jayce let out a low whistle. “You’re nervous.”

I arched a brow. “I’m prepared.”

“Same thing, Kiramman.”

He flashed that winning, annoyingly good-natured grin. Jayce had been my boss for two years and my friend for nearly a decade, ever since we met as interns and spent a summer chasing down runaway clients at music festivals. He’d always had a knack for charm, and was the one person that I could tolerate my parents choosing to promote instead of me. Today, however, I was tempted to throw the nearest pen at his head.

“She’s a handful,” Jayce went on. “But she’s electric. Fans love her. Brands will love her - once you sand off the rough edges.”

I glanced up from the file. “Is that why you sent her to me?”

His grin softened. “I sent her to you because you don’t flinch. And because Vander asked.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

Jayce nodded, folding his arms. “Showed up at my office in person. Said she needed someone steady. Someone smart. Someone who wouldn’t give up on her when she mouths-off to reporters and sets Twitter on fire.” His mouth curved wryly. “Sound like anyone you know.”

I let out a slow breath. Vander. I’d only met him once - broad-shouldered, weathered, quiet as a mountain. The kind of man who looked at you and saw you. It was clear he saw Violet. That made me want to help her.

“She should be here soon,” Jayce murmured, pushing off the table. “Try not to kill each other.”

Alone, I straightened the notes, smoothed my skirt, and checked the clock again.

2:30PM.

I had read the headlines. I knew Violet would be the type of person to be late. But by half an hour?

“Track Star or Tabloid Catastrophe?” “Violet Lanes: Fastest Woman on the Field, Slowest Leaner Off It.” “Public Meltdown or Media Setup? What’s Really Behind Vi’s Outbursts.” The list of headlines went on.

Beneath the chaos and PR disasters was a runner with ferocious talent. And if you squinted, there was something magnetic in her defiance. She just hadn’t learned to control it yet.

A knock sounded - sharp, quick, almost impatient.

Before I could say “come in.” the door swung open.

She leaned against the frame, hands stuffed in the pockets of a threadbare bomber jacket, pink hair half-tamed, a cocky half-grin on her face.

“Hey,” Violet said, voice low and rough around the edges, like she’d been yelling at someone half an hour ago. “Sorry I’m late.”

I rose smoothly. “Miss Lanes.”

“Vi,” she corrected, stepping inside, eyes sweeping over me with undisguised curiosity. “And you’re Caitlyn.”

“I am.” I held out my hand for her to shake, instead watching how she ignored me, dropped down into the nearest chair, and raised an eyebrow at me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jayce walk past the door. He peered through the glass and snickered to himself. I took a deep breath. He was so buying me dinner later.

[tagamantra]

cross disciplinary training in gubat banwa

so, GUBAT BANWA is a big martial arts game of esoteric martial arts. of beatdown and bone breaking. bakbakan at suntukan, pangamot ug pagdaug. it focuses on martial arts and the culture that surrounds that. during ancient seasian times (the main foundation for this game), formal categorized schools didn't exist: participating in your culture was you learning its martial arts, or a random hermit in the sea cave could teach you a secret martial art, or your family could have its own secret martial art, etc. etc.

so martial arts classes (in gubat banwa they're called Disciplines) are expressions of culture and tradition. from a mechanical side, I knew I wanted to make Gubat Banwa a multiclassing-first game, a la Lancer, for multiple reasons

I like multiclassing, I almost always multiclass

You get access to more of the game and the game's lore (much of Gubat Banwa's lore is in the disciplines)

You get to write a plurality of classes that deal with a plurality of playstyles

It makes writing Disciplines easier--they become small packages of power instead of the long Narrative Playbooks that they are a la D&D 4e's classes. this also makes making Disciplines easier as you don't have to write one for a 12 Level long progression

it creates a more emergent character progression (a Mangangayaw learning Sword Saint techniques for example might be a raider who raided a Virbanwenyo settlement and got the resident martial artist to teach him a thing or two, or it could be that they started picking up how Virbanwenyo Penitents fought)

however, Disciplines were more than just classes, they're also martial arts in their own right. So as I deepened my understanding with the Martial Arts I also found further justifications for multiclassing [which we like to call crosstraining]). these are from my and GB's Art Director Dylan's experiences from Filipino Martial Arts:

to become a true grandmaster is to learn or observe a large variety of styles (see: Johnny Chiuten, Anciong Bacon, etc.)

most real grandmasters that began their own FMA schools are those that studied and learned techniques from a wide variety of martial arts (Anciong Bacon knew Boxing and Dumog, for example. Johnny Chiuten knew multiple Chinese Martial Arts and trained in Balintawak and Lapunti, GM Filemon Caburnay learned both the arts of blacksmithing and of multiple arnis styles as he traveled across Visayas and Mindanao, and learned Kung Fu from Johnny Chiuten, before going down the path of perfecting his own fighting style that became Lapunti Arnis de Abanico)

even my own master in Lapunti who started with Lapunti was exposed to other Arnis and Martial Art styles so he was able to build his own style around it, and was able to contribute his own moves into modern Lapunti. i can see a bit of Chinese Martial Art influence in his movements now, a bunch of balintawak progression

very often if you're a student of violence, you will be learning multiple combat arts both out of necessity and out of love for movement. a balintawak warrior might have their movements augmented with jiujitsu training, a lapunti could benefit from learning sikaran, etc. etc.

kadungganan are meant to be nascent grandmasters, especially those that reach legend 12, so this is the main justification for the multiclassing instead of just having 1 martial art that you perfect. in real life this doesn't really happen, especially if you want to perfect your own fighting style. the assemblage of multiple techniques from 12 Legends worth of progression is there to facilitate the fantasy of a Kadungganan perfecting their martial art style, like the grandmasters of old

i knew since the earliest stages of gubat banwa that i wasn't going to compromise the multiclassing aspect, i just find it very serendipitous that crosstraining fits so well into the martial arts fantasy. it makes me pretty satisfied and happy, and i'm glad i didn't bend to internal talking and thinking about making a "pure discipline" progression possible

[thingwithlove]

Name: Maeve Juukichi (MJ)  Nicknames: Little Manta Ray (Floyd), Roi du Foyer (Rook), MJ (prefers to be called this casually), Fledgling (Lilia and Malleus)  Epithet: Housewarden of Ramshackle, The Perfect Dorm: Ramshackle Year: Freshman  Club: Disciplinary Club Homeland: Earth  Gender: Male  Birthday: April 4 Age: 17  Height: 173 cm (5'8") Dominant Hand: Right Eye Color: Sepia brown (glows gold when using magic)  Hair Color: Ebony black 

Appearance: Maeve is a young man with sun-kissed skin. . His presence is immediately arresting due to the large, powerful black wings. Feathers also dust his collarbone and back. A closer look reveals slightly pointed ears and the faintest hint of fangs when he smiles, adding a touch of danger to his otherwise approachable demeanor. 

Personality: Beneath a seemingly average exterior lies a surprisingly enjoyable and subtly manipulative individual. Maeve's genuine care for his friends, coupled with a strong moral compass, often leads to him 'guiding' others with the unwavering determination of a mother hen. Night Raven College has learned that underestimating his adaptable skills and quiet resolve is a dangerous mistake, as he possesses a remarkable capacity to return any perceived slight threefold. It is valuable knowledge to not cross him when he is not in the mood to be considerate of people. He is a student of Night Raven College too.

Hobbies: Making alcoholic drinks Favorite Food: Korean BBQ  Least Favorite Food: Coffee and overly processed food  Likes: Shiny objects, romantic gestures, and hosting gatherings in Ramshackle.  Dislikes: Being confined for extended periods Pet Peeves: Random scares and poor hygiene  Talent: Mimicking voices Animal Motif: Raven/Crow

Trivia:

Possesses large black feathered wings and takes lessons with Crowley and Lilia on using them.

Bears scars at the base of his wings where they emerged.

The meticulous and time-consuming task of cleaning his feathers often requires the assistance of his friends.

He indulges in therapeutic 'spa days' with Grim. Although on the occasion because, money.

Some of the items on his person that come from his home world is a silver locket, his wallet, and his phone.

Finger twitching gives away when he's nervous.

Relies on enchanted armbands to help regulate his magic.

Becoming Maeve's friend comes with the immediate and irreversible addition of a 'mom friend'.

Enjoys being the scarer and not the scaree.

Dancing was a skill he learned after losing a bet. Kept it as an exercise.

A few quotes:

"If I had a thaumark for every questionable decision made here, I could buy the entire library."

"Magic's flashy and useful, sure. But sometimes, you got to do it the old-fashioned way, with fists."

"Alright, let's actually have some fun for once. No disasters allowed... hopefully."

"The more I learn about Twisted Wonderland, the more I realize how little I know about myself."

Maeve received training in martial arts from his father and some of his father's friends. The nuanced arts of high-society etiquette were from their mother. His mother's sudden disappearance when he was 13 was a traumatic event for him. Life continued for him and his dad until Maeve got taken to Twisted Wonderland. During the second night of his arrival in Twisted Wonderland he gained his wings.

Notes:

In this story, Ramshackle has more students residing within it's halls. A deep see merman, twin bear brothers, one fae descendent, and a duo of a troublemaker and an accessory.

Credits:

Moonyasnow for their coffin templates. I messed up when making this one, but I ended up liking it so

Lxnya728 on picrew.me for the sprite

[strict-consistent-wifey]

How do you cross the threshold from “fun/sexy” to real lesson learning and behavior modification? What is a bottom warming session with you like? And how do you know when lessons are being learned as opposed to fantasy play?

We don’t practice impact play in our intimacy - it serves a disciplinary purpose only. With this in mind, if there is discipline needed, the is a distinct beginning and ending. It’s not foreplay, so keeping those boundaries prevents it from being confusing or moving into fantasy. We talked extensively at the beginning about comfort levels, needs, goals - everything I could think to ask - to determine what was right for us.

We always start with a simple question - “do you know why you’re about to get spanked?” He is expected to verbalize the transgression as an acknowledgement. While he’s over my knee, I scold/restate the expectation and what additional infractions will entail. This is also my time to clarify how I perceive what happened - was it disrespectful, inconvenient, dangerous, etc. At first, I know I was timid when it came to duration and intensity, so in the early days, I think it was probably more an exercise to enforce the habit rather than to reinforce the lesson, but as I’ve gotten more comfortable and committed to pushing my own boundaries, I know it’s moved to an essential aspect of our relationship development.

[beardedmrbean]

Did you hear that Chanel is giving grant money to CalArts to fund some kind of LLM/AI art initiative.

I had not until just now. I thought they were smart, how did they spell LLAMA wrong like that is the big question.

Let's go with the CalArts story on their gift.

[April 24, 2025 – Valencia, Calif.] California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) and the CHANEL Culture Fund together announce the CHANEL Center for Artists and Technology at CalArts, a visionary initiative that positions artists at the forefront of shaping the evolving technologies that define our world. The Center will provide students, faculty, and visiting fellows across the creative disciplines access to leading-edge equipment and software, allowing artists to explore and use new technologies as tools for their work. Creating opportunities for collaboration and driving innovation across disciplines, the initiative creates the conditions for artists to play an active role in developing the use and application of these emergent technologies.

The Center builds on CalArts’ legacy as a cross-disciplinary school of the arts, where experimentation in visual arts, music, film, performing arts, and dance has been nurtured since the institution’s founding. In this unprecedented initiative, artists will be empowered to use technology to shape creativity across disciplines—and, ultimately, to envision a better world.

Funded by a five-year, transformative gift from the CHANEL Culture Fund, the CHANEL Center for Artists and Technology establishes CalArts as the hub of a new ecosystem of arts and technology. The CHANEL Center will foster research, experimentation, mentorship, and the creation of new knowledge by connecting students, faculty, artists, and technologists—the thinkers and creators whose expertise and vision will define the future—with new technology and its applications. It will also activate a network of institutions throughout Southern California and beyond, linking museums, universities, and technology companies to share resources and knowledge.

The CHANEL Center at CalArts will also serve as a hub for the exchange of knowledge among artists and experts from CHANEL Culture Fund’s signature programs—including more than 50 initiatives and partnerships established since 2020 that support cultural innovators in advancing new ideas. Visiting fellows and artists will be drawn both from CalArts’ sphere and from the agile network of visionary creators, thinkers, and multidisciplinary artists whom CHANEL has supported over the past five years—a network that includes such luminaries as Cao Fei, Arthur Jafa, William Kentridge, and Jacolby Satterwhite. The CHANEL Center will also host an annual forum addressing artists’ engagement with emerging technologies, ensuring that knowledge gained is knowledge shared.

The Center’s funding provides foundational resources for equipment; visiting experts, artists, and technologists-in-residence; graduate fellowships; and faculty and staff with specific expertise in future-focused research and creation. With the foundation of the CHANEL Center, CalArts empowers its students, faculty, and visiting artists to shape the future through transformative technology and new modes of thinking.

The first initiative of its kind at an independent arts school, the CHANEL Center consists of two areas of focus: one concentrating on Artificial Intelligence (AI) and Machine Learning, and the other on Digital Imaging. The project cultivates a multidisciplinary ecosystem—encompassing visual art, music, performance, and still, moving, projected, and immersive imagery—connecting CalArts and a global network of artists and technologists, other colleges and universities, arts institutions, and industry partners from technology, the arts, and beyond. ____________________________________-

I wish they'd write this kind of stuff in English.

Legendary art school California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) will soon be home to a major high-tech initiative funded by luxury brand Chanel’s Culture Fund. Billed as the first initiative of its kind at an independent art school, the Chanel Center for Artists and Technology will focus on artificial intelligence and machine learning as well as digital imaging. While they aren’t disclosing the dollar amount of the grant, the project will fund dozens of new roles as well as fellowships for artists and technologists-in-residence and graduate students along with cutting-edge equipment and software. 

That's easier to understand I think.

Interesting.

[shelandsorcery]

High Intensity Comic Work

So my first round of art school was a fine art degree. And I didn't really know a lot about art careers and I wasn't really sure what I WANTED to be doing, but I did kind of chafe against the "comics aren't art" vibe some teachers had. And then Shannon Gerard came and talked. And Shannon's gone on to do a lot, a LOT of really cool stuff (http://shannongerard.org) but her talk was about, or at least mentioned, how she was doing comics as part of a cross-disciplinary masters, by making them with lithographic prints. Which is, I think, a real flex. Like, it's one thing to draw a comic, and another thing to draw it backwards, soak it in chemicals, and then, one page at a time, pull the right amount of successful prints from the stone, before you could draw the next page. It still boggles my mind. Just fuckin incredible. And her process did two things - it elevated the medium to something the more traditional fine art faculty would engage with, and it also used the then popular genre of autobio/confessional comics, which probably also helped get fine art profs to connect with the project. So my memory of her talk is prettttty faded, but what it did was give me permission to be a real shit about bringing comics back into my fine art work. Clearly I just needed to use more punishing mediums! So I did. Did I have anything to say WITH those comics? No. Would that stop me? Also no. So, in my final year of art school, baby artist shel decided to paint and etch comics of the most banal shit you can think of.

I did a BUNCH of these, and if you think these painted ones are... slow and meditative....

Wait'll you see the blood, sweat and tears I poured into intaglio prints of empty spaces:

These were etched and aquatinted into copper plates, printed by wiping ink into every crevasse in the metal and then wiping all the excess ink off the face, then squeezing them through a huge heavy press, one print at a time.

That said I do still like these haunted window views inspired by taking the subway up past Yorkdale station every day for school. But oh my god the LABOUR it took to make these. Was that the secret to making them fine art? I do not know, I just know I gave it a real good try. I even screenprinted a deconstructed journal comic, god help me:

Anyways, the last piece I made this way was also the first fine art painting I ever sold, and it was titled "waiting" and it was a journal comic about doing my first Canzine alone when my teammate ditched. Painted in layers and layers of acrylic, across six canvases.

Did I use these as livejournal icons for years after? Yes. Anyways now when I feel like I'm being a bit of a try-hard, I at least know where I learned it. Oh my gosh okay I did make ONE more of these, the year after I graduated. It's very angsty.

Read the full article

[captainkurosolaire]

Sublunary Love

A ghastly apparition tread to where a contract flower would be reunited its garden. Upon crossing a bridge the rushing river-stream he foresaw that abhorrent reflection of a deathly harvester. It wasn't honorable to present himself in this manner. There's a moment to sheathe. Value's learned, conscious of choice was his belonging. Time to rectify his mistakes in their short-date. He'd clean, bandaging wounds, dressing formally. Having a hobble-step, but stony composed. Fellow amber-hues, enlarged of Kunoichi, as she opened a door-knock, with a coquettish grin, purring cat-like, "Wow our favorite slayer returns, meeeow. Strikingly!" The colorful-assassin imparted. Then gave a boop upon his nose, teasingly, "She's all yours, we'll reconvene one-day. Imagine repercussions will come. Should those-arise, I'll be close. Embrace solitude, stud." Companionship offered. Overall drowning her feelings. Answer was clear towards Shaman's effect on him. Those who're sentenced amongst darkness, may find a vigil-light they're in need to crawl out. Dangerous-heel's clacked distantly, his voice-interrupted, turned and eastern-bowed, "Thank you." Nerves in his facial-features couldn't function, yet emotion's in voice resonated harmonic. Ya'chi could truly-depart with a proven gleam; waving him off. His new-wielded blade; was a Sakurasou as he approached Client. She'd comment, "Someone's always got tricks! Arsenal of killer-techniques. Should've expected you'd complete my task without any hiccups. As I vowed, I'll not bother any-longer, you're free." Sorrow tinged in octaves, extending her fetch for flora retrieval. Unexpected, he struck. Knees collapsed beneath her stead, with-forgiveness. His thumb-ever bent the tip of a petal, intentionally, wasn't enough to damage, but showcase blemish. Sincerely billowed, "I'm afraid, I've failed the contract... I'd seemingly lose, again and again, with you." Inflection carried emotions. Crossed-hand's came over her facial-features gasping, awestruck. Confession played, "...But what's inside me tells me, I'm victorious within your company; that I am. If given opportunity, I Hoku, would properly like to show you a true date." Not only did the nameless-one, shed his name, he was proposing for a date? What a goof-ball! She'd hysterically cackle, eyes-teared happiness, "...Such unpredictability. I accept, also I'm Rokeia! You're silly too, even under those guises of a formidable-killer! Not certain what your disciplinary training did... Only thing, missing is this..." Two-fingers intersected across his lip's spread into a kingly smile. Her warm-sensations, made eyes-close; intoxicating peace. Revealing coyly, "I'll have to equip you with these from now-on Mister! Smiles lay important, keeping darkness at their bay not to be all-consuming; but still to be marveled. Like the Sun's Setting Shadow!" Thriving knowledge was given. She's life - a road light, left-on for creatures that hunt as night, a soothsayer which awakens those beastly hearts from captivity. He's shadow - avatar of death, cold-steel of security, carrying resolve that'd arm upon need. Hoku detached his weaponry, only him remained. "I only want to be with you." A palpable heart-beat, Thrummed... Thumped... Drummed Her own hypnotically sung. Blush-ignited her cheeks; crimson for once not of blood was made, "...Y-you assassinate many barriers, such trouble, it's unfair!" Making a pretend-pout. Spider-like-digits; heavenly splendors, tracing from his woven lips until her delicate palms melted his cheeks; wielding him. Attention orbited to her, type shadows followed if permitted. Mirror motions came descending to eye-level. Her violet-orbs encouraged those star-golden, twinkling for cosmic unity. Following, would be their first joining of many. A force known as [us.] emerged. Promising eternal, ever-afters. The balanced-kiss, sealed it.

[Prev:Chapter]: Unsheathe, Heart ~ ♪"Eternal Requiem"♪