#I manage my ADHD partially by breaking things down into manageable pieces.

[andthebeanstalk]

This is how I organize my story notes. I thought the scene titles looked pretty good today

[not-delicious-milk]

untangle

pairing | itadori yuuji x fushiguro megumi

content | fluff, light angst, humor. birthday fic for the birthday boy. yuuji has adhd and i will die on that hill

word count | 1.7k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 23 december 2020

author's note | yes i wrote this because i got back into knitting. i know i’m a day late for fushi’s birthday but shh. anyway itafushi brainrot

Itadori hyperfixates on knitting. Shenanigans ensue. 

It started out innocent enough. 

Gojou had decided to treat them to shopping in the city, something that excited Kugisaki and Itadori beyond reason. Fushiguro thought that those two would probably faint from excitement if their sensei ever indulged them in a trip to Roppongi, as he'd promised them so many months ago, even though he knew fully well it was little more than a tourist trap.

Then they passed by a fabric store, and Itadori had stopped cold in his tracks at the sight of the multicolored yarns in the window. Peeking over a teetering pile of bags and boxes he was holding for Kugisaki, Itadori drew so close to the window his breath misted up the glass.

"What is it, Itadori?" Kugisaki huffed. She turned around and barely suppressed a laugh when she saw him staring. "Are you a grandmother now? Come on, I still need to pick up new stockings."

"No, it's just—" Itadori glanced back at her, wide eyed. "You know, my grandfather taught me to knit once, when I was really little. I hadn't given it much thought since…" His sentence trailed off. "Anyway, it's getting colder now, right? Plus Christmas is coming up. Maybe I should pick it up again."

Fushiguro shrugged. "As long as you don't go crazy. Like that time with the stamps."

"Listen — those were limited edition stamps—"

"And the historical romance movies."

"How did you — come on, Pride and Prejudice is a classic—"

"And the bullet journals?"

"I didn't even get that many of those! Gojou-sensei was the one who recommended those to keep track of stuff."

"You had to empty one of your manga shelves just to store all the stationary you bought!"

"Okay, I get it!" Itadori held up one of his hands in a gesture of surrender, nearly dropping Kugisaki's things in the process. "In and out. All I want to do is look."

But that was not all he wanted to do. Itadori wanted to touch the yarn, and then he was ogling the seasonal colors, and then he was flipping through pattern books, and then he was discussing different wool blends with the lady working there, and then he was picking out bamboo circular knitting needles, and then he was ordering cones of yarn in different colors, and by the time they staggered out of the fabric store, Fushiguro was ready to collapse. 

The way home was just as bad, if not worse. Itadori talked Gojou's ear off the whole time about different stitches he wanted to try and projects he was going to start. "Oh, by the way, Fushiguro!"

Fushiguro turned at the mention of his name. "What is it?"

"Would you prefer a scarf or a hat? I picked out this blue acrylic-wool blend to match your eyes, but I'm not sure which one you would prefer."

Fushiguro blinked at him. "A— a scarf, I guess."

Itadori gave him a thumbs up and then went right back to talking a mile a minute. Fushiguro wasn't sure if he should be paying attention or not. He glanced at Kugisaki, who was in a world of her own looking at the souvenirs and new accessories she had bought with Gojou's credit card. 

Gojou himself seemed only mildly interested in what Itadori was saying. He seemed to be thinking of something else, but he did seem to be making an effort to show his student that he was listening.

Fushiguro sighed. He really was hopeless. "Itadori, tell me about the patterns you want to try."

Itadori turned to him, and Fushiguro let himself take in the radiant glow of his eyes for one selfish moment, before training his gaze on the floor of the train.

(Was it too much to ask for him to stop being so bright all the time?)

The excitement could barely keep its way out of Itadori's voice as he described the different ways to knit a sock, and Fushiguro smiled a little, careful not to let Gojou see it. He would never let him live it down. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

"Fushigurooooooooooooooo!"

He doesn't have to yell. The walls are so thin between our rooms anyway. "What?" he called back, a little quieter. 

"I need your help! Come here!"

Fushiguro sighed and closed the book he'd been reading. It was a hefty tome on marine biology he'd picked up the week before. And in that week, Itadori had probably knit enough to clothe a small country. 

Well, that was an exaggeration. But he really had been spending all his time working on some project or another, and Fushiguro was mentally counting down until his inevitable burnout. 

He opened the door to Itadori's room and poked his head inside. "What— oh."

Itadori grinned sheepishly at him. He was in the middle of a pile of tangled yarn, probably partially tangled in it himself, seated on the floor. "Um, I could use another pair of hands."

Fushiguro sighed for as long as he could, feigning annoyance. 

(He really didn't mind.) 

"Thanks, man." Itadori wriggled his way out of his multicolored bonds and started picking at the strands. "I promise it's not as bad as it looks." What it looked was pretty bad.

"I just forgot to organize them when I was done with a color. I had just been putting them in a bin under my bed."

Really? Not a blender?

Fushiguro said nothing as he worked at a thick knot. 

"Brat, do something about him."

His eyes went wide as Fushiguro whipped his head around to see a mouth formed on Itadori's cheek, speaking in a familiarly cold voice. "He's driving me insane."

Itadori slapped a hand over Sukuna's mouth automatically. "You were already insane," he muttered under his breath.

The mouth opened again on his hand. "All you think about are your projects. If I wanted to possess a grandmother, I would have done so. Brat, break his knitting needles, throw out his yarn, something. I know you find it irritating too." 

Itadori pointedly ignored Sukuna's voice, but for a moment Fushiguro was sure he saw something flicker in his eyes — something like disappointment, or maybe regret. His smile seemed a little too tight, his gaze too fixed.

Ever since he had come back to life, Fushiguro had noticed that Itadori wasn't quite the same. He never wanted to talk about it, either, besides the few words they'd exchanged before the Goodwill Event. 

But these days, something about Itadori Yuuji seemed a little unsure. He seemed harder, cracked around the edges like broken glass. He was smiling the same smile as ever, but something in his eyes told Fushiguro that he didn't mean it. 

Fushiguro imagined that he was untangling Itadori. Maybe it was that he didn't trust him enough, wasn't close enough to him, didn't care as much about him as Fushiguro did him, but there was something twisted up inside Itadori that he didn't let anyone touch. 

(He would never admit it, but Fushiguro wished that he could. Sort through the strands one by one, with care and with gentleness, until he was all smoothed out.)

"Itadori," Fushiguro said quietly. 

"Huh?" By the time he turned around to meet his eyes, Itadori had already masked his brief slippage of control. 

"I don't think it's irritating."

Itadori laughed a little. "No, it's okay. You don't have to feel bad, I know I'm going a little overboard…"

"I'm serious."

He fell silent and ran his fingers through his soft pink hair. Again, there it was — a flash of something between disappointment and regret. "I just… it feels nice to make stuff for other people, I guess." And there he went again. Always other people first. 

(When would he realize other people worried about him too?)

Fushiguro didn't say anything else, but silently picked a piece of yarn off of Itadori's hoodie. 

"Oh! That's right!" Itadori suddenly stood up and rummaged through his bag. "It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it?"

It was. Fushiguro hadn't told anyone about it though — there wasn't much he hated more than other people fussing over him on his birthday. The attention, the coddling praise, the presents… all of it was too much. 

Who could have—

The winking face of his sensei flashed across his mind. Of course.

"Here you go, before I forget to give it to you." Itadori handed him a folded blue scarf. "It's your birthday present!" 

Fushiguro took the scarf gingerly. It seemed to tingle in his hands, and he could almost feel the attention and time that Itadori had put into it. It had a complicated-looking cable pattern that must have taken him forever. 

"Do you— do you like it?"

He glanced up at Itadori, whose usually sunny face was clouded over with insecurity. Ah, I must have made a face by accident. 

Fushiguro answered by putting the scarf on. It even smelled like him. If he breathed in deeply, he could smell Itadori's fabric softener and the scent of the outdoors that always seemed to cling to him — wood and soft grass and—

Stop smelling the scarf.

"I like it," he managed. He couldn't make eye contact with Itadori — if he did, he was afraid his careful mask of casual indifference might break and reveal something much more embarrassing.

"You do? Oh, that's good." Somehow Itadori didn't sound very convinced.

Fushiguro risked looking into his eyes. "I really love this," he stated firmly. "Honestly, I'm glad you decided to start knitting again." He paused a moment before going a step further, grasping at the tangled strands around him and within the boy who stood before him. "I think your grandfather would be really proud of you."

Itadori blinked in surprise. "Oh." A wide grin spread across his face. "Well, I'm glad you like it!"

Fushiguro gestured hopelessly to the mountain of tangled yarn.

"Ah, right."

An easy silence fell as they untangled the rest of the yarn. The warmth of the scarf around Fushiguro's neck was grounding, and reminded him of the warmth of the boy next to him. 

Itadori scooted closer to him and rested his head on Fushiguro's shoulder, surprising him. Neither of them said a word as they picked at knots of yarn. 

"Thank you," muttered Itadori under his breath. 

Maybe birthdays weren't so bad after all. 

[endymionstudies]

one of my struggles in today's daily life is just how terribly unmotivated i am to do anything productive - i want to study and exercise and actually clean but i have no! motivation! to even get out of bed! i think a lot of it has to do with my mental health not doing well in this situation but the fact that i'm not able to do even one productive thing doesn't really help... although i also can't help but thing maybe i just want to be lazy in this situation 😔

oh, the destruction of everyone’s executive functioning. i get to mock my friends now for struggling with it bc they tell me “just, do it? just get up?” sometimes and im like its not that easy but thanks.

looking up adhd or spoon theory management has a lot of good tips for executive dysfunction! but heres what i try and do:

write everything down. sometimes you realize an issue is actually a two step issue, which means that it may take up more spoons, but it also means its an issue you can tackle in two parts. some things that you thought were more than one issue turn out to be only one issue, or a smaller issue. “do homework” then becomes: 1 page math homework, german vocab. instead of “do homework” giving the idea of hours of work. the first step is understanding what exactly you have to do, and how much it is. also, write about how your mental health is doing. records are good to keep for the days when you dont have therapy or cant talk about it, and it gets it off your chest.

split tasks up. this happens partially during the step above. break tasks down. “clean room” is “put away laundry” and “put away loose papers” not one huge task, but smaller more individually manageable tasks. you may not have the spoons to clean your room in its entirety, and thats okay! but if you have the spoons to take your laundry off the Laundry Chair, that one task goes a long way.

step by step. with multi step tasks ITS OKAY TO DO THEM SEPARATELY. this was always the thing that blocked me from working on a problem. cleaning my room meant my entire room, all at once. but if i did a little bit, piece by piece, i got it done without quitting halfway through, and was less stress on myself. do math homework, and you can take a break. do laundry, and you can wait to put it up until you go to your room next.

combine tasks. i dont mean wash the dishes and cook at the same time. i mean “if youre going upstairs and you pass the linen closet, bring the clean towels with you and put them away”, or “when youre going to the kitchen to get water, bring all your dirty dishes and put them in the sink.” you can always move something with you to another room, or perform a combined action. brush your teeth in the shower. puts your meds in the bathroom so you take them every single time you get up to pee first thing in the morning. you’ll start to perform these instinctively. 

you’ll get out of bed at least once. people have to pee. make use of it. take your meds. get some water and a snack. even if its just that, youll feel so much better. its okay to stay in bed if you dont have the spoons to get up. you can try again tomorrow. if you need to rest after every task, thats okay to! this is a hard time for everyone, especially those with mental and physical health issues. take it easy. get what you can done, and tackle what you didnt at another point. its not going anywhere!

[arirosie]

Personal rant- also I can't figure out how to do a read more on mobile, so skip over this unless you're super interested. I'm just getting it off my chest.

Pet peeve:

Advice that is directed at me that is

1. Not actionable

2. Not appropriate for the actual situation

3. Not taking into account my personal needs or

4. Not taking into account how I'll personally be affected

5. Something I've already tried with no success

6. Something that requires more effort and time than I have to give

7. Something that requires more steps, effort, time, e.t.c. than I'd bring portrayed to me

I hate that.

Generic advice for a situation to anyone is one thing, I can ignore it if it's obviously not going to work or attempt it if it seems possible, or whatever I wish, it's generic and no one is looking at me personally to respond. Meaning I don't have to explain what will or won't work, or explain my situation, or involve myself at all.

But when you're personally telling me, alone, that's different. Using my situation as an example to others and giving things I "could have done" is the same.

Like "if your work becomes so stressful you're breaking down you need to step away for a moment" .... but the reason I'm stressed in that moment or for those hours is BECAUSE I can't step away, or do anything else, because it's already overwhelming and this isn't paperwork in an office or a discussion with a coworker or even dealing with a screaming customer (can't walk away from that last one either) this is a constant physical onslaught, if I stop product is ruined, if i step away with no replacement, same thing, of i do anything other than continue I've screwed over my coworkers (who I'm managing) , my direct manager, the customers, etc. If it's calm enough I can walk asuu for a minute the stress has passed already.

"Who cares what your boss thinks"... anyone who would be affected by it? Duh? If their opinion affects you, you have to at least care about that part

"Just find a better job" well I could find a higher paying job but the emotional impact would be similar, and my particular struggles with ADHD could be worse. I could find a better suited job but it would pay less. I could try for a basic office job and a possible 2 hour commute to negate both of those problems.... if I even got it. I'll admit that I and my coworkers have a strange sense of Stockholm syndrome with our direct boss and job, and trying to leave wouldn't matter except for the guilt, but the guilt isn't the only difficulty

"Just break it down into pieces do it step by step" and when I've done step one and you distract me with another task and the entire process remains unfinished? Unless you don't care if it actually gets done or not, breaking it down does no one any good if I can't get through all the steps. It only helps if I'm allowed to finish every step, otherwise it's just unfinished, and many things in life have time limits. Either it gets done or it doesn't and partially done isn't done.

I've gotten tons of advice for everything in my life. Very rarely does any of it ever work. The only good it's ever done me is the limited amount of times I've been able to pass it on to people without my struggles. IF it works for them, it's because they don't struggle with the part I did. Let's be honest though, most of it is useless anyway.

Just once in my life, literally just once, I'd like someone who is giving advice to me personally to look at the whole picture first and advise me second.

Honestly I'd settle for them hearing me out on why it won't work and giving real, actionable, workable advice in response.

I'm so tired of every single one of these conversations having to end with me saying "I'll certainly try that" while inwardly knowing I won't even be able to get that far, much less make an actual attempt so it can fail again (and again and again and again). For literally everything from sleep to pain to stress to moving on in life, to everyday struggles, to ADHD specific struggles.... I've never gotten advice that works. I've already tried everything I can, and cycled through them repeatedly.

I'd even settle for just being as invisible as I am the rest of the time, for the sake of pity just let a grown woman cry in peace. I'm going to have to figure it out alone anyway, just let me be. (Also don't hug me. That's only acceptable from a limited amount of people)

Yet the moment I'm on the verge of losing it, when I most need to be alone, suddenly I'm visible to everyone and they've all got useless advice.

Take a page from my husband's book, who generally admits that with my specific struggles he's got no idea what to do, but he'll support me no matter what. So far (in my whole life) that's literally the only good reaction, and aside from him maybe 3 others have managed it.

Rant over I guess.

[fireandgloryrpg]

Congratulations Josh and welcome! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Wallace “Wally” Robinson with the faceclaim of Dominic Sherwood in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

Out of Character Information:

Name: Joshua

Age: 21 (January 17, 1996)

Timezone: EST

Triggers: redacted Activity: 7/10 I work overnight 4 days a week, and go to school 3 days a week from 7:00pm-9:45pm, and 7:00pm-8:00p. I am a dedicated rp member and always make time for characters and being a part of the group.

Anything Else?: love you guys ^___^

Original Character Application:

Name: Wallace “Wally” Robinson

Age and Birthday: October 13th, 1995

Faceclaim: Dominic Sherwood

Heritage: Son of Hecate

Affiliation: Citizen of New Rome

Headcanons:

Wally’s has an affinity towards physical spells, rather than rituals and mental magic. Creating fire, telekinesis, transformative spells are where his power is greatest. He’s taken to learning more about rituals though, as these can be the greatest of weapons and defense. Like children of Hecate, Wally is stronger with magic at night and has become a night owl because of it, sleeping late into the day and staying up at night.

Wally partially chose to go to New Rome for the way the Romans fight. Despite being a strong demigod, Wally did as little fighting as possible in both wars. It wasn’t until his direct confrontation with Circe that he realized the importance of knowing how to use a sword.

Biography:

Wally Robinson grew up like many demigods: confused of who he was and unsure of his place in the world. Unlike his peers or first friends, Wally knew he was never normal. Dyslexia, ADHD, that was something he tried his damndest to manage - and manage that he did. It was other things as he grew up that made him stand out. He always more active at night, even after a full day running around and being active. Glass would crack and simple candle flames would expand into balls of fire when he would get angry.

When he started to see monsters at age 9, monsters who weren’t under your bed or in your closet - but in fact walking the streets, operating businesses, it was minor relief to hear from his father that he wasn’t going crazy. He was, as his father was led to believe, a demigod. A child of Hecate, Goddess of Magic, among many other areas.

He was able to survive a full year in the normal world before the monsters got too close. Thankfully Wally’s anger, fear and lack of control helped him in blasting away the creatures, long enough for a satyr to come and rescue him, taking him to camp.

Twelve years later, after two wars, seeing many friends come and go, Wally thought it was time he should head back out into the real world. But the real world was difficult to navigate, so when the offer to go to Circe’s island and learn some magic under his half-sister arose from one of her servants, it was good enough for Wally. One month after being there, the minor goddess had attempted to steal his power through a ritual that would have ended in one dead Wally and one far more powerful Circe. He was able to disrupt the ritual and put many of her servants out of commission, earning him a transformation into a tiny guinea pig for the next four months. Four. Painful. Boring. Mind numbing months. Wally took that time to focus his power, focus what power was still inside of him and learn tricks he saw from other minor sorceresses. Freeing himself of the curse, Wally escaped and decided that New Rome was both safer and more pleasing an option than the human world.

Para Sample:

The sorceress slammed down an empty potion bottle. The charms she built around her palace made it so that the pieces immediately lifted off the ground and all came back together, so now a perfect empty vial sat on the ground. Circe stormed out of one of her many rooms in the mansion. This particular one held cages consisting of many different animals, though one cage had been empty, and one of her servants stayed back in the room. Since she had recently become a monkey, there wasn’t much use for her at the moment.

“I treated him good and this is how he treats me?! Made him a jacket, let him learn my spells and now he tries to show me up?!” Another servant quickly appeared by her side as the minor goddess went down a hallway throughout her home. “Where is he?! Where is my half-brother?” The shorter lady, the one flipping through a book of what looked like moving pictures stumbled throughout her words.

“I-I don’t know y-yet, My Lady. I’m looking through our cameras. Wally Robinson has evaded-”

“Don’t say his name! You know what a name does to ones power. I don’t need him getting any stronger than he’s already become. That’s the last time I try and help one of my siblings. We have to find him before he gets off the island. And let the ladies know, this will never be allowed again. None of you will ever be assisting another demigod like him, not until I approve it.”

Believing he was already out of the palace, Circe sent guards off into the woods to search for her former captive. The newly freed boy was in fact still in her mansion, equipping himself with the necessities: potions for battle and getting off the island, snacks for the trip, empty soda cans in case he ran into some satyrs that he’d be repaying - oh, and clothes. One may get used to being naked when you spent time as a guinea pig for a couple months, but shame quickly returns with a loud knock at the door when you don’t have fur to cover everything up. Wally wasn’t as talented at transformation magic as his much older sister, but he was able to warp a few garments into suitable wear for his body type. He didn’t forget either to grab the nice jacket Circe had crafted him when he first arrived.

Memories were still flooding back to him while he raced against time and enemies to get off the island. Wally Ethan Robinson, born October 31st. You came to Camp Half-Blood when - when uh … when you were twelve! You trained with a polearm? No it - it was a staff?

Memories were still fuzzy, but he knew he had to get out of here. Wally had left New Athens in search of studying magic elsewhere, feeling he was strong enough to leave the safety of his home for the real world. A mistake he realized when he allowed someone to bring him to Aeaea. Circe had brought Wally to the island, allowing one of her servants to train him. Her intentions were a bit unclear, but she made it seem like her and Wally could strike a deal. His training on the island was short-lived. After a only a month of training, Wally had discovered his big sister had nefarious plans set up for him. Trying to escape, he wasn’t prepared for a fight against her, and like so many others had his human form stripped, replaced with the body of a furry little creature. Circe’s girls had made mistakes as well though. By forgetting to keep up magical wards on Wally, the demigod was able to free himself from Circe’s spell through weeks of hard concentration. It was easy when all you had to keep yourself busy a wheel to run on.

Not too long after gathering what he needed, the young man was running through the woods. About ten minutes in, Wally began hearing sirens and voices getting closer. He frantically searched through one of Circe’s stolen spell books for a quick way off the island. Whether it be through the shadows, below the Earth or into a wormhole, he would risk it. Wally was willing enough to take the first opportunity that came his way. The demigod wasn’t fast enough to outrun the girls and soon enough, Circe and two guards came upon him in a clearing.

“Woah,” proclaimed the one guard with a shocked expression. “He does look like that one guy from Shadowhunters.” The other girl snorted and gave a tiny nod, blushing a bit on her cheeks.

“Right?! You totally look like Dominic Sherwood!” Circe slammed her foot down, leaving a trace of magic to skirt through the ground where cracks had been made. She huffed and waved them to step back, advancing alone on the demigod.

“You have such nerve, Wallace. It’s admirable, I’ll give you that.” The sorceresses eyes were practically glowing red with anger. Wally pondered mentally whether or not to correct her about the name. He could have told Circe that he hadn’t been called Wallace since Chiron first met him; but he figured it was better to stay quiet rather than piss her off even further. “I give you a roof under your head, food from my own stock, and I allow you to learn from us. Then - then you try and escape after I turn you into a cute little animal?! It is easy to lose one’s mind when stuck like that, sure! Still though. I mean - I knew from our short time together that you were a bit flippant. But I had no idea you were so …” Her guards began to fill in words for her.

“Determined?” It was impressive to them that he could break her own magical curses and turn back to human.

“Quick to learn?” In the weeks he’d spent with Circe, Wally showed great improvement with learning to warp magic.

“He can’t learn to tell time apparently. You were really horrible at showing up on time for things.” Wally just shrugged at that, givfing her a look like yeah, time management isn’t one of my better skills.

Circe decided to finish for them. “He’s also easily won over. What will you offer to New Athens when you try to return - should you get out? You were brought here because I was curious of you. The fancy tricks and powerful magic kept you on the island though.” Circe narrowed her eyes, not daring to admit that Wally was clever in winning her over, his smooth speaking making Circe willing to train him. “You knew who I was, yet you stayed. Now when you go back, what lies or twisted truth will you tell them so that you’re welcome back with open arms? They’ll wonder where you were.” Wally felt himself getting red with embarrassment. She was right. He left with no plans, just an idea and empty dreams. He wormed his way into Circe’s home, knowing all about her treacherous past. There were times when kids would call him a snake because of what he could do, acting like he was the devil incarnate. Wally felt they may be right. Circe may have proved it. Wally didn’t know how he’d back to camp, but he knew Circe would never let him live if he didn’t leave now. “Wally, give up now and I may even let you have the jacket. It’ll keep you warm when you spend the nights in my barn, as an ass!” She put her hand out, a sliver of light shooting from her finger tips.

Wally countered it with a wall of energy. A purple mist had begun to grow while Circe talked. Now it was up to their feet, with tendrils swirling over the guards’ legs. The eerie mist enveloped Wally, and when Circe went to grab him, she only caught smoke.

…

The demigod didn’t wake up until a few days later, when his bladder demanded emptying, his stomach demanded food, and his body demanded hydration. Transforming himself into a human had spent a lot of his energy, but the transportation spell nearly did him in. Of course it was helpful that a satyr had set up camp when he found Wally after catching his scent.

After trading some berries, water, stories and soda cans, Wally learned of The Recall. Turns out he didn’t need to worry about finding some place to go to; he was heading back to his old stomping ground whether he liked it or not.

Wally didn’t have enough energy after that powerful spell to even create a simple flame. Wally wouldn’t have to travel too far though. The satyr informed him that they weren’t too far from the camp. The horned creature was curious about the jacket around Wally.

“How’d you get it to glow like that?” Wally just smiled, pulling the fabric closer around him. He told the satyr that it was a gift, though the tone of his voice may have suggested otherwise. Wally couldn’t be grateful enough that he had found help. He barely could grasp the fact that he had enough talent to even get himself here. He’d learned more from his time with his sister than he thought. All in all, his adventure to go and learn more about magic wasn’t a total waste. Wally had one of her books, a new jacket. Though his appetite for vegetables and grass was totally gone.

Wally thought hard about the life he was about to go back to. Friends who hadn’t heard from him in months, people who never trusted him for acting reckless in his younger years. Wally wasn’t even sure if he trusted himself now. He was far more naive than he knew. He chided himself mentally, because he should have been prepared for something like this.

Hours later, as they approached Camp Half-Blood, Wally told himself that he’d be wiser, that he wouldn’t take things so lightly. He had a lot of training to do, that, and get a job.