#like there is No one else of course its each other

[marauroon]

just james and the reader being unapologetically in love??

like i’d imagine james loving so hard during his hogwarts days especially, he just has to show you off

S H A M E L E S S — JAMES POTTER!

when james loves, he loves hard.

james potter x fem!reader | 0.9k | fluff | masterlist!

a/n — thanks for the request lovely 🫶

James all but ran over once he caught sight of you in the hallway, a bright, sunny grin on his face. “Hey, pretty girl.” He spoke fondly, slinging an easy arm over your shoulders.

“James,” You hum softly as a greeting, allowing your fingers to tangle with his as they rest against your collarbone. “How was potions?”

“Boring as always.” James replied, rolling his eyes, “I swear I’ll go mental if I have to make another batch of Living Death. It’s so damn easy.”

You turn your head up towards him, a faux pout gracing your lips. “Awe poor potions genius, god forbid you have an easy class,”

“You know exactly what I mean, Miss Smartass.” James huffed amusedly, tugging gently on a loose strand of your hair.

“Hey-!”

“You’re so cute.” James chuckled, grinning as he continued to toy with the piece of your hair in his hand, an unabashed fondness in his expression.

You’re halfway through opening your mouth in response when a well-timed ‘cough’ drags the two of you out of your shared bubble of solitude.

“Do you two have somewhere to be or are you just loitering?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the two of you, a flicker of affection in her tone as you stares at the two of you, seemingly unimpressed with how jovial you are.

“We are simply enjoying each other’s company, Minnie.” James quipped, and he certainly appeared to be enjoying your company, his hand sliding out of your own to rest on your hip.

“Enjoying it a little bit too much, Potter.” McGonagall replied, but there was no real anger behind her words.

“Awe, come on Professor. We weren’t even doing anything.” James grinned, turning his best puppy eyes on her.

McGonagall just huffed faintly, her expression fond. “Try to keep the pda to a minimum, would you?”

“Ah, but you see, Professor, then how would the world know how hopelessly in love I am with her?”

James was never one to be subtle, and every word that came out through his lips was filled with truth.

He was always very eager to prove to the entire world that you were his.

McGonagall let herself chuckle faintly, but did not falter in her sternness. “Yes yes, but do keep it to a minimum in the halls, hmm? Save the declarations of love for the privacy of the common room.”

“Of course, Minnie dearest. Anything for you.” James teased, removing his hand from your hip to give McGonagall a mock salute.

She rolled her eyes at that, looking somewhat exasperated, but her affection for the boy was still plain.

“Off with you the both of you.” McGonagall huffed finally, waving a hand at you both.

James flashed one last cheeky smile, before taking your hand in his.

“Come on, love. To the common room we go.” He spoke, before pulling you gently along the corridor.

You roll your eyes affectionately at James as you follow his lead, looking back over your shoulder to give a fleeting wave back to McGonagall. “Bye Professor!”

“Try not to look so happy, will you?” McGonagall huffed, though her expression was fond as she watched the two of you walk away, blinding smiles on your faces . God she had a soft spot for the two of you.

It truly was young love in its purest form.

And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t endeared by every sight of it you so shamelessly displayed.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.” James spoke, swinging your hands in his as the two of you wandered down the corridor.

“Oh wow, now that’s a surprise,”

“Very funny, love.” James rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips.

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking.” He repeated. “You know that Hogsmeade trip we’re going on?”

“Mhm,” You nod agreeably, a gesture for him to continue.

“Well, I was thinking instead of hanging around everyone else, we go on our own.” His smirk grew as he looked at you, “It’ll be a date, just the two of us.”

You laugh shortly, tilting your head to the side with a small raise of your eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re gonna skip out on planning destruction so we can go on a date?”

“Aah, but it’s a date with you love.” He replied, lifting your hand up to his lips, “Besides, I’m sure the boys can cause chaos without me.”

He started to kiss your knuckles one by one, smiling against your skin.

“And it means I can spend some quality alone time with my favourite girl…”

A sharp laugh echoes across the courtyard, your laugh, right as McGonagall turns the corner, and she just barely catches the sight of James sweeping you off your feet through one of the alcoved windows to carry you back to the common room.

So much for limiting your pda.

But it was almost heartbreakingly endearing.

How was she supposed to get mad at that?

How could anyone possibly see such an unconditional display of affection and feel anything but endearment?

You were so happy together.

James was always a ray of sunshine, but his light only burned brighter whenever you were around. And that was evident to anyone who ever caught a glimpse of the two of you together.

[eir-trixa]

WOTTG SPOILERS AFTER THE CUT

.

.

.

Can you believe Rick is validating me in my Percy-is-the-most-empathic-character take? I have legal basis but boi does it feel nice to have canon confirmation.

Second that book was short af I got the gist of it all while reading for like an hour.

Third, we addressed everyone else’s trauma. Percy’s still the group therapist LMAO 😭😭😭

Fourth, my son is such a good kid yall, this is why I lose five years of my life when someone insults or when he insults himself jfc my child.

Im honestly still processing and I have to reread the ending. Did it address Percy’s issues? Im going to go with “a bit” and call it a night. I mean, I guess it did? Percy got to unload and help Gale and Hecuba. We got an insight to how he’s managing to stay up and fighting and good despite all the shit he’s put into. Honestly the fact that he saw the humanity in Gale and Hecuba, that he saw their pain and grief and thats what made them trust him, that is so good. And the way he related to them. Goodness. And it highlights again how good a person he is, how much he feels and cares. I mean, he cried cause he had to send Mrs O Leary away, I cant with this kid-

I supposed what Im left unsatisfied with is how he still perceives himself as dumb? Baby, you survived San Fran for two months as a homeless kid without memories and pursued by different monsters who cant die. Youre the furthest thing from dumb.

He cant see this of course and while it was slightly addressed(?) by Annabeth telling him to his face that she doesnt give him enough credit, that he’s pretty smart, I dont think thats enough for addressing this particular issue. There was a time in the middle that he almost snapped because he thought Annabeth probably thinks him too dumb to know what to do next. Which I understand is frustrating to him. But to be fair this book made him look at Annabeth for a solution a lot. Theres also little comments about how when he cant think of anything - which is every 60 seconds apparently according to him- he looks at Annabeth. This doesnt help the co dependent allegations LMAO. Idk, I will die on the Hill that Percy is one of the smartest people in the series, not just emotionally but also in strategy. And theres, of course, nothing wrong with looking at the genius strategist for answers. Ive mixed feelings because definitely this is more of a Percy-insecurity issue than an Annabeth-being-bossy issue. But okay. One more book, heres to hoping we get more heart to heart on that front because Im 999998% sure she doesnt mean to make him feel stupid, Percy’s just got a lot of demons to fight but this in particular they need to figure out together. Still, its obvious how much they care for each other still. If only Dave and Hana did not piss me off at the start Id probably be a little more lenient about this.

Annabeth’s fatal flaw also makes a comeback, we love to see it.

And Sally Estelle Jackson. Now we have to find out wth is Percy’s middle name cause if Sally has one odds are she gave her son too. Trust me. Im Filipino. Iykyk.

Lastly, while I will forever and ever and ever support the trio from pjotv (theyre perfect and have done nothing wrong ever) I can see Rick’s injecting their personalities into the books. Im not sure if he does this on purpose or just subconsciously LMAO. Some of Grover’s dialogue is definitely inspired by Aryan. Percy being Lanky? Walker through and through, especially with his growth spurt lmao, and Annabeth’s confidence? All Leah. I can see what Rick’s trying to do. Ive no opinion on this, just pointing it out. I do love love love the live action. Just. I can see you Rick. You aint slick.

So there. I probably would need to reread the book properly at some point.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Crash Course

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

word count: 822

pairing: Lando Norris x driver!reader

summary: Y/n returns to the paddock after recovering from her injuries, and Lando confronts her with his growing feelings

______________________________________________________________

The days following the crash were a blur for Y/n, filled with recovery sessions and endless interviews about the accident. The media buzzed with speculation, talking more about the rivalry between her and Lando than about the championship itself. Everyone wanted to know if the tension between them had reached a breaking point.

But Y/n couldn’t stop thinking about what Lando had said. His confession kept replaying in her mind, stirring something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel before. She kept pushing it aside, trying to focus on her recovery and the upcoming races, but it lingered in the back of her thoughts, persistent and confusing.

A few days later, Y/n was back at the paddock, still moving a little stiffly but determined to show everyone she was ready to race again. She walked through the garage, her team bustling around her, making sure everything was in place for the next practice session.

As she sat down to review some data, she felt a presence behind her before she heard the voice.

“Back so soon?” Lando’s voice was light, but she could hear the edge of concern behind it.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder, seeing him leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were studying her closely, as if assessing whether she was really okay.

“Did you expect me to stay away?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

Lando smirked, pushing off the wall and walking closer. “Just making sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine,” Y/n insisted, though the slight wince as she shifted in her seat betrayed her.

Lando noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You sure about that?”

Y/n sighed, rolling her eyes. “You sound like my doctor.”

“Maybe I should be,” he teased, but there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. “Look, I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Y/n paused, the playful banter between them losing its edge. There it was again—that concern, that softness. She wasn’t used to this version of Lando, and it made her feel off-balance.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked quietly, looking up at him.

Lando hesitated, his playful smile fading. He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before sitting down on the chair next to hers. “Because I meant what I said, Y/n. After the crash, when you almost collapsed… I realized how much I care. More than I probably should.”

Her heart skipped a beat, the air around them growing thick with tension. “Lando…”

“I know we’re rivals,” he continued, his voice low and serious. “And we’re both fighting for the championship, but… that doesn’t change how I feel.”

Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. This was happening—he was actually saying it, putting into words what had been unspoken between them for so long. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could she explain the way she felt, when she wasn’t even sure herself?

Seeing her hesitation, Lando sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. And if you don’t feel the same way, we can forget it—”

“No,” Y/n interrupted, her voice firm. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “It’s not that. I just… I’ve been so focused on beating you, on proving I’m the best, that I didn’t stop to think about anything else.”

Lando’s eyes softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his expression. “And now?”

Y/n looked at him, the weight of her feelings settling in her chest. “Now, I’m starting to realize there’s more to this than just the rivalry.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as they looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension that had always existed between them was still there, but it had changed—shifted into something neither of them had expected.

Lando leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… what now?”

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing. She knew they couldn’t just flip a switch and change everything. They were still competitors, still fighting for the same title. But maybe—just maybe—they could be something more, too.

“I guess we see what happens,” she replied softly, her eyes locking with his.

Lando’s lips curled into a small smile. “I like the sound of that.”

Before they could say anything else, Y/n’s team called her over for a briefing. She stood up, feeling Lando’s eyes on her as she turned to leave. Just before she walked away, she glanced back at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end of their rivalry—but it could be the beginning of something else. Something that neither of them had been prepared for, but now seemed impossible to ignore.

[thebutterfly-effects]

Its Snowing Like Its The End Of The World ⋆｡°✩

hypothesis: after everything, he comes back to see you do that to him? he’s been selfish all his life, and theres a reason for the action he made on your big day.

warnings: none really, self inflicted angst? unaliving, sad, english is not my second language sorry if this sucks, Satoru justifies his actions, the best-friends fall out but they love each other trope, this is mostly Satoru’s pov.

bye im never gonna write again after this

Have you ever heard of the Japanese phrase “Yamato Nadeshiko”? Its a phrase used to describe the ideal Japanese woman.

Quiet, Meek, Timid, Calm, Nurturing, Bears a lot of children, Knows her place, Always respects her husband.

Some people argue that this type of girl has been going extinct in our day and age, it’s hard to find it. According to men, women are either super lenient, or a tough feminist that would brutally murder a man. And always choose the bear, perhaps.

Satoru Gojo hated that term. He thought what if he had his own type of ‘Yamato Nadeshiko’?

what if he didn’t want the one to be a timid girl that would submit to his every word? what if he wanted a little challenge? a headache? a thrill? something he would never expect?

There weren’t many options in Jujutsu Tech. Ugh. There was Shoko, but she’s a really good friend, and if he’s being honest, shes facing some major lesbian allegations in the school. Yikes. With who though?!?!?!

Obviously theres many other girls in the school, but none were worth Satoru’s time.

Then there was the Kyoto girls. Utahime, which was a mother fucking no. Mei Mei? she’s probably gonna be after his money, and they’d look related anyway; white hair n shit.

That scratches off all of the girls in Satoru’s list, mind list at least— he wants some love, real genuine love, lets be honest, hes fucking deprived. a virgin? maybe? maybe not? but deprived? absolutely.

..

Unless we mention one last girl. You. Satoru’s ultimate best friend, attached to the hip, a package deal. The type of friends where if one was absent the sensei would ask where the other was.

mhm, it was like that.

Suguru was obviously still his best friend too. But you? you were somethin’ else.

✧༺ ♡ ༻∞

“you ever think if meteors were actually made of cheese like in tom n jerry?” Satoru asks with a mouthful of nerd clusters in his mouth, it was his fifth pack but he burned through the calories like fire on paper.

You look at him. You’re so fed up with his dumb questions, for a guy that has to do fucking calculus in his head every time he uses his techniques, he sure was fucking dumb.

“they’re made of rocks.” you say flatly, continuing to crochet a little penguin for Shoko, she said she wanted an audience of crocheted animals to watch her as she dissects his friends. Yikes.

Satoru pouts, licking the sweetness off his lips as he stares at you, his glasses tipping down his nose. “what do you take me for? of course i knew that.” he scoffed.

“did you though?”

“did.”

“did not.”

“did.”

“did not.”

“did.”

“ugh, did n-“

he silences you by an ambush of kisses to your cheek, and a couple of head pats. “did!” he grinned, holding your face with one hand, both your poor cheeks were squished together. You wondered if this is what puffer fish feel like when humans poke them when they’re look all round n shit.

“real smooth, Sato.” you roll you eyes, looking off into the distance, your eyes catching a glimpse of a snowflake?

Its already snowing? what the hell?

“whatchu lookin at, hm?” he murmurs, taking his glasses off because as he always says, you were the only thing that didn’t overwhelm his eyes. “lemme see-“

“snowflake.” you mumbled.

“it’s august though..? is this effects of el niño or el niña?” he says, throwing a peach ring into his mouth.

You stare at him, like he just grew horns and a tail. “um.. no, that has to do with water temperature changing from japan’s oceans and south america’s.” you say.

“global warming?”

“Satoru.”

“what?”

“repeat that for me, please?”

“global warming.”

..

“oh, warming. hehe.. sorry.” He says, rubbing his neck before crinkling the plastic bag of the gummies in his hand.

“you know my mom always told me that when snow comes in the summer to tropical countries, it means the end of the world is near.” You say, stealing a peach ring from his mouth.

Its his turn to look at you like you grew two heads.

“that’s probably the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, but ill slide it cuz i love you.” he says.

“tch, can’t speak your mind these days.” you mutter, and he smiles and lays his head on your lap, staring at the small snowflakes falling, and the shooting stars in the sky.

The silence was nice, never awkward between you two. You were as close as conjoined twins, yes i said it, forgive me. Maybe you were a little delusional and thought there was something more to it? you don’t know. You don’t want to know, its treading on thin ice.

Satoru was likely the only person you feel comfortable here with in the school, you left your clan— which was so far away, you left your home far away to pursue jujutsu. Your friends were cool, Shoko was very friendly, and you felt like you had a stable girlfriend here, Suguru was always friendly but its like conversations with him were so forced and short.

Satoru was always the one to like talking, eating, doing whatever came to his mind— you liked his sense of carelessness, someway it balanced out how grounded and reserved you were, gave you a breath of fresh air.

for him?

you grounded him, more than Suguru ever could, he felt like there was always this wall for him to lean on if he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. All this bullshit of him having to keep calm and be the strongest was teetering him on the edge of losing it all. Alas, you were there, you are there.

hopefully this stays this way forever, right?

..right?

✧༺ ♡ ༻∞

where did any of this go wrong.

how did it go wrong?

he swears he never meant for the fallout to happen, shit just.. happens sometimes, a measly fight that made your ‘friendship’ fizzle. Disappear. Catch on flames the way Sodium did when it touched water. Not to mention, he was dealing with losing Suguru at the time, it was a lot for him to process..? One moment Suguru was fine.. then, he just flipped a switch.

Or maybe Satoru didn’t notice it.

Which makes it either; Suguru was a good liar, or Satoru was a shit friend.

He doesn’t want to think that he was a shit friend, and he doesn’t want to think Suguru had lied to him as well.

God this was all so frustrating.

His haori suddenly felt suffocating.

For an article of clothing that was meant to be very loose and baggy, Satoru felt strangled right now.

Blue eyes, raw and misty as he watched you stand with some snobby guy who was heir of his clan, you in your white shiromuku, looking so sweet and angelic.

He had been sealed for a while, only to come out and hear that you were getting married? where have you been all these years while plaguing his mind, why didn’t you tell him?

he supposes he knows why, but it still stings.

stings to see you wear your shiromuku next to a man that was supposed to be him.

his fist clenched, then unclenched. This wasn’t fair, did you forget everything that happened before you fell out? small kisses? little ways of saying i love you indirectly? was he not obvious with his love for you? moreover, were you lying? because theres no way on God’s green earth you were able to just move on so fast when he never did.

The sight in his eyes just fills him with rage, sadness, FOMO of something that was supposed to be his.

he lifts his fingers, aiming for your groom.

all sense of logic goes away as he murmurs the two words and a blast of purple rushes past everyone, people that were probably not important, not to him at least, and they get caught up in the crossfire before it finally lands on him.

and no longer was he your groom.

you don’t even get to see what happens as you fall down and hit your head on the concrete.

maybe you feel a hand touching you, you assume its your groom— you assume its someone— but the instinct in your gut tells you its someone else— and judging by that purple light—-

Satoru sighs, trying to wipe the stains of your no longer future husband’s blood off your shiromuku, even his blood stained you, it irked him.

“what were you up to, hm?” he whispered, though he knew you weren’t listening. His knuckles lingered on your cheek.

“couldn’t just sit and watch, my girl. Im sorry.” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice— not for killing the guy, but because you got hurt in the process of his rash decision.

While he should be out there, fighting that monstrosity called Sukuna, he was here. Hes sorry, he really is, but he’s been selfless all his life— can’t he be selfish this one time? Or would it be the end of the world?

how ironic.

it is the end of the world. Sukuna’s out there ending lives like he was stepping on cockroaches; and the strongest sorcerer was here, hands stained with the blood of the man trying to marry his girl.

He knows he shouldn’t say shit like this, you guys haven’t talked in years— you moved to Kyoto just to not feel the pain of the fall out between you two.

But alas, you both loved each other. He hopes you still do— because you were here trying to get married while he was sealed away for a while.

maybe you didn’t know he was sealed.

maybe.

He feels something cold on his nose, and he touches it.

a snowflake, reminds him of that time you guys saw a meteor— then traces of snow though it was mid august. Maybe this was the universe’s sign that he did the right thing, to make things right, to take back what he desperately wanted.

He smiled a little to himself as he saw another snowflake land on your cheek, so he cradled you, gathering you in his arms as he walked away from the scene.

he sees the snow rapidly increasing and smiles.

“remember that time you told me about what your mama said?” he murmurs, holding you close, hoping you’re listening somewhere in there. “snow in summer means the end of the world.” he says, looking up at the sky.

Sukuna.

almost losing you.

half his friends dying.

his students in danger.

japan in danger.

“i guess its snowing like its the end of the world.” he murmurs, hoping you’d wake up and let him lean on you when he needed you most. which is now.

wake up.

“please.”

[steaming-system-takes]

my hot take is that internet system culture absolutely DESTROYS one of the key principles of dissociative identity at its core. hear me out.

disclaimer: not pro endo!

everyone in basically any context would agree that every individual's brain is a highly unique fingerprint and a projection of an uncontrollable consciousness. that being SAID. why are there RULES about how a system can and can't function? i understand that there are diagnostic criteria and trends, but it is so important to understand that this stuff is literally curated by our subconscious minds and is NOT SUBJECT TO CONTROL OR CONFORMITY !

how is it possible that introjects can't exist? you're telling me that my subconscious mind is able to create People out of thin air and force my mind to split itself into pieces but it also follows rules on what the guy's name can be and how he can act and what he looks like? (in tandem with each other of course)

this is my Issue With Internet System Culture. we can all agree that DID is severely under-researched but somehow we also manage to make up these random rules for ourselves.

i have had a very personal experience with this, which is why i feel qualified to talk about it. i spent the first few years of knowing my system on twitter (of all ungodly places) and my system behaved like everyone elses. co-conciousness, small numbers, lots of labels, super rigid roles, introjects dont deviate from source, solid switching, etc etc.

once i got off of twitter and just started hanging out on my own, my system's behavior changed DRAMATICALLY.

The Stuff You Feed Your Subconscious Mind Will Impact How It Treats Your System.

once i stopped letting the influence of system Rules and what can and can't happen, my system digressed into a more logical (but less rigid) process. roles spread out, the front room held a different function, switches felt different, even fronting was almost a different experience. and it was SO MUCH EASIER. i haven't felt like i was faking in over a year. i haven't worried about splitting in so long.

systems, with all the love and respect on this planet and in my heart, if you feel like you're faking, delete the app. unfollow the tag. your brain is a fingerprint, stop trying to match it to anyone else's . your system functions in a unique and curated way in order to protect you in your childhood. there was no manual when your trauma happened. i love you 🫶

^

[rainybyday]

Second part of the first time travel team 7 idea

So next on the list are Uchiha’s

So the Senju patrol found out about Sasuke and Tenzo

The Uchiha?

They find Sakura and Kakashi

(Yes Sai and Obito are out for now)

So I think the beginning problem is how Team Seven are all separated and are all trying to find each other

Tenzo actually found Obito first but they split up for Obito to grab Sai and Tenzo got Sasuke once they felt both got their location from Tenzo’s ability to be a tree whisperer

Sakura found Kakashi and they both were going to find the rest of the pack but they met a returning Uchiha party from a job well done

The party has Izuna 

This will happen for two reason

One is so that they understand at least roughly at what time they appeared in

And Two is that they have an important figure of the Uchiha clan to see Kakashi. No, he doesn’t have Obito’s eye anymore but the prospect of seeing a Hatake so close to their clan compound is what I’m after here

Unlike the Senju patrol who immediately went after Sasuke, the Uchiha’s just stop

Cus like, that’s a HATAKE

SHIT

Like on one hand there is another clan claimed name on their land without their permission 

But on the other, its a Hatake, one of the few clans you want to be wary of and think carefully about when you interact with them

Even with the mask on Kakashi, they still don’t want to test their limits on getting fucken mutilated by Hatake teeth

Feral or not, a calm Hatake is still a Hatake

So Izuna, politely mediates and tries to understand why Kakashi and his cub? Packmember? Are on their land

Especially when said cub/pack member looks like they went through hell and back

Who is the stupid person whom attacked a Hatake pack/cub member???

I have no clue what this conversation will entitled but Sakura and Kakashi are allowed to leave relatively safe by all means

Even though they are freaking the fuck out of what they are just witnessing because was that Sasuke? No? You're not Sasuke??? Then who the fuck-?

Meanwhile, Izuna and his party are booking it back to their compound to tell Madara about the wild Hatake in their lands and to make sure to warn the rest of the clan because if they make a mistake like, oh i don't know, FIGHTING THE HATAKE, then there will be problems

On their end not the Hatake’s 

The Hatakes, while not animals are very protective of their own, a slight against one is a slight against all Hatakes. 

These issues must be mediated carefully. 

So Team Seven!

Kakashi does not have Obito’s eye and Obito has both eyes and has the classic white hair and half white/half tan body. 

Tenzo and Sai aren’t as worse looking as the rest of the team but that doesn’t mean Tenzo lost a vest somewhere in his dimension or how sai doesn’t have any scrolls or that his ink supplies is all over him

Sakura and Obito look the worse off, no questions asked

Sasuke literally looks all bloody from overuse of his Sharingan and he still has the Rinnegan so thats going to go over so will with everyone else

Ah zetsu will find out about that huh….

Naruto looks… okay

The boys going through it

They are all almost chakura depleted but not empty, still have the little bit to survive you know

Ok so back to story

ON the team 7 side I know they will probably find each other and probably make a makeshift base of operation in the location where Konoha will be

Its temporary for them since its the close place they know of in their time and they need to rest

So they rest for a prompt of a few days without any issues

Why is that?

Well on the senju side they just got reports that a uchiha was seen on their land so they of course are angered that their enemy was so close on their land and will have Madara’s head

But at the same time that very same Uchiha was saved by a Senju with the mokuton of all things

So its a whole political shit show with Hashirama trying to understand that not only are an Uchiha and senju in kahoots with each other but that this implies a missing senju member was left unaccounted for by the clan, Tobirama is more uneasy by the multiple chakra signatures that in the forest and the Senju elders are convinced that the Uchiha’s found and used a senju as a tool for war

Meanwhile, the Uchihas are sweating bullets trying to warn the rest of their members about a Hatake pack most likely near or on their grounds and Madara is going through a mountain full of paper trying to write the best most polite but not-directing-blame-nor-accusing letter to the Hatake clan to ask if they had 1) a that a Hatake pack was seen in their lands and 2) that someone may or may not have attacked said pack (but it wasn’t them they swear on Amaterasu’s sake)

Yeah so Team 7 has a lot of time to rest before everything gets set to motion

Mostly it is Tenzo and Sai getting caught up in what happened in the battle of Kaguya, the realization that everyone they ever known are now gone, and trying to survive in this new environment 

Of course there is a lot of self blame and guilt in this

Obito and Kakashi definitely have guilt with each other and their actions that got reflected in their battle

Everyone but the Uchiha’s are realizing who they left behind in their old world and its just… crashing on them

Sasuke is still on the Itachi thing but he is not as emotionally invested like the rest of this team, probably thinking about the battle and the information that he was told of being Indara’s incarnation or somth

Sai has left the people he wanted to be friends with and his chance of being happy with them, yes he still has team 7 but his dream was to befriend everyone and now that's just…. Gone

Tenzo is not stable either ngl

Yeah so first few days are basically the calm before the storm

Then the Uchiha’s get a letter, a letter they expected but not by who sent said letter

They were expecting the Hatake’s to contact them first, not the Senju’s

Then the Madara is reading a letter from Hashirama about the incident the portal had a few days ago and lost it

[alilixx]

Heyy could u write a greg house x reader

Shes a doctor or prob a surgeon and its like season 1 ep 13 , she gets sick and needs a heart transplant or something like that but she doesn’t want to then house convinces her coz he likes her and house lies for her so she can get the transplant and they used to flirt before and all but after that they confess about liking each other and start dating ☺️ thanks

IM SOO SORRYYY SCHOOL STARTED AGAINNN SOO LESS TIME FOR WRITE FANFIC BUT I WILL TRY WRITE FOR EVERY WEDNESDAY AND WEEKEND <33

Surgeon!FemReader x Gregory House

You had already noticed unusual signs for several weeks. At first, it was just fatigue. Nothing more. You convinced yourself it was due to your endless hours in the operating room, those sleepless nights that kept piling up. Just a bit of exhaustion, something every surgeon knows well. But the palpitations intensified, followed by slight dizziness, then that crushing sensation in your chest, as if your own heart was fighting against you. You eventually ran a series of tests, discreetly, hoping it was nothing.

But the results didn’t lie: severe dilated cardiomyopathy. Your heart, your most precious instrument, the one that allowed you to save lives day after day, was betraying you. But you refused to believe it.

Today, as you sat in House’s office, surrounded by his diagnostic team, you were desperately searching for a way out, an alternative explanation. Something that would prove this was all a mistake. After all, you were a doctor, you knew diagnoses were never infallible.

"I want your opinion," you finally said, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from what was coming next. "I did my own tests, but I want to be sure. Maybe I'm too involved to see things clearly."

House looked up, intrigued by your direct tone. "Too involved? You mean, too much in denial."

Cameron stepped forward to review your results, her eyes scanning every detail. "The echocardiograms clearly show dilatation of the heart chambers. You already have a heart murmur, you’ve felt it, haven’t you?"

You frowned, hesitating to respond. Of course you had felt it. But admitting it would make everything more real.

"I want to believe it’s something else," you murmured, your voice betraying, for the first time, a hint of vulnerability. "I’m a surgeon. I can’t... afford to have a failing heart."

Foreman shook his head, pragmatic as always. "You can’t afford not to act either. If you let this get worse, you won’t even have the chance to enter the operating room next time."

You looked away, your throat tight. Fear was rising inside you, a fear you hadn’t felt in a long time. You had always been able to control everything, every incision, every move. But now, it was your own body slipping through your fingers.

House, as always, wasted no time twisting the knife.

"It’s fascinating. You’d rather believe that all this will resolve itself, as if your heart is just going to miraculously decide to heal. Spoiler alert: it won’t." He tilted his head, scrutinizing your face. "But I’m curious. Why consult my team if you’ve already done the tests yourself? Looking for validation or an excuse to do nothing?"

His sarcasm irritated you, but you knew he was right. "Because I want... I want to be sure."

"Sure of what? That you’re dying? Let me confirm it for you, you are. Now that’s settled, we can move on to the next step: you’re refusing the only solution that could save you because you’re afraid of losing control. Interesting, but not surprising."

"I’m not afraid," you retorted, more to convince yourself than to answer him.

House didn’t believe you for a second. He moved closer, leaning his cane against the edge of his desk.

"You’re lying to yourself." His gaze pierced through yours, as if he could see past all your defenses. "You’ve seen how many transplants fail. But you’ve also seen how many succeed. So why condemn yourself when you know you have a chance to make it?"

Silence fell over the room. His words struck you deeper than you wanted to admit. You had spent months running from this reality, pretending it was just a passing episode. But here you were, sitting in front of specialists who left you no escape. That’s when House chose to play his final card.

"I’m going to ask you a very simple question." He sat back behind his desk, tapping the file of his favorite patient: you. "Do you want to die just to stay loyal to your own arrogance? Or do you want to live long enough to annoy me even more?"

You felt a strange warmth rising to your cheeks. House hadn’t spoken those words with his usual cynicism. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but you knew he genuinely cared about you. And that thought unsettled you more than anything else.

You lowered your eyes to your trembling hands. You were a surgeon, a strong person. Yet, for the first time in a long while, you felt vulnerable. And House had seen it from the very beginning.

The silence in House’s office was heavy after the intense discussion about your condition. The diagnosis was now certain: a heart transplant was your only chance. Yet, one question remained, one that had been haunting you. If you were really going to undergo this operation, there was only one person you trusted enough to put your life in their hands: House.

So, in a rare moment of vulnerability, you took a deep breath and asked the question you had been dreading from the start.

"I want it to be you. You’ll be my surgeon."

The team exchanged stunned glances. House, however, remained silent for a moment, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you. Then he let out a dry laugh.

"Me? No. Bad idea. Very bad idea."

You frowned, stung by his reaction. "Why? You’re one of the best doctors I know."

House straightened up, pressing his cane against the floor before fixing you with an unusually serious look. "I’m not a surgeon. I diagnose. I play with ideas, I take risks, but I don’t hold a scalpel over living patients. I don’t do surgeries."

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He was so confident, so skilled at solving impossible cases, and yet, here in front of you, he seemed hesitant. You stepped closer to him, determined to understand.

"Are you afraid of messing up?" you asked, your voice low but sharp.

House let out a sarcastic laugh, but you sensed a certain nervousness behind his tone. "No, I’m afraid of killing someone because of my damn leg and my trembling hands. If you want someone to do this surgery without screwing it up, ask a real surgeon."

His rejection hurt you deeply. You had opened up to him, and he was pushing you away without a moment’s hesitation. You felt anger rising within you, mixed with the pain of a feeling you didn’t want to name.

"I thought I could trust you," you whispered, your eyes burning with disappointment. "But I see I was wrong."

Before he could respond, you turned on your heels and left the office, leaving House and the team behind. The sound of your footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as you walked towards your own uncertain future. Your heart was pounding painfully, both physically and emotionally. He had rejected you when you had offered him your fragile trust.

A few days later, you found yourself in the pre-op room, your face calm, but your mind in turmoil with conflicting emotions. You had finally accepted the transplant, even though it terrified you. Another surgeon had been assigned for the operation, a competent colleague, but not House. His refusal still haunted you, the abrupt way he had pushed you away, as if your life meant nothing to him.

The medical team busied themselves around you, but all you could hear was a dull hum, lost in your thoughts. An anesthesiologist approached, and as you lay down on the operating table, a strange sense of calm washed over you.

Then, in the haze of preparation, something caught your attention. A voice, familiar, behind the masks and caps.

"Start the anesthesia. We’re going ahead with the transplant."

You weakly opened your eyes. It was House.

Your heart skipped a beat, as if, even before the surgery, he already knew how to unsettle you. You tried to move, to speak, but the anesthesia was already taking effect. Everything became blurry, but you heard his voice clearly, that deep, slightly rough voice that comforted you despite yourself.

"Sleep now, it'll be fine. You’ll be alive to yell at me later."

Then total darkness.

You woke up in a hospital room. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, and you felt a dull ache in your chest. But more than that, you felt your heart beating. A new heart. A strange sensation, both comforting and unsettling.

You slowly turned your head, and to your surprise, you saw House sitting in the corner of the room, his gaze fixed on you. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes locked on yours with a new intensity, almost worried.

"I knew you were stubborn, but you really outdid yourself this time," he said, without a hint of humor.

You looked at him, still too weak to speak. Then, slowly, you remembered what had happened before the surgery. He had refused. You had been hurt. But now, he was here.

"You... operated on me?" you finally murmured, your voice hoarse.

House gave a slight nod, avoiding your gaze for a moment. "Yeah. I didn’t really have a choice, apparently. Everyone’s incompetent except me." But there was something else in his voice, an unspoken admission.

You tried to sit up, but the pain in your chest made you wince. House immediately stood up and moved closer to you. "Take your time. Don’t be stupid."

You stared at him, still in shock from what you had just discovered. "Why? Why did you do it when you said you didn’t want to?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because..." He paused, searching for the right words. That wasn’t like him. "Because I couldn’t let another surgeon kill you. If someone was going to save you or lose you, it had to be me."

He looked straight into your eyes, and this time, you saw the fear behind his usual cynicism. The fear of losing you, the fear of failing. It wasn’t just about the surgery, it was about feelings, the ones he didn’t want to admit, but which were so clear in that suspended moment.

"You were scared," you said softly, a slight smile on your lips. House looked away, grumbling. "I’m not afraid of anything. I’m just smarter than everyone else."

But you knew. You knew he had taken this risk because he cared about you, even if he would never say it outright. You placed your hand on his, a simple gesture, but one that spoke for you. And, against all odds, he didn’t pull his hand away.

The days following the surgery were filled with moments of uncertainty and relief. Each steady beat of your new heart was a promise that life would go on, a victory against fate. But something lingered, like a palpable tension between you and House. He came to see you almost every day, always with his usual sarcasm, but something had changed.

That morning, you woke up with the same familiar pain in your chest, but this time it was different — the pain of healing. You slowly sat up in your bed, observing the soft light filtering through the hospital curtains. Your body was still weak, but each day felt like a small victory. And despite the fatigue, you were more clear-headed than ever.

The door to your room opened gently, and of course, House walked in, leaning on his cane with that familiar limp you knew so well. He stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your condition, then casually remarked:

"How’s my favorite patient? Still alive, apparently."

You managed a smile, even though part of you still wondered why he could never be serious for more than a few seconds. "I’m doing well, Greg. And you know it."

He raised an eyebrow at the sound of his name. That wasn’t something you used often. Usually, you always called him "House," like everyone else.

He came closer and sat in the chair next to your bed, letting out a sigh. "Well, that’s good news. I would have hated to explain to the team that I messed up my best patient. That would be bad for my reputation."

You knew he used humor to mask something deeper. A silence settled in, almost comfortable, but filled with unspoken words.

"Why did you decide to operate on me?" you finally asked, breaking the silence. "I hurt you when I asked, but you did it anyway."

House looked away, as he often did when faced with a question that was too personal. He tapped his cane against the floor, searching for words or perhaps a way to sidestep the answer.

"It was a challenge. I couldn’t let another surgeon handle such a complex operation, especially on someone as annoying as you." He smiled, but his gaze betrayed something else, something more sincere. "And I guess I was a little afraid you’d slip away from me."

This confession took you by surprise. You knew House wasn’t the type to openly express his emotions, especially not with such direct words. You watched him in silence, your thoughts swirling. He had taken a huge risk by operating on you, not just medically, but emotionally.

"I’m not going to slip away from you, Greg," you murmured. "Not now."

His eyes settled on you, softer than usual. "Not now," he repeated, almost to himself.

Initially, it was supposed to be temporary. Just long enough for you to fully recover from the surgery, for your body to adjust to the new heart, and for you to be closely monitored, "just in case." House had insisted, almost casually, on this option.

"It would be stupid to leave you alone. If something goes wrong, I’d rather have you in my sight, not on the other side of town," he had said, as if the decision was purely pragmatic.

You had hesitated. Living at House's, even temporarily, seemed risky, given the complexity of your relationship. But somewhere, you felt that beneath his usual cynicism, he genuinely cared about you. So you had agreed, thinking it would last just a few days, maybe a week or two.

The first night at his place was strange. His apartment, which you had visited a few times before, felt more welcoming than you had imagined. A blend of old and modern, of perfectly organized chaos, typical of House. Medical books stacked everywhere, piano sheets scattered about, whiskey bottles casually left on the coffee table. You felt like an intruder in his space, but he made no effort to make you feel otherwise.

"Make yourself at home. I don’t have silk pillows or almond milk, but there’s unlimited Ibuprofen," he had said, settling onto his couch with a glass of whiskey.

That first night was calm. House kept an eye on you from the corner of his gaze, even though he pretended to be absorbed in an old documentary. Despite the strangeness of the situation, a certain serenity had settled in.

The next day, as you began to get used to this new arrangement, someone knocked at the door. You weren’t expecting visitors, especially not this early in the morning. House, already up (for once), went to open it, and you immediately recognized the familiar voice of James Wilson.

"Hey, House, I brought donuts. I wanted to talk to you about a case..." His voice cut off abruptly as he entered the living room and saw you sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in hand.

The silence that followed was almost comical. Wilson looked at you, then at House, then back at you, as if he had stumbled upon a scene he couldn’t quite comprehend.

"What the... ? What are you doing here?"

You gave a slight smile, a bit embarrassed, while House, completely unfazed, grabbed one of the boxes of donuts that Wilson had brought.

"She lives here. Well, temporarily," House replied before taking a bite out of a donut, as if the situation was perfectly normal.

Wilson stood there, speechless for several seconds. "You... you let her live with you? You?"

House shrugged. "It’s easier for post-operative monitoring. And besides, she’s not unbearable. Well, not all the time."

Wilson blinked, still in shock. He slowly sat down on a chair, setting down the other box of donuts. "That... that’s so unlike you, Greg."

"Well, maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe it’s just convenient." House made a dismissive gesture, but you could see that even for him, this situation was still new.

Wilson gave you a questioning look, searching for answers. You simply shrugged, an amused smile on your lips. "It’s temporary, really."

Wilson shook his head, clearly disturbed but also amused. "If you tell me he let you choose a movie last night, I think I’m going to faint."

You laughed lightly, and even House cracked a small smile, despite himself. The tension slowly faded, and Wilson relaxed, even though he continued to shoot you incredulous glances from time to time.

Days passed, and what was supposed to be a temporary arrangement stretched on longer than expected. There was no specific date for your departure, and House didn’t seem in a hurry to see you go. In fact, he even seemed to enjoy your presence, even if he categorically refused to admit it.

One evening, as you settled into the couch with a blanket over your knees, House sat down next to you without a word. He turned on the TV and flipped through channels until he found an old black-and-white movie. It had become a routine: you spent the evenings together, sometimes in silence, sometimes exchanging sarcastic comments about what you were watching.

It was in this tranquility that Wilson made his second appearance at House's place.

"I brought wine," he announced as he walked in, looking noticeably more comfortable with the situation this time.

You smiled, shifting a bit to make room for him. House raised an eyebrow. "Wine? Since when do you bring wine to my place?"

Wilson shrugged. "I thought we could celebrate... I don’t know, this strange normality?" He glanced at you as if to make sure everything was okay.

The evening went off without a hitch. The wine flowed, sarcasm flew, and Wilson, despite his more serious habits, allowed himself to be caught up in the relaxed atmosphere. The movies changed on the screen, but soon it was the discussions that took over.

"I have to say, I’m still surprised you let her stay," Wilson remarked, casting a glance at House.

House, lounging casually on the couch, responded without really looking at Wilson. "It’s not so bad. She doesn’t bother me too much. Unlike you."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "I bring you wine, I do my best not to invade your space, and this is how you thank me."

You laughed, shaking your head. "He doesn’t know how to do anything else, James. You know him."

"That’s true," Wilson replied with a smile. "But anyway, I’m glad you’re recovering well. He seems to be taking good care of you."

You turned to House, who was clearly avoiding your gaze. "He’s doing what he can," you said softly, but with a smile in your voice.

House pretended not to hear, focusing on the television. But in his silences, you could feel that he was getting used to this new life.

Days passed, and what was supposed to be a temporary living arrangement quietly settled into a routine. Little by little, you had begun to integrate into House's daily life, and he, without a word, had allowed you to do so.

One evening, after a long day at the hospital, you got home before him. House had sent you a terse message: "I’ll be late. Bistro operation in the kitchen." You smiled at his words, already imagining what that meant.

Tired but determined not to let it get you down, you began rummaging through House's kitchen cabinets. He had everything, but nothing was in its place. A controlled chaos that, surprisingly, made sense to you. You grabbed some vegetables and an old skillet, determined to prepare something before his return. The kitchen was a place where you could lose yourself in simple tasks, away from the complexities of your work as a surgeon.

A few dozen minutes later, as you were focused on a sauce you were preparing, the door opened. House entered, looking tired but intrigued by the aromas wafting from the kitchen.

"Are you pretending to be a chef now?" he said as he approached you.

You smiled without turning around, continuing to stir the sauce. "I thought it would be a change from pizza boxes and whiskey."

House leaned in slightly to smell what you were making, nodding his head in approval. "I suppose that works for me. But if it’s bad, you’ll hear me complain for days."

You chuckled softly, knowing very well he meant it half-seriously. He made no attempt to push you away from the kitchen; on the contrary, he grabbed a knife and started slicing the bread, his movements precise despite the cane that always lingered nearby.

The scene was almost domestic. House, with his usual sarcasm, and you, focused on your sauce. You didn’t talk much, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. There was a certain peace in these simple moments. You sensed that he was getting used to this new dynamic, even though he was still incapable of admitting it out loud.

"I have to admit," he finally said, slicing a piece of bread, "you’re not doing too badly for a surgeon. Maybe it’s time to change careers."

You gave him an amused look. "You say that now, but just wait until you taste it."

"Oh, I fully intend to critique every bite."

He was smiling slightly, but you could feel the bond growing a little stronger with each shared meal, each simple task completed together.

It had been a long time since you had left the operating room, but you didn’t miss your home at all, and House understood that... well, House is House.

A few weeks later, after several similar evenings, you had finally made official what was happening between you. It hadn’t been a grand romantic declaration, far from it. As with everything involving House, things had evolved naturally, in a sort of unspoken agreement that was becoming clearer and clearer. One evening, as you were both settled on the couch, he had placed his hand over yours, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do you mind if we drop the ‘temporary’?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

You felt your heart race, even though the question was posed in that casual tone that characterized him. You squeezed his hand slightly in response, your smile overshadowing the answer you didn’t even need to say. Indeed, it was his way of asking you to be his girlfriend.

The following Monday, things were different, but not enough to shake up the universe of Princeton-Plainsboro. You had decided to keep nothing hidden, but without making it a topic of conversation. After all, it was impossible to hide anything from House’s team.

Wilson, of course, was the first to react. When he saw you enter the hospital together that morning, he furrowed his brow, an expression somewhere between amusement and surprise.

"So, it’s official? You finally made it official?"

True to form, House simply rolled his eyes. "Officially? If it makes you happy to label it that way, then yes."

Wilson smiled, a little too pleased with himself. "I knew this would happen, but I have to say, it’s impressive that you held out this long before admitting it."

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, amused by the dynamic between the two friends. "He has his moments of resistance," you added jokingly.

But the real test came when you arrived in the diagnostic room, where House’s team was already gathered. Chase, Cameron, and Foreman were discussing a new case, but they all looked up when you walked in together.

Chase was the first to react, his eternal smirk in place. "Oh, I see. That’s why we all stayed until midnight last week. You had ‘personal’ plans."

House stopped, crossing his arms with a piercing look. "You’re right, Chase. And if you keep talking, you’ll end up with the chore of sanding the autopsy room again. Unless, of course, you want to find yourself a social life."

Foreman cracked a playful smile while Cameron seemed half-surprised, half-envious. "So... you’re together?" she asked with a mix of shyness and curiosity.

You exchanged a glance with House. You hadn’t discussed how you were going to handle this with the rest of the team, but it seemed it was already out in the open.

"Yes," you replied simply, with confidence. "We’re together."

Without missing a beat, House added with a smirk, "But don’t worry. It’s not going to affect my desire to make your lives miserable."

You had gotten into the habit of cooking together from time to time, even though House continued to tease you about your culinary skills. You also spent many quiet evenings talking about everything and nothing or simply watching movies in silence.

One evening, as you were chopping vegetables in the kitchen, House approached you and set a glass of wine on the counter.

"Looks like we’ve become boring, huh?"

You laughed softly, setting down the knife. "If that’s what you call boring, I’m perfectly fine with that."

He looked at you, a smile softer than usual on his lips. "Well, as long as you’re okay with it, I guess I can get used to the boredom."

It was the first time he admitted, without sarcasm or dark humor, that he enjoyed this new life together. And you knew that behind his facade was a man deeply attached, even if he showed it in his own way.

[simplydnp]

every 'friend' in the video is automatically each other and i feel some type of way about it 🥺

[imaybe5tupid]

Why bother? (Why bother?) It's gonna hurt me. (It's gonna hurt me.) It's gonna kill when- (Why bother!) -You desert me! (Gonna hurt me!)

Set after Nightmare. Laios is reminiscing and contemplating.

[ratatatastic]

"other guys joke that theyre not allowed to bring you around their wives..." "you gotta have to ask ekky about that one thats on him"

WSFL Inside South Florida | 4.11.24 (x)

he was so serious and focused on answering questions and then immediately gets thrown a curveball at the end that is "hey so some are saying...im not saying who... but some not naming any names... HOWEVER that you are so hot possibly sans shirt... you are not allowed near the wags... how do you respond is this true..."

throwing his head back to laugh because he got his bonded dpair's quote thrown back in his face while trying to talk about contract extensions and fishing...

"thats on him" the way he cheekily shrugs a shoulder and flicks his head...man whos well aware who started that rumour and will not stand idly by while revisionists rewrite history NO ONE ELSE HAS SAID SUCH A THING. NO ONE ELSE HAS JOKED ABOUT SUCH A THING. AND IF THEY "HAVE" ITS ONLY BECAUSE OF ONE (1) MAN AND ONE MAN ALONE.

and it was in fact "on him" because that quote comes from a miami herald article about forsy FROM FEBRUARY. A 2 WHOLE MONTHS BEFORE THIS INTERVIEW.

Miami Herald | 2.10.24 (x)

and like all things it always leads back to ekky when it comes to anything forsy-related, the personal menace of the team. and also his bonded soulmate or whatever. may god bless this beautiful little freakish relationship.

[hecksupremechips]

My madoka magica hot take is I like sayaka/kyoko as a ship more than madoka/homura

[dayurno]

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[spotsupstuff]

I feel so bad for zephyr, what are some of her happiest memories? Would it be first meeting the members of her local group? I assume they would be built after her, was she excited about them being built or was she not informed at all?

she wouldn't be very... Present. most likely hadn't managed to be there for every Iterator when they first came online. she is very removed from most of her group because she's unable to stick in the chats for too long with all the damage and her endless attempts to conserve herself as much as possible, so her interactions with others outside of the Anemoi (and this one guy called Orion's Pathway) are extremely limited

Boreas, though, ever the life-saver, updates her on any new Iterator projects being build, how are the already existing ones doing- see she is kind of hard to cheer up and as a rule she never really laughs, but oh hearing about successes of others always manages to make her happy. that has been a thing for her since day one!

so Boreas would make a list of the Eo group's achievements with Euros and Orion's help and he'd read them out for her during their routine calls. those calls are probably one of her happiest memories, since she got so much serotonin and motivation out of hearing about her family (n also just in general- their start might've been rocky but Zeph n B really really love each other [platonically ofc])

they might not Know her, only be aware that their senior is called Abet Zephyr and her appearances are strangely rare, but she loves them all. if she hadn't, it wouldn't be called Mission Self-preservation. it'd be way more revenge focused. her number one priority is the safety of her family even if she doesn't know them personally. she puts them above her anger, physical and emotional trauma cuz she just fuckin loves them that much

her other happy memories include some stuff with Sparrows! after Zephyr allows her opinion about the Ancients develop, she finds herself glad whenever Sparrows would show up to do some more repairs and spend some time with the old humidifier. jgklsdmclk just like with a grandma, Sparrows would show her some stuff on her phone/Mechanic's watch and Zeph would be confused about it but she gets to spend the time with someone she likes so it's okay

along with Euros on a call the three of them would sing folk songs from Sparrows' home with Boreas usually listening in, very rarely joining in

Zephyr wasn't given overseers until Sparrows showed up for the first time, too, so when she synced with the eyes and took a peak outside for the first time in her life, that was... that stuck with her as a strong memory, too. can't exactly say it was a Happy memory, but only cuz there was so much happening in her emotionally in that moment that simplifying it to a singular one wouldn't really represent it right

here's her lighting up while Boreas tells her about positive recent events of the group

her antennas are broken- that's why they are always down like that- but Dammit she is Happy we Gotta wiggle 'em at least a wee bit

[rxttenfish]

one of the things that particularly pisses me off about art discussions, either in how nowadays everything has to aim for more and more realism in art styles and even live action to be seen as "real art", and in dismissing more abstract styles of artwork as not "real art" and having no inherent worth, is that they explicitly do not consider realism an art style either. to them, realism is just a given of "good" art, not chosen but rather just default. which i hate, because you CAN pick realism as an intentional style and a purposeful choice to suit a narrative, and all this results in is no one noticing or understanding why you made that choice or why that choice works better than any other possible choice to tell the story you want to tell.

[bitchfitch]

For all the teething I've been doing on Pavo and Esti i haven't been able to like, actually write any thing for them recently mostly because I've been Busy.

But also because I'm snapping between like 3 ideas for them at terminal velocity and haven't been able to actually get anything written for them and it's like having pumas bouncing around my skull at mach fuck as though theyre house cats at 2 am when you're trying to sleep,