#not a good project to start when you have a 8 am class the next morning

[mnemonicmew]

Should’ve read the terms and services

[orcelito]

my fatal flaw . one of them. is that. i have a tendency. to trust my brain too much. but have too low of a work ethic. so im like “if i do well on the exams, then homework won’t be as important to complete”. and sometimes, this turns out okay because i do well on the exams. but if i do Not do well on the exams. it fucks me over so much

me sitting on an 84% for the first exam being like “This will surely let me pass the class” and looking at my homework assignment that draws from a prior homework assignment so Essentially i would have to do twice the work. due tomorrow night

and im just thinking to myself. “is it even worth it?”

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 2

content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!

word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.

GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.

GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.

“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”

Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”

“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.

GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.

GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.

GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.

GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.

“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”

Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.

“Wow…”

No, that’s corny.

“Loving the blue…”

Is he a frat guy?

“You look stunning”

Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.

GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.

He’s hard. Again.

He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.

He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.

He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.

“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”

He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.

GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.

He can never be over-prepared.

GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.

GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.

“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”

Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:

“Don’t ever question my game again”

"? Wtf are you talking about"

Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.

GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.

It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.

You looked soft, adorable, kissable.

He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.

dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵

a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭

Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵

Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)

taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺

[viviennevermillion]

Mortals and Fools — First Look #1 (Coming Soon)

Want to read a SFW coming-of-age fantasy novel with evil gods, two adult aspec protagonists and magic? Consider supporting this project!

Author's Note: After a total of 8 years of posting fanfiction on this account, I am excited to announce that I am finally starting my first long-term original work as an author! Goal is to get this series published as an actual novel but until then, I will be uploading chapters online as I write them, hopefully building an audience in the process! Mortals and Fools will be available on Wattpad and potentially other platforms. The first 4 chapters will be uploaded to Tumblr as well. Over the next few weeks I will keep uploading promo posts with new characters and more info! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported me as a writer over the years and welcome to everyone who's new here!

Summary: In the land of Elsthess, brilliant but arrogant Dr. Immanuel Faust is doing his best to follow the teachings of the Goddess of Wisdom, live up to his late grandmother's expectations and hide the fact that he has been seeing strange, mystical apparitions all his life. When his pupil becomes afflicted with an ancient curse and the things he has seen turn out to be more than just hallucinations, Immanuel must forge a contract with Morgan, a being from another realm who's ready to humble him at every turn, and learn his religion's most despised art: magic. As he steps outside of the simple world he has grown up in, he slowly comes to realize that there is much more to learn for him still.

Themes:

The Meaning of Wisdom & Growth

Unlearning harmful narratives and prejudices

Religious Trauma

Healing from Abuse

Rebuilding trust in others

Learning to understand others

Navigating radical changes during adulthood

Elitism and class inequality

The problems with the ideal of meritocracy

Queerplatonic & Alterous Attraction

Addiction

Gender Dysphoria

What this story contains:

A variety of fun magical powers!

Evil Gods & Forces from other Realms!

Queer rep! (demisexual & aroace protagonists, a trans man and a wlw couple)

Mysteries to unravel

The coming-of-age fantasy adventures you're used to from YA novels but with characters in their 20s and struggles of adulthood

Humor

My blood, sweat and tears as an author

The Cast: Introducing 3 Characters

Here's some info on the three characters in the header, from left to right!

#1 — Dr. Immanuel Icarus Faust

❝ It wasn't supposed to be like this... I've failed... as both a doctor and a man of faith. I wanted to follow your teachings, dear Goddess, and guide those who seek wisdom and knowledge, as grandmother did... but I couldn't even save one innocent girl. Have I become godless? ❝

Raised by his grandmother, the High Priestess of Solbrynn's temple, Immanuel was taught from an early age on to aspire to be the best in everything he attempted to do and dedicate his life to wisdom, in order to make the Goddess Adira proud. Having become a renowned physician at the age of 28, Immanuel understands himself as his kingdom's ideal of a self-made man: a scholar who can achieve everything he puts his mind to, no matter the circumstances. As a result, he has put himself on a pedestal, believing that those who achieved less than him had all the chances and merely didn't use them. Fearing nothing more than failure and becoming anything like his absent, alcoholic father; Immanuel is bound for a rude awakening.

#2 — Morgan Miralaith

❝ While you were having your existential crisis in the mad scientist laboratory you call your bedroom, I took the liberty to read your grandmother's diary. The good news is, I finally understand where all the hubris comes from. ❝

Morgan, belonging to a long-lived species from the realm of Calliah, is the second-in-command for the Elsthess Resistance against the Plague Avatars. While the Resistance on Mhorunn regards her as a capable leader and a skilled fighter; using fire magic to blaze her way to victory; it is clear to most that she has many secrets and ulterior motives. She cares about others in her own way, yet hardly lets anyone close to her. With her mischievous demeanor and cynical nature, Morgan has made it her new mission to recruit Immanuel for the Resistance and, while at it, shatter his very distorted self-image and worldview. Upon forging a contract with her, Immanuel believes that he has sold his soul to a demon. It is only upon meeting others of her kind that he realizes that really is just her personality.

#3 — Mortis Grimm

❞ People reject that which is foreign to them. You of all people should know this. Still, my personal aspirations and origins are of no concern to you. Remember that. ❝

While there are several people from the Realm of Calliah in Elsthess, the realm that Mortis Grimm originated from is unknown. He seems to be the only one of his kind and there is something sinister about him. Wielding powerful magic that matches no other in recorded nature, Mortis, despite being the leader of the Resistance, is a big mystery to all of its members. Usually donning a Plague Doctor mask, Morgan is among the few to have seen his face. He is Mhorunn's greatest ally, but hardly a trusted one. Most understand that he could just as well become its greatest enemy one day.

Interested in reading more and receiving updates as they're posted? Comment on this post and tell me if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Reblogs are appreciated to spread the word! 💞

Taglist — @gwaaaaar @silveryloneliness @noxochicoztliv @justletmeon12 @averytirednerd @letsallsleepoverwork @styrofauxm @non-pressurizeddiamond @mangoinacan13 @amateurmasksmith @kenobiblue @soru-dee @pictures-of-the-stars @elf-osamu @animusicnerd @jaytherat-hometothereblog @watcherofeternalflame

[slayingfiction]

What would your advice for just-starting-out young authors be?

I love new writers! I’ve never known a better way to escape my reality and live a thousand different lives.

I started writing when I was young, maybe 12 or 13 years old. I am now 25, and very much consider myself to be a child, but still, in my 10+ years of personal writing and classes, here are some of the best tips I can give anyone who is new to writing, regardless of age.

Read. Read. Read. Then read some more. The easiest and fastest way to learn how to write is by reading and studying how other people have written their stories. Study their balance of dialogue vs description vs action. Study the words they use and what they’re choosing to describe. Study the scenes that make you feel something, or pull you to the story even more, and dissect it until you understand how to do it.

Daydream. At night, in the morning, before and after school, during school, during work. When people are trying to talk to you, just daydream. Image worlds with populated moons. Imagine worlds with multiple human-like species all living in the same area. Image a boy who goes home and cries to his adoptive vampire parents, and girls who practices knife throwing every night to prepare for the apocalypse that no one sees coming. Dream of everything and anything because that’s how you keep and improve your creativity. Eventually you may even write something with it.

Write for yourself. Always start by writing what you enjoy, and love your characters and your stories. Everything about your first draft should be because you love the story, not what other people like. You will never please everyone, so start with yourself, and build a community with the ones who love your story as much as you do.

Do it on your own timeline. If you want to write a book in a month, edit the next and publish right after, do it. If you want to write the first five chapters of 8 books without finishing, do it. If, like me, you want to write your first novel at 18 years old, and 7 years later still not feel ready to publish, that’s ok! You are not falling behind anyone else, you are exactly where you should be on your own path.

Practice. Your writing will improve with practice, that’s how it works, it’s how it always works. No way to skip right to publishing a first draft and becoming famous for it. Practice and just keep writing, you will improve.

Challenge yourself. While you may love fantasy or romance, or maybe all your story ideas are too big for only one book and they all end up being series’, you need to try new things. Write a mystery short story. Write poetry on how you feel. Write one page on how you could survive a zombie apocalypse as long as you have your coffee in the morning, it doesn’t matter, just try new things. Trying new things is how I wrote this haiku: Take a deep inhale, Breathe fresh air into my lungs, I savorfreedom. Is it the greatest haiku ever? No, but it makes me happy, and reminds me that I can write, good or bad, and still be proud of myself.

Keep all your projects. Good or bad. Look back on them years later and think, yeah that was terrible, at least I’m better now. Or maybe think, this wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. It’s a progressive journey. You can take your time. DONT EVER SHAME YOUR YOUNGER SELF FOR THEIR WORK. THEY TRIED THEIR HARDEST AND WROTE AS BEST THEY COULD. WE ARE PROUD OF OURSELVES, NOT EMBARRASSED OR SHAMED. Whether the work is from years ago or days go. Be kind to yourself, no one else owes you that.

Compare. Compare to popular novels, compare to your friends stories or to people online. Compare and see if your character are developed enough, or if your story makes sense, or if it’s relatable. When comparing however, keep in mind that your written style will be different than all others writers. Your first novel will not be the same as an author’s 10th book that just went viral on TikTok. It takes practice and time. Compare for style, technique, structure and plot. Not for popularity, worth, importance, and don’t feel down thinking that someone writing at a higher grade level makes them better, it doesn’t.

Share your work. If you are embarrassed, use a pen name. That’s perfectly fine. Put your work out there and get feedback. Having one person saying your story is (negative criticism here) is going to happen, don’t freak out. It doesn’t mean your story is flawed and should be tossed. If most people are saying that, then maybe it’s time to revisit the story and plot. Getting feedback from people reading your story is important, you want to ask specific questions so you don’t get generic answers. Get real reviews from real people, the mean voice in your head doesn’t get a say.

Learn the difference between perfect and done. I know, I know. Perfectionists around the world just scoffed and thought ‘I would if I could’. Here’s the thing, it’ll never be perfect. A word won’t be right, you can’t find the right way to convey an emotion, your choice of vocabulary isn’t up to your standards, I get it. You want your work to be absolute perfection so that everyone loves it and no one can say a bad thing about it, but it doesn’t work that way. Instead make it to ‘complete’, then nitpick some details, then it’s done. Done is good, it’s where you want to be.

Self-publishing? Pay for a professional editor and a graphic designer. It makes a difference, I promise.

There’s lots of others, but I would say as a writer-starter-pack, these should get you started, then you will learn lessons all on your own, or find them as you’re writing later on. Truly, just have fun, and the rest will come with time.

Happy Writing!

[enterpris]

An Education in Attraction, Chapter 10

Pairing: Reader x Gojo

Summary: It's spring when you start your Master's degree. As the flowers and leaves unfold, so too do your feeling for Gojo

Warnings: mild angst

Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Ao3: PlaidSparrow

You wake the next morning, early but immediately alert. Gojo is the first thing on your mind, your eyes dart to your phone laying on the bedside table. You’re itching to pick it up and check if he messaged you, to look for any indication of how he might be feeling.

To distract yourself you pop out of bed and start your routine for the day, taking extra care choosing your outfit. After comparing options and deliberating longer than normal, you decide on something cute but not too flashy and a spritz of your favorite perfume, just to make yourself feel good. 

On the way to breakfast, you finally let yourself check your phone. Your eyes scan the notifications, but there’s nothing from Gojo. You deflate slightly. It would’ve been so easy to prepare for the rest of the day if you just knew what he wanted from you! Now you’ll have to wait and see if he shows up for class, then gauge what his reaction is like. 

You grab a small plate at the cafeteria, but anxiety has taken the place of hunger in your stomach. After finishing your meal slowly, you head to class early. 

The July air is already sweltering outside, and the unrelenting humidity doesn’t help the anticipation and nerves you have for the day. You’ve never seen Gojo walking around on campus, but that doesn’t stop you from keeping an eye out for a flash of white hair as you trudge towards the Graduate school. 

The classroom is empty when you reach it, which only gives you more time and space to think about Satoru. You unpack your bag and open your notes document, leg bouncing under the table.

Gojo had been much more communicative with you the last month, and in your time working together, he never backed down from the opportunity to speak his mind. As soon as you can speak to him, you’ll be able to tell whether he’s also interested in you. 

The professor and other students of your cohort slowly filter into the room as you mull over what his reaction might be, and Kuzume’s arrival finally gives you something to think about besides your partner. In her own research for the project, she’s found a new composer whose style and depth she aspires to reach one day. Her own partner, Fumio, had even liked the styling, though Kuzume claims his appreciation for music is shallow at best. 

The mention of Fumio brings your mind back to your own partner, and you glance at the clock on your computer. It’s nearly time for class to start and he hasn’t arrived yet. You can’t decide if the anticipation will be worse if he shows up or if you have to wait even longer. 

As the professor walks over to shut the classroom door, Gojo strides in. You can’t help yourself. You covertly examine him from across the room as he settles into his normal chair. He seems as relaxed as usual, and in your hasty catalog of his appearance, you don’t notice any abrupt changes. Nothing that can signal how he feels, one way or the other. 

Your professor has returned to the front of the room, she surveys the group for a beat before speaking. 

"Good morning, class. I have an important update regarding the paired project due at the beginning of next month.”

Your breath catches and tension in the room grows. Two weeks of notice is hardly enough time to make adjustments to the paper, and you had just finished making edits to the current version. You don’t have time to update the project, let alone take into consideration everything going on with Satoru. 

“I am pleased to announce that this particular group of students has been invited to participate in an annual teaching symposium." Your normally reserved professor speaks with an unusual enthusiasm.

"To showcase the work you have done, each pair will present the research and theoretical problems created for the final project."

She continues listing off the details and expectations of the presentation, and you process all of the extra work you’ll have to do. 

“The symposium will take place after summer break concludes. While this term will be over, it is expected that each group takes the time to prepare, and is ready to speak at the conference at the beginning of next term.”

You glance over to where Gojo is sitting across the room. He sits expressionless as he listens to the rest of the professor's speech. You feel a sudden pang and wish that you could see his whole face right now. He was so expressive and open when the two of you were working on the couch. Now you can’t guess what he’s thinking. As far as you can tell he hasn’t even looked in your direction yet. 

The rest of the class period focuses on ensuring that expectations are fully understood for the new presentation and reviewing the most recent reading assignment. The torrent of discussion that follows the announcement ensures that there’s not another moment to devote to your partner. It feels like you blink and then you’re being dismissed. 

As usual Gojo stands to leave right after the class period has ended. He heads out of the room without saying anything. There’s no time for a discussion before your second class, but your heart sinks that he didn’t at least say hello or acknowledge you in some way. 

You walk to your Learning Theories class across campus with Kuzume and Saito, internally debating whether you should have said something. Maybe he was waiting for you to reach out or text him.

You contemplate the idea as you’re taking notes in the second class. This close to the end of term, the course consists of review of the last readings and preparation for your final paper. You’ve already done your own review with the study group, so you allow your mind to drift back to Gojo. 

A text would be casual- just to check in and plan some time to discuss the presentation. He usually responds quickly too. When Learning Theories ends, you’ve settled on messaging him.

Actually doing the texting is easier said than done. 

You drum your fingers on the wood of your desk as you think of how to phrase the message. You type an option out, stare at it for a moment, then delete the text. God, it feels so silly and juvenile to be worried about texting a man!

After scrubbing your face with your hands, you stand up and look intently down at the screen. You ask when he’s free to plan the presentation, simple. Before you can second guess yourself again you hit send. Now it’s out of your hands. 

Having sent the text doesn’t seem to alleviate any of your anxiety though. You spend the afternoon thinking about how you’d like to build your next unit for the Eikaiwa school. Even during the summer when students have breaks from their normal classes, many of your class will continue taking courses as an extracurricular. If they have to be in classes, you’d at least like to make the material interesting for your pupils. 

You lose yourself in planning, but you can’t help but notice that Gojo doesn’t respond to your message.

You don’t know whether to take his lack of response as disinterest or an indication that he’s busy planning for his trip. He had seemed preoccupied when you left his apartment. Either way, you’re determined to talk with him. Even if he doesn’t want a physical or romantic relationship, you’ll have to work together for the presentation.  

The next morning, you put on another cute outfit, pick up some strong tea from the cafeteria, and walk seriously to your classroom. Kuzume sits next to you shortly after, her brow furrows when she sees your grave mood. She tilts her head is a silent question, and you shake your head in response. You’re not in the mood to talk right now.

Nothing can distract you now, you are laser focused. You listen to the lecture, chime into the conversation once. You don’t bother to take notes, putting away the computer at the end of class would lose you precious seconds when you need to get out the door. You feel the energy wane as class comes to a close and you steel yourself. 

As is typical, Gojo is one of the first to leave the room. You’re quick to follow, though, and you catch him in the foyer of the building. 

“Hey, Sa-” you hesitate, “hey Gojo.”

When he turns toward you, there’s something inscrutable on his face. It’s gone in a moment, returned to the neutral blank look he wears during class. He leans against one of the columns near the benches.

“What’s up?” 

It’s so casual, so utterly careless. As if he truly has no idea what you could want to talk about, when you have a million questions you could ask. His delivery is nearly flawless too, slightly friendly but not warm or teasing. It’s like your relationship has been taken back months in time.  

You silence the thought, forcing yourself to focus on the goal- you’ve got to talk to him and figure out what to do for the symposium. 

“I just wanted to talk to you about the project. Apparently we’ve still got some work left to do.” You offer him a small smile. 

“Oh, yeah.”

“So we’ll have to edit the conclusion and then divide up the content and write the actual presentation.”

He waits for you to say something else, but you just look at him. It’s the first time you’ve been this near since you kissed. His cologne or aftershave brings those memories to the top of your mind and you swallow, willing your cheeks not to flush. You remind yourself that he hadn’t responded to your text or reached out to you. 

“Well that’s easy enough. We’ll each do our own subject areas, it’s just an outline of the existing research and our examples.” He finally says. 

There’s no trace of the playful banter or intimacy from the last few times you had spoken. Each answer brief and direct to the point. 

“Yeah, but we won’t be able to cover all of the sources, we’ll need to prioritize. We can meet at the cafe and go over the details?”

Gojo hesitates for a moment. He runs his hand through the hair on the back of his neck and turns away from you slightly. 

“I don’t think I’ll have time this week. Just make a document and share it with me.”

Even when your relationship had been at its worst, he’d still agreed to meet with you. How could he be refusing now, when you’ll be delivering a live presentation in front of who knows how many people? You clench your jaw.  

“These things aren’t really that formal, no need to spend a ton of time rehearsing.”

“Sounds good.” You nod, but there’s no color in your voice. 

“Great.” Gojo’s voice is flat and his ever present smile hasn’t made a single appearance. 

He turns from you and continues on the path away from the building. You’re left staring after him, wilting in the heat. You suppose you have your answer on how he feels. There’s nothing to do but plow ahead and get this project finished. You feel oddly lonely. 

You take a moment to gather yourself, ready to head back to your dorm. Before you can leave or break, you feel presence behind you. You turn and find Saito and Kuzume watching you with concerned expressions. It’s too much.

With a watery breath in, you step towards them. 

“Are you alright?” 

Kuzume is the first to ask, and you don’t know how to answer. Everything had seemingly happened so fast, and you lost Gojo before you even knew how much you cared for him. After weekly meetings, growing to appreciate his humor and teasing, and now being treated like a stranger. 

“C’mon,” Saito’s voice is soft. You’re not breakable. You’re fine. Or you will be, as soon as you can process everything that you’re feeling. 

The two of them walk with you to the Learning Theory class. Normally traipsing across campus is accompanied by gossiping or complaining or laughter, but today the three of you are quiet. At least class will give you something to focus on. You’re not going to fumble your last couple courses of the term, and now that you know where you stand with Gojo you can put him in the back of your mind. Your education is what matters.  

Learning Theories passes in a blur of final notes and an explanation of the final exam. Before you know it, the professor is dismissing class and your friends are back in front of you. Without saying a word, they watch you pack up and walk with you to the campus cafeteria. 

You’re not really feeling hungry, but you know Kuzume and Saito are trying to help. You grab a rice bowl and refill your water bottle. Kuzume and Saito wait till you’re settled at the table before gently prodding. 

“Was he being rude again?”

“If he’s acting out of line, we can tell the university. Being smart isn’t an excuse to act like a dick.” Kuzume adds before you answer. 

That makes you crack a smile. A sudden wave of gratitude for your friends washes over you. Maybe your friendship with Gojo isn’t one that’s going to last, but you’ve studied for exams, reviewed for countless hours, and talked with the women in front of you the entire term. You’ve found friends, and now they’re supporting you, though they don’t even know you’ve kissed Gojo yet. 

You sigh. You’ve got a lot to catch them up on. You take a bite of your lunch and start filling them in on just how close you’d gotten with Gojo. 

When you finish describing your make out season with Gojo, Kuzume’s jaw is nearly on the floor. 

“I knew it! You were acting way too cheery for someone spending time with an absolute ass. So what happened?”

Her face softens and as you look from her to Saito the words get caught in your throat. 

“He just acted like nothing had happened. He wasn’t rude but just swept anything else under the rug.”

You huff, and your voice has a watery quality you hate. You shouldn't be feeling too upset about someone who clearly doesn't feel the same way. 

“And he was the one who kissed me! I thought that we were actually becoming friends. He really grew on me.”

Saito reaches her hands across the table and grabs yours. She doesn't say anything, just gives you a squeeze. 

Kuzume adds her hand to the pile and she does speak up. 

“Well, you still have some friends. You don’t have to worry about me kissing you.”

The mood lightens after that, and the three of you finalize plans to proofread the final papers for the Learning Theories class and get lunch once more before summer break. 

It’s not total relief, but your chest does feel lighter when you walk back to your dorm after lunch. Regardless of what happens with Gojo, you joined this Master's program to put down roots in Tokyo and prepare for your future as a teacher. 

You’ve got to focus on the big goals, and finishing the term strong is what will matter most for your long term success. You crack open your laptop and open the group project. The conclusion won’t edit itself.

[wistfulenchantress]

it is late and i am sleep deprived and i have worked up the nerve to post part of my wip.

so here goes, this is a scene between my main characters. here goes. posting this for people to see.

“You ready?” I ask. She nods slowly. “Are you?”

“I hope so,” I respond. We walk into the final training room, where Madame Cytherea, our new instructor, is standing in the center talking to the other trainees. “You are late,” she tells us, her voice shrill. “Sorry, ma’am,” I respond, hurriedly. I thought class started at 8:00, it's only 7:53. As if to prove my thought, another group of trainees walks in the door.

“Class starts at 7:50, on the dot,” Madame Cytherea informs them. “I know this is your first day, but you need to be punctual if you want to succeed.” The students nod, hurrying to their places. “Alright. I hope everyone is here, as we are already three minutes behind schedule.” Another group of students walk in, cowering under her glare. “What time were you all told that class starts?” she asks them, her voice shaking with rage. “Eight o clock,” a nervous girl whispers. She nods. “Ok then. We will wait until then. And class will run ten minutes late.” The entire room groans. “Next time, everyone should show up on schedule,” she reminds them. I make eye contact with Nyx, who shrugs. I scoot my chair closer to hers. “What do you think of her?” I whisper. “Seems sleep deprived,” Nyx murmurs, deep in thought. “Seems grumpy and obnoxious,” I add. “Indeed.”

“Nyx, do you have a nickname yet?”

“No!” she exclaims in frustration. I put a hand on her shoulder. “All I can think of is Madame C,” she continues, her volume back to a whisper, “And that is so basic.”

Nyx prides herself on teacher nicknames. She drove our third year trainer into early retirement. “It's ok. I like Madame C.”

“No, you don't. But you are sweet to lie.”

I roll my eyes. “I actually like it. She is so stuck up the abbreviation would kill her. And if you say it in the careless way you do, it will do its job. And I don't do flattery, you know that.”

Nyx nods slowly. “Madame C it is, then. Since you want me to be basic.”

I grin. “Just try it.” Nyx nods, and straightens in her seat, raising a hand politely in the air. “Yes?” Madame Cytherea asks, her voice thin. “Can I use the restroom, please?”

“You may.”

“Yes! Thanks, Madame C.” Nyx springs up out of her chair, and skips out the door. Madame C’s face turns several shades darker, the veins in her forehead starting to show. I cover my mouth to hide the smile. I was right, abbreviation was the way to go. Nice job. She looks ready to explode. I project the thought over to Nyx, careful not to invade her mind while sending the message. Already? Nyx’s voice fills my head, You were right on the money, Vala. Nice work! My face warms slightly at the praise, and I feel suddenly grateful Nyx isn't in the room, her blue eyes locking with mine…

A cold, bony fingertip alights on my shoulder. I look up to see Madame C, speak of the devil, staring down at me. “You and your friend will not receive special treatment because of your… connections.” I nod, “Of course, ma’am.”

“Good.” The woman straightens uncomfortably, and walks away. Nyx slides back into her seat. “We won’t be receiving special treatment, except for when we do because everyone is scared of you?” We both know the speech. I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “They realize that your dad won’t protect you, right?”

“Nope. They are convinced he gives a crap about my happiness.” Nyx chuckles darkly. We both know the truth about my father. Related by blood only. I smile stiffly, starting to feel uncomfortable. She notices, and changes the subject. “How is the phasing working out?”

“I’m making progress,” I reply, glad to talk about something I can control. “I got stuck in the wall yesterday, but I managed to escape within an hour.”

“An hour?” Nyx raises her eyebrows. “But I’m getting better!” I protest. She nods sagely. “But you still chose an over-complicated medium,” she reminds me. I roll my eyes. “You keep reminding me. Yo haven’t even chose anything yet!”

“But I didn’t choose matter manipulation.”

I groan, slumping in my seat. Nyx just rests her head on my shoulder. “I could let your head sink into me right now,” I whisper. “You won’t, though,” she responds. I pause. She’s right. As always. “Shut up,” I shrug my shoulder, forcing her off. “You know me better than that,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her words.

ok i hope that wasn’t terrible. please give me feedback so i can become functioning as a writer, because this is probably bad. idk. someone tell me, tho

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 18-11: Among All of Nature (在萬物之中) | Light  and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 18-09

♡———♡

With ten minutes to spare before work, I pushed open the office door to find complete darkness. Instinctively, I stepped back and checked the door sign, confirming I was in the right place.

You: Did I miss a memo about a holiday today?

Just as I was about to send a message to the group chat, a trembling hand rose from a nearby desk, followed by a rustling sound.

The hand found the desk lamp switch, and with a click, the lights came on. Li Manman slowly moved her hand back and yawned, covering her mouth. Hao Shuai and Mao Ge raised their heads from between the partitions, their eyes still sleepy.

Mao Ge: I'm so tired...

Li Manman: I'm so tired...

Hao Shuai: I'm so tired...

You: How many all-nighters have you guys pulled?

Li Manman: Not many, just two. Nothing compared to Mao Ge. He not only works an extra hour every day, he practically lives here.

Li Manman: If he can keep this up until the next performance review, I think he might actually become Director Mao.

Mao Ge: I think Hao Shuai is more likely to restore his family business.

Mao Ge: He didn’t realize how many side hustles would suit him until he started looking into it.

As soon as Hao Shuai woke up, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling intently. I heard him muttering about 10 PM deadline for the outsourcing project, 8 PM night class as a temporary teaching assistant, and even 12 AM modeling shoot.

You: No wonder you’re the group’s heartthrob...

I gathered all the cups from their desks and poured a cup of coffee for each of them. The challenges remained, but as ordinary people, all we could do was try our best.

You: Alright, workaholics, let’s have a cup of coffee and get back to it.

Li Manman: I can’t do this anymore. I’m going to focus on work-life balance, and work less overall.

Mao Ge: Y/N, what about you? You’ve been rushing around lately. Did your move go smoothly?

You: It’s a long story, but not entirely smooth. At least I have a place to stay now.

Hao Shuai: What? You’re already done? You said you needed us to help you move!

You: Uh, someone else helped me, so I didn’t need you guys.

Li Manman: Oh~

Mao Ge: Oh!

Hao Shuai: Oh...

It was as if I could see different faces floating in the bubbles above their heads, but in Hao Shuai's bubble, there was a question mark.

Li Manman: Staying up late recently has drained my mental energy. I need to rest and recover.

Mao Ge: You should find a temple to pray for good luck and absorb the essence of heaven and earth.

Mao Ge: There's an obscure one, have you heard of it? Nanchan Temple in the old town.

Mao Ge: It's said to be very small, just one person, one temple, and one statue. It's sometimes open, sometimes closed, but it's especially effective!

Li Manman: Those are not even from the same system. Mao Ge, have you stayed up so late that you're confused?

Mao Ge: Why not? We should gather the strengths of all schools!

My phone vibrated. Mao Ge had already sent the address to the group chat. I took a look; it wasn't too far. There was still time to go after work.

Even when going to pray for blessings, I had to consider the distance. My heart wasn't sincere enough, but it was truly due to the pressures of life. I quickly reflected in my heart, in case I had unintentionally offended some deity.

-

In the evening, I followed the directions on my phone and walked deeper into the winding alleyways, the hustle and bustle of the old streets faintly audible all around. No wonder it was an obscure temple; this place was really hard to find.

Come to think of it, I had been to this kind of alley with Sariel before for research. The two of us chased a puppy for our notebooks and then were chased in turn by the vengeful little dog. Thinking of this, I couldn't help but laugh.

You: I haven't seen him for many days. When should I go to his house and bother him?

-

Moments later, I reached the destination shown on the navigation. In front of me was a lacquered wooden door with a plaque on the lintel, but nothing was written on it. The door was half-open, and inside, wisps of smoke curled upwards, carrying the scent of burning incense.

I slipped through the doorway. The interior was larger than I had imagined, but there was no one, not even a monk. I walked into the main hall, where the altar held not an incense burner or offerings, but a scroll.

You: What a strange temple. Where do I buy incense...?

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, and dust from the ground got into my eyes. A bronze bell somewhere was struck, and amidst the lingering sound, I heard a snap. The cord on the scroll broke, and it unrolled and fell to the floor.

The exposed silk looked quite old, yellowed and fragile, but the roller was new, as if someone had recently remounted it and kept it carefully preserved.

There seemed to be something painted on it, the colors faded and barely discernible. I quickly bent down to pick it up, but the moment I got closer, I froze.

You: This is...!

The painting depicted a young woman with a gentle smile on her face. Even though the colors were faded, the brushstrokes were still vivid. But the problem was, the shape and arrangement of her features were almost identical to mine!

As if possessed, I unrolled the scroll a bit further and was even more surprised, speechless. The face could be said to be just similar, or a common face, but her clothes were also exactly the same as what I was wearing now!

Ancient painting style and brushwork, modern clothing, it was indescribably bizarre. Just then, I heard a soft "puff" behind me.

You: Who's there?!

I nearly jumped out of my skin and turned around to see a white-haired old man standing behind me. He was dressed in a blue-black monk's robe, and a thread-bound book lay on the ground at his feet.

Temple Keeper: It's actually true.

You: True? What's true?

Temple Keeper: This painting has finally found its destined owner.

The monk bent down and picked up the book. I heard a long sigh of relief.

Then, he walked over and gazed at the painting in my hands for a long time. I quickly offered it back to him, but he rolled it up and handed it back to me.

Temple Keeper: It has waited for generations. Since cause and effect have finally aligned, please take it with you.

You: Cause and effect aligned...? What cause, what effect?

Temple Keeper: With my limited abilities, how can I understand cause and effect? I am merely within it.

What did that mean? I was about to ask when he turned and floated away. I chased after him for a few steps, but even though he seemed to be walking slowly, I couldn't catch up.

I passed through the door, and in the blink of an eye, the blue-black figure was nowhere to be seen. I stood in the empty backyard, feeling both confused and a chill down my spine.

Who painted this painting? Why did the person in the painting look like me? Why did the painting appear here? Who was this mysterious monk? For others, these might be unsolved mysteries, but for me...

I composed myself, found a corner to sit down, and opened the scroll again. I gently placed my palm on the portrait and tried to activate my talent.

It was easier than I expected. A blurry image appeared before my eyes. Someone was painting. They wore something on their arm, and every movement made a metallic clinking sound.

Their appearance was familiar, but their face was unclear. I was unwilling to give up and tried hard to see, not noticing the faint sound of tearing silk beneath my hand. The next second, the image vanished, and the silk ripped apart.

The fabric fluttered in the air, and dust filled my vision. My nose was full of smoke, and I couldn't tell if it was real or an illusion. I heard the neighing of a horse and a flash of bright light. Cast iron hooves were right in front of me!

You: !

I instinctively leaned back and fell to the ground. The hooves were raised high, but it was as if something had restrained them, and they didn't come down.

Finally, the hooves landed heavily a step away from me, and all the dust settled with a thud.

In my line of sight was cold, gleaming iron armor. A pair of hands with clearly defined knuckles were tightly gripping the reins, seemingly with great force, causing blue veins to bulge prominently.

Silver-white hair fluttered in the air, golden eyes engraved with two deep beast marks. That familiar, handsome face was stained with blood, dripping down, blending into the crimson cloak on his shoulders.

The man's gaze shifted to my face, cold as the silvery moonlight of a winter crescent moon. That name swirled on the tip of my tongue, unable to be spoken. Was I dreaming?

We stared at each other for a moment, then he seemed to come to his senses first. The murderous aura faded, replaced by a soft confusion in his eyes.

Sariel: You...

You: Sariel!

It was like this, the situation was very strange. I knew I should ask him what was going on, but my instinctive reaction was only --

Sariel looked so handsome dressed like this! Although I didn't know why he was dressed like this, the priority was to take a picture first!

I took out my phone at the fastest speed, opened the camera, and just as the shutter sound clicked, a spear shot straight towards my face.

First hooves, then a spear. As expected, you can dodge the first time, but not the fifteenth. This thought flashed through my mind, then it shut down completely. I stood there, unable to move.

Click --

The raised phone snapped in half, split perfectly down the middle. Shards flew everywhere like rain.

Sariel retracted his spear, his expression indifferent.

Sariel: I told you not to pick up things of unknown origin. They're very dangerous.

You: What danger? This is my phone!

Sariel: Phone?

He said these two words with a strange intonation, like a child learning to speak.

You: Yes, phone. Is your phone broken too?

Sariel: Broken?

You: It's broken, so it's broken. Why did you break my phone? Director, you have to compensate me for a new one.

Sariel: Director?

You: Uh, former director. I didn't know you also played cosplay.

The horse snorted softly. Sariel frowned, as if my words were upsetting him.

Sariel: Don't talk nonsense.

It was rare to hear such lines from Sariel. I became a little worried and looked him up and down.

You: Sariel, what's wrong with you today?

Sariel: I should be the one asking you. Why are you dressed like this again and running to the battlefield? Don't you know it's dangerous here?

You: Battlefield? Isn't this a temple?

We each looked around. The dust had settled, and the temple buildings were still standing. Except for a patch of grass in the courtyard that had been grazed by his horse, everything was peaceful.

A long silence. When I turned back to look at the main hall, I felt a gaze following me. I used my peripheral vision to search, but found that Sariel was looking in a completely different direction.

But I was almost certain that it was the person in front of me who was observing me.

Dressed as a general, speaking in a strange way, not recognizing me or the phone. I also calmed down and thought it through from the beginning.

Previously, the Spirit Clan elder mentioned a method that could disguise someone as another person. That possibility couldn't be ruled out.

Rather, this possibility was very high. But unlike before, why was this "Sariel" dressed like this and playing along with me?

Just as I was thinking this, he seemed to have confirmed something and turned his head, staring at my face for a long time.

Sariel: I was mistaken. You... called my name as soon as you opened your mouth, making me mistake you for an acquaintance.

Sariel: May I ask, where is this?

If this was acting, it could be said to be quite superb. I clenched my sweaty palms, analyzing. Running would only arouse suspicion. Just assume for now that he wanted to gain my trust.

You: I can tell you, but you must answer a few of my questions first.

The person in front of me furrowed his brows slightly again. I had to say, he imitated his little gestures quite well.

Sariel: Speak.

You: Is your name also Sariel?

Sariel: What do you mean by 'also'?

The counter-question was also spot-on.

You: Are you a general?

He made a sound that probably represented affirmation.

You: A Spirit Clan general? With a younger sister and an older sister at home, and the elders in the clan treat you with great respect?

Sariel: Who are you?

The tip of the spear stopped in front of my forehead, and I felt a tingling sensation on the bridge of my nose.

You: Don't get worked up. Maybe we really are acquaintances. I'm just confirming.

Strange. Judging by his appearance, it didn't seem like he was acting. Although his behavior and language were somewhat different from Sariel's, that kind of demeanor couldn't be imitated.

To be safe, I asked a few more questions, and he answered them all fluently.

Identity, family, these could all be faked. I had to think of a more specific question.

You: Then... how about you tell me your birthday?

Sariel: You mean my birthdate?* Back then, no one remembered the date. Later, following human customs, it was set on August 15th.

*In chinese, the way we say "birthday" in modern day vs. back then are different, just like how language was a bit more formal back then compared to now.

August 15th. That was the date he mentioned on Ling Island, his real birthday. Not many people should know, but besides me, maybe there was also...

Sariel: Someone said that the moon is the fullest on that day, so it's a good day for reunion and celebration.

The exact same words froze me in place. These were the words I had said. That's right, he later mentioned that someone else had said this before.

Everything fit perfectly. I pondered for a long time, unable to think of anything else to ask. I raised my head and looked directly into his eyes, resolutely and self-deprecatingly.

You: One last question. Let me see your nine tails.

He was angry, thoroughly angry. I could feel it. If he had ears on his head and a tail behind him, they would have definitely exploded into several hedgehogs.

You: I'm sorry, I was just kidding!

I quickly clasped my hands together, looking at him sincerely and pretending to be pitiful. His hand holding the reins tightened and loosened, but in the end, he just turned his face away.

There was a faint blush on the tips of his ears. He seemed unaccustomed to it himself and raised his hand to cover them.

I stared at him blankly, feeling both familiar and unfamiliar, with a sense of unreality.

When all possibilities are eliminated, the one that remains, no matter how impossible, must be the truth.

This was Sariel, a Sariel from the past, who was still a general, didn't know about phones, and spoke a bit strangely.

I had fantasized many times about what I would do if I could meet the past Sariel. Now, the past Sariel was standing in front of me, within reach.

So I followed my heart's impulse and reached out my hand, only to be stopped by a cold spear. There was a sharp glint in his golden eyes.

Sariel: Are you done asking? Can you tell me where this is now?

You: Yes, yes... As for where, this is Nanchan Temple, Nanchan Temple in Guangqi City.

Sariel: Guangqi City?

The Sariel in front of me still looked confused. I looked at him with a smile and boldly said the word.

You: ...This is the future.

Sariel: Future.

He repeated it, no longer with the urgency from before. His expression calmed down, as if it wasn't the first time he had heard it.

Sariel: And who are you?

You: I'm Y/N.

This time he didn't say anything, just nodded quickly.

You: Have you heard of my name?

Sariel: No.

He jumped off his horse, his armor clinking. When the soles of his shoes touched the dirt on the ground, he tilted his head slightly, as if sensing something.

You: But I've heard of your name. I know you, General Qi.

You: A... friend of mine told me about you. He looks a lot like you.

I took a deep breath and continued on my own.

You: Maybe it was me who brought you to the future.

These words sounded a bit absurd and self-aggrandizing. Sariel probably wouldn't believe them. I had to find a way to prove it.

But unexpectedly, Sariel just stared at my face for a moment. In the time it took for the wind to pass between us, he nodded again.

Sariel: What's your purpose?

I was stunned for a moment, then I understood. Both the past and present Sariel were the same. He didn't need others to prove anything. He relied on his own observations.

You: I didn't do it on purpose. I just touched this painting, and you came out.

You: A lot of strange things have been happening to me lately.

Sariel followed my gaze to the scattered pieces of cloth on the ground. His horse seemed a bit uncomfortable in this environment, pacing restlessly. Sariel stroked its neck and turned to me.

Sariel: Send me back.

You: Huh?

Sariel: Since you summoned me to this place, shouldn't you be responsible to the end?

Sariel raised his chin slightly, with a matter-of-fact expression. Only then did I realize that there were subtle differences. The expression between his brows was more flamboyant than the current Sariel's.

You: Responsible, responsible, of course I'll be responsible. But...

I wanted to see more of the past Sariel, to talk more with him. His life was so long that even if I recounted it all, there would inevitably be omissions. It would be better for me to see it with my own eyes.

But... I looked at the dried blood on his face. He had come with the smoke of battle, and he had also mentioned the battlefield in his words. He was probably in the middle of a war, and an army couldn't lack a general.

You: Forget it. I'll try to see if I can use it to send you back.

I squatted on the ground, gathered the fragments of the painting, and tried to put them back together. It reminded me of playing jigsaw puzzles as a child, and the process was just as unsuccessful as it was back then.

An armored arm reached out, adjusted the position of two pieces, and then took a piece of cloth from my head and put it on. Now it was complete.

I coughed awkwardly, thanked him, and quickly closed my eyes, placing my hand lightly on it, just like the first time I tried.

However, this time, no matter how I tried to sense emotions or use my talent, my mind was blank, let alone opening something like a space-time portal.

You: What's going on?

I opened my eyes and met Sariel's gaze, which he hadn't yet withdrawn. His expression was focused but not urgent.

Sariel: Can't you do it?

You: It seems... it's not working...

I was a little anxious and a little ashamed.

You: I'm sorry, I'll try again. It will definitely work.

Being inexplicably summoned to the future and then inexplicably unable to return. I had been immersed in the joy of seeing the past Sariel and hadn't considered that this might not be a pleasant experience for him.

Sariel: There's no rush.

You: Huh?

Sariel: I said there's no rush.

Sariel looked at me calmly.

You: But don't you need to rush back to the battlefield?

I pointed at the armor on his body. The horse had somehow come to my side, its wet breath blowing on my hand.

Sariel: That battle is already over. I also want to see what the future she spoke of is like.

You: What did you say?

Sariel: I said, where is your residence? My horse is tired, and I'm tired too. We need to rest.

You: Residence...?

Sariel: What, are you unwilling? Then taking me to the inn in this city is also fine.

Inn? Did he mean a hotel? Imagining Sariel tying his horse at the entrance, even the most capable doorman would probably be at a loss. I couldn't help but laugh.

It was great that he wasn't in a hurry to go back. Maybe this Lucky Temple was really a bit efficacious. I raised my head.

You: Of course I'm willing. It's just that my "residence" is not quite what you imagine.

Sariel: The future naturally has many different things.

This Sariel accepted it very quickly, even seeming a bit eager to try. I had almost never seen such an expression on this face, and I suddenly felt it wasn't good for my heart.

Sariel: Let's go.

Before he finished speaking, he had already jumped onto the horse agilely. I was stunned. That's right, I hadn't figured out what to do with this horse.

Sariel: Where is your horse tied, or do you plan to ride with me?

You: No, no... The point is that in our era, people don't usually ride horses on the road.

You: And it's quite far from here to my house.

Sariel only pondered for a moment.

Sariel: There are two ways.

Sariel: One, I temporarily leave the horse here and go back to your residence with you using your method. It will find its way back later.

You: Is this what they call a horse with spiritual understanding?

You: Sounds good. What's the second way?

Sariel: Second--

He attached the spear he had been holding to the side of the horse and extended his hand to me, a faint smile on his lips.

Sariel: I'll take you on horseback. We'll run very fast.

His eyes reflected my image. The familiar world and my familiar face were all dyed golden. I couldn't help but speak.

You: How fast is 'very fast'...

Sariel: So fast that no one can see clearly, or even faster.

That's not true. No matter how fast, someone would still see clearly. Even if people couldn't see clearly, there were cameras and videos in this era. If we were captured, it might become big news.

But... what was that compared to the joy of galloping through the city? I reached out my hand, and he immediately grasped it. With a slight pull, he lifted me onto the horseback.

Sariel: Let's go.

-

I felt one of his hands clasp my back, securing me to his chest, while the other held the reins. With a neigh, the horse leaped high, soaring over the low wall.

The alleyways beside us became mere blurs. Even though there was hard armor behind me, I could still feel the wisps of warmth through the gaps, reminding me of that morning on Kunlun Mountain when we rode together.

This was Sariel, I reassured myself again and again.

Sariel: Which direction?

The blurs instantly became clear, and the sensation of flying abruptly stopped. We stood in the shadow of the alley's entrance, facing a crossroad with relatively few people.

Oh right, I forgot the most important part, the route... I wanted to take out my phone from my bag for navigation, but the moment I touched the two metal fragments, I remembered its fate.

You: My phone!

Sariel: Is that thing important?

You: Of course it's important! Whether we can find our way home depends on it.

Sariel: You don't know the way home?

Sariel looked incredulous. He didn't mean any harm, but I still felt a sense of mockery in my heart.

You: It's my first time here too!

Sariel: Can this square box hold a map?

He picked up the phone fragments and looked at them against the sunlight, seemingly very curious. I was momentarily speechless. I didn't even know where to start to explain modern communication principles to him.

You: It can indeed hold... but not in the usual sense of holding... It's a bit complicated.

Sariel: Then there's no need to explain. When I live to this era, I'll naturally know these things.

Listening to his words, I inexplicably remembered that after Sariel learned he could use emojis instead of typing, he made good use of them for a while. I turned my head and smiled mysteriously at him.

You: Yes, not only will you know, but you'll also get used to it. Not only get used to it, but you'll also get addicted to it.

Sariel: I never indulge in frivolous pursuits.

Of course you wouldn't indulge. It just makes you even more adorable. I really wanted to say that. Although they were both him, I still... missed the Sariel of this era a bit. What was he doing?

By the time we got home, it was already dark. I watched Sariel guide the horse to the fence in the backyard and couldn't help but worry about the safety of the greenery.

In the end, I still couldn't remember the exact route home. Fortunately, I remembered the general direction, and the spirit horse could recognize the same scent on me, so we didn't get lost.

The horse stopped, and Sariel untied its saddle and bridle, combing its tangled mane with his fingers.

Sariel: Salted Fish, you've worked hard.

You: I think I misheard.

You: Salted Fish?! You named your horse Salted Fish?

Sariel shook his head.

Sariel: Not me. My younger sister named it.

I had only heard Sariel mention that he had a younger sister, but I hadn't heard any specifics. I couldn't help but feel curious.

You: Your sister... has quite a personality, huh.

Sariel: Impulsive, disrespectful, unreliable, clingy, and always likes to say strange things.

Sariel: Just like what you're saying now.

He stared at me for a while.

Sariel: You two are very similar. She also mentioned the future to me.

Likes to say strange things just like me? If strange things referred to words similar to "future," then no wonder he could understand me even though I didn't speak in ancient Chinese.

But very similar... what did that mean? This Sariel seemed to be lost in thought while looking at me, his eyes unblinking. Somehow, I felt a subtle melancholy flowing from them.

You: You seem to have a good relationship with your sister.

-

He came back to his senses, neither confirming nor denying, silently turning his head to look at the furnishings in the room.

Sariel's gaze lingered on the family photo at the entrance, which showed my mother, grandmother, and me. He seemed a bit hesitant but still spoke.

Sariel: You also have a good relationship with your family.

Was this a reciprocal exchange? I couldn't help but laugh. Sariel's way of speaking was always unique.

You: Of course! Let's go inside quickly.

I took out a pair of brand-new slippers for him. Sariel put them on, still in his armor, and walked into the room with a clinking sound. His face was covered in dust, and there were red marks on his wrists from the armor rubbing against them.

You: General Qi, is your wrist alright?

Sariel glanced at the red and swollen area, unconcerned.

Sariel: This is heavy armor. It's natural to get like this after wearing it for a long time. It's no big deal.

You: Why don't you change clothes and take a... uh, a bath?

He looked around the narrow room, a doubtful expression on his face.

Sariel: There's a place to bathe here?

You: Though it's small, it has everything.

I led Sariel through the narrow hallway and into the bathroom, explaining to him what the faucet was, what shower gel was, where the cold water was, and where the hot water was.

Sariel listened silently, and I sneaked a glance at his focused and thoughtful profile. This feeling of taking care of him was quite novel.

After finishing the explanations, I came out and used my computer to send a message to the Sariel of this era. I didn't know if this time-travel incident had any effect on him, so I wanted to ask about his recent situation first.

Next, I needed to find some clothes for General Qi. My wardrobe was full of women's pajamas, and the only men's clothing I had was a sample shirt.

You: Pajamas and sleep pants... He definitely won't fit into those.

You: A dress... looks quite similar to a lower garment. Would ancient people accept it?

But... I really wanted to see Sariel wear it. After struggling internally for a while, I picked out a large nightgown and grabbed the shirt. Just then, there was a loud bang from the bathroom.

-

Something must have happened! I rushed over and just as I pushed the door open, a strong jet of water drenched me from head to toe.

I finally managed to open my eyes again. Amidst the water mist, Sariel held a metal faucet, staring blankly at the pipe spraying water outwards. He had already taken off his armor, and his inner robe was completely soaked.

Hearing the door open, he turned to look at me. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, but for a moment, he looked embarrassed.

There were traces of the faucet being violently pulled off at the pipe's opening. This might be some kind of fate. The first time I went to Sariel's house, I fixed the faucet there, and now I had to fix my own.

You: Do you have a grudge against my things...?

Sariel: This thing is too fragile. Why don't you use a well?

You: ......

That moment of embarrassment was indeed an illusion! He was clearly very righteous and unfazed. I resignedly took the faucet and prepared to screw it back on, but I underestimated the force of the water jet, and it was instantly bounced away.

Fortunately, before it hit my forehead directly, Sariel reached out and caught it in his palm. He rubbed the connection, screwed it on the way I did. It was awkward at first, but soon it became smooth.

After fixing the faucet, he also intuitively screwed back the temperature control handle that had fallen to the side. He was indeed Sariel. As I marveled, I handed him a new towel and new clothes.

You: Luckily, the clothes I prepared for you didn't get wet. Change into them later.

Sariel accurately picked up the large nightgown.

Sariel: This is for me to wear?

You: Yes, this style is very popular here.

I put on a serious expression and nodded. But before I could finish the gesture, those golden eyes were already close. Sariel bent down slightly, meeting my gaze at the same level.

Too close, our noses were almost touching. His eyelashes were still dripping water, trickling down the corners of his tightly pressed lips. My face heated up, and I wanted to look away, but he caught my cheeks with two fingers.

You: Wha... what's wrong?

I managed to say these few words. He had taken off his armor, and the scent of smoke and dust had dissipated. Now, all I could smell was the familiar fragrance of sandalwood.

I could only look into those eyes, eyes like a small beast's, curious, inquiring, and nonchalantly invading another's territory.

Sariel: You're lying. I won't wear it.

Just as I was about to be unable to hide the sound of my heartbeat, Sariel seemed to have finally reached a conclusion. He straightened up and casually grabbed the towel to wipe his wet hair.

Was this a lie detector test? I pinched my burning earlobe and ran out without looking back. They were different, they were definitely different!

Reality also proved that this feeling was not wrong. There were many other differences. Whether it was the scene of us being in the same space, me cooking, and him helping...

Or him chopping the cutting board in half while cutting ribs, breaking half a carton of eggs while opening the refrigerator, and brushing off the cucumber with his sleeve for the third time...

-

Or perhaps it was because he refused to take off his armor, only willing to change into the new shirt underneath, and wouldn't go to the room I prepared for him, insisting on sleeping where he could see the moon...

Late at night, lying in bed, I thought about many things. Why was I able to summon him, and how could I send him back? Would he be happy during his time here?

In the end, I couldn't help but get up and go to the living room.

Moonlight shone in through the glass door, and the breathing from the sofa was very light and shallow. I stood by the wall and listened for a while. Whenever Sariel stayed over, it was usually me who fell asleep first.

Wanting to get a little closer, I had just taken a step when I heard the sound of something cutting through the air indoors. In the next instant, the cold glint of a spear was pointed directly at my throat.

You: It's me.

Sariel retracted his spear, his eyes even brighter in the darkness.

Sariel: I thought it was an enemy.

That's right, he came from an era of constant war and was in an unfamiliar environment, so it was natural for him to be vigilant and uneasy. I couldn't help but clench my palms.

You: No, there won't be any enemies here, and there's no great danger.

Sariel: I know, I can sense it from the air, but my body is not used to it yet.

He held the spear in his arms, and I pulled on the long handle, leading him to sit on the floor. I took out a bottle of plum wine from the drawer under the coffee table. This bottle of wine had been there for a long time.

You: General Qi, do you like to drink?

Sariel: I only like to drink good wine.

You: That's perfect, this is good wine. Drinking it will help you relax and sleep well.

Sariel picked up the transparent bottle, glanced at the swirling liquor inside, and then put it down.

You: You don't want to relax? Why?

Sariel: I'm not used to it.

I was stunned for a moment. Was this how all generals were? In that case... I took out two small porcelain cups, about the depth of a pinky finger.

You: Then just have a small sip?

This time Sariel nodded.

You: General Qi, can you tell me your story?

Seeing that he didn't seem willing, I quickly added.

You: I'm just curious. Ordinary people are naturally curious about the legendary experiences of a great general.

Sariel: What do you want to hear? I won't tell you about military matters.

You: Of course not military matters. How about telling me what you'll do after you go back?

Sariel: ...Fight.

You: That's it?

Sariel: That's it.

You: Do you have any other hobbies besides fighting?

Wouldn't that be a bit lonely and monotonous? I didn't ask the second half of the sentence out loud.

Sariel: Hobbies? You also say that.

You: Huh? What do you mean?

Sariel: Someone said the same thing to me. She also said that it would be lonely.

Sariel: But I really don't have any other hobbies.

He seemed to see through my heart.

Sariel opened the wine bottle for me. There were calluses on the edge of his palm, even more pronounced than now.

The question about loneliness slipped away unnoticed amidst the sound of pouring wine.

Sariel: In this era, are there still wars?

After a moment, he spoke again, asking indifferently, as if he didn't care about the answer.

You: Should I tell you?

Sariel: Forget it, don't tell me. If I want to know something, I'll see it with my own eyes.

The moonlight flowed like a river, passing over the wine cups between us, over the horse's tail swaying in the courtyard, and also over the road we took home.

Everywhere was quiet. Whether there were still wars in this era was actually a difficult question to answer, but...

You: At least now, here, this is a corner blessed by peace. You can relax a little.

Sariel looked at me, thoughtful.

Sariel: Not necessarily.

You: Why do you say that?

Sariel: At the temple, you probably mistook me for your friend, but at first, you were very wary.

Sariel: This means that someone has impersonated your friend to gain your trust before.

Sariel: So I deduce that the environment you're in is not entirely safe either.

Impressive, he could even see that. I hugged my knees to my chest and sighed in admiration.

You: It's nothing, really. Just like I said before, I tend to encounter strange things.

You: But encountering strange things doesn't necessarily mean they're bad.

Sariel: Before I go back, I can protect you.

You: Is this the protection a general offers to the people?

Sariel: Not protecting the people, what kind of general would that be?

You: Then thank you, General Qi.

I picked up the small cup on the ground and gently clinked it with the other one next to it, taking a sip first.

Chatting with him, listening to him say such things, even my own chest swelled with a sense of heroism. I placed the empty cup beside me, and Sariel refilled it with a thin layer.

Sariel: Did your friend also tell you about the Spirit Clan general and my family?

You: Mhm.

You: And the nine tails, he told me about those too.

You: He... is also a Spirit Clan member.

I was still hesitating whether to tell him about the Sariel from a thousand years later also existing here.

If I told him, would it affect the time travel? How would the person in front of me react? There were many things to consider. It might be better to explain it this way for now.

Sariel didn't ask any further questions, seeming to accept this explanation.

Sariel: Do you know about talents?

You: Talents? Of course. I'm also a talented person.

His golden eyes flickered.

You: You don't believe me?

I wanted to grab his hand but didn't dare. I could only grab a piece of his armor and try to demonstrate it to him.

You: It's like this. I touch a person or object, then concentrate and activate my talent.

Despite saying that, I didn't actually activate it.

Maybe I vaguely knew what I would see. Rather than seeing it this way, I would rather hear Sariel tell me himself one day.

You: Then, I can sense other people's emotions, and when I'm strong, I can even see their past.

You: How about that?

Sariel: Very impressive.

You: What about you? Do you still have the talent of healing?

Sariel nodded and raised his fingertip. The plants outside that had been grazed by the horse grew back a bit, looking less suspicious.

I looked at his pale profile, feeling a mix of joy and sorrow in my heart.

You: That's great. That way, you'll get injured less in battles.

Sariel's breathing hitched for a moment. The person beside him seemed to be drunk, gradually becoming less aware of his reactions, rambling on with her own words.

Her imagination about war was partly right, partly wrong. It was the kind of exaggeration and naivety that only people accustomed to peace would have.

Somehow, this brought him a sense of comfort.

After a while, she fell asleep, naturally leaning on his shoulder as if following some established rule, one hand raised and placed on his chest.

His heart was being held by someone else, heavy. Instinctively, he didn't like this.

But Sariel didn't move. He gazed at the moon in the sky. After so many years, everything had changed, but the moon was still the same moon.

His free hand picked up the porcelain cup, and Sariel took a sip from it.

It was indeed good wine.

I woke up to a sharp gust of wind. I was lying on the soft sofa, covered with a blanket. I turned my head and saw that the wine cups and bottle had been put away, arranged on the coffee table.

I rubbed my forehead and sat up. I must have fallen asleep while talking to Sariel, and he had moved me to the sofa.

-

There was a rustling sound again. I followed the sound and saw Sariel practicing with his spear in the courtyard.

The tip of his spear seemed to carry a whirlwind, swirling up the yellow leaves falling all around. Those leaves, like the dust from yesterday, floated in the air until his spear touched the ground, and they all fell down in unison.

At first, Sariel's movements were very slow. After one set, he let out a long breath, his eyes burning brightly.

Starting again, his movements became swift. The third time was like wind and fire, and by the fourth time, only the red tassels could be seen fluttering in the morning light.

After five sets, Sariel retracted his spear and stood at the original spot. There was only a circle of neat footprints on the ground. With each repetition, his steps were precise. I couldn't help but applaud. Sariel turned his head and glanced at me.

The clothes that got wet yesterday were hanging outside, now dry. Sariel flicked his spear, taking my coat down, and with another gentle flick, it landed perfectly on my shoulders.

Sariel: You're awake?

You: Hmm?

Sariel: Do people in this era all wake up late like you?

You: ... I just had a bit of wine!

Sariel smiled. His hair braid was a bit messy, with a few strands falling by his ears.

Sariel: My sister also sleeps until the afternoon when she's at home.

I had noticed it since yesterday. He always looked at me when he talked about his sister, as if I were his sister. Maybe we really did look alike.

I felt like this ancient person with good habits was implying that I was lazy. I pouted and changed the subject.

You: You're so good at spear dancing. Do you usually practice like they say in stories, waking up at the rooster's crow, training in the harsh winter and scorching summer?

Sariel was recombing his hair. Hearing me say this, he paused for a moment. But he answered quickly, as if he had heard these words many times before.

Sariel: But practicing like that will only damage your body. I only practice today because the weather is good.

-

This tone was quite willful and arrogant, but he was Sariel, he was supposed to be that proud.

After he finished speaking, he turned his back again and placed an enamel basin filled with water in front of the horse, letting it drink. The enamel basin was quite old, and it was surprising that he was able to find it.

Just then, ding-dong, the doorbell rang.

Sariel became alert and was about to raise his spear again. I quickly signaled him with my eyes to stay calm. I peeked through the peephole and saw a tall figure outside, fully armed and leisurely.

The problem was that there was also a neighborhood committee auntie with a red armband, looking at him suspiciously.

You: Charlie?!

Sariel: Fried Pear Pastry*? Is that a kind of snack here?

*This was a play on Chinese words lol. His name sounds like "fried pear pastry" if you don't know what character he uses for his name.

At some point, Sariel had walked behind me, looking at my actions with a puzzled expression.

You: No, it's my friend. His name is Charlie.

To be honest, Sariel and Charlie didn't get along well. Coupled with his armor and spear, I was really hesitant about whether to open the door or just pretend I wasn't home.

But Charlie was taking a risk to come to me. Maybe he had something important to say. Just as I thought of this, the voices outside suddenly grew louder.

Charlie: I told you, my fiancée definitely, absolutely, and without a doubt lives here.

Charlie: As her fiancé, how could I be a suspicious person?

Neighborhood Committee Auntie: Oh, just because you say you're not suspicious doesn't mean you're not. Show me your ID, and I'll leave immediately.

Charlie: I have special reasons and can't show it to you right now.

Charlie: When this period of time passes, if you still want to see it, I'll let you see it clearly.

Charlie responded to the auntie's questions with great righteousness. His words were all true, but she obviously didn't believe him.

Their voices grew louder and louder. Seeing more and more residents who had woken up early spontaneously gathering to watch, I looked up at the sky and sighed, then looked at Sariel.

You: Um, my friend might have something urgent to tell me.

You: Could you please go to the room inside for a while? I'll talk to him and be right back.

Sariel frowned.

Sariel: Since he's your friend, why can't I meet him?

Sariel: Besides, he doesn't sound quite right.

The reason why he can't be seen... After more than half a day, you should know it, right?! I ran over and drew the curtains, hiding the horse in the yard, and then pointed at his armor.

You: It's because of your attire. Wasn't I also startled when I first saw you?

You: As for Charlie, that's just his way of speaking. He's not a bad person.

Sariel seemed to consider it seriously for a while, then nodded reluctantly.

Sariel: I won't go inside, I'll just stay there.

I followed his gaze and found that he was looking at the hallway connecting the kitchen and the living room. Although it was indeed not visible from the entrance...

You: Why? That's just a hallway.

Sariel: I can see outside from there.

After saying this, he didn't say anything more and turned around, walking away with a clinking sound. What did that mean? Before I could think further, the doorbell rang again.

I quickly opened the door and pulled Charlie in. He seemed to want to turn back and give the neighborhood committee auntie an "I told you so" look, but with his face covered like that, it was obviously pointless.

Charlie: Good morning, fiancée.

Charlie was wearing his usual trench coat, a smile in his voice. He stood tall in the living room, looking around as if searching for something.

You: Morning! Wha... what's up?

Charlie: Nothing. I just heard you talking to someone outside. That voice sounded a bit familiar...

Charlie: But it must have been my imagination.

Charlie pondered for a moment, then shook his head. For some reason, I felt guilty. I didn't even dare to look at him, maintaining a smile and feeling my facial muscles twitching.

You: Um... yeah, it must have been your imagination. Is everything going well on your end? Why did you come over suddenly?

Charlie: It's going very well.

Charlie pushed his sunglasses up a bit, his purple eyes sparkling, looking me up and down.

Charlie: I just came to see if my fiancée is doing okay.

Charlie: Her phone was turned off early last night, and she didn't reply to my messages.

Ph... phone? Phone! Charlie contacted me using my phone number. Yesterday was chaotic, and I hadn't had time to get a new SIM card yet. I must have worried him. I lowered my head.

You: I'm... fine. I just went to bed early. Don't worry.

Charlie's expression became serious. He reached out his hand towards my forehead.

Charlie: Don't lie to me. Why are you sweating so much? Do you have a fever?

However, just as his palm was about to touch my forehead, there was a thud from the hallway!

Charlie: What was that sound?

You: It was nothi--!

I almost screamed but quickly coughed to cover it up. Almost simultaneously, there was a rapid knocking at the door, accompanied by an energetic voice.

Both Charlie and I focused on listening. The voice seemed to be saying, "Young Miss, are you up yet?"

It was Jesse! That's right, today was the day of my weekly meeting with Jesse! I jolted awake. Charlie listened for a while and obviously recognized it too.

Charlie: Is that your childhood sweetheart?

You: Yeah...

Charlie chuckled softly, took off his shoes naturally, walked into the living room, and spread his arms on the sofa, looking very relaxed, even more imposing than me, the owner of the house.

Charlie: Then let him in. It's quite pitiful to leave the child outside.

Charlie: Even if he wants to have some childish and meaningless arguments with me, I'll accept it.

Childish arguments can't happen just because one side wants them to. Remembering their previous elementary school-like conversation at the hospital, I couldn't help but tease him.

You: I don't think he'll argue with you anymore. He's joined a government organization now, he's mature.

Charlie: Government organization?

Unexpectedly, upon hearing these four words, Charlie immediately stood up.

Charlie: No, I don't want to run into anyone from a government organization right now.

Charlie: Fiancée, it's not that I'm afraid of him, it's a special situation.

Charlie: I'll go inside first. When you've quickly sent him away, come out again.

You: How am I supposed to quickly send him away...

The situation was changing rapidly. I watched Charlie walk towards the inner room and sighed. Halfway through my sigh, I almost choked. That direction...

You: Don't go there!

I ran over in large strides, trying to grab him, but it was too late.

-

Sariel, clad in armor and standing in the shadows, locked eyes with Charlie, who had his entire head and face covered and stood in the light.

The air instantly tensed, and the two men stared at each other without moving. After a while, Charlie lowered his head with a somewhat dejected look, lost in thought. Five seconds later, he perked up again.

Charlie: I was just thinking about where I fell short that my fiancée would hide something from me.

He extended his hand to Sariel, looking very friendly and magnanimous.

Charlie: But looking closely, maybe it's not my fault.

Charlie: After all, Director Qi, in this state, is really not presentable.

Sariel didn't take his hand, his eyes filled with hostility.

Sariel: My name is Sariel, not Director Qi. Her name is Y/N, not fiancée.

Sariel: As for being unpresentable, it's your sneaky attire that seems to have some ulterior motive.

He paused.

Sariel: ...Fried Pear Pastry?

You: It's Charlie!

I quickly reminded him in a low voice, and Charlie let out a cold laugh.

Charlie: Director Qi is quite clever. Did you buy the newly released dating skills manual?

Sariel: I don't understand what you're talking about.

The back-and-forth between them intensified, and the knocking on the door also grew louder in sync. I made a pause gesture and forcefully inserted myself between them.

You: The situation is complicated! Anyway, you two stay here for a while, I'll be right back!

-

I walked to the door, took a deep breath, and quickly opened it for Jesse.

Jesse wasn't wearing his usual Lianshan Society uniform. He looked like a tall and slender college student, his face full of anxiety. Seeing me come out, he let out a sigh of relief.

Jesse: I thought you had forgotten our appointment.

He spoke with a hint of a coquettish tone. It was a normal sentence, but thinking about the situation inside, I felt guilty again.

You: How could that be...

His green eyes were clear and bright, the worry fading away, leaving only joy. My heart softened. I couldn't bear to break his anticipation, no matter what. As for what was happening at home...

You: Um, how about we go out for a meal and stroll around the streets today, for old times' sake?

Jesse: Sure, I'll listen to you. Go change your clothes, I'll wait for you in the living room.

-

I originally wanted to leave directly to avoid any complications, but when I looked down, I saw that I was indeed wearing pajama pants. Before I could feel annoyed, Jesse had already skillfully opened the shoe cabinet and found his own pair of slippers.

I could only hope to get through these ten minutes peacefully. Thinking this, I noticed that Jesse didn't stop in the living room and continued walking towards the kitchen.

You: Where are you going?!

Jesse was startled.

Jesse: I'm going to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Jesse: You didn't reply to my messages earlier, so I was a bit worried and walked a bit fast on the way here.

Phone again! It was all Sariel's fault for breaking it! I wanted to cry, but... this was also a good opportunity to tell him about going out later. I eagerly pushed Jesse back and settled him on the sofa.

You: Ah... I didn't see my phone, I'm sorry, Tangyuan.

You: I'll get you some water, you just sit here.

-

Jesse looked puzzled, wanting to say something but hesitating. I fled to the corner, where the two men's postures hadn't changed at all, still staring at each other.

I mouthed to them that I was going out. Sariel could understand modern language, but it seemed he couldn't read lips yet and looked a bit confused. Charlie, however, understood and took off his mask, also mouthing:

Charlie: Don't want you to go.

You: It's a pre-arranged meeting.

Sariel was still clueless, a look of anxiety gradually appearing on his face.

Seeing him like this, Charlie seemed quite pleased. He patted his chest towards me and mouthed two more sentences.

Charlie: Alright, then come back quickly.

Charlie: This person, I don't think he's quite normal. I'll keep an eye on him for you.

Sariel seemed to have reached his limit. He looked at Charlie coldly.

Sariel: If you have something to say, say it directly. Don't play riddles here.

He didn't control his volume this time. Just as I thought something was wrong, Jesse's voice came from behind.

Jesse: What are you three... doing here?

I wanted to die.

Charlie: Me? I'm visiting my fiancée. What's the problem?

Charlie: You should be asking what this Director Qi is doing here, talking nonsense and playing dumb.

Sariel: Explain clearly, what is a 'fiancée'?

Charlie: You're still saying you're not playing dumb. Fine, I don't mind explaining it to you.

Charlie: A fiancée is someone who will marry me in the future and spend their life with me.

The spear tip pressed against Charlie's neck.

Sariel: Show some respect. Apologize to her.

Charlie wasn't afraid at all. His eyes darkened, and his expression turned gloomy.

Charlie: What right do you have to say that? What does her matter have to do with you?

Sariel paused for a moment, then spoke very frankly.

Sariel: She is my younger sister.

These four words were spoken with great force. A hint of alertness flashed in Jesse's eyes, and Charlie snorted coldly. I wished I could bury my head in the ground. Only Sariel remained calm and composed.

Charlie: Younger sister?

Charlie: Fiancée, did you hear that? Is this something a man with a sense of conviction should say?

Charlie reached out and grabbed the spearhead that was close at hand. Although the weapon was sharp, there seemed to be a transparent barrier between it and his palm. Sparks flew for a moment, and a creaking friction sound arose.

Sariel didn't speak, only the mark in his pupils deepened. The floor beneath our feet seemed to surge and spread. Vaguely, I saw the shadow of nine fox tails flash behind him.

Charlie: Quite strong.

Charlie took off his sunglasses and tossed them aside. He didn't look relaxed, and there was a dark mist in his eyes. I watched as a crack appeared, starting from the floor beneath their feet, extending to the walls and then the ceiling.  

Just then, a pattern descended from the sky, turning into countless golden specks. The shadow of a formation appeared on the ground, surrounding them. And they, as if impacted by something, simultaneously withdrew their hands.

Jesse: Stop! I don't care if you fight.

Jesse: But this is the place where Y/N and I have lived for eight years. I won't allow you to destroy it.

Jesse's chest heaved. He held a talisman drawn with a red brush in his hand, his eyes firm. I gave him a grateful look, and he returned a smile, then turned to Sariel.

Jesse: You're Y/N's boss, Sariel, right?

Before Sariel could ask what "boss" meant, I quickly answered for him.

You: Yes, yes, this is my boss.

Jesse: I agree with you. Using the term "fiancée" before a relationship is truly established is very disrespectful.

Charlie seemed to not be listening at all. He hooked his finger, and the sunglasses flew back into his hand.

Jesse: But the same goes for "younger sister."

Sariel: She's younger than me, about the same age as my younger sister. Why can't I call her that?

Jesse: From a long time ago, she promised to be my older sister.

Jesse: So, she won't be anyone else's younger sister.

At first, Sariel seemed to want to understand the relationship between them, but after a moment, he frowned.

Sariel: Nonsense.

Charlie: It's rare for us to agree on something. Nonsense.

Now, it became three people glaring at each other. If this continued, there would be no end in sight. I took a deep breath, finally realizing that only by lying could I resolve this predicament.

You: Listen to me--

You: Actually, I have an urgent design task today, related to ancient costumes!

I pointed at Sariel's armor and spear.

You: Sariel is here to help me, as a part-time model, but he's a bit too into character.

As I spoke, I discreetly tugged at Sariel's clothes from behind, pleading for his cooperation. He didn't seem willing, but after thinking about something, he grunted in agreement. There was a moment of silence in the room--

Charlie: Why would you find him as a model? Is there any aspect of my physique that's inferior to his?

Jesse: Yeah, Young Miss, I'm known as a "clothes hanger" in the theater troupe.

Jesse: And I've performed in various genres of musicals. No matter what style you need to design, I can help.

Then came even more intense clamor. Sariel glanced at Jesse's hooded coat and Charlie's deliberate display of his physique.

Sariel: A pumpkin and a winter melon.

Charlie: Still better than you, a bitter melon.

Chaos ensued again. Amidst the persuasion, bickering, alliances, and breakdowns, I made a solemn promise to design a set of ancient costumes for each of them and invited them to come over for a fitting another day.

-

I noted down Charlie's desired bird pattern and Jesse's request for a Tangyuan design. As the sky grew dark, they said their goodbyes. But just as they left, a message popped up on my computer.

Jesse's SMS: Jie jie, don't work too hard. I was already happy that you planned to go out with me today even though you were so busy.

The word "sister" was underlined for emphasis.

I felt a bit guilty and was about to reply when I received another message.

Jesse's SMS: You have to make it up to me double next time.

You: ......

Ding! A different notification sound rang. The red circle on my chat app indicated a new friend request. I had a vague premonition and clicked on it.

Charlie's WeChat SMS: This is a temporary WeChat account I applied for. I'll be using it for a while. I still need more ways to contact my fiancée.

I made plans with Jesse for next time and accepted Charlie's friend request, exchanging a few messages with him to help him get the "new friend" system badge. Finally, I had some breathing room to explain things properly to Sariel.

You: Um... don't mind them, they mistook you for someone else. You and my boss, Director Qi, look very much alike.

Sariel sat beside me, watching my fingers fly across the keyboard for a long time, not seeming bored at all. He followed up on my words.

Sariel: What does "boss" mean?

You: Boss means... for example, if I'm a soldier under your command, you're my boss.

Sariel: Then what is a director? Does it mean a supervisor?

You: If you have to say it, it's a bit similar. Director is a title, similar to a general.

You: You could say that before, Director Qi was the General Qi of tailors!

Sariel: Before? Then what about the current Director Qi?

Now... I pondered how to describe leaving a job.

You: It's probably like retiring after achieving success, becoming a recluse...

You: Before leaving, he even handed over his military power to me.

After saying this, I felt a bit embarrassed, as if I was bragging. Sariel looked at me with a gentle expression in his eyes.

Sariel: Was it hard?

I shook my head vigorously.

You: Not hard. And he still came to help me when I was in trouble.

Sariel: As it should be. But if he's still going to come out of retirement, why retire in the first place?

Because... he had something more important to do. I remembered that day in the office when Sariel said he was going to figure out the effects of the degradation on him. Even now, thinking back to his emotions at that time still made my heart ache.

Later, his body seemed to have recovered. But whether he had found an explanation for his previous condition, I didn't know.

I looked at General Qi. He also had a talent. The Spirit Clan had always had talents. So in the past thousand years, had there never been similar degradation cases, leaving them helpless today?

After hesitating for a while, I still asked.

You: In your time, do Spirit Clan members degrade?

Sariel: Degrade?

Sariel pondered for a moment and shook his head.

Sariel: I haven't heard of it. What are the symptoms? Maybe it's a different term.

You: I'm not sure about the specifics, but the body becomes weak and faints.

And also... I remembered Qi She transforming into a white dragon.

You: Sometimes they also take on animal forms and become a bit irrational.

As he listened, Sariel's expression showed understanding.

Sariel: I see. You call this state degradation? We call it decline.

Sariel: It's like human aging.

Sariel: The Spirit Clan's spiritual power also gradually weakens. When the spiritual power is exhausted, it's time to pass away.

This was the first time I had heard that the Spirit Clan could also die naturally.

You: Isn't the Spirit Clan supposed to be immortal?

Sariel: It depends on the strength of their spiritual power. Those with weak spiritual power have a lifespan similar to humans. Those with strong spiritual power might be considered immortal.

You: But now, almost all Spirit Clan members are experiencing this at the same time.

I remembered the research results obtained by NOVATEN. They believed that the cause of the degradation was the disordered growth of the D factor.

Could it be that this situation existed before, but the growth cycle was very long, making the Spirit Clan's degradation seem slow and natural?

Was this rapid degradation a disease that had developed over thousands of years? Could Sariel be considered cured?

You: Then if the spiritual power recovers and these symptoms no longer appear, does that mean everything is fine?

Sariel: I haven't heard of that.

His next words buzzed in my ears.

Sariel: If too much spiritual power is consumed in a short period, it can still recover.

Sariel: Once the spiritual power declines, physical weakness is secondary, but one will definitely lose their talent completely, with no possibility of recovery.

Completely lose their talent, with no possibility of recovery.

On the day he left Wan Zhen, Sariel wanted to save the bird of paradise, but why didn't he in the end?

When he was fixing the fan blade, he clearly had the talent of healing, so why didn't he heal his own wound?

That day, the night-blooming cereus didn't bloom. Come to think of it, was it really my luck that it bloomed the first time?

He doesn't usually sweat. And the path in the mountains, there was originally a barrier, right? That's why it was so winding, but on the evening I left, it was visible from end to end.

I felt my breath quicken, more and more rapidly, until it was no longer under my control, and my vision started to darken. A hand pressed on my back, and a familiar voice sounded faintly beside me.

Sariel: Can you hear me? Breathe in.

I followed his guidance, inhaling and exhaling. My vision cleared, and the numbness in my hands and feet subsided. Trembling, I opened my computer again and clicked on the chat with Sariel. He hadn't replied.

Sariel: What's wrong?

You: I, I have a friend who hasn't been replying to my messages. I want to go to his house to check on him.

Sariel: Is it that "Director Qi"?

You: Mhm.

Sariel: The Spirit Clan member who's degrading, is it also him?

I couldn't even utter a "yes," fear and regret gripping me. I could only nod.

Sariel: I'll go with you.

You: No need, you wait for me at home, I'll--

Sariel: I'll go with you.

His hand was still on my back, conveying a firm strength, suppressing the panic in my chest.

Stay calm, think carefully. I didn't know if there would be any consequences if two people who were essentially the same met...

Sariel seemed to see through my thoughts. His tone was firm.

Sariel: He and I also have a close connection, right?

I opened my mouth, not knowing how to explain. How could I tell him that the future you was degrading and in danger?

Sariel: Just say it directly.

You: He... looks exactly like you, was also a general, is also named Sariel, and is also from the Spirit Clan.

You: He told me about his past, including his parents, older sister, and younger sister, so...

Sariel: He's the future me.

Sariel drew this conclusion, his tone calm.

Sariel: You knew there was a future you here?

Sariel: Your "friend," and the behavior of those two people, it's easy to guess.

He curled his lips into a smile.

Sariel: Do you have any masks?

You: Uh? Yes, I do.

Sariel: Give me one. If he really is me, he probably wouldn't want to see his past self.

His demeanor and words eased my tension a bit. That's right, nothing had been confirmed yet... Even if it was confirmed, I couldn't panic. I forced a smile back at him.

Sariel: What about you? Do you want to see your future self?

Sariel flicked his knuckles against my forehead, a gesture that made my nose tingle.

Sariel: You're the most inquisitive person I've ever met.

-

Once again, we rode through the city on horseback. On the way, Sariel even reminded me to get a new phone.

The scene of him taking out copper coins at the counter, and the expression on his face, I would probably never forget.

We were about to reach the present Sariel's house on the hillside. I looked at the fox mask on the person beside me.

You: It suits you quite well. I remember buying a fox mask.

Sariel: You really like foxes?

The usual Sariel definitely wouldn't ask such a question, but he asked it so naturally that I didn't know how to answer.

You: I like... I definitely like them... But the main reason is...

The design of this mask was drawn when I went to the temple fair with Sariel. After coming back, I made it out of metal as a souvenir.

It's said to be in the shape of a fox, but it's not entirely so. If someone who didn't know the story saw it, they might not even recognize it.

Because the prototype I based it on was simply Sariel. Him in his fox form, him in his human form, both are him, yet not entirely him. So I took some features from each and combined them.

But of course, even without such craftsmanship, when various animal-shaped accessories were presented to me, I easily favored foxes.

This was really too difficult to explain. I could only reply to him in the simplest way.

You: Alright, I admit I just like foxes!

-

As we spoke, we had already arrived. I knocked on the door, but there was no response from inside. So, out of habit, I squatted down, moved a flower pot by the door, and retrieved a key from underneath.

When I opened the door, General Qi was standing behind me, so I missed the expression on his face. It was a rare expression, both joyful and nostalgic.

After entering the house, I looked around. The rooms, the yard, and even the studio were all empty. Even the little lizard was gone.

When I turned back, I found Sariel standing next to a plant - it was the bird of paradise that had been transplanted to the yard.

Sariel: It's dying.

You: Yes, it's because of me. He didn't use his talent to save it back then.

You: He usually doesn't like to use his talent to interfere with the life and death of plants. I thought it was the same that time.

I squatted down, supporting the drooping leaves, only to watch them fall again. Sariel reached out his hand, hovering it above my head for a moment, but didn't let it fall.

His fingertips pointed at the broken part of the plant. He hesitated for a moment, then finally lowered his hand.

Sariel: Let's wait until he recovers and let him handle it himself.

He was comforting me. Would he definitely recover? I stood up and muttered a soft "okay." Sariel looked at the bird of paradise for a while longer, then suddenly seemed to remember something.

Sariel: In your era, do Spirit Clan members still share their spiritual power with others?

You: Share with others... Does healing count?

Sariel: Yes, but there's more.

Sariel raised his hand, and a ball of light gradually condensed and took shape in his hand.

With a muffled sound, a light blue, translucent, and soft ball-shaped object landed in my hand, pulsing softly in my palm like jelly.

You: Hmm... what is this?

Sariel: Spiritual power.

You: Spiritual power actually looks like this?

Sariel: It's not naturally like this. I condensed it into this form.

I gently touched this spiritual power "ball" and felt it cling to my fingers as if it had life.

You: I've never heard of Spirit Clan members being able to turn their spiritual power into a physical form.

Sariel: Not every Spirit Clan member can do it. At least I haven't met a second one.

Why did he sound a bit smug? I couldn't help but smile. I wondered if the present Sariel could do it.

Unconsciously, I squeezed the ball of spiritual power into a square shape and even pinched out two fox ears.

You: It's so malleable...

My hand froze. The DEA component report flashed through my mind again. Both the D and A factors were extracted from spiritual power through experiments.

At that time, I didn't understand. Spiritual power was such an intangible thing, how could anything be further extracted from it?

But Sariel could turn spiritual power into a physical form. If there was someone within NOVATEN who also possessed such a skill, using spiritual power for experiments wouldn't be difficult.

NOVATEN didn't record any experiments on the A factor, perhaps because it was too specific and had no effect on humans.

But what about the Spirit Clan? From the report, degradation was the result of an imbalance between the two factors. If the A factor in a Spirit Clan member's body also increased accordingly, could it counteract the D factor and prevent degradation?

You: If the A factor increases...

Sariel: Factor?

You: Yes, it's the research result on spiritual power in this era.

I translated the terminology as best as I could and told Sariel all the information I knew so far, hoping he could try to relate it to the ancient situation and discover something.

You: But this thing that increases spiritual power, the A factor, is different for every Spirit Clan member.

Sariel: That is to say, even if spiritual power is shared with others, it can only provide temporary relief.

Sariel: The recipient's body needs to have this substance to continuously generate spiritual power.

I nodded. He summarized it well.

I don't know if it was the movement that triggered my neck, but I felt a wave of dizziness. The spiritual power ball in my hand fell to the ground. I squatted down to pick it up but almost fell over.

Sariel grabbed my arm, steadying my swaying body.

Sariel: What's wrong?

You: I suddenly feel a bit dizzy, it's okay.

Was it like low blood sugar? I lowered my head to regulate my breathing.

Sariel: His A factor and mine should be the same, right?

I looked at him. He seemed to have briefly closed his eyes just now, and now his bright golden eyes were slowly opening. I hesitated.

You: The same, yes... they should be the same.

This answer satisfied him. His slender fingertips were entwined with faint blue mist. I suddenly had a premonition--

Sariel: If I share this substance with him, his degradation can at least be temporarily stopped.

The premonition came true. Sariel spoke calmly and matter-of-factly, as if saying there was only one moon and one sun in the sky. I stared at him blankly.

You: Wait a minute, that's not right...

☼ Light: Worry about the damage/consequences to him.

☾ Night: We don't know how to extract it.

☼ Light: Worry about the damage/consequences to him.

Sariel: What's not right?

You: Th-this is very uncertain. After sharing a part, we don't know if your A factor can regenerate.

You: The information I've seen is limited, and we don't know the specific techniques.

You: What if it causes harm to you...

My voice grew smaller as I spoke. The person who successfully extracted the factor was Zha Zhao Peng. He was ruthless and wouldn't hesitate even if the extraction process was harmful to the Spirit Clan. His success didn't guarantee anything.

Of course, I had thought that they were the same person, possessing the same A factor. But there were still so many uncertainties, I couldn't make such a request. The mist around Sariel's fingertips dissipated.

Sariel: My intuition tells me this is what I should do.

You: Intuition... How can such a big decision be based on intuition?

Sariel: It has saved me many times on the battlefield. It will be useful this time too.

Sariel: Trust me.

Trust him. Once these two words were spoken by Sariel, I became helpless.

He said his intuition told him to do this, but as he looked at me, besides intuition, there was clearly something else in his eyes. I slowly nodded.

☾ Night: We don't know how to extract it.

You: It can't be separated.

Sariel: Why?

You: I... I don't know how to extract the A substance either. Logically, it should be inside this ball you created.

Sariel was taken aback, looking at me with confusion, his face practically screaming, "What's wrong with that?"

Sariel: Then let's start figuring it out from now on.

-

My mind was made up, so all that remained was to find a way. It was almost certain that asking NOVATEN for the extraction technology would not end well. I sat on the sofa, pondering.

Sariel was gazing at the porcelain tea set on the table, seemingly wanting to touch it, but he held back. I couldn't help but smile, picking up the teapot to offer it to him, only to find a square-folded note tucked beneath it.

Qi She's Note: Sis, Lao Qi and I are going to Lin Island, it's urgent!

You: This handwriting... is it Qi She's? No wonder he hasn't responded to my messages, did something happen...?

This thought made me anxious. Lin Island has Man Lou and the medicine to stop degradation, did they discover Factor A? Or even if they haven't, could they find a solution based on this?

It was worth a try, and besides, Modern day Sariel was there now. I put the note away and turned to General Qi, who was studying the ink-wash plum blossom painted on the teapot.

You: Let's go to Lin Island.

Sariel: Where is Lin Island?

You: An island where the Spirit race lives, haven't you heard of it?

Hearing the words "Spirit race settlement," Sariel looked a bit puzzled and then shook his head.

You: So Lin Island's history isn't that long either... Anyway, he's there now.

Sariel: Then let's go.

You: Yes!

The person beside me stood tall. Everything related to the degradation was like a tangled puzzle, and I was tired of being helpless, only able to cry and lament.

But before this, what gave me the right to say such things? It was Sariel, both past and present, who always brought me hope and the courage to speak my mind.

I stood up, feeling another wave of dizziness, my feet stumbling slightly. This time, I quickly regained my balance.

Sariel noticed this slight pause, his eyes downcast. A future filled with turmoil, a person identical to his sister... he wanted to stay longer, to see more.

But, it was no longer possible.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 18-13

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[yorshie]

This isn’t really a request and sorry you can ignore me if you don’t really do this but I was wondering what turtle (2014 movie) you think I’d get along with best. Cause I honestly don’t know which one I’d date or would want to date me😂

Because I’m introverted (I like my me time but act like an extrovert if I’m around a small group of people I trust I still get tired from socializing though), shy at first until I’m comfortable then you’d wish I’d shut up, and on the biology science side im a nerd but I can be fiery especially if I feel attacked or like an injustice to me or someone else, I’m protective of my friends if someone tries to pick on them.

I’m artistic, I am constantly jumping from one art project to the next, and have to force myself to finish them because adhd attention span but I am constantly trying to and having to learn new skills because of that. (Art example I’m making a waterfall for my guppy/platy tank and had to use a drill and hand held sander to run the tubing through the aquarium waterfall decor I decided to turn into a waterfall piece) and am more on the dad joke or sarcastic side of humor. I love animals and have a tendency to befriend any I can, I have been majoring in animal sciences with the goal of applying for a zookeeper job. I have a lot of extroverted friends because I open up to them faster because they are so open with me. I like Httyd, golden girls, Star Wars, Star Trek, last man standing, Tolkien (Lotr, hobbit, Silmarillion), A-team, watching animal planet and nat geo wild, voltron, transformers, I’m a nerd that also likes most music if it catches my attention just not vulgar stuff so the rap I like is minimal but country music is one of my favs being a southern bell. Being from the south I’m outdoorsy and stubborn but do my best to be respectful and polite. Southern horse girl energy and I will pick up snakes that are non-venomous. Due to me being outdoorsy and in a subtropical zone bugs get big so I had to get over my fear of spiders since we have giant golden orb-weavers and a bunch of jumping spiders that live here plus I love nature photography and was tried of being scared so I worked up from holding harvestmen arachnids (not true spiders they have a fused head and body like a potato with 8 legs) and went to my local zoo and volunteered to try to hold a tarantula. Kinda anxious because I’ve been picked on before at school when I was younger I was that book worm nerd that would info dump stuff I was learning about and had friends I grew up with ghost me after high school graduation that said they’d keep in touch. If it helps infp 2w3 and my fav color is blue, my style is comfort (yoga/sweat/jean pants and a graphic tee-shirt) unless it’s a special occasion. One of my fav outfits is galaxy print pants, a nasa space t-shirt, with a solar system bracelet, and a space shuttle necklace. I have sandy brown-dirty blonde hair but I love to dye my hair a natural red copper with platinum blonde money pieces framing my face.

I needed some help with this one nonnie, so I’m handing the ask off to my dear friend @luckycharms1701 . Neither of us are match up blogs though so it might not be what you expected, but I hope you have a wonderful day and best of luck when classes start back up in the fall! :

hehe yorshie is entirely too trusting and is letting ME answer this!! muahaha!

anyway, if you search ‘tmnt matchmaker’ on tumblr you can find people who will match you to one of the turtles! yorkshire does not do that, but i’ve heard that there are lots of others who will!

let me take a crack at it though! there are arguments for all of them, but it sounds to me like donnie would be a good match for you! he appreciates someone who likes to learn as much as he does, and would be excited to learn new things from you! he would also love that you want to grow by facing your fears, that will earn a lot of respect from him. He is polite and gentlemanly without being overbearing.

damn. this shit is hard. mad respect to the people who do this stuff on the regular

[idk3453]

Mafia

Chapter 7

Mafia chapter 7 

You Can Run But You Cant Hide...

Hey guys!! sorry chapter 7 took so long to write, had a little bit of writer's block, along with some projects I needed to do for my class. But here is chapter 7! I am currently writing chapters 8 and 9! If you are new to the series Hi and welcome, those who are coming back, Hi and welcome back!.

Now, here it is Mafia chapter 7

If you havent read the chapters dont worry I will link it down below!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Synopsis: Elvis Presley, the notorious mafia leader of Memphis, Tennessee has the town on its feet. Fear, power, money, and women surround him and his Memphis mafia. But what happens when one day you stumble into his world? And he makes you fall in love with him? 

Elvis POV: 

I dont know what happened, one minute I was showing off my girl Y/N to my mafia, then the next Im tackling Lamar to the ground. It all happened in the blink of an eye. 

“Elvis stop!” “Let him go!” said Jerry

Each punch I threw connected with Lamars face. 

“That's enough Elvis, look what you're doing!” Jerry continued to yell. 

In a desperate attempt to reduce injuries to his face, Lamar used his arms as a shield, blocking my punches as best he could.  Blood stained my white shirt along with Lamar's face.

Feeling my arms being pulled away from Lamar, I kept trying to break free. kicking my legs every which way.

“Let me go! he needs to learn his place!” I yelled trashing and trying to remove myself from their grip on me.

“Elvis, I’m sorry!” Said Lamar. 

“Elvis, calm down, look at what you did!’ For god sakes Y/N is terrified!” 

The mention of her name snapped me back to reality. 

“Y/N!, Y/N, baby where are you?” 

“Shes gone Elvis, I had one of the men take her to your room. You should have seen her, she was shaking like a leaf!” said Jerry. 

“God damnit!” Slamming the wall with my hands. My hands were covered with Lamar's blood.

“I didn’t want her to get scared of me” running my hand through my hair. It’s a habit I formed when I become either anxious or upset. 

“Well, congratulations EP, you fucking just did!” said Jerry sarcastically. 

Looking at the scene I caused, Lamar's bloody face, crying repeating the words I'm sorry E, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry. I slowly backed away from my men and said “Imma head upstairs to check on her” “Jer, take Lamar to the nurse, I’ll see him in a bit” 

“Will do” 

And with that I quickly made my way up the stairs. 

Jogging, I got up to the top floor, the black padded doors greet me, but not the way I wanted them to. Slowly, I grabbed the door handles, and sweat dripped from my forehead. "What if I scared her for good." "how am I going to get y/n to trust me if she is scared of me." sighing I slowly turned the handle to open the doors to my room. 

“Y/N?” I said 

I waited for a response, but when nothing came after a few seconds I inched my head closer to my room.

"Y/N," I said again as I looked further into the room, I spotted her huddled in a corner, her knees to her face.

"way to fucking go, Elvis she hates you now," my conscious told me. those last three words haunting me "She hates you". shaking the feeling out of my head, I inched my way closer to her.

“Baby? I know this looks bad, but I did it for a good reason” I said. 

“Lamar needed to know his place, and he crossed the line making that comment.” 

I said making my way closer to her, Y/N still didn’t move nor look up. 

“Baby, please look at me”  nothing

“I didn’t mean to scare you” nothing again, y/n hasn't moved an inch.

“I Just have a bad temper” "My temper tend to get the best of me little"

I got as close to Y/N as I could. kneeling down in front of her, I pushed a few hair strands back. Trying my best to have her at least look at me. I don’t want her to think I’m some monster. 

“Baby, please look at me” 

"I'm terribly sorry" "It wont happen again, I promise"

"Like hell it wont", I muttered under my breath

Y/N started to look up at me, slowly lifting her head up from her knees. 

“That’s it baby, please look at me” 

As she slowly lifted her head up, I was so distracted that I didn’t notice her right hand, holding a vase. Y/N smashes it to the side of my head. 

Knocking me down on the ground, I tried to compose myself. Processing what just happened.

I looked up from where I was and saw she was running towards the doors.

“Come back here!” I yelled Blood dripped from my forehead. But the adrenaline was enough to pull me up and get me to my feet. running as fast as I could to stop her. Y/N was dashing past the door, making it down the stairs. Exiting the front door, out of Graceland and out of my reach.

“Fuck!” I said punching the wall thus creating a small hole in it. 

“JERRY!, LARRY!, CHARLIE!” I NEED YALL HERE NOW!” I yelled, my head pounding every which way.

They all ran from where they were to come find me. 

“EP what’s wrong?!” “Is there trouble?!” Said Charlie 

“Jerry starts the car, Y/N escaped,” I said almost breathlessly. "God damn that blow was hard." clutching onto the side of my forehead pulling my hand away, I saw a few drops of blood on them.

“Shit!, E how?!” said Larry

Annoyed I looked up from where I was starting at and said “DON'T ASK QUESTIONS JUST DO AS I SAY!” 

And with that, my men left and started to get the car ready. Quickly making my way down the stairs I winced as the effects of the adrenaline started to wear off. 

I finally made it past the stairs and reached the front doors of Graceland.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” I told myself. Graceland is in a secluded area, there’s no way she could have gone far. 

“Beep!” “Beep!” “You ready E?” Yelled Jerry 

“Yeah!Let's go find her! 

And with that, Jerry revved up the engine of my Cadillac Eldorado, me getting into the passenger seat, Larry and Charlie in the back seat, and Jerry as Driver. Jerry backs up the car harshly, and looking at rear view mirror, Graceland began to become farther and farther from our reach. And now it is off to find where my little runway has gone too.

"You can run, but you cant hide," I said silently as the hunt to find Y/N was on.

What do we think yall!

What do you think is gonna happen in chapter 8 and 9!

I wanna hear your thoughts.

Thank you @erutluve for the pics for the Mafia Fan Fics! I love them so much!

Thank you to @erutluv, @plasticfantasticl0ver and @natipooxx

I can't wait for y'all to read the next chapters! Stay tuned!

[canyouimaginethatstory]

Wrongfully Accused Part 14 (Lucifer X Reader)

PART 1: Here  PART 2: Here PART 3: Here PART 4: Here PART 5: Here PART 6: Here PART 7: Here PART 8: Here PART 9: Here PART 10: Here PART 11: Here  PART 12: Here  PART 13: Here  PART 15: Here

Things went smoothly for the next two months. You and Lucifer were happy. He passed every random drug test and visit Billie threw at him. Lucifer got his license renewed. As you predicted Bobby did end up liking him enough to give him his own car to keep and fix up. An old 1985 black Porsche. That's how you knew Bobby considered him a hard worker. He only gave the really good old cars to the employees who did the best and most work. Jessica and Sam were getting more anxious as Jessica just entered her eighth month mark. You were standing in your kitchen. Today was the day you were finally gonna tell your brothers about you and Lucifer. You were especially worried about how Dean would react. You know your oldest brother. It was more than likely not gonna end well. You grabbed a ginger ale from the fridge as Lucifer walked out of the bathroom ready for work. Your stomach always acted up when you were nervous. "You sure you wanna do this?" he asked as he walked over and gently rubbed your back.

"It's time they knew," you told him, "especially if we decide to go to your dad's book thing,". He nodded

"Ok, well call me if you need me," he said kissing your forehead "Bobby will let me go early if he knows you're upset,". You grabbed your bag and keys. Bobby was the only one who knew you were together and though he didn't like it he promised to keep it between you three.

"Have a good day my sexy mechanic," you said giving him a kiss. He softly patted your butt as you left. You got settled in your car and tried to calm your nerves. You hated feeling so nervous. "I can do this" you chanted to yourself as you headed off to the restaurant you decided to meet your brothers at. You decided on a public place so hopefully, your brothers wouldn't make a scene. You pulled up to the restaurant and cut off your engine. "You can do this," you told yourself again. You grabbed your bag and threw your keys in it before getting out of the car. You scanned the parking lot and spotted Dean's Impala so you knew they were already here. You walked in and up to the hostess.

"Can I help you?" she asked

"Yes, I'm looking for a table under the name of Winchester?" you told her.

"Yes, right over here," she said walking you to a corner booth where your brothers waited. She handed you a menu and went back to her podium.

"Hey Y/N," Dean said getting up and hugging you.

"Hey little one," Sam greeted pulling out your chair for you.

"Hey guys," you said sitting down, "have you ordered yet?".

"Not yet," Dean said, "what's this news?". You wanted to tell them but not too soon.

"Later," you told him, "let's just talk for a bit,". So you and your brothers enjoyed your lunch and talked. You listened intently as Dean bragged about taking down a killer who proudly called himself Hitler So now Dean goes around saying he killed Hitler. Which is completely something his goofball self would say. Sam went on about his worries over being a dad soon. You knew he could do it.

"Come on Y/N, we've finished eating," Dean said, "tell us what you need to tell us,". You took a calming breath as your stomach started to feel queasy again.

"Ok, but before I do I want you two to remember I am a smart woman and I am fully grown got it?" you asked and they nodded. "Sam you remember that pin pal project you started for your law class?" you asked. He nodded. "well one of the guys caught my eye," you admitted.

"Y/N did you enter the program?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly," you said.

"What does that mean?" Dean asked confused.

"I snuck a file out of the folder," you admitted, "the guy just caught my attention and we started writing each other and now we're in love,".

"Y/N most of these guys could be dangerous" Sam pointed out.

"He's not," you said.

"Who is he?" Sam asked. This was the moment you knew they'd freak out, but like you told Lucifer you were tired of hiding him. You looked your brother straight in the eye and confidently answered.

"Lucifer Shurley," you said.

"No, absolutely not Y/N," Dean said.

"Dean you are not dad," you pointed out, "and we've been dating for a while and it's been the best relationship I've ever had,".

"He's a criminal Y/N!" Dean said raising his voice causing people to look over at your table. You didn't care.

"No he's not," you said, "He was accused wrongly of a crime,".

"Oh come on Y/N," Dean argued, "did you really fall for whatever sob story he sold you?".

"It's not a sob story!" you spoke a little louder than you meant to, "Lucifer's story has never not once changed Dean,".

"He ripped his own father off Y/N," he pointed out, "stole from his own parent,".

"Oh please Dean," you said, "everyone knows how shady Father Shurley is,".

"He's always done the best for the town," Dean pointed out.

"No Dean he kisses up to the biggest names to keep funding for his lame ass books," you corrected.

"His books aren't that bad," Dean said.

"Seriously Dean?" you asked raising your eyebrow, "have you even read any of them?"

"Well, no," he said, "but people talk about them all the time,".

"Yeah and do the stories sound at all familiar?" you asked.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Like his novel A Fated Hunt. It's literally about dad accidentally killing Jo's dad during a deer hunt,". you pointed out, "and how her mom never fully got over it,".   "So he wrote a story matching a real life event doesn't mean anything," Dean said.

"Or the story of Sam's tiny drug use in college," he asked, "which he cheesily titled Demon Blood,".

"I guess that was bad," he agreed.

"And what about his book about you?" you asked.

"Me?" he asked back confused.

"Heart Throb," you said, "he talked about how you were the lady's man of the high school and how you had that daddy scare with Lisa Brady,".

"Oh yeah, I still don't see how he knew about Ben," he admitted.

"He probably paid Lisa to tell him," you pointed out.

"Look it doesn't matter," he said standing up, "he isn't good enough for you Y/N".

"He is beyond good for me Dean!" you said getting up, "You don't have to like it Dean. But you will not big brother your way into breaking us up and you will not tell me who I can and can not date! I love him and he loves me," you grabbed your stuff and hurried out of the restaurant. Dean started to head after you but Sam stopped him.

"Dean, she's right," Sam said, "it's her life,".

"He's an ex con Sam!" he argued.

"I know and yeah I'm worried too, but she's not a little girl anymore,".

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[nerves-nebula]

what made your first year of college so much worse than the second?

godddd where do i even start. Complaining goes under the cut cuz it’s too damn long.

8 hour studios 3 times a week that start at 8 AM and only break for lunch. one of the professors expected us to stand the entire time we were drawing and only sit when we went on break. plus homework for those studios, because each studio was a different foundational class. and on the days when you dont have those studios you got other foundational classes like art history and literature or something. you've got homework for all of these classes too and tests and everything.

and each studio being a different class is a huge issue and really frustrating as well. the classes are drawing, design and, like, basically a 3D class, right? where you use power tools and carve stuff and all that. But imagine you go to this school for painting or to make clothes, then the three foundational classes might just really bore and frustrate you. because you don't really feel like they're helping you gain any skills in your preferred major.

so you have all these artistic kids who want to do their best, being forced to do things they hate and being told it's to make us "more well rounded." (which dont get me wrong i understand, but that doesnt make it suck any less)

so all the art you make is painful to create, and you don't even like the result. but we knew what we signed up for, and the point is to last past first year so you can get into your major. thats the point for me, at least. so you just get what you can done, but i cant imagine what I would've done if i'd fallen behind even once.

And then my own personal hell- being in a new place and not knowing what to do or who to talk to or how to communicate ! So i was constantly stressed out in like a social way. idk if i vented about this here but i fell over in a fit of anxiety and hyperventilation in class multiple times first year. I straight up fell over at least twice and i had crying fits multiple times (with varying degrees of how quiet I was being, sometimes they don't even notice :D)

I was incredibly emotionally isolated and cried myself to sleep like every night. my only social interactions were at work because I'm very bad at socializing properly and making friends in class, and i was always too tired to go to any events. LUCKY for me I met a really cool friend while doing some student work and it was really nice and chill.

ANYWAY BACK TO THE STRESS. to give an example of the situation: our first homework for drawing class was to make this big ink master copy of a van gogh sketch, and it didn't have to be perfect, or even GOOD tbh, but regardless it took forever. and i spilled my ink on it which nearly led to a breakdown but instead i just laughed cause otherwise I'd go insane. the amount of podcasts and audiobooks i burned through that year just to keep myself sane was mind-numbing. i listened to, no joke, ALL of Well There's Your Problem, and i went back and listened to a lot of them more than once.

i was really lucky though, cause some other students had first projects that were like "bring in 50 drawings by next class" or "make a chair out of only cardboard that you can sit on without it collapsing" or something. and i never had a teacher that bad.

actually, my second semester design professor was really REALLY chill. He let me sleep in class if i finished the work so I spent a few hours in his class just chilling and sleeping fitfully (as in I was so stressed i would gasp and mutter myself awake, which really alarmed my classmates but i never got close enough to them to explain myself soooo they prolly just think something is wrong with me. which it is! oh well)

i can only speak for myself but i was basically working any moment i wasn't sleeping, eating, shitting, or showering. somehow other people made time to befriend each other and hang out and like, go to parties??? i dont know how. Frankly I don't even remember how i did what i did either, specifically I reached out to my college's mental health services and got on some medication for anxiety. I also somehow managed to write an essay for our student published thingy about how I wanted to kms and felt unsupported by mental health professionals lmao.

I have NO IDEA how i did any of that because this year i kept falling asleep for five hours in the middle of the day. my theory is that I got more done because I physically HAD TO STAY AWAKE. I COULD NOT ALLOW MYSELF TO FAIL.

I was so stressed out the first year that I often couldn't sleep without hugging my giant elephant stuffed animal or using it as a comforting weight on top of me. one morning i woke up hyperventilating and went to go cut a huge role of paper at like 6 AM because i was so worried about forgetting to cut the paper before i left before class at 8 AM.

so yeah, my theory is that since second year wasn't that insanely stressful, all those hours i spent eking out any artistic joy possible (making owl house comics, writing that essay, and painting my clothing) just to make sure i didn't kms were replaced instead with me just falling asleep at inopportune times, because I wasn't as scared that I wouldn't have time for my work.

OH MY GOD AND FIRST YEAR I GOT PUT IN TWO CONSECUTIVE GROUP PROJECTS WITH THIS ABSOLUTE MONSTER- but that could be its entire own post. suffice it to say that he had been reported multiple times for various things and one of my classmates recognized who i was talking about just from me vaguely complaining about how much i hated him.

anyway im sure there's even more that i forgot about but to be honest i think i've explained enough.

[bondew]

I got bored- I love my freckled, fluffy red head! (Oh Cade, u and ur neatly brushed hair are loved too)

Two Bathroom Stalls.

Cadence Lane.

The piercing sound of my alarm rings in my ear the next morning. It’s around 6am and I’ve only slept for 4 hours. I stumble to the mirror and I flip it back to face me. As the sun peeks from under the curtains I brush my hair so it doesn’t reflect my mind. My room is completely clean, well excluding my desk drawers. I shove on a tight black turtle neck and white dress pants. I don’t change my black stud earrings, I don’t really have any other pairs anyway. I swing my bag onto one shoulder and slide on my loafers as I step out.

Tossing a mint into my mouth a sudden hoard of people pile into the hallway. They sound like squawking vultures as they push past me. I run my hand through my hair and make my way downstairs. My first class is at 8, I was meant to finish my project last night but because of the situation I have to do it this morning. I skip breakfast and end up in the library. Without saying a word I sit down and open up my laptop. Skimming through the essay I quickly edit it, I’m confident that I won’t miss any mistakes. There is hardly ever any, I am the top of the class for a reason.

I put my earbuds in and open up my notebook. My peace doesn’t last long, the stampede of boys stride into library. I notice one of them sneak away from the group as they wander around and talk to girls. He heads to the non-fiction section and grabs a thick, hard covered book about bugs. My computer is still open so when he decides to ignore all the other free tables and sit in front of me he is partly blocked out. I can see his freckled forehead and fluffy orange hair over the top of my screen but this decreases as he slumps down and starts to read. Shaking my head back to reality I tap on my page with a pen and start to write. My playlist is open on my screen and every time a song changes I glance up.

I’ve basically fallen asleep but when a book slams closed I suddenly jolt up.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you! U-uh I have to get to class!” The orange-haired boy says as he runs out of the room. Glancing at my watch I gather my stuff and sprint out just behind him. I arrive in the lecture room just before the clock hits 8, I’m panting and all eyes are on me. Fixing my hair I stand up straight and rush to a seat before anyone says anything.

Dazz Shawn.

It was probably a mistake choosing to study literature and theatre. I basically have no free time. I’m only a couple minutes late and luckily the director doesn’t seem to care. Dropping a heavy book about bugs and my tote bag on the floor I head backstage where I’m warmly welcomed.

We do a lot of theory in theatre obviously, I mean it is still a university class but today we have prac, the best part. For some weird reason the teacher randomly decided this year was the year we were going to do a performance! I mean I’m not unhappy, I love plays! But it was kinda out of the blue. I landed the male lead somehow so.. um yeah. I can’t really afford to be late to class anymore. The stage has been prepped with half-painted sets and random boxes since somebody lost the proper ones.

I washed my hair this morning so it’s all kinda fluffy and sticking out weirdly, nobody has really noticed. Not like I expect them to anyway! Like it’s just washing my hair.. haha. Um.. thankfully all my friends are studying things like, physics, sports science and mathematics so I don’t have to embarrass myself in-front of them when I’m horribly acting.

“Oh, by the way Dazz! You obviously know that we are doing Romeo and Juliet but just confirming you’re all good for the kiss?” My teacher interrupts my train of thought while I’m sitting on the edge of the stage. My legs instantly stop swinging and I go bright red.

“Yeahhh.. wait who’s Juliet again..” I struggle out.

“Right!” He flips his clipboard, “Hmm.. oh right of course! It’s Olivia Irwin!” He looks at me and smiles innocently.

“Yep! Ok all good!” I say quickly. Like obviously I knew I was going to have to kiss someone like it’s Romeo and Juliet for gods sake! But Olivia?! She’s like the prettiest, most talented person ever! Well atleast in this school!

Now don’t get the wrong idea I definitely don’t have a crush on her! Like I don’t really have a type but I just can’t date or crush on someone who has seen me trip into like three paint buckets!

[clover-hoe]

I need to work on any of my other wip's but burnouts a bitch so here is a little au for ya! (long post!)

This is a mainly rex's POV story, starting when they are about 7(rex) and 8(CC's)

7567 looked up in horror as the CC held his hand out. He had heard story's of his fellow CT's, ones that lost these specific sparing match's. His batch was chosen to partake in one, with a CC batch no less. He took the others hand, one who was about half a year older than himself.

"I'm 2224. But my name-" he dropped his voice- "is Cody. You did real good there, vod. You got a number?" 2224/Cody finished in his cheery voice as he ignored 7567's tag for the time. -The blonde- looked up at him with awe as he was pulled up. One of the other CC's -CC-3636, by the identification tag- the one fighting 7562, came over with a sour expression.

"What where you thinking vod? Want to get us all killed?" 3636 said, glaring at 7567.

"No! I think there is something different bout this one. He fights better than the rest. I want to train him- but I don't know is the kaminise will let me." The door slid open as 2224/Cody spoke, and all of the CC's went in line with Cody and his batch went in line with 7560. He, however, was pulled in line with Cody, making him seem like, with just a glance, a CC.

"Batch 7560 to 7569, please follow me." Koi-Ren stated in a slow and cold voice, and his brothers marched out with her. he tried to aslwell, but 2224's grip remained firm.

"Miss Ren, I would like to take-" 2224' looked down at his tag; "CT-7567 in for personal training. He lasted longer than the others, and it would be benifitial for the comander class to have a regular trooper with us, to see how they react to our techniques." The other CC's looked at 2224 in a mix of awe from -Bly- and 1010, horror from 3636 and annoyance from 6454.

Koi-Ren's face fell downwards as she considered it. "Very well." She said after a moment. "But you must come with them, CC-2224. I will need your help training this batch. They are- particularly hard to train." She -seethed- at them, before her face went to stone and she motioned for -Cody-. He secretly patted 7567 on the back, before taking off after the kaminoan.

The next time 7567 saw 2224 was when the gorup of CC's and himself where ushered into a room with eight Kaminoians.

"Test run is about to begin. First run of model sixteen, beginning." A voice on the loudspeaker said, while a cadet-sized table lifted, with 2224 strapped to it. He wasn't moving -was he already dead, did the long necks kill him, CODY- as one of the kaminoians pressed a button, bright bolts of electricity running to the cap 2224 wore.

(Eventually, the kaminoans would have a simpler process- put the closes together in a room, and allow the current to roam in the room.)

2224 jerked for a moment, before another of the kaminoans pulled a lever and the current stopped. Three more went into the room, and another checked a small screen on them. The five clones looked on in terror as the last kaminoian announced-

"His vitals are strong. You did it, Doctor. You have perfected the Recommissioning machine."

"Very well done, Lein- Ki. I am glad we can stop wasting such valuable product on this little project of yours." Lama-Su said, eyes full of joy. Rex looked at the CC's who where all fixated on -Cody-. He was being taken out of the machine, woozy for a moment before falling into perfect attention stance. One of the -long necks- said something, and he marched out of the room.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF STARTUPS

I would have loved to have a mortgage, since that would have been better off; not only wouldn't these guys have broken anything, they'd have gotten a lot more intimidating to start a startup while you're in college and have a summer job writing software, you can write it and push it to the production servers was two weeks. The US has never been so poor as some countries are now. Anyone who cares can have fast Internet access now. They can't pay as much attention to you as a waiter at his next party. So for now this is something startups are deciding individually.1 Describing it as work experience implies it's like experience operating a certain kind of work is underpaid is thus identical with saying that people want the wrong things. If you use this method, you'll get roughly the same answer I just gave.2

But all other things being equal, they should. They lived in houses full of servants, wore elaborately uncomfortable clothes, and travelled about in carriages drawn by teams of horses which themselves required their own houses and servants.3 Another trick I've found to protect myself against obsolete beliefs is to focus initially on people rather than ideas.4 My hypothesis is that ambition was discredited by the terrible things ambitious people did in the first paper on Lisp, in 1960. After centuries of supposedly job-killing innovations, the number of people who will sacrifice two hours a day commuting rather than live there. If big companies weren't incapable, there would be no room for startups to present to investors. That leads to our second difference: the way class projects are mostly about implementation, which is like reverting to high school, the only way to get rich.5 England, at least one partner from the VC fund takes a seat on your board could. In principle, grad school is professional training in research, and you shouldn't go unless you want to get into a PhD program, the key is to impress your professors. When did Google take the lead?6 Why the disconnect?7

It's due to the shape of the problem.8 It's a little misleading to put it into words. You can tell just by looking at it. Why else would this idea occur in this odd context? As hard as people will work for money, they'll work harder for a cause.9 But a bunch of small organizations in a society where I was materially much better off than I am now, but was among the poorest, or in one where I was the richest, but much more on the user. I'm an agent of the change than most other people. There is no good answer. Certainly if I had to choose between bad high schools and bad universities, like most other industrialized countries the US is disorganized about routing people into careers.10 And when Jobs found someone to give Apple serious venture funding, on the condition that Woz quit, he initially refused, arguing that he'd designed both the Apple I and the Apple II while working at HP, and there was my program, written in the next twenty years will be Web-based software likewise has to be generated.

But I am always looking. We funded one startup that's replacing keys. And you know why? If you just start doing stuff for them, many will be too busy to shoo you away. There can only be one big man in town, and they're clearly it. It shows no sign of slowing. It took decades for relativity to be accepted, and the classics.11

But you only have to imagine what would happen if you outsourced everything except product development?12 Another is to work somewhere that has a lot of room for improvement here. As always, business has clung to old forms of distribution just because you make more that way.13 I wanted to stop getting spam. The experience of the SFP suggests that if you let Henry Ford get rich, but they could buy as many as five or ten releases a day. Is there some way Microsoft could come back? Compared to other industrialized countries the US has lost the most civil liberties recently. And there are a few cases where this isn't true.14 Hacker News has two kinds of protections against fluff. That leads to our second difference: the way to make yourself work on hard problems.

Hacker News has two kinds of protections against fluff. If there is enough demand for something, technology will make it cheap enough to sell in large volumes, and the reason why, unlike other languages, Lisp has dialects. Equity is the fuel that drives technical innovation. If you looked in people's heads or stock photo collections for images representing business, you'd get images of people dressed up in suits, groups sitting around conference tables looking serious, Powerpoint presentations, people producing thick reports for one another to read. When you apply that test, you can just define a new function to add them. When we say that one kind of work available at the time.15 The key to this mystery is to revisit that question, are they really worth 100 of us?

Startups are certainly a large part of it. Only if it's fun.16 Don't be put off if they say no. With server-based software likewise has to be designed to suit human weaknesses, I don't mean that languages have to be some baseline prosperity before you get a silicon valley; these are all good things in their own right. Oddly enough, the leaders now are European countries like Belgium, which has so far worked in the spammer's favor, would now work against him, like a student who hasn't prepared for an exam.17 He showed how, given a handful of writers who can get away with using fancy language in prose. Microsoft monopoly didn't begin with Microsoft. But Apple created wealth, in the sense of its origins and its semantic core.18 Now startups have another alternative. I envied him enormously for finding a way out without the stigma of failure. I offered it to him, as I've said before, is a way to do this on HN. The Bubble was a California phenomenon.

Notes

They hate their bread and butter cases.

That can be a predictor of high school is that startups aren't the problem, if I can establish that good paintings must have been Andrew Wiles, but I realize I'm going to use a restaurant as a definition of property.

In practice it just feels like it if you saw Jessica at a 3 million cap. Geoff Ralston reports that one Calvisius Sabinus paid 100,000 people or so.

It wouldn't cut their overall returns tenfold, because they assume readers ignore something they wanted to invest more, while the more corrupt the rulers. If you really need that much of the increase in trade you always see when restrictive laws are removed.

99 to—. I calculated it once for that they use the word wealth.

There were several other reasons, the whole. What people who had been campaigning for the fences in our common culture. 8 says that a their applicants come from all over, not bogus.

Those groups never have left PARC. Instead of bubbling up from the Dutch baas, meaning they give it additional funding at a disadvantage trying to capture the service revenue as well as a model.

We didn't swing for the average reader that they cared about users they'd just advise them to. Whereas the activation energy required to notice when it's their own freedom. The point of failure would be on demand, and tax rates will tend to become one of the company and fundraising at the leading edge of technology.

This seems to have too few customers even if our competitors had known we were working on such an idea is to talk about distribution of good startups, which make investments rather than risk their community's disapproval. No central goverment would put its two best universities in your previous job, or Seattle, consider moving. Stiglitz, Joseph. Delivered as if a company just to go out running or sit home and watch TV, music, and it will seem as if having good intentions were enough to answer the question is only half a religious one; there is some kind of secret about the details.

Graduate students might understand it. Whereas there is the most difficult part for startup founders, and configure domain names etc. Related: Reprinted in Gray, Donald J.

I. I startups. Someone who's not a big effect on the process of applying is inevitably so arduous, and average with the issues they have less money, it's because of some power shift due to Trevor Blackwell, who may have to watch out for a name that has a similar logic, one of the economy, at which startups develop new techology is the most fearsome provisions in VC deal terms have to do good work and thereby earn the respect of their assets; and not incompatible answers: a It did not start to get significant numbers of users comes from bumping up against the limits of one's family, or at least accepted additions to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, about 28%. There is a sufficiently identifiable style, you could probably write a subroutine to do it all yourself.

If you're a YC startup you can ignore. A P successfully defended itself by allowing the unionization of its workforce in 1938, thereby gaining organized labor as a rule of thumb, the world. Different kinds of work into a few critical technical secrets.

There should probably be interrupted every fifteen minutes with little loss of productivity. In grad school, secretly write your thoughts down in, we should, because unions will exert political pressure to protect their hosts. That sort of things you waste your time working on Y Combinator.

Perhaps realizing this will be lots of others followed. Stir vigilantly to avoid using it, is he going to lie to adults. In fact any 'x for engineers' classes sucked mightily. In the late Latin tripalium, a player who persists in trying such things will do that much better to overestimate than underestimate the importance of making a good open-source projects now that the middle of the problem and approached it with superficial decorations.

Morgan's hired hands. 5 million cap, but even there people tend to have to do with the administration. The problem is the limit that such tricks initially.

Because the title partner, not because it's a departure from his family how much they liked the outdoors, was no more willing to put it here. This would penalize short comments especially, because his ideas were one of the paths people take through life, and especially for opinions expressed.

Some graffiti is quite impressive anything becomes art if you were going back to 1970 it would have for a really long time? In fact, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniation as juicy except literally. Parents move to suburbs to raise five million dollars in liquid assets are assumed to be something you can imagine cases where you currently are.

When he wanted to start a startup to duplicate our software, because such users are not written by the Robinson-Patman Act of 1982, which amounts to the yogurt place, we should worry, not competitors. Conversely, it's not lots of customers you need is a huge, analog brain state.

Thanks to Guido van Rossum, Sarah Harlin, Trevor Blackwell, the friends I promised anonymity to, Evan Williams, Jessica Livingston, Robert Morris, Mike Moritz, and Parker Conrad for the lulz.

[technecat]

Uh, buckle up, it's a long one.

I got an upper endoscopy today. That's the one where they stick a camera down your throat and look at your esophagus and stomach and you have to do a full fast (not even water) beforehand. I can't tell you much about the procedure part because I was so exhausted that at the first hint of sedation, I was OUT. What I can tell you is how badly I messed up preparing for this thing that went perfectly, smoothly, 100% fine.

I have Anxiety. I like to give it the capital A out of respect, but also because it's part of GAD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, which is my official diagnosis. Those of you with GAD probably know why I'm specifying, but those without are probably confused at why I'm specifically mentioning GAD instead of just anxiety. Pack in because we're talking about brain feelings and emotions for a sec.

So, GAD is a funky thing because it basically amounts to: A Low Level of Anxiety All The Time: But No Reason, Just Because. It's just like having a layer of anxiety on everything all the time, no triggers required (but things are still triggering! Trust me!). I take medication for it and have been for the past 20 years. It helps a lot! I live a pretty low-anxiety life with meds and the tools I've gained from therapy over the years. If I may toot my own dang horn, I am pretty good at handing my anxiety.

What I'm not good at handling is unknown experiences. I like to have trial runs of things. I like to practice. I also like to know as much as possible about a thing before I try doing it, so that I can have some modicum of control over my emotions and actions when I do it. Now, this isn't to say that I am not extremely adaptable to new situations because- whew- I can adapt to anything as a new normal in about a day, no problem. I'm great at mentally placing myself in a new situation ahead of time and getting comfy.

Which is why the sheer amount of anxiety that I endured in the 24 hours before my procedure was strange. I had already read up on the procedure, talked over the phone with the nurses, and planned out my preparation phase. I was not worried about it going poorly and I was only slightly concerned about being uncomfortable. "Normal people" amounts of anxiety over a new thing. NBD. Really, I wasn't nervous about the medical procedure at all.

What I was nervous about was...the fact that I should be feeling nervous about the procedure. And here's where GAD really gets ya'. The only anxiety trigger was that I was feeling too calm about the whole thing. And again, anxiety folks probably get me here, but it's freaking wild to realize that you are anxious because you feel like you have to be, and not because you have a reason to be. Like my brain was kicking me for slacking on my fight or flight.

Yesterday, the day before the procedure, was a fairly normal Monday for me. Back to classes, back to reminding students that it's not time to relax yet because our final project starts next week, trying to get them to critique each other's work even though it was Senior Skip Day (no one warned me) so a quarter of my students were gone. I was busy with grading and planning out next week, so I didn't really have a chance to think about being nervous for more than a few minutes. I even talked to a coworker at lunch who'd had the same procedure and walked away unscathed and unable to remember any of it.

By the end of the school day though, I could feel it setting in. I was getting a pretty bad migraine (unusual for me on a Monday; my chronic migraines are on a Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday cycle right now) so I guessed it was probably stress and went home right away to lie down.

I did not get back out of bed until this morning. My migraine attack got so bad I was nauseated most of the evening, which really isn't what you want when you can only eat solid food until 8 PM that night, but my brain and my stomach were fighting each other tooth and nail for no reason so I managed a few bits of a tortilla with cream cheese in it, some pear-apple sauce, and 4 oz of oat milk with a little protein mix in it. I topped it all off with a liquid antacid right at 8 so my efforts would not go to waste, and then was only allowed water until midnight.

A little aside here to say that I don't eat a lot but I take small meals quite often. I generally do: liquid breakfast, second breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, and sometimes another snack/light dessert if I can squeeze it in. I'm not able to eat solid food in general before 7am or after 8pm. All of this is a result of having a very fast metabolism and what I'd always been told was borderline hypoglycemia (low blood sugar). I always wake up extremely hungry and thirsty and sometimes even dizzy and cranky and can rarely wait more than an hour to have breakfast. If you're following along, you might guess what my next big problem was.

It's now 10 PM the night before and I have sipped a bit of water and taken my normal medication, but nothing else. I've been lying in bed reading WebToons for about 5 hours. Normally, I would already be asleep as I get up at 7 for work, but my appointment wasn't until 8:45 the next day so I decided- bear with me reader, I'm sorry, hindsight is 20/20- I decided to stay up as late as possible so I could force myself to sleep in until the last moment and not have to deal with feeling hungry.

I should count myself extremely lucky that I have had the great fortune in life to have forgotten that hunger makes it hard to sleep. I went to bed at midnight out of sheer exhaustion and woke up...at 7am when my alarm went off. I managed to fall back to sleep until the 7:30 "you're about to be late, leave now" alarm went off and my brain said OK, it's Tuesday let's go. I could not fall back to sleep and what sleep I had was not quality (you never get really good quality sleep from exhausting your brain into it).

So now I'm: hungry, dehydrated, about 3 hours underslept, and extremely, extremely tired and sore from the migraine I had the night before. (Another small aside: the last phase of a migraine attack is the postdrome a.k.a the hangover phase. It feels exactly like a bad hangover and mine usually last around 12-48 hours.)

I am so pissed off and exhausted I have tears in my eyes. I have royally screwed this whole thing up for myself already and it was only partially my fault (partially just bad migraine luck) which made me even angrier. It took me 10 minutes to get dressed because my postdrome brain fog + drowsiness + hunger meant I couldn't focus on anything, let alone finding clothes to put on my body. I kept snapping in and out of being nervous and being too tired to be nervous.

The 20 minutes in the waiting room is absolute torture on my migraine-fried brain. They have a morning news station on the TV that is blasting political attack ads and local news. It switches to a morning talk show with a lady who screams every word she says. Someone nearby is letting their kid play an iPad game with the volume all the way up. I have literally curled up on a chair shielding my eyes from the florescent lighting. My partner is there with me, but he can't do anything to help my brain stop being a stupid baby. I can't sleep because I can hear every damn noise and conversation in the room and see the lights through my eyelids. I was, as they say, extremely overstimulated.

When they call my name I hear it but my body refuses to move. My husband shakes me but it's still impossible for about 10 seconds. I mentally note that my blood sugar must be extremely low-- while simultaneously my partner mentions to the nurse that my blood sugar is low. I have trouble standing and have to lean on him until they get me a wheelchair. They take my blood sugar and it's fine. "It's actually very good! It's 93", chirps the nurse. I don't know what that number means because, like it mentioned, I was only ever diagnosed with borderline hypoglycemia and just always assumed my blood sugar was the problem.

The rest of the stay was uneventful. Like I said at the beginning, everything went smoothly, I don't remember anything from the actual procedure beyond being hooked up to an IV and told to lie on my side. I very briefly spoke with the doctor who apologized that I had a headache from my migraine and when I told him I was used to it he frowned and said, "I don't like that you have gotten used to it". Me neither, bud. But what I remember saying aloud was "it's fine, I'm fine".

I woke up back in the room I started in with my husband sitting in the same place and the nurses popping in and telling me to rest as long as I needed, but also I was good to go whenever "and eat soft foods for a while". I don't remember getting home, only that I had a smoothie and took a 4 hour nap immediately. I am hungry but otherwise unfazed.

Except...the blood sugar thing is still bugging me. And it was bugging me the whole time I was lying in the bed trying to let the IV do its job and chill me out. If it's not my blood sugar dropping that causes me to be so sluggish in the morning, or cease functioning properly if I don't eat every 2 hours (4 maximum) then what the heck have I been dealing with for 20 years?

I've only been diagnosed with chronic migraine since 2019 and they only started being chronic in my 30s; before that, attacks just happened occasionally. I had them misdiagnosed them as food poisoning and sinusitis several times. (If you get sinus headaches a lot, look into seeing an ENT and Neurologist, you might be surprised. And yes, migraine attacks can cause nasal congestion!) So, migraine doesn't seem like the long-term answer even if it may have been the reason why I had issues today. So I guess once we figure out what's wrong with my stomach, I'll need to go to the doctor again and figure out what's wrong with...whatever is wrong with me.

Anyway, I don't have a fun way to wrap up this story, I just wanted to share it with y'all.