#a route i travel once or twice a week

[foxsoulcourt]

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 11: POISON ROOT

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a fiending addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, threesome, oral sex, cumplay, phone sex, mentions of depression, angst, descriptions of mild gore

ੈ✩ wc: 7k

ੈ✩ a/n: here's a nice and fat chapter for you before we enter The Dark Ages <3

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

“Sorry, what?”

Yaga scowls at you and you’re unfazed. Mostly, you’re exasperated.

“I’ve repeated myself twice already,” he says calmly. More so brusquely, but you didn’t care enough to gauge his reaction. You’re too busy processing his words.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “But why me? Shoko’s technique is way stronger than mine.”

“Shoko’s technique is not your technique. And unlike her, you actually engage in combat.”

“Because the boys forced me—”

He brings a hand to your shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. You freeze.

“Your technique is remarkable. Stronger than you think,” Yaga sighs, almost in resignation. He doesn’t seem particularly enthused about what he’s proposing to you, but you consider that you’d probably worn him down over the past half hour.

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face. Mouth parted like an animal struck with fear. 

“But—”

“There hasn’t been anyone with a technique like yours in over ten years. I remember it. I had a family friend as a teacher here first—she talked about a boy that could regenerate cells. Practiced on plants and small animals as a child until he was able to resurrect bigger ones at your age.”

“That boy isn’t me,” you protest, your brows furrowing.

“He isn’t,” Yaga snaps back. “He died, and his death could’ve been prevented. This is why I want you to do this. I want you to be strong enough so that the same thing doesn’t happen to you.”

You swallow and look down, pretending to be interested in your thumbs. Your hands are delicate compared to anyone else’s. You had always admired people who could make something out of nothing, people who sculpted, crafted. Sometimes, you often wonder if what you do could be considered the same.

You haven’t told anyone, but it’s easy to destroy things with your hands. Much easier than it is to build anything up, to heal. 

You’d tried it during long walks through the forest. On your way back from solo missions, you’d take routes that were less traveled, needing to clear your head. Once or twice, you remember finding animals that were victims of hunting. Broken limbs, bleeding out too much for you to save. You’d practice the darker parts of your technique, letting quick rot take away their misery.

“For how long?”

“Just two months. July and August.”

You take a deep breath. You could be alone in Kyoto for two months. The boys would survive. At least, you think Suguru would.

When you tell Satoru the next day, it’s a disaster.

“You’re what?”

“Satoru,” you warn, crossing your arms. 

Dealing with him is arduous. You knew he would react this way. He looks at you with irritation, nipping at your bare thigh just to see you pout. You were in the middle of reading when he had barged in, craving the scent of your moisturizer on your inner thighs. Needed the whipped softness of your flesh squeezed in between his hands after some heated sparring with Suguru.

“You can’t.”

“That’s not your decision—”

“You can’t. What did that old man say? Some other guy had your technique and died?”

“I’m not going to die!” you huff, rolling your eyes. 

Satoru frowns, his blue eyes glowing. He was free of missions for the past week, treating you to dates whenever he could. It seems that you’ve ruined his bliss. That ugly thought in his head festered in his mind again — the need to possess you. Trap you in a glass cage to stay alive forever like you were his enchanted rose.

“Like hell you won’t,” he mutters. “Which is why you’re staying.”

“I want to get stronger, Satoru.”

“You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in the first place! And now you’re desperate to train with your little cell regeneration? Are you gonna dabble in necromancy?”

You frown at his condescending tone. He isn’t taking you seriously. He never does. Satoru has always had his way of belittling others, but he’d sworn to never do that to you given your history. You take a deep breath.

“It’s just… an independent study, alright? This could help me in the future. I could go to medical school with Shoko or something, you know? If you’re so scared of me dying because of combat, then I could just focus on the regeneration part and—”

“And what about the other part? How you make things rot and disintegrate?” he asks you incredulously, nearly snarling.

“That’s another thing I can learn to control.”

“But–”

“I didn’t have private lessons like you! I’m not a prodigy like you. Can I just have this one thing?” you plead with exhaustion. You can see the way his eyes flicker with a quiet rage, his mouth turned down into a pout. Petulant even at his big age.

Satoru sighs heavily. He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing the heartline. You almost feel proud of yourself for not giving into him before the conversation began. He’d come into your room wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves messily cut off, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Just a gaze had ripped away your autonomy, brain dumb at the sight of him. 

You wanted to lick him clean before he opened his damn mouth.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” he says in defeat.

“Thanks.”

You sit with him for a while, staring at the ceiling, hair strewn around your pillow. Silence fills the air save for the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he curls into you, nose into your bare shoulder as he mumbles unintelligible things. His mouth in the shape of I’ll miss you.

“I know,” you murmur. “I will, too.”

Suguru copes by getting buzzed in the daytime. He liked the hope on your face, how the light hit your eyes in a certain way. It meant something more. He knew that you were worth more.

Lately, Suguru feels like less.

Not particularly less than anyone else, though he knows that he’s certainly less than Satoru just by default. He remembers the mission all too clearly—it’s the only thing that haunts his nightmares. The blankness on Satoru’s face, his willingness to kill a group of people just for the sake of it.

He thought he’d lost Satoru forever, that he’d fucked up the mission by letting a bullet go through Riko’s head. But then, of course, Satoru survived. Of course Satoru found a way to bring himself back to life. Everything should be fine, because Satoru came out alive, and so did he. So did you.

It didn’t feel like enough. The taste of curses started to get worse, if that was even possible. Suguru has been starting to believe that he didn’t deserve anything palatable. That the universe was working against him maybe, because his depressive spirals last longer now.

And you’re fucking leaving.

He knows he can have you whenever he wants, but he likes to lick the taste of you out of Satoru’s mouth. 

He bites Satoru’s lip and it makes the boy yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” Satoru pouts. Suguru only grins wolfishly. 

“Thought you wanted me to make you feel better. You don’t like it rough?”

“Of course I like it rough,” Satoru grunts. “But you know I hate teeth.”

“On your dick.”

Satoru pauses, rolling his eyes, then sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck instead. 

“You smell like a dive bar. It’s fucking 3 pm.”

“Day off, bitch,” Suguru mutters.

Satoru pushes Suguru against the mattress and spoons him, rutting against his ass. It’s always a little violent with them. You used to joke about it—something about dogs and masculinity. Satoru kept wanting to fuck like it was a cage match. Bull-headed, annoying. For Suguru, intimacy always felt like a car crash no matter who it was with.

“You’re not fucking my ass,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru whines childishly, of course.

“Ran out of lube.”

“Spit?” Satoru begs, his eyes comically large.

“Fuck you, dude,” Suguru scoffs.

“I’m trying!”

Suguru turns to fall onto the bed facing Satoru, then shoves his head downward. He feels numb despite his throbbing cock. He knows Satoru’s mouth is probably watering for him.

“C’mon,” Suguru slurs, unzipping his shorts. “You need to work on giving head.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault she does it better than you.”

Satoru huffs but leans over the end of the bed anyway, his limbs too long to crouch on the bed. He spits on Suguru’s cock and pumps agonizingly slowly, coaxing out guttural sounds vibrating out of the boy’s throat.

For once, Suguru feels a little powerful when the Jujutsu world’s boy-god chokes over his dick. He looks down and pushes his head down, reveling in the sound of him gagging, throat slack. Not as good as you, but getting better. The drool makes him look pretty. It matched the glazed look in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru nearly finishes right then and there, the barbed wire inside of his body starting to untangle until there’s a knock on his door. Of course you knock—the polite girl you are.

“S’unlocked,” he calls after you. Satoru makes a noise. Something in between a moan and a sound of protest.

Suguru likes your wide eyes. You’re out of your school uniform, dressed in a white number with embroidered flowers at the hem that hits halfway above your knees.

“Oh… I—”

“C’mere, baby,” Suguru rasps, his hand reaching out for you. He’s so close, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair before pulling at his snowy mop.

Satoru coughs, his throat raw. It makes Suguru laugh. You watch like you’re outside of your own body, eyes wide. It was easy for them to get you under a spell. 

It doesn’t take long for their hands to grope you, have your dress pooling at your waist so that your bare ass is on display. Heathens. Being with them was always like throwing yourself to the wolves.

“So wet,” Suguru groans, circling a finger in the heat hiding behind your underwear. “Wanted a proper send-off, angel? Gonna miss us all the way in Kyoto, aren’t you?”

You can’t respond when your head is already so dizzy with Satoru’s teeth on your collarbone.

“Don’t talk about that, I’ll lose my boner,” Satoru huffs. 

“What a baby.”

“Stop arguing,” you roll your eyes. 

Suguru decides to be selfish, his dick already out and pulsing from the tease of Satoru’s tongue. He slides it along your folds, wetness pooling right underneath him. It makes him groan, his insides white-hot. He’d been craving this since he’d woken up this morning. The heat was making his moodiness deliquesce into desperation burning like acid in his stomach. He needed you and Satoru like a bullet begging to be lodged, piercing out of a bannister.

“Not fair,” Satoru grumbles, his knees bent as he gropes you. Rutting against the mattress pathetically as he whines, his desperation puppy-like. 

His mouth is salty, leftover from Suguru’s precum. His hair smelled like Suguru’s too—he must’ve been copying his hair routine for the hell of it. It was enough to keep him close without asking to sew himself into the boy’s skin. 

Suguru looks down at you and your blissed-out face, vulnerable before he’s even entered you. Your mouth is wet from Satoru’s kisses, spit drooling out of the corner of your pink mouth. Suguru smears it around and already imagines himself pulling out of you to finish there instead, just to see it on your lips. He’d like to see you cry again one last time.

You hum when you’re filled with him. Stuttering hips hitting slack thighs. Soft despite the violence inside him, the little voice in his head taunting him to wreck you. 

He likes you like this, first. Daisy-soft, his fingers in your mouth until you gag. Yelping in time with Satoru’s stupid whines. 

“Twigs,” Satoru breathes, his hot breath fanning your jaw. “Can I put it in your ass?”

You groan, shaking your head as Suguru howls with laughter. 

July, 2010

Gakuganji has you on a leash. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already gone on two missions, each that ended with you covered in blood, but luckily unscathed. Satoru would have a fit if he knew. The ghost of him hovers on your shoulder at your weakest moments — taunting you, challenging you. You know he wouldn’t be as cruel if he was with you physically, but your psyche conjures him in a way that feels like punishment. 

You can’t escape him, either. He’s needier than you expect — visiting you during off times during your weekends, treating them like serendipitous encounters. You don’t believe him, and you shouldn’t. 

(He warps to you when he gets in fights with Suguru. When he gets too horny to find someone at a bar, because if it’s not Suguru, it’s you. But he could never tell you that.)

You like to keep yourself busy in Kyoto. Whether it’s immersing yourself in your studies or practicing your technique, you can occupy yourself easily, even if you’re bombarded by images of veiny hands, long black hair, pink mouths. Blue eyes that are too bright, even in your dreams. 

You spend most of your time by yourself, anyway. It’s what you need. If not that, then you’re at the local bars with Utahime-senpai, who transferred to Kyoto months before. 

“Are you their little plaything?” she teases. You’re loosened up after a few beers, all on her tab, but the mention of the boys sobers you up immediately. You scowl.

“What?” She holds her hands up in surrender. “Everybody knows… Shoko kind of already told me.”

“Of course she did,” you snort.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. They’re insatiable. And never in their right mind. I could advocate for Geto-kun, but I’m sure Gojo’s already corrupted him.”

Corrupted. It’s a funny notion. You wonder if you’ve been corrupted by both of them. Satoru as your first didn’t bother you. To have Suguru as your second only complicated things. You haven’t known anything else but them. You aren’t sure if this should concern you until Utahime talks about it.

“They’re kind of the same in that way,” you mumble.

“Are they both your boyfriends?” Utahime giggles.

“N-No…”

“So it’s not serious? I know I’m not much older than you, but I still went through a few flings. You shouldn’t let them keep you on a chain.”

“They’re not–”

“Are you sure?” she laughs. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. It’s like they brainwashed you.”

“Hime,” you frown.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “There are lots of men around here staring at you.”

“No, there aren’t.”

“Someone is staring at you right now. Behind you. Blonde. Tacky if he wasn’t like, a little hot like he is.”

“Shut up.”

She gives you a pointed look that causes you to look over your shoulder. Lo and behold, there is a man of that description making glances at you with a cocky smirk. It reminds you of the way Satoru looks at you. It makes your stomach flip.

“See?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble.

You move past the crowd to the single stall, plastered in posters from vintage porn magazines and graffiti. Your phone’s about to die, but the group chat with you and the boys has unread messages. It’s mostly Satoru complaining, arguing with Suguru about things that you couldn’t care less about. There are separate messages from them, too. Satoru’s suggestive selfies and Suguru’s words of affirmation. You scoff at the difference between them.

When you return, Utahime grins at you like she’s plotting.

“What did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“He came over here! I knew it. He was interested in you,” she beams.

“What?”

“Relax. He’s a sorcerer. And I gave him your number.”

“Hime!” You shove her arm lightly, groaning when she laughs.

“You need to get laid by someone who isn’t an idiot.”

You roll your eyes. The many beers are making your head swim too much for you to actually be angry. If anything, your cheeks feel warm at the prospect of someone else being interested in you. It’s not something you’ve experienced in your youth, or now for that matter, since Satoru had sunken his teeth in you so quickly.

Images of him talking to other girls at parties flash in your mind, making you grimace. Maybe Utahime was doing you a favor.

The bachelor in question is nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not getting a good look at him. A pit forms in your stomach at the idea of him texting you – a handsome stranger who watched you babble drunkenly to Utahime. It occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered yourself something desirable in a context that wasn’t bound to Satoru or Suguru.

On the walk home, the thought consumes you. You aren’t sure if you even know yourself without them. During most of your life, you’ve only known obedience. Intimacy with Satoru was no different, you realize. You were wrapped around his finger since you were children – it didn’t matter that you were apart for years. It would always be him.

You aren’t sure if this bothers you or not. You try to push the thought away, shaking your head slightly as if daydreams of him would fall out of your head. It doesn’t work, not really. You’re drunk. Naturally, you think of his pink mouth. The veins on his hands.

You unlock the door of your room. When you enter, darkness envelops you, which you’re used to, if not for the bright blue eyes that stare back at you. 

“Jesus!” you mutter, cursing to yourself once you can get the nearest lamp on. 

“What? Not happy to see me?” he slurs, flashing you a sloppy smile. 

“Can you at least give me a heads-up before you show up randomly?”

“That ruins the surprise, baby,” he purrs, walking over to you to set his hands on your hips.   Trapping you gently. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Hm?”

“You’re. Drunk. Why are you here?” 

“Had a mission nearby. Then I went to a bar to relax. And then, I thought, warping to Tokyo would take too much for a drunk. Why not stay here?”

“I’m not a motel.”

“C’mon, baby,” he pouts. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

You scoff, moving past him to sit on your bed and take off your shoes.

Satoru chuckles, taking a seat right next to you, thigh touching yours. “You’re drunk, too. I can smell it.”

“I haven’t even been here for a full month and this is like, the third time you’ve surprised me. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Can’t miss my lover?”

He says lover like it’s an inside joke. He never says girlfriend. Never partner.

“You’re so needy.”

“You like me that way,” Satoru says, his voice velvety. He’s not in his uniform, but a light blue button-down and slacks. You wonder if he’s planned this or if he dressed up for someone else, running to you as the safest option because you’re always there. Always willing.

You’d been ready to sink into your shitty mattress and dream of him. You hadn’t been anticipating the real thing in front of you. It was stupid, how he took your breath away, as if he was still something new to you. As if he hadn’t been in the back of your mind since you were a little kid, always.

“I’m tired, Satoru,” you sigh.

“You sure?” he grins. “You smell like beer. Still trying to have some fun tonight?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. He comes closer, pinching the meat of your thigh right under the hem of your skirt, chuckling when you swat his hand away.

“So short. Who’s this for, huh?” he taunts.

You swallow back an insult the moment you look down at the way his large hands play with a loose thread of your skirt. How large they are compared to your thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers running circles in your skin.

“No one,” you breathe.

“You cheating on me, Twigs?”

“Yeah, with Utahime,” you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Sounds hot, to be honest.”

Your cursed energy flares. You hate when he belittles you, but you could never do anything about it. You could only fall into his trap, giving into him the way he knows you will. You don’t even notice that he’s caged you within his arms, his hands settling on your hips as his body backs you into your bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress.

His breath smells sweet. It usually does, but it’s something sour this time. Something citrusy, along with the smell of something much too alcoholic. One of those whiskey sours, you guessed. You don’t realize how drunk he is until you look him in the eyes, his blue irises unfocused despite the desperation in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he grins, leaning in to inhale your scent. “You’d never. My sweet girl. My best girl, right?”

“You say that like I’m one of many,” you scoff.

“Are you jealous?” he rumbles, laughing. “As if there’s any other girl I like as much as you…”

He says girl and you think of Suguru. An exception, just barely. You realize how much you miss him, too.

Your eyes flutter closed as Satoru backs you into your bed, teeth grazing your earlobe. You aren’t sure if it’s him or the drunkenness of your brain. You don’t even notice his fingers massaging your thighs, trailing up to hook your underwear to the side to tease your dripping core. It’s his teasing laughter that snaps you awake.

“So wet… did you know I was coming, baby? Or were you expecting someone else?”

You don’t answer. Your breath hitches at the contact of his eager fingers prodding you, pushing upwards into your pulsating cunt before you can protest. The wounded noise you make only spurs him on further.

“You went to a bar, right? Were you thinking about me when you were there? Got yourself all wound up?”

You don’t reply. He’s too busy pushing his fingers to the very edge, stimulating the spot that makes your knees buckle before you can even form a thought.

You gasp, your mouth parting. Slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as you get closer to the edge before he’s even inside you. It could be pathetic if you cared, but Satoru always made everything around you melt, like you weren’t in your own mind anymore. You accepted being a body that belonged to him, nothing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw. “You’re so quiet.”

“Satoru,” you sigh. His other hand rubs the small of your back, touching the bare skin underneath your thin shirt.

He digs his fingers in further, knuckle-deep until he hears you make a pained noise. He grins at your broken moan like he’d just won a prize. He doesn’t stop, either — he wanted to hear more of those sounds out of your mouth. It was proof that you were still his, wrapped around his finger. 

You try to catch your breath as you lay back on your bed, his strong arms hoisting you up to the wall. You hiss at the feeling of his teeth on your thighs, biting desperately. Satoru was already sweating despite only coaxing bliss from you once. 

He claws at you, pulling at the buttons of your blouse and tugging your skirt down until you’re left bare for him. He groans at the sight of your silky skin, the way your chest heaves in anticipation. Everything about you is ripe, ready to break underneath his hands.

He’s less vocal this time when he takes you, pushing into you before you can say anything. He doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he does this, considering every sense of his was numb until he entered you, igniting his synapses on fire. 

You whimper from the abruptness, aching between your legs. You think that you would’ve bled if you weren’t so in love with him, but you knew better. Anything from him made your entire body warm and pliant, wet beyond your comprehension. You hated it, sometimes.

But you couldn’t hate anything about it now. You were doused in bliss.

“My girl,” he slurs. “So fucking perfect. Say it.”

You mutter nonsense under your breath.

He bends you in half, your calves resting on his broad shoulders. He chuckles at your pathetic whines.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck — I – I’m your girl,” you sob.

“My perfect girl,” he mutters, correcting you. He groans when he looks down at you, his hips stuttering. His thrusts are harder than usual on purpose — he’d rather die than tell you that he’d only warped to you because he was having a panic attack in his room alone. 

He thought he could get his mind off of you, off of Suguru, who he’d assumed was angry with him all day. There were only dry texts from the both of you. No woman at the bar could compete, even if he managed to get a decent handjob in the bathroom. He could only think of you. 

Satoru knew you’d hate him for it. He was disgusted with himself. He feels it now, aching inside the cavern of his chest when you moan his name, knowing he doesn’t deserve a praising word out of your mouth.

He whines, on the verge of tears as he rides out his orgasm in your cunt. 

“Shit,” he hisses into the skin of your neck.

You can barely reply before he kisses down your stomach, licking himself out of you with his nails digging into your thighs.

“Satoru, what are you—oh, fuck—”

“Cum for me,” he slurs, lapping at your clit as he pushes his fingers into you. He pauses, mesmerized at the way his cum drips out of you, only for his fingers to push it back into the hilt, up to his knuckles.

You sob in protest, your thighs shaking as he plays with you. He doesn’t stop for a second. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize you’re there, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the way your pussy swallows his fingers.

“S’too much,” you whine, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t hear him. Your body convulses as he continues to play you like an instrument. He only stops when he looks up to see tears pricking your eyes.

“S-Satoru…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He finally retracts, licking his fingers as he looks at you intensely. “Mine… you’re all mine.”

The glassy look in his eyes is from the alcohol, you assume, but there’s something tantalizingly too real about the expression on his face. Raw with something he only buries inside his gut. He snaps out of it like it’s not something you’re supposed to see. 

He grunts when he lays his head on your lap, his fingers digging into your skin possessively as you tremble. You prop your head up on your pillow, trying to catch your breath as you stroke his hair.

“Why’d you get so drunk?” you ask quietly. “Were you alone?”

“Of course I was,” he scoffs, almost defensive. But he smells a sweetness on his skin that isn’t from you, and he knows you’ve already picked up on it. 

“You could’ve texted or called me instead of breaking into my dorm.”

“You just hate fun,” Satoru mumbles. 

Despite his attitude, he rubs his cheek against your thigh like he’s a pet. He thinks about taking you again, just to shut you up — enough to have both of you sweating, the musk of your sex drowning out any remnants from the bitch that Satoru had tried to use hours before.

Nothing could replace you and he had to live with that. 

He nips at your thigh, his mouth getting dangerously close to your core. You whine as you pull him back by his scalp, like the scruff of a dog. Satoru is always insatiable when he’s drunk, which is saying something considering what he’s like sober. His cravings for you are always intense. When he’s not in his right mind, you’re more considered prey than a craving.

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. His warmth satiates you for now as he locks his arms around your bare waist. The light breathing fanning your stomach calms you.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found, but there’s a small floral arrangement on your desk. White orchids and blue hyacinths.

August, 2010 

You hate bringing anything back to life as much as you hate desecration.

It’s unnatural — though you know that nothing about the Jujutsu world is natural. Everything to you is a myth you have to deal with. After knowing Satoru for so long and seeing what nasty curses humanity could birth, you shouldn’t be stunted.

It makes you feel a bit ill when you realize how much power your hands wield. As ordinary as you’ve always been, these days you often wish that you were the true epitome of it. Only human, unable to see the horrors of the world. Left in the dark when it came to sorcery. Perhaps you aren’t cut out for this, despite how much you tried to convince Satoru you were.

His voice echoes in your mind. His pleading. The ways he wanted to protect you. He’d belittled your technique for a reason, maybe. You aren’t sure you’re cut out for this shit.

Necromancy is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s the reanimation of body parts that freaks you out. It doesn’t matter that it’s the revival of small birds and rodents on a lab table. You feel like you’re playing God and not even doing a decent job of it.

It catches up to you in your dreams. The image of you getting held down, leaving you to resort to your technique. Rotting flesh. Even in your unconscious, the smell is somehow striking, as if you’re really there. Other times, you find horror in the reanimation of corpses under your hand. Split limbs coming together. Limbs that belong to people you love.

Tonight, you’re shaken by the image of Suguru mauled beyond belief. Sacrilegious violence that makes your stomach turn. 

When you wake up in a sweat, gasping, the alarm clock on your bedside table reads 1:12 am. You dial his number before you can even come to your senses.

“Twigs.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

You hear Suguru chuckle, deep and sweet like teeth sunken into cake. You’re filled with warmth almost immediately. 

“What’s up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he breathes.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you sigh. 

“Fine. What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” you mumble.

There’s silence on the other end. Despite this, you can still hear his grin. You can see his little smirk perfectly in your head. 

“Yeah?” his voice lowers. “What about me?”

“Y-your hands,” you mumble. “You make me feel safe.”

“Is that right?”

You make a small noise that shows your agreement, but it’s noncommittal. You hum at the thought of him. You’re sleep-dazed, partially wishing for this moment that he was more like Satoru. Able to talk your ear off without any effort from your end.

Suguru had always known you differently. He had you memorized as much as Satoru did, but uniquely, given the similarities between your personalities. He knew how you worked and he never held it against you.

Satoru would probably try to pry it out of you. Suguru would already know.

And at this moment, he knows. It’d be infuriating if you didn’t see it coming.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says.

“No.”

“You are. Or you’re pent up, which is also like being upset. Need some catharsis?”

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Tell me what’s wrong, then. Or tell me about your nightmare.”

“No.”

He laughs. 

“Stubborn as always,” he purrs.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” you whisper.

“You want to hear me be mean to you. You like not being in control. That’s what makes you feel safe, isn’t it, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, baby,” he laughs. “Give me something to work with.”

Your eyes nearly glaze over as you watch the flickering lights outside of your dorm. A broken street lamp flashes on and off, shadowing your room in darkness only to illuminate seconds later, back and forth. Unpredictably so. You aren’t sure what else you should look at while you’re still so drunk on Suguru’s voice. You think maybe you’d handle this phone call better if you were far from sober.

“I fucked someone else yesterday.”

The line goes silent. Your heartbeat picks up.

After almost an eternity, you hear Suguru’s voice again. It’s soft, almost cooing. It feels awfully dangerous despite this.

“Yeah? Who?”

You swallow thickly. 

“This guy who got my number last month. Like, I didn’t give it to him — Utahime did,” you ramble. “But then we started texting and stuff and he’s… funny. He, uh, came over yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

You imagine your throat closes up. Part of you wishes it would, that you’d just pass out immediately for no reason just so you didn’t have to have this conversation. You curse yourself for even bringing it up.

“Y-Yes.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles.

“I am…”

“You don’t have to be so scared, baby. I know that Satoru took away your virginity, but he’s not some kind of god watching over you.”

“I know,” you huff.

“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Like you’re betraying him?” he teases.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it. You notice how he talks about Satoru and not himself.

“Do you care?”

“I know how you feel about me.” His answer is simple. Blunt. It almost sounds sarcastic, but Suguru often talks like he’s cock-sure about everything. Even if he isn’t, he’s always held a certain confidence that was different from what Satoru exuded. 

Satoru was a bad liar, to you, at least.

“Tell me about your boy. What’s his name?”

“He’s not–” you gruff. “Naoya. His name is Naoya.”

“That Zenin brat?”

“Huh?”

“He’s in the Zenin clan. A right bastard, I’ve heard.”

“He seems fine,” you mumble.

“Someone’s defensive,” he teases.

You pause, staring at the darkness of your ceiling. You fix your shorts, your fingers grazing the wetness of your core. You didn’t even realize you were aroused.

“I should go back to sleep,” you whisper.

“I thought you couldn’t. That’s why you called me, right? You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” you scoff. “I just… I had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you.”

Suguru smiles. He knows you can’t see it, but he’s beaming in the darkness of his room. He’d been restless for the past few days after some disagreements with Satoru. He tried to blame the heat on physical altercations — the sun burning down to rev up the irritation in their shared systems like they were still boys. Always wanting to pin each other to the ground.

They didn’t have you to mediate, so they’d come out of arguments with bruises. Marks from skin tugged too harshly. The ghost of teeth biting down on flesh. 

“I wish you were here, babygirl,” he sighs, his tone desperate. You almost cringe at it — you always assume he’s playing with you.

“Yeah?” you snort.

“Mhm. It’s funny. You didn’t even wake me up when you called. I was already awake, thinking of you.”

“Were you, now?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums.  “I just kept thinking about your thighs. How small your leg is compared to my hand.”

Your breath hitches and he almost laughs when he hears it.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks. “Want you to touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

You gulp. Your fingers prod at the hem of your athletic shorts, the nylon riding up as you squirm in your bed. Your index and middle fingers prod at the center of your core experimentally. You’re fucking dripping and it makes your breath hitch.

Suguru calls your name.

“I”m…” you stammer. “I’m wet. Why?”

“Poor thing. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, no?”

“I-I’m fine… I just—”

“You should play with your clit. Since I can’t be there to do it for you,” he breathes.

“What?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can tell my favorite girl just needs to relax. That’s why you called me, right?”

You whimper. It was maybe half-true. Suguru had stopped answering his texts as frequently as he usually did, and you missed the sound of his voice. The odd ache in your chest wasn’t something that you felt like exposing to anyone else, not even Satoru.

The silk of Suguru’s voice brings you back. You wanted to breathe him in, but he hadn’t visited like he said he would. Didn’t have the warping feature that Satoru had, which to this day, still startled you whenever it happened. Ocean eyes whipping your senses from thin air, like a lightning strike. 

Despite your recent gripes about him, you needed the both of them like you needed air. At least to make it all more bearable. It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a finding addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

You needed Suguru’s musk, his hair in between your fingers as he rocked into you. Your hands were too small compared to his. 

He has you panting, sweating through Kyoto’s mugginess. The dorms were in even worse shape here than on the main Tokyo campus, probably why Gakuganji was such a vapid old man. Everything was too hot and falling off the bone.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. It’s like I can smell you through the phone,” Suguru murmurs, his voice like a mirage. You’d laugh if you weren’t so deep in your cunt, fingers pruning and pushed to the knuckles. 

Suguru knew you would do anything for him, so he made you torture yourself because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Your groans are muffled from you smothering your face in the sheets, knees pressing down and ass up. Willing to humiliate yourself without him even being there.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he chides.

“I’m not,” you whine.

“How many times have you cum?”

“None.”

He laughs. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what.” 

You’re close to tears by the time he lets you cum. The sound of his voice hitting you deep in your core, insides permeated with the thought of him. Sweeter than smoked sugar.

It was the sound of his grunt that tipped you over, imagining him with black strands sticking to his high cheekbones with sweat. The apples of his face candy-pink. Where Satoru looked cherubic, Suguru looked like a girl’s first wet dream. 

“Were you touching yourself?” you pant, coming down from your high. You don’t bother putting on your underwear again.

“Obviously,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice made the speaker blow off-kilter like the audio of a shitty VHS. “Came all over myself.”

You could fall asleep to the sound of his static hums. The chaos in your gut is settled by the time your alarm clock strikes devil’s hour.

“How are things?” you ask sleepily.

“With me?” Suguru asks. “Fine. Same as always.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s three in the morning, sweetheart,” he chuckles dryly.

“Mm. My phone bill’s gonna be so high.”

“Get Satoru to pay for it.”

The bastard probably would, if you asked.

You don’t get much out of Suguru for the remainder you’re awake. His answers are deflective and clipped. He hangs up by the time he hears you breathing, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He sighs in his room, rummaging for his pills. If nightmares didn’t keep him up, then the sheer unwillingness of his brain’s tranquility was often enough for him to run a graveyard shift. Stumbling in the dark, half-dead. He’d gotten productive in finishing the video games he’d started with Satoru by himself. Not much else.

His throat feels dry. He couldn’t differentiate the tastes of anything anymore. It all tasted like curses.

You keep having dreams about Suguru.

Tonight, there’s two of him.

One is the image you’re used to – hair swept up in a bun. Broad chest in his Jujutsu Tech uniform. Eyes crinkling into half moons.

The other seems to be an alter ego. A cursed version, one with eyes to kill and blood on his hands. Hands that are trying to tear you apart.

When you grip his wrist, you can see the imprint of your hand on his skin. Flesh falling away, much too easily. The air around you splinters like you’re in a glitched matrix. The Suguru you know and love falters beside you, his skin suddenly sallow. Pale as bile.

When you scream, nothing comes out.

Pseudo-Suguru smiles as your Suguru fades away into ash. You stare into his cat-like gaze, the familiar of his mouth. 

“Come with me,” he says. 

It’s the last thing you hear before your body wakes you up in a sweat. You gasp as you jolt awake, fingers curling your damp bedsheets. You’re further startled by the crack of thunder as a torrential downpour occurs without warning — unusual for late August, considering the rainy season had died down weeks prior. 

You sit up and reach for your phone almost automatically, your hands shaking as you go through your contacts. Your fingers hover over two names as you swallow thickly.

A few beeps follow the push of the call button.

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

[xxstealla]

Traitor Pt.3

scaramouche x reader angst

In which scaramouche "prefers Haypasia's presence over yours"

tw: Mentions of Dottore

The following weeks for Scaramouche were terrible. His plans to become a god were ruined by the almighty traveller.

The Fatui, namely Dottore left him to rot and Haypaisa didn’t even bat an eye at him after his defeat.

The hollow walls of the building the two of you once shared reflects the emptiness of his the place where his heart was supposed to be.

The worst part is you’re gone and it was all his fault. He thought he didn’t need you anymore. He didn’t need a personal so emotional to hinder him in his route to godhood. He didn’t need someone he could potentially endanger. He didn’t need to have someone who makes his chest bleed everytime he sees them hurt. He didn’t need someone who makes him feel so vulnerable. He didn’t need someone who makes him feel so human.

Guilt was gnawing at him now. The emptiness you left upon him was larger than he anticipated. He thought it would be worth it to set you free from his mommy issues, but was it worth it after all? 

He wants to find you and tell you that he didn’t mean all the words he said, all the hurtful things he did.

But it was too late. 

No matter how much he longs for you to come back and tell him for everything that he did and his words never impacted you with that radiant smile you always wore, you looked so happy with that Liyue bastard. 

Perhaps in another life, free from the shackles of his responsibilities, the persona he had created, and the titles he bore, he could love you wholeheartedly.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I know my apology means nothing, I know I can’t take back the pain I inflicted onto you. But this ache is too much to bear. Every time I wake up, the bed feels too cold without your warmth. The kitchen is gathering dust with no one needing food. The cabinet on the floor remains untouched with all your favourite snacks inside. I can’t do this, everywhere I go, I see your face, it’s like the ghost of you haunts me and you’re not even dead. Well I’m probably dead to you anyway, but I just want you to know, if there ever comes a day you want to reminisce, or if that green emo guy breaks your heart, I will be in the husk of our home. In any case, I hope that the future you find with that guy will make your smile twice as large as when you were with me.”

I am listening to happier by Ed sheeran while writing this, so you can probably see the references.

[shelyue99]

Although he worked for the Nixon company, Winters soon discovered that he seldom saw any of the Nixon family; at least, not at the plant. Stanhope had a home near New Brunswick that he called Farenton Lake, but much preferred to spend his winters in Florida. En route, he took in the Kentucky Derby and other races, laying down liberal bets. As spring arrived, the elder Nixon traveled back to New Jersey, where he spent the next month to six weeks looking over operations and giving instructions, before heading for his summer home in New England. The younger Nixon would come to the plant from his home in Princeton once or twice a week to get his mail and pick up his paycheck. This attitude troubled Winters, who understood that his friend did not have to work, but felt Nixon needed to take on some type of responsibility. One day at lunch he was no longer able to contain himself.

"Nix, why in the hell don't you take a job around here?" Winters asked. "There's a lot to do. They can use you. Someone from the family should be here. " The warmest, most pleasant smile Winters had ever seen creased Nixon's face. "Dick, I can't take a job," he said, as if the answer were obvious. "If I take a job, I’m taking work from somebody else and that would bother my conscience." "That's the way he was," Winters said fifty-five years later. "He was the same way in the army. His drinking interfered with the mundane details of administration, but he was a good communicator. He had the ability to talk and explain tactics and background to the men, and give them insight on the job they were supposed to be doing. He just was not a good administrator as far as going over details. He delegated that to underlings."

--Biggest Brother, The Life of Major Dick Winters

[thatdeadaquarius]

OKAY OKAY SAGAU BUT THE CREATOR IS A HUGE KPOP FAN LIKE IMAGINE THE MOST STOTIC CHARACTERS DANCING TO TWICE

ANON I HAVE SEEN UR ASK SITTIN IN MY MAILBOX AND BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

GOD IM SO BASIC ANON I ONLY KNOW LIKE 2 SONGS BY TWICE (LIKE "FEELS" OR SMTH POPULAR), I KNOW A LITTLE MORE ITZY, BUT MY MAIN'S JUST BEEN BTS SINCE 2019😭

(send me recs pleassseeee ;-;)

Hey this'll be the last time I use colored words for characters!

I think it's a bit too distracting, and the only reason I was using them was to let ppl know if their fav was in there, but now I'll probably just use CW/TW to mention character heavy asks/fics :)

Thanks for being patient with me for so long if ur still reading my stuff :0 <3

Listen as you read?

EDIT 1/1/24: Hey I expanded more about this on my Eldritch Fanfic Part 2 post, but unfortunately I did a form of exoticism by including the term "Huangdi" inappropiately here. I have since replaced it with "Emperor" as was the original untranslated term I would've used. I'm genuinely sorry that I did this, and will absolutely be on the look out/do better in the future. I hope you can understand.

----

AGONIZED OVER THE GIFS THIS TIME THEYRE SO PRETTY AND I WANTED TO GET THEM DANCING ONE OF THEIR CUTER ERA/THEMES ALL DRESSED UP TOO-

also im so sorry?? Idky i was in such a scenario mood today??? Ig im in my exectutive dysfunction paralysis state so maybe that’s why, like it unconcoiusly wants me to waste more time not catching up on uni work??? anyway, hope u like this chaotic addon 😭

or i just love this ask sm, that’s entirely possible too <3

I JUST NEED YOU TO KNOW I PUT ON A MEGA TWICE PLAYIST WHILE WRITING THIS ENTIRE THING LMAO

ok but they’d totally heard ur music tastes thru the screen right?

like just imagine-

the video game music is normalized, and to them its just another one of those “all kinds of magic in teyvat” causing the music, like the seelies wandering around all the time or elemental energy

Jean is flipping through a folder filled with the reports for the week, she’s got to get the routes ready for the week, then there’s the liyue shipments the knights need to help escort over, then checking in on any of the emergency stations/rations throughout Mondstadt for weary or hurt travelers/merchants-

She sighs, and yet another irritated thought is thrown Varka’s way in her mind, she can’t even muster the energy to make it outright dislike she’s so tired…

Jean was so concentrated she just now is starting to hear the Favonious Headquarter’s music once more, it’s peppy upbeat tune… grates like nails on a chalkboard.

and if she has to hear that damn flute for the next hour she works, she’s going to start banging her head onto her desk.

♤

Out in Jueyun Karst, Xiao is dealing the finishing blow to a flying ruin hunter

He’s huffing and stabs his spear into the ground to lean on and catch his breath, the gentle music of the peaks begins to float around him once more

The Yaksha feels the earth beneath his feet shake. Not like from his Lord, not the other adepti angered, but an enemy so large it’s stomps shake the ground he stands on

Xiao quickly straightens less he fall over, pulling his spear out of the dirt with a little more effort than it probably should’ve taken…

The high sounds of the guzheng trickle through the air, a perfect representation of the base of the slopes, trees, streams, and nature all around him

Xiao turns to face the enemy behind him, his arm popping with tired joints,

…A ruin grader, two ruin hunters, and finally regular three ruin guards, follows it. they come around the corner of the bottom of another slope, and they're still simmering with black smoke, curling off their metallic shoulders.

Xiao sees several red targets layer over his chest,

the music fades a little, but sticks around, plucking strings gently. Xiao sighs, exhausted already.

♧

Kazuha and Beidou had to redirect the Alcor from a nasty storm at sea that intercepted their usual route between Inazuma and Liyue,

the storm had practically chased them further and further down form the Inazuman islands

it wasn’t until Kazuha, from the crow’s nest, spotted fog on the waters that they realized they’d be forced to go into said creepy fog, what with the crackling looming clouds at their backs pinning them in

“Not good Captain, the fog is miles long, I’m not sure I can see a way around it…” Kazuha calls down to the deck, Beidou letting out a sharp sigh through her nose

“Damn… fucker’s not even sentient and it practically backed us into a corner, feels like we literally gotta escape the damn thing… BRACE YOURSELVES CREW, WE’RE HEADING INTO THAT FOG!”

The Alcor makes it’s way into the fog, a piano swells with a strange tune…

Beidou, Kazuha, and the crew know to listen to the music of teyvat, especially if you have a life at sea, where storms can appear in the middle of the day or other pirates could attack any moment.

The music means nothing good, but at least Kazuha can see the storm staying at the border of the fog, moving no further in, unlike themselves

“Shit… see anything up there Kazu?” the Captain steering the ship doesn’t even reach a shout, for the music has creeped out all conversation on board

“No ma’am, wait,” a chill breeze brushes through the wanderer’s white hair, he feels goosebumps jump on his neck and spine,

“…Yes! Portside Captain, land, no enemy movement yet!”

“Alright, here goes a bad idea…” Beidou’s arms flex as she easily turns the heavy wooden wheel, steering left,

the Alcor gently comes ashore, and they make anchor.

…there are no enemies, like Kazuha said, but the tune worsens, it had gotten louder now that they’re actually on the theme’s land

It plays slowly, encasing the crew of the Alcor in a paranoid quiet, and it almost has a melancholy note

Crows caw and fly off of a stone gate up ahead, they can see flickers of a strange blue light further inland, like figures carrying lanterns everywhere they go…

“Damn music, I wouldn’t feel half this anxious if it didn’t sound like we were walking into a monster infested cave…” the first mate says, the first person to break the quiet the music held over them.

“Yes, while we might need to stay here for awhile, I think we’re all very aware how dangerous this is…” Kazuha agrees, crossing his arms and squinting at the moving blue lights… the piano plays on.

☆

You open on Spotify on your computer, clicking on your favorite kpop playlist, it’s been rainy all day, so you need the peppiness of this dance playlist to actually not be half-asleep playing Genshin-

You hum along to the Korean lyrics as you boot Genshin up, ugh, ur in-game music is so loud, u forgot u turned it up last time to hear the new Sumeru music…

Turning it down, you let the Kpop songs fill ur headphones as you nod to the beat, your team materializing on screen. Right, off to do commissions first!

♤

Jean is like.. seconds away letting out a scream of frustration, anger, tiredness, loneliness, etc. her hands clenching her hair and ruining her ponytail when, thank Creator, the theme quiets down finally.

The loss of her immediate ire gone, she lets go of her hair, her hands just kind of hovering midair, not knowing what to do with herself, all the negative emotions giving her face wrinkles just melt off, leaving her stunned, blank face behind

🎶 Dalkomhan chocolate ice-cream-cheoreom Nogabeorineun jigeum nae gibun so lovely! Kkamkkamhan uju sok gajang banjjagineun Jeo byeol jeo byeol geu yeope keun ne byeol 🎶

Acting Grand Master Jean actually screams when abruptly a song in an unrecognizable foreign language, blasts into her office, around it, filling the entire Favonius Headquarters with its… cheeriness??

Jean lets her hands fall onto the desk, still in shock

..well, she quickly decides she’s grateful for the new music either Barbatos or the All-Parent had heard her pleas for…

…actually, it’s kind of,, catchy?

Jean takes out her ponytail, massaging her aching scalp, huh, she really did have it tight she’s just now noticing, she feels a small smiles appear on her face,

she actually kind of wants to do something now (she kind of hopes this new foreign bard song sticks around..)

♧

If you asked Xiao what happened in that battle he’d be hard pressed to tell you,

without going completely red in the face. LMAO

He probably wouldn’t tell the other adepti this, especially Cloud Retainer, but Xiao had definitely had to get used to fighting brutal battles to the sound of gentle summer day-esque music

Right as the aruguably, army of ruin machines spotted the Yaksha, he’d launched himself into the air to try and evade the rusted beasts, aiming his jade spear, adding winds to swirl around the staff to better boost his attack, the machines warm up, their targets moved and locked onto him midair, right as both sides launch their attack-

🎶 Geogi neo I fancy you! Amuna wonhaji anha Hey, I love you (Love ya!) 🎶

Xiao nearly falls out of the air.

Quickly recovering, he uses his anemo power to propel himself off to the side dodging, he swears to his Lord and his Emperor himself, delayed attacks, as if the machines were caught off guard too,

missiles whiz by him, exploding behind, the peppy song of foreign women’s voices sings out into Jueyun Karst bright and happy-

🎶 Geurae neo I fancy you! Kkumcheoreom haengbokhaedo dwae 'Cause I need you! (What?) 🎶

Xiao’s face goes from being confused to concentrated throughout the rest of the battle, and the worst part… it actually helps his energy levels.

and he finds himself nodding along

☆

Kazuha takes the lead, his sword unsheathed and at the ready to cut down the slightest movement before it can get to any of the crew behind him,

He’s flanked by the Captain of the Alcor herself, Beidou’s electro shield emitting a deep hum as it blocks in front of both himself, and the crew behind him

all of the pirates have unsheather their own weapons, daggers, swords, claymores, bows, their all on high alert, waiting for.. well, any enemies at all.

In fact, Kazuha hopes he sees hilichurls soon, just for the familiarity it could give him and the his crew-

the music begins to fade away.

The crew stops just shy of the entryway that was perched with crows before they scattered, the white fog hasn’t moved beyond its lazy drifting, but the creeping sounds have stopped entirely. Not good.

Captain Beidou sighs after a few silent moments, other than the quiet breathing and shuffling of weapons from the Alcor crew.

She lets her claymore sword thunk against her shoulder, and just as she opens her mouth, turning to address the all, deciding camping here will have to do for the night-

🎶Fancy! youu, ooh Nuga meonjeo johahamyeon eottae Fancy! youu, ooh Jigeum neoegero gallae Fancy! ooh!🎶

Kazuha’s shoulder shoot up to his ears in a flinch, red eyes wide, he barely stops his reflexes from taking a hard swing with his sword, several crewmembers shriek, collide with metal clinks into one another, Beidou drops low, her sword swinging off her shoulder into almost a full swing at the ground-

…

…..

……..

🎶 Dalkomhan chocolate ice-cream-cheoreom Nogabeorineun jigeum nae gibun so lovely! Kkamkkamhan uju sok gajang banjjagineun Jeo byeol jeo byeol geu yeope keun ne byeol 🎶

the music plays on, the only one making any noise as the entire Alcor crew just, stop. after their initial shock.

Kazuha’s the first to break.

He desperately tries to contain a quiet chuckle, which turns into a giggle, which turns into a full-on wheeze, as he buries his sword into the ground to brace himself on it and one of his knees

the Captain cracks by the time Kazuha wheezes, her laughter going straight to guffaws and knee slapping, her claymore shaking the ground where she stabs it to lean against

the crew erupts into laughter, both as the peppy foreign song echoes into the mysterious fog, and Beidou’s ridiculous laugh, as always

they don’t recover until two songs later when there’s finally a slow kpop song, Kazuha’s had to sit down, tears streaming down his face, Beidou’s half-dead, wheezing out complaints about her stomach, as the crew keep sending each other into more and more laughter right as they think they’re done.

They decide their Akitsu Mikami must have the best sense of humor and must just be sitting on their celestial throne pranking some of their subjects from time to time, and the Alcor crew find themselves all the more appreciative for it, their nerves entirely gone about the island

Kazuha and Beidou are constantly asking other bards they meet to try and see if anyone can recreate the song for the crew sometime they liked the beat and the memory so much, Fancy by Twice will still get a laugh out of Beidou and Kazuha, and they’d quickly let you in on the inside joke so you’d be a part of it too (afterall you did it lol)

♡

NOW MORE IMPORTANTLY, BC IDK IVE BEEN ON A SCENARIO KICK LATELY?? SORRY IDK WHY U GUYS KEEP GETTING SCENARIOS-

There’s only TWO 2 CATEGORIES THAT MATTER HERE-

◇

Who’s DANCING!! w/o u needing to do anything but play the music:

NILOU (she got those choreos done in like, an hour flat everytime u teach her, shes always begging for “just one more dance lesson Greatest Lord? 🥺”),

YUNJIN (difference betweeen the two dancers is that nilou asks :) → yunjin lowkey demands, she like always gets u into a situation where you have plenty of time to teach her and feel obligated, u just got gaslight gatekeep girlbossed into teaching her another kpop dance LMAO), they also see it as they’re (literally) god-given job to dance better than any idol you’ve seen do it before, esp when they recruit groups of other dancers to join for group choreos

Yoimiya! cutie #1, CHILDE, amber, eula, ITTO, bennett,

Collei (but shes shy u gotta encourage her),

Diona (cutie #2),

FISCHL (would form an actual group to dance all the choreos like a real kpop group),

Gorou (shy #2, needs encouragement),

Kazuha (tbh I think he’d have fun and be weirdly good at it, fem or masc dances),

Ayaka (shy #3, needs encouragement and would rather die than dance in front of ppl other than you),

KLEE CUTIE #3, NAHIDA CUTIE #4,

Qiqi (but u gotta teach her slow bc she needs to memorize it, and also it takes her a bit to write down the dance steps in her journal so she doesn’t forget as much),

Razor (another person i think would just have fun with it! also he’d do it but it would be very, aggressive? like making finger hearts but violently shoving his arm out at ur face lmao),

HEIZOU (shutup he’d actually be good at it and brag- and flirt at you-),

Aether (shy #4), VENTI, xingqiu, xinyan, KAVEH

BARBARA (she literally stalks u around Mondstadt all like “oh hello your highness! just happened to walk by you and was wondering if you heard any new of those “kpop” dances, you know I’d LOVE to show it off at my next show-!” like she hasnt been a block behind you the entire day 💀)

♡

WHO YOU MANAGED TO CONVINCE TO DANCE LMAO-

babygirl Wanderer (he literally surveyed the area before he finally let u teach him any moves, and refused to any sort of dramatic moves, like fem or masc),

Alhaitham (but only like a small part of a guy group choreo like a bit from God’s Menu or smth, he was too lazy to do anymore even for u lol),

Cyno (dammit some of these bitches look way too good doing even girl group dances-),

Diluc (u got him to do like, a pose. LMAO and he saw Kaeya in the distance and quit immediately LMFAO),

Kaeya (but it didnt take much convincing, if anything it just took forever to teach him, he’s talented in footwork for swordfighting but apparantly not dancing, at least not modern dances he tripped so much ur convinced he did it on purpose at one point so he’d fall into your arms again lol),

Ganyu (super shy, wont do it around anyone but you, and maybe Shenhe),

speaking of Shenhe (she just took awhile to teach bc she wanted to stay upright a lot, kinda stiff),

Keqing (once again, another who’d only dance when it’s just u two lol),

Yae Miko (she just wanted to learn the whole choreo that’s what took so long… and now she’s making comments like “My goodness, my god wants me to dance for them? They’ll even show me how? Oh, now I must do it perfectly so I can satisfy you, my Kami.” STOP TAKING THINGS OUT OF CONTEXT UR TEACHING EVERYONE-),

Ayato (he’s acts so theater gay he refuses to do anything but the girl group dances/fem dances lol),

SARA (easy, give her ur strongest, saddest pout and she cracked like glass, u got her to do a whole dance with u/she actually got into it too, its her secret guilty pleasure now lol),

Kuki (did one sort of move then got BARRELED OVER by Itto’s crazied boy group acrobatics he likes so much, u know the backflips over each other type of ones? yeah. ),

Ei (the god herself/not the puppet, catch her never doing that lol, she tried but didnt, get it? she’s also pretty stiff, but she looks like she’s having fun so u just keep teaching her moves, and she likes that its you teaching her something new),

Thoma (shy #5 ? idek what number we’re on anymore lol),

TIGHNARI (u nag that bitch so hard he nearly throws a drink at you to get u to stop bothering him- NO he does NOT think those dances would suit his ears- dammit he wont do that dance, no matter how much he likes you- DAMMIT MY LORD-),

Xiao (if u thought nagging Tighnari was hard, this is like nightmare mode, not only does he not wanna do the dances, but he also wants to understand WHY u want him to dance each and every move- !! bc he would “look cute or cool”?!?!!?!!! …yeah he’s gone, he went so red u cant even get him back with tofu),

Zhongli (would like, be so confused on how to make his body do that, that he ended up just sort of posing, at least he looks cool)

♡

(anyone not on these 2, u did, in fact, not manage to convince, yes, even if their god asked them to, nor are they doing it of their own volition lol)

WHAT THE HELLLLLLL-

THIS IS SO LONGGG IM SO SORRRYYYYY

ANYWAY HOPE SOMEBODY LIKED THIS, DW ILL STOP THE WEIRD SCENARIOS AFTER THIS ASK I JUST GOT IN A PHASE I DONT KNOW WHY

also, im like, three weeks away form graduating uni? NICE, soon i will be free to assault u all with responses mwhahahaha (rubs my little gremlin hands together)

Safe travels,

💀 ♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk

[darth-mortem]

I'm trying to learn English by writing short texts on various topics. I'm writing them about Ghost, Soap and other COD characters. So, here is text about travel and rest (613 words).

“Hey, Captain, did you miss us?” Soap asked cheerfully, looking at Price.

“Honestly he didn’t.” Gaz answered and smirked snidely. “He said how quiet and calm it was without you two this whole week.”

“You’re a jerk!” Soap pouted. “It can’t be true!”

Captain Price sighed heavily and turned the page of the newspaper he was reading.

Ghost carried their backpacks to their rooms and came back to the dayroom. He started making tea for himself, Price and Garrick. Johnny didn’t like tea, so he made coffee for himself and grumbled something about fucking Brits.

“So where have you been?” The Captain asked, lighting his cigar.

“We traveled through the Carpathian Mountains by quad bikes.” Ghost said and sat opposite Price. “We stopped for the night and slept in a tent.”

“Wow, sex in nature is cool.” Garrick interrupted. “Hope you stocked up on wet wipes.”

“No need to be jealous, mate.” Soap sat next to Ghost and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Were you hunting?” Price asked because he was tired of hearing stupid jokes about personal life of his subordinates.

“Hell yeah!” Soap nodded and smiled. “And fishing! I caught a huge trout! And Simon cooked a gorgeous soup with mushrooms and grilled fish steaks.”

Johnny told how Simon and he were picking mushrooms and all his prey was poisonous. It was the first and the only time Ghost allowed Soap to pick mushrooms. Kyle was laughing a lot and Johnny kicked him once or twice.

“Where your route had started?” Price asked when the Sergeants calmed down.

“We flew to Slovakia by plane,” Ghost answered, drank his tea. “Then we rented quad bikes and went through it, Poland, Ukraine and Romania.”

“And Transylvania!” Soap interrupted.

“Did you see vampires?” Garrick smirked.

“No, but Johnny was attacked by a bat,” Ghost raised his balaclava and lit a cigarette. “It was at night when he left the tent. I was already asleep, but his screams and shots woke me up”.

“Soap, did you really shoot a bat?” Gaz stared at Johnny.

“Oh, fuck you, guys!” Soap got angry and pouted. “It was a bloody big bat! And very aggressive!”

“So did you kill it, son?” The Captain looked at Johnny with interest.

“Maybe,” he answered. “It was fucking dark there!”

Soap started showing photos and videos. There were a lot of beautiful pictures of nature; their camp with a comfortable tent, camp table and two fishing chairs; their food cooked by Ghost. Soap was in many photos and videos too. Price and Garrick saw how he was riding a quad bike, fishing, trying to help with cooking, jumping from the waterfall naked, even sleeping in the tent. Simon has much less photos and he was in his balaclava there.

“We have brought gifts for you!” Johnny smiled and ran to his room.

He came back very soon, carrying several packages. Price and Garrick received postcards from Slovakia, magnets from Poland, handmade leather wallets from Ukraine and vampire clay mugs from Transylvania.

“Now it’s your turn to go to leave,” Soap said to the Captain and Gaz. “Where will you go?”

“On the seaside,” Price answered. “I want just to lie in the sun, to swim in warm sea and to drink cocktails all week”.

“And I’ll go water skiing and spearfishing,” Kyle said.

“So you will go together too?” Simon asked, bowed his head.

“No, just at the same place,” Gaz answered quickly, and Soap smirked.

“Well, I’m going to sleep,” Ghost said and got up.

“Me too,” Soap smiled. “Good night!” They left together and Kyle got up to make another cup of tea for him and for the Captain.

[mathlann]

Warp Travel in Rogue Trader

So, of course the main rule of Warp Travel is that it moves at the speed of the plot, so all of this goes with a grain of salt. But for anyone like me who likes to get caught up in how "how long is this taking?" the OG Rulebook does have a rough guide for how to calculate travel times.

So, the main thing is that there're two bits to keep track of in Warp Travel: Subjective Time and Realspace Time.

Subjective Time

Subjective time is the part of the journey experienced inside the Warp, and it's some of the reason why it's impossible to keep time in this setting. So the book has this chart to estimate the subjective time of a (straight shot, presumably) journey as would be the equivalent of green or yellow routes in the CRPG:

So, the Koronus Expanse being the Sector, and the very small part of it we get in-game being the sub-sector, roughly, one end of your Protectorate to another should be within 5-10 days of subjective time in the Warp at most.

Now the CRPG also lets you upgrade routes from red to green, which does work mechanically insofar as representing routes getting safer, since players are most likely to green their most traveled spots and be stingy on NP for one-off systems. This is also how it would work in-setting, but I'd add the routes that would "stay" green would be the ones you travel the most. So routes between settled worlds and Footfall might be subjectively "shorter" than similar routes to outlying systems because of the volume of trade and travel along those places.

This is what the second chart measures:

Thus, Cassia being more experienced can speed up or slow down the time it takes to get somewhere. So realistically, your first trip from Footfall to Janus, at best is maybe going to be within a few days, maybe more because Cassia has to chart course anew. But subsequent trips can be much faster because the route is short and she knows where she's going. Whereas those orange to red routes or systems that you only visit once or twice, are maybe going to take the week if not longer without some help. Pirates and other criminals are good to know here because they're more likely to settle in places off the Warp Highway and thus have better mapping of those areas, but not always, etc etc. but that's the kind of outside resources you might use to increase success on that chart.

Realspace Time

Realspace time is going to be a little bit more consistent on the start and stop of a journey, but total realspace time is largely going to depend on your Warp Route. So, building off of the previous point, the ratio of Subjective to Realspace time is variable along similar lines. Well traveled routes are going to have a shorter time dilation between points than longer or more dangerous routes.

The book gives a rough estimate of One Day in the Warp = Twelve Days in Realspace. Which, I will note that the Expanse is much more populated in the CRPG than it is in the TTRPG and the latter is dealing with a much larger area so that ratio is probably too big. I'd personally say 1:8 for orange routes at most. But in general, the book recommends that a stable route is shorter than that, and can go as far down as a 1:1 ratio while turbulent areas can go worse. But unless you want to write a story dealing with that, Argenta-style "hundred years past our arrival date" trips are extremely rare, as are "we arrived technically before we left" trips.

So the last and most consistent part of Realspace time is honestly not super necessary but that would be dealing with Mandeville Points, which are where ships enter and exit the Warp from Realspace, to then travel to the relevant planet. You rarely if ever enter a system near a planet or moon unless you like having your shit wrecked but even then, the book recommends that Rogue Trader vessels and other fancier ships are going to take anywhere between a few days up to two weeks depending on their destination within a system.

Longer and more turbulent routes would also recommend that you stop every few bits and re-enter Realspace to reorient and lessen your chances of being knocked off course. Also to get any Astropath Mail you may have missed. So while if you needed a direct route from Dargonus to Kiava Gamma it is feasible, you'd maybe want to stop half way, refuel, etc etc anyways if things aren't urgent.

So, roughly

An uncomplicated journey within your Protectorate is maybe taking over a week, more or less depending on distance and how many stops you make along the way.

Act 2 is probably longer than Act 4 time-wise because you're exploring and mapping out your Protectorate mostly "from scratch."

Not even counting Webway travel because that is a whole 'nother can of worms, but the time between Marazhai challenging you on Grantis to getting an invasion together for Dargonus is probably more time than you think considering he has you out in the boonies where your Warp to Realspace ratio is probably a bit bigger, ie, what was maybe a six day round trip for you from Dargonus was probably over a week or two for him.

Furthermore, any Drukhari safely tucked away in the Lower Decks is only going to need a day or two of people in his hold per trip, on average.

[ocean--grey]

Day 16: Future

Word count: ~750

“D’you think you’ll ever do it?”

“… Do what?”

Lister gestured at the expanse in front of him with a sweeping motion. “Y’know. Go out in space. Get off Earth, have a few weeks out on Mimas, or Titan, or whatever. Just explore.”

Lise pursed her lips then grinned from where she laid next to him, and gazed up at the night sky herself.

It wasn’t like either of them could see any stars. There were few places where that was possible, nowadays. Maybe some of the most secluded spots of Earth’s surface, far from the sprawling cities. Any part of the sky within a hundred miles (at least) of Liverpool was no doubt a hazy orange-grey, even on the clearest of nights. It’d been like that for decades at that point.

Lister only had one very, very faint memory of seeing the night sky, unimpeded by the glare of Liverpool’s light. It must have been when he was four, maybe five, when his Gran’d taken him to visit some old friend of hers. He remembered watching as the haze of the city gave away to dark grey, then black, then to pinpricks of light splattered like drops of paint across some great aerial canvas.

The night sky above him now? Well, it was frankly boring in comparison.

Dragging his eyes away from the muddy orange of the sky, he turned to Lise, who’d picked up their conversation again.

“Hm. I’ve always kind of wanted to go Callisto myself.” She shrugged at his raised eyebrows and continued, “Heard they’ve got a great music scene up there. Maybe Ganymede. I can’t really see myself going further than Jupiter, to be honest.” She shivered slightly, drawing her coat further around her. “Where d’you want to go?”

Lister stretched him back as he unfolded one of his arms from behind his head. Reaching out, he draped it on the ground behind Lise’s shoulders so she could lay back on it. She muttered a quick “thanks, love” and nestled her hair into his neck.

“Dunno where I’d go really. Probably only go as far as the Moon before getting homesick. I know they say Earth looks better looking in on it from space, but honestly nothing beats actually living here for me.”

Lise’s hair bumped against his cheek once, twice, then three times, as she mulled it over.

“Okay. Yeah, I get that. So… where would you go, then? If you don’t leave Earth, that is.”

He felt Lise turn to him slightly, body still facing the sky but with her nose resting on his cheek. He could feel her breath across the side of his neck, could see her eyes tracing his features. All of a sudden he felt exposed, open, laid bare for her to analyse every atom of his soul.

“Honestly?”

“Of course. I won’t judge you – too harshly, at least. I promise”, Lise grinned. She reached up and squeezed his hand with her own.

“Fiji.”

“…Huh.”

“Or – or, I’d stay here. ’n Liverpool. Just makes sense, to be honest. I’ve lived here all my life, right? I know it as well – actually maybe even more – than the back of my hand. It jus’ makes sense to me, I guess, to stay here.”

“Why Fiji, then?” Lise squeezed his hand again, possibly reassuringly, her grin falling into an equally amused smile. “Seems a long way from here, even if it isn’t as far as Jupiter or anything.”

“Land’s cheap there. I could, I dunno, build a house there. Make a farm, something like that.”

“Isn’t Fiji partially underwater? I guess you could have a fish farm or something, though.”

Lister sighed. “Dumb pipe dream, I know. I guess there I’ll be able to see some stars, at least.”

“But you’ll still be on Earth.”

“Yep, that’s the plan.”

Lise reached over and traced Lister’s jaw with her index finger, kissed his cheek. “Guess you wouldn’t make a good astro, if you think you’d get Earth-sick that bad.”

“God no,” Lister shuddered, “sounds like an awful job. Stranded in the void for months on end in a small tin can? Barely touching ground except for a few days each time? I don’t know why anyone’d willingly do that.”

“Guess it’s cheaper than travelling the commercial routes. I’ve also heard it pays well.”

“Not in a million years! Except if I was previously stranded on Io or something. Apparently there’s nothing it really offers except for a bunch of active volcanoes.”

“Well,” Lise kissed her cheek again, “at least you’re not anywhere but on Earth right now”.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 20 - 616

The Zarrow Shuffle by gottalovev

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 9,180 Tags: Identity Porn, Matchmaking, Team as Family

Summary: When they notice that Steve seems to have a mysterious - and possibly bad for him - girlfriend, Nat and Clint investigate. Steve just wishes they'd stop prying into his personal life, especially since he is trying to keep a secret.

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, this is everything I love about identity porn. All the misunderstandings and wrong conclusions, it's hilarious. I love how Steve and Tony take advantage of the situation, and the team feels are amazing. This fic is lovely, and you should definitely give it a read, if you haven't already!

When I Was New by isozyme

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 5,010 Tags: Time Travel, Soulmates, Angst with a Bittersweet Ending

Summary: On screen, Kang’s standing on top of a bus in the center of a wrecked intersection. He’s holding a dark-haired, gangly teenager, clearly using the kid as a bargaining chip. At this point, Kang is clearly losing the fight and is looking for an escape route. Steve winces as Kang hurls his human shield in the direction of the camera and bolts. The poor teen bounces on the pavement, bangs his head, then skids to a rest close enough to make out his face in the video. Steve almost drops the tablet. The kid is Tony. He’s at least fifteen years younger, mustache barely grown in, and bleeding from his forehead, but -- still Tony.

Reasons why I love it: Holy shit, I'm so glad for the ending because my heart was ripping itself in two for a while there. There's so much emotion in the dialogue, and I absolutely adore Steve's inner thoughts about the younger Tony and what he represents. This fic is incredible, and I hope you check it out for yourself!

A Slow and Steady Rush by msermesth

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 9,451 Tags: Pining, Sparring, Sexual Dysfunction

Summary: Tony watches as Steve blinks, once, twice, five times. Oh. He’s been staring. He wrenches his gaze away to the dartboard on the other side of the bar; his eyes blur with the sudden movement. It’s been a while since he’s been this close to Steve when nothing but conversation had been happening, it makes sense he’d forget his well-honed skill at pretending he isn’t head-over-heels madly in love with him. That’s just another thing he’s going to have to teach this new body.

Reasons why I love it: There's something really beautiful about their connection here. Tony relating to Steve in an unexpected way, and Steve reassuring Tony that it's alright, he'll find his way back to himself. I love it. Definitely check this one out, because it's wonderful!

Wonders of the World (The Keep Me Safe from Harm Remix) by Sineala

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 9,848 Tags: Snowed In, Pining, Getting Together

Summary: Steve, America's top cop, meets Tony, in the middle of launching Resilient, in a hotel room in Seattle. There, Steve finds unexpected comfort in Tony's presence. It wasn't supposed to be an assignation. But then, a snowstorm wasn't supposed to strand them together, either.

Reasons why I love it: They're so in love, it warms my heart. I love how the whole smut scene is interspersed with these little moments where they laugh or banter and just enjoy themselves. It's so sweet and the perfect way to heal the emotional hurt from earlier on in the fic. I adore this one, and you should definitely read it!

I'll Give You Gifts Until You Know My Name by Amuly

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 10,507 Tags: Christmas Fluff, Secret Identity, First Kiss

Summary: Mr. Stark is an extravagant gift-giver: he has the money for it, after all. As Iron Man, Tony has the opportunity to gift Steve even more presents that, while less expensive, are more heartfelt. Having a secret identity means Tony gets to have his cake and eat it too when it comes to showering Steve with presents. Until Steve starts developing feelings for his armored companion, and all the benefits of living a double life are turned on their head for Tony Stark.

Reasons why I love it: I really enjoyed seeing all the gifts Tony came up with for Steve in both of his personas. And Steve's final gift for Tony is just perfect – Steve is a troll and a romantic wrapped into one jumbo sized super-package. I love this fic, and I bet you will too, so please check if out if you haven't already!

[kookieswan]

Red Light - Graphic Canvases

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, some fluff, perhaps a touch of angst.

Warnings: Talk of bodily harm/gore, using blood for paint (Blame Yoongi), etc. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: It’s time to try something new, and you can only hope it’ll pay off considering how far you’re sticking your neck out.

Notes: More interaction between characters! This will have a part 2 for sure, I hope you all enjoy 🤭

This is the 25th part of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So… Welcome to group therapy.”

Perhaps not a full group, but the idea stands. Two nightmare sit directly in front of you, two very different expressions on their faces. Seokjin looks pleasant, pink lips slightly upturned in a small smile as he looks back at you. Yoongi, however, looks like he’s about to bolt, eyes scrunched in disgust as he stares toward the door longingly. You can’t blame him, group activities don’t seem to be his forté.

“I’ve decided to take this route for a number of reasons. First off, I believe you’re all much too isolated in your cells, even if there is the ability to talk to one another. Second, I think it would be good to talk out anything you wish to speak of with not just myself, but others.Well likely do this once or twice a week, similar to our other sessions.” Seokjin nods his head in understanding, still complacent, while Yoongi attempts to ruin it. He kisses his teeth, finally turning to gaze at you with those striking silver eyes. You just blink back passively, ready for whatever outburst he’s about to have.

“You’re going to make me talk out my feelings with bubblegum boy? That’s just mean doctor, cruel even!” He jingles the chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles, a precautionary measure although a very sad one. Both men have them on, but you know it’s just a pretense at this point; they could get out if they really wanted to. Hoseok proved that not too long ago. Shaking your head slightly, you tap your pen aimlessly on your notes.

“No Yoongi, I won’t make you do anything you don’t wish to. It’s completely up to you to pick and choose what you discuss. It could be anything really, I just want to hear about you. Also…” Looking back and forth between them, you’re not really sure how to bring it up. It doesn’t seem to be a taboo topic per se but you don’t want to ruffle any feathers either…

“I’m not sure how to go about saying this without sounding presumptuous, but please feel free to shift here. I won’t discipline or judge you for making changes to your appearance if it makes you more comfortable.” Glancing at Yoongi quickly, he doesn’t seem to change anything outwardly. But slowly, you watch as Seokjin’s hair changes from black to pink without a word. It makes you ease up a little as his smile turns into a satisfied grin.

“Doctor, if I may�� How hard was it to convince them to allow this? I can’t remember the last time any of us were in the same space together with a wall in between, much less with a doctor in our reach.” The last week or so has been… Interesting, to say the least. Dr. Kim has decided to take a somewhat permanent residence on Floor 13 and you can safety say you’re very happy about it. As for the lack of walls and space, that’s all you. If they kill you now, you can only blame yourself for the misjudgment.

“Not as hard as you’d think. There’s been a bit of shift in hierarchy lately that’s worked in my favor. And yes, I’m speaking bluntly with you because word travels quickly down here and it would be foolish of me to pretend otherwise.” Both Nightmares glance at each other as if they’re communicating, but otherwise stay silent at the revelation. They may not know that you know about Hoseok’s abilities, but nonetheless… You hope that it’s good silence, because really, you think it’s going to work in their favor.

“Now, is there anything either of you would like to talk about? If not, I can always get things rolling with some general questions about how you’ve been.” It’s quiet for a bit as you all stare at each others, faces nearly blank until Yoongi all but screeches like a demon from hell. Turning to him with pursed lips, your raise a curious brow to give him the floor… Which turns out to be a terrible mistake.

“Word in the halls is that you sucked face with Hoseok after he ripped that nasty fuckers heart out. Saucy behavior from such a prim doctor, though not really surprising; I’d be swept off my feet too… Don’t give me that look! Pinky here told me.” One blink, then two then many as you try to process Yoongi’s words without malfunctioning. Of course they know; hell, they all probably know when you take your bathroom breaks at this point. Nothing’s a secret down here, not even when you piss.

“… I can neither confirm nor deny these claims.” Yoongi grins salaciously at you, eyes wide with excitement while Seokjin cocks his head to the side, eyes alight with something you aren’t quite sure you like. All these Nightmares are much too cheeky for their own good, which makes it very hard to hide the building embarrassment. You can’t be mad though, not when they’re opening up so much.

“Aw, don’t be shy Doctor! There’s no need to be ashamed of your love. I heard the room was a bloodbath, how romantic.” You’ve never wanted to flick one of them on the forehead more, although the teasing is interesting. You’ll have to take more detailed notes later. Taking a deep breath, you ignore Yoongi’s loud maniacal giggles and Seokjin’s small hum as you clear your throat, pen tapping away yet again. Time to steer things back to where they should be.

“We’re meant to talk about the both of you, not me. Let’s get back on track now.” It goes quiet again, and surprisingly, neither pushes the topic any further. Yoongi raises his hand and waves it around with wide eyes until you call on him, unsure of when you had become a teacher and not a psychologist.

“Jungkookie has the prettiest eyes. They look like a galaxy. I want to paint them on my wall like a mural, although I guess I can’t use Andrews’ blood anymore...” Yoongi huffs, his chains shaking looks away. Seokjin’s usual calm composure finally seems to break, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as he melts into his chair. Clearly, he’s heard the same tune many times before and isn’t excited to hear it again. Nodding complacently, you can’t help but agree, especially since it also allows you to reveal the true fun of today.

“…Yes, okay. I fully agree, Mr. Jeon does have nice eyes. This is actually a good time to mention, I’ve ordered some art supplies for you all, but more specifically for Yoongi. Jungkook should hear shortly with it and we’ll do a little exercise. Seokjin, what about you, anything you need?” The silver Nightmare nearly rips the chains off as he drags himself forward, scooting himself toward you with excited ‘Reallys?!’ falling from his lips.

“Yes really. Perhaps you’ll like acrylics just as much as you enjoy blood. It’s not the same texture, but…” Seokjin seems to ponder for a while, eyes looking far away as Yoongi finally bumps knees with you. It’s odd; you’ve never been this close to a Nightmare save for Hoseok, but it doesn’t feel dangerous. No, it almost feels like being close to an elated friend with the way happiness comes forth from Yoongi’s rapid excitement.

Testing it out, you pat his knee a few times and confirm that yes, today will be a painting session after you finish talking and yes, Jungkook will be here for guard duty since they’ll be unchained. With the way Yoongi looks, you don’t think anything could sour his mood, not even Seokjin interrupting his ramblings.

“Would… Would you ever do a group session with me and Namjoon?” It’s the most timid he’s ever sounded, voice quiet and unsure. Yoongi quiets down and looks between the two of you, then trains his eyes on your face, strangely serious.

“Sure, I don’t see why not. I was actually planning to mix up the groups eventually, I just thought it would be easier to start you off with your roommates. If it’s something you’d really like, I’ll make it happen.” And it’s true; you’ve been planning to mix them up from the start to see how it would go. Seokjin nods hesitantly and drops the subject. You don’t know the extent of Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s relationship, but you know something important lies there. And maybe, just maybe, you picked Jungkook very specifically for today for Yoongi.

There’s a sudden knock on the door, all three of you turning to look at it curiously. Then a few bangs and clangs before Jungkook peaks his head through, hair falling into wide eyes as he gazes in. The man was very excited to hear about getting out of regular guard duty, but you hadn’t told him much of what to expect.

“Knock knock, I have a fuck ton of paint and some canvases…?” Jungkook steps into the room with a cart full of stuff, slowly pushing it in. Yoongi calls out for him, prompting a toothy smile from Jungkook as Seokjin sighs. Their relationship still stumps you a bit, but hopefully today will show you something new. Standing up from your chair, you clap your hands together and step forward to start grabbing supplies.

“Perfect timing. Let’s get started.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @parkdatjimin @sugarflywme @pamzn @mizz-kraziii @hiii-priestess @winkii @noonas-magicshop @xuxibelle @lookhere-2seok

If you wanna be tagged leave a comment or ask! My only rule is that you have your age (18+!) displayed somewhere on your blog! ♥️

[charlesandmartine]

Saturday 2nd November 2024

A much better night has passed without the orchestra of unknown players turning up. It was entirely peaceful with no interruptions. Having said that, we had just watched a TV documentary covering the murder a couple of years ago of the British girl, Grace Millane in Auckland NZ.

So after breakfast, much more refreshed than yesterday, we followed signs for the Hot Springs on the outskirts of Katherine. These are naturally occurring warm water Springs, although as far as I can tell, they are not thermal Springs, just warm ground water from a high water table. Well, hey, they are very popular with the local non-indigenous population and with the added attraction of a pop-up cafe, what's not to like? Martine had a little dip before finding what was not to like. The Springs followed a bending course, and just around one such bend was a tree absolutely full of fruit bats! Well, you can't have everything I suppose. There was a very nice signboard at the top of the steps which read: "Time is like a river. You can never touch the same water twice because the flow that has gone by will never go by again."

Let's just leave this as sentimental philosophy and not go down the Carpe Diem route. Just an interesting reflection of life. It's hardly Socrates, Seneca or Thomas Aquinas after all. Move on from there. The coffee was good in the pop-up cafe. The cafe will only be there another week and then there will be the wet season. The cafe uses a converted shipping container. The man told us that in a couple of weeks the whole thing will be shipped out. The wet season has produced floods which came pretty much to the top of the container before now. We find this all very hard to imagine, but it does explain why, even in such manicured grounds and springs, there are crocodile signs up. Flood conditions permit crocodiles to swap locations and move house, Love it or List it style.

A storm was brewing at 2pm but it just missed us, passing slightly to the west of us. Our next appointment this afternoon was not until 5pm. We had been told the Ghan train would be in Katherine Station this afternoon, so we very much wanted to revisit the service that we have travelled on a few years ago. In the meantime, Martine managed a couple of episodes of the Archers. As soon as the title music came on, a cow mooed in appreciation. Martine is about 2 weeks behind, so no spoilers, please.

Well, once again, best made plans and all, we showed up with plenty of time to spare at the Katherine Passenger Rail Terminal, and no Ghan. Had it gone, you ask? Well, we didn't know the answer to that. I mean, it is not easy hiding a 30 coach train after all. We shall investigate the return train for later in the week.

Big excitement tomorrow. We have a 2hr riverboat cruise on the Katherine Gorge, but an early start, so we are hoping the orchestra doesn't show tonight. Back to the little apartment and SB with rubbery chicken.

ps. We met a Timorese Art Teacher doing a pastel painting of the pop-up cafe. Nice bloke, and really interesting talking to him about teaching art to year 10 and 11 students.

pps. Although it was over 40 today, it dropped later on to 34. People around here put a jumper on if it drops much more than that!

[kohakhearts]

i missed you so much + satogou if it strikes your fancy?

"i missed you so much." wc: 1631

For a while, Goh isn’t sure how to journey on his own; in spite of Grookey’s enthusiasm for being on the road, the Pokémon doesn’t offer much in the way of helpful advice, and can always be relied on to get them lost even when there’s a perfectly fine path they could have followed instead.

Cinderace and Inteleon are a little better with directions, but only just. After the fear of being lost wears off, though, Goh comes to find he prefers taking the backtrails after all. The long way—if it can even be called that, considering how convoluted some of the routes they take are—is reassuring in how void it is of other people. And quickly he adjusts to being by himself, so much so that he begins actively avoiding other people as much as is possible.

He's not a battler, so he doesn’t feel any remorse turning down battle demands from other trainers whose paths he does he cross, and he feels even less for parting ways with others shortly after meeting them. It’s his journey, he reasons, and he can’t depend on anyone else to help him get through it.

He catches many more Pokémon in the Kanto and Johto regions, and then he explores other parts of the world too, just him and his partner Pokémon. He calls Professor Cerise and Chloe often, of course, and sometimes he even talks to his parents. Once or twice, he toys with the idea of calling Ash, but just can’t bring himself to. He’s waiting for a reason—he’s waiting for something big to happen, so he can say that his journey has had meaning and purpose, but so far…

But Goh is not a quitter. Never has been. He boards a plane to the Kalos region and then hikes through the mountains to Paldea. He catches Pokémon Professor Cerise has never even heard of there, which they ooh and aah over on the phone as they learn more about them, but he never finds one that feels like enough.

So, he moves on from here too. He travels through Sinnoh and Hoenn. He battles with Legendaries in Unova, and even befriends a wayward Zapdos somewhere along the way. But when he thinks of some of the adventures he has heard Ash has been on, he knows that is not enough either. By the time he is heading back to Vermillion City to discuss some of his findings with Professor Cerise in person, at last at a loss for where to travel next, he has begun to wonder if anything ever will be.

It's been years of nonstop travel by this point, and he welcomes the chance to rest. Though disappointed to learn Chloe has gone off with Dawn to the Hoenn region for a while, the chance to see his Pokémon again and to work alongside Professor Cerise more than makes up for it.

He scours web forums and pores over research articles about various regional phenomena for weeks, trying to come up with a new travel plan, but if only privately, he can admit that he’s worn out from travelling, even as he itches with restlessness.

Some weeks into his stay at the laboratory, Professor Cerise surprises him while they are running some blood samples together:

“Professor Oak tells me both Ash and Gary are home for a while as well.”

Goh fumbles the phial in his hand, but Professor Cerise seems to have been expecting it; he wordlessly reaches over to steady his hand.

“Ash and Gary?” Goh asks, weakly.

“That’s right. I thought you might want to pay them a visit.”

“I… Well, I’ll think about it.”

Cerise peers down at him, far too critically for Goh’s liking. “Don’t be concerned about us. You know we can manage things just fine here without you for a while.”

But the prospect of seeing old friends again is not as warming as he thought it would be. He just shrugs, and Cerise thankfully drops the topic, at least for now.

Unfortunately, it becomes unavoidable a few days later, though whether the professor is to blame or not is less certain. Goh is in the park tending to the tangled fur of his recently evolved Pawmo; it puts up a bigger fight over being brushed than it did as a Pawmi, perhaps due to its added dual typing, but just when he has finally gotten it to work with him, the sound of approaching footsteps from behind Goh has it standing upright and bolting away before Goh can even hope to catch it.

He deflates, turning to berate whoever snuck up on them like that, but is stopped short as the offender greets him: “Hey, Goh! Long time no see!”

Goh tenses. His eyes flick up to see Ash’s familiar beaming grin. Though years separate them now, he is the same Ash as he ever was, Pikachu perched excitedly on his shoulder, and Goh’s throat dries up immediately.

“What kinda Pokémon was that?” Ash is craning his neck in an attempt to get another look at Pawmo, completely oblivious to whatever ridiculous emotion has tightened Goh’s chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before.”

“Well,” Goh says, a bit hoarsely, “you could’ve seen it if you hadn’t charged in here and scared it off.”

Ash laughs; it only makes the feeling worse.

“Sorry,” he offers. “I was trying to be quiet, but you know me.” He shrugs. “So, what was it?”

Goh glances back at where Pawmo disappeared, swallowing thickly. “It’s called Pawmo. It’s a Pokémon from the Paldea region.”

“Whoa, cool! I heard you’d gone to Paldea, but I still don’t know much about it, honestly.”

Goh whips his head around again, blinking. “Who told you that?”

“Uh…” Ash thinks about it. “Gary, maybe?”

“Who told—” Goh stops, shaking his head. “Never mind. Professor Cerise must’ve told Professor Oak and he must have mentioned it.”

“Gary wanted to go there too,” Ash says, “but he got caught up in Kalos for a long time. I think he’ll go now, though.”

Goh can’t bring himself to ask the question brimming under his lips. He stands and dusts off his pants, not meeting Ash’s gaze. “So, what are you doing here?”

“I came to visit you!”

As little as a week ago, Goh thought this was what he wanted, but ever since Professor Cerise mentioned that Ash was back home, the idea has done little more than grip him in steely panic.

He takes too long to respond; at last, Ash realizes something isn’t right, and immediately he steps closer. Goh stumbles back without even thinking about it, then hates himself for it.

“Goh? What’s the matter?”

Goh can’t bear to look up and see the expression on his face; it’s bad enough to hear it in his tone.

“Sorry,” he manages. “I just wasn’t expecting anybody. It’s…been a long time.”

“Yeah, so we want to hear all about your adventures, right, Pikachu?”

Pikachu jumps down from his shoulder and approaches Goh. Perhaps because he has spent so long surrounded only by Pokémon, Goh doesn’t so much as flinch as he approaches and rubs affectionately against his leg.

He breathes out, some of the tension fleeing him as he crouches down to pet Pikachu.

“There’s not much to tell,” he admits after a long moment. “I caught a bunch of new Pokémon, but nothing too exciting. I could introduce you to some of them, if you want.”

But Ash is frowning at him when he finally manages to raise his eyes up and just look.

“That’s not like you,” he says. “Aren’tcha excited about catching more Pokémon? I bet they’re all awesome! And now you’re even closer to your dream, right?”

Goh looks away again, then pushes himself back up to his feet. He turns around and tells Ash, “Come on, then. I’ll introduce you to them.”

It takes the better part of the afternoon, but with each new Pokémon they meet, something seems to loosen in Goh. Ash and Pikachu both are buzzing with excitement at each one, and eventually that molten dread in the pit of his stomach begins to fizzle out. He laughs alongside them, and it feels the same as it ever did.

The feeling becomes something different, then; something painful, still, but so much lighter. An ache that has been there all along but makes itself known only now as it lessens, ever-so-slightly.

When they have toured the whole park, Goh stops Ash just before they are about to re-enter the lab. He averts his gaze as Ash turns to face him, but still digs up the courage to say, “Hey, Ash? I really missed you. I missed you so much.”

A beat, and then Ash puts a hand on his cheek and forces his eyes back up to his. He beams at him.

“I missed you too,” he says, and it’s all the warning Goh gets before he’s pulled into a crushing hug.

He closes his eyes against a sudden stinging sensations and lets himself melt into the hug. All this time, he has felt that nothing he’s done has been good enough for Ash; only now does he realize how foolish that was. Of course nothing would ever be good enough—he never had to be anything more or less than exactly who he is for Ash to want to call himself his friend.

When they pull apart, Ash tactfully says nothing as Goh swipes at his watering eyes. He smiles as brightly as he ever says, and remarks, “I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat!”

Some things will never change, Goh supposes. That’s just fine with him; turns out, he doesn’t want them to change too much anyway.

send me a prompt + a character/ship!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

So, I weirdly haven’t written enough about this on this blog so far, given what a big thing it is for me – I’m going to the fucking UK this summer. For real this time. For real. Here is a post about it.

I first posted on this blog about wanting to go to the UK in early 2021, I think. I remember making posts about how maybe once the vaccines were finally released, and I was all vaccinated, travel would be safe, and I could go for a little while before I start my college courses again. That didn’t happen for quite a few reasons.

I spent much of 2021 planning a hypothetical trip, knowing it probably couldn’t really happen, because obviously things like this don’t really happen, but I needed something to fantasize about in the depths of lockdown. It’s odd that a global pandemic made me interested in international travel for the first time. Pre-COVID, my life was so full of a single sport that I didn’t really have time to think about anything else as a hobby. I was on the road most weekends, but that road was the 401, driving off to the same few cities anywhere from two to twelve hours away, to sleep in a cheap hotel or on someone’s gym floor and then shout at teenagers at day and immediately drive home. Every once in a while we’d go to a tournament in the States, which counted as exciting international travel. The idea of actually seeing places that are not in or near the border with my country just hadn’t occurred to me.

Then the world ended, I fell deep into the Britcom rabbit hole, all that stuff. And in 2021, I got really into 1) memorizing how to label all the countries and major cities in the world, and all the counties or other regional areas in the UK and Ireland, on a blank map, because I’d learned that the larger world existed and I wanted to be clear about where it all is, and 2) going through places I’ve never been on Google Earth, usually while listening to audio comedy. I also took to looking up things to do in the UK on Trip Advisor, mapping the route on Google Maps and following it on Google Earth, knowing this was all for a hypothetical fantasy trip but still researching things like train fares and schedules because it was more fun if it felt like it could be real.

I’m fascinated by the idea of places that are Different From Here being actual real physical places where people could actually go. Which is especially weird in this case because I actually have been to the UK. I have a godmother there, whom I’ve met in person three times, twice when she’s come to Canada and once when for my sixteenth birthday she paid for my mother and I to go to England for a week. We stayed at her place in London, did all the tourist-y things, also spent a day in some spot in Somerset but I’m fuzzy on where or why, it was 2006. My clearest memory of the week is seeing Spamalot on St. Patrick’s Day and thinking it was the coolest thing ever. I’ve also got fairly clear memories of climbing stairs at St. Paul’s Cathedral, thinking Westminster Abbey was the most beautiful building I’d ever seen, and seeing some extremely cool stuff at the British Library including some original handwritten Beatles lyrics. And I remember the tube and being impressed that the cars really do have driver doors on the wrong side, that’s not just a thing they made up on Fawlty Towers.

Still, it was so long ago, and it was such a short time compared to the amount of time that I’ve spent watching Britian on TV, that it does feel a bit like Britain is a fictional place that exists on TV. Obviously I realize that’s a very ignorant North American thing for me to say, and in my defense I think I know a hell of a lot more about Britain than the average ignorant North American. I can label all the regions in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales in under five minutes. But I’ve got to admit, on a visceral level, learning all that stuff does feel a bit like memorizing lore in a fantasy novel.

There is kind of an appeal in the idea that… okay, the last time I was this obsessed with something besides a sport in which I actually participated, I was a kid in the Harry Potter fandom. I was a kid who read a lot of books, and a lot of my favourites happened to be British fantasy or sci-fi novels (Harry Potter, CS Lewis, Tolkein, His Dark Materials, Douglas Adams), but Harry Potter was the one that took over my life from the ages of about ten to fourteen. You classic situation of – didn’t have friends in real life, all my social interaction came from Harry Potter message boards, a vast chunk of my free time dedicated to reading every passage of the books over and over and over and analyzing them and writing things about them and I made some friends on the internet who loved Luna Lovegood as much as I did. Then I got to high school and started wrestling and made some friends in real life and slowly moved away from online fandom, didn’t do anything except that for fifteen years, then the world ended, I came back and found a new online fandom that was also British but had less magic and more panel shows, then the author turned out to be a terrible person and ruined my childhood.

Anyway. The point is that I remember when I was a kid, obviously I spent ages fantasizing about being able to actually go to all those places in Harry Potter. But I couldn’t, because those are not real places. Well, my new foray into fandom also feels a bit like that – like this fictional thing I’ve got obsessed with that no one around me knows anything about but some people on the internet are into it. Except that this time, the place where all these things happen is actually a real place, and I can pay money to go there. This concept remains amazing to me.

So I mapped out the idea of this trip a couple of years ago, and for a long time, it stayed in a limbo between fantasy and genuine possibility. I did actually start working out budgets and putting money aside for it, but all the while thinking this won’t actually work. I was starting to do things post-lockdown again, the sense that we were all locked down so nothing is real so I may as well engaged in some escapism and plan some fantasy trips – that started to give way to regular life, and in regular life, I’m not a person who does shit like that. I can’t just fly across the ocean to see a fictional place. I still had it vaguely in my head that maybe someday I’d like to, but I stopped actively planning anything.

But at the same time, the whole concept of Britain was starting to feel a bit less fictional (I’m… I’m feeling the need to clarify, again, that this is just a sort of emotional automatic response to put “the place where Britcom happens” in the “fictional” category in my brain… I did not at any point genuinely think the United Kingdom was fictional… especially since I’ve been there before). I do remember the first time I got physical, tangible proof that the people in the fictional Britcom world are real, when Russell Howard came to my city in March 2022 (my then-girlfriend got us tickets because she knew I liked British comedians, she was excited about it so I didn’t tell her that actually I’m mad at him for the Jordan Peterson apologism so don’t want to go, it’s not something I’d have chosen myself but it was a thoughtful gift and to be fair an extremely fun night), and I could not get over the idea that the man from the fictional place was here in real life displacing air like he’s a real human being and actually all of it is physically real. Over the next few months I did an 8.5-hour drive to New York City to see Nish Kumar, and then two months later a 2-hour drive to see him do the same show in Montreal, because it was that fucking great a show. I also saw James Acaster in Montreal, and a club night with Dara O’Briain and Fern Brady and Phil Wang and Tom Allen and Sindhu Vee and every single one of them was an actual real person breathing the same air as me. Before the show I saw Dara O’Briain on the street and was so shocked that I hit my mother too hard to show her and she jumped and the commotion attracted his attention and I didn’t know what to do except stare at him like he was a zoo animal until he smiled awkwardly at me and went on his way.

Things like this did rather renew my interest in a trip, not just for the novelty of seeing a place that feels fictional, but for the more practical purposes of seeing my favourite comedians live. My interests within Britcom were starting to shift significantly toward stand-up, I got obsessed for a while with learning everything about the history of the Edinburgh Festival in the 21st Century, it seemed like another world, the time of the Chocolate Milk Gang and 24-hour shows from the early 00s, but then I watched videos on the internet that were filmed at the 2022 Edinburgh Festival and realized this place is actually real and still happening now and it is technically possible to go there.

After that, the concept rapidly became de-fictionalized in my mind when I sent someone a message on a comedy forum, in the hopes of finding a few comedy recordings that I heard existed, and by complete coincidence stumbled upon the best person I possibly could have. I’d thought worst case scenario is he doesn’t reply and I will be left to assume he saw my message and considered it horribly rude, great scenario is he has a few things I’m asking for, amazing best case scenario is maybe he has lots of stuff and is willing to share. As it happened, I got the best case scenario, plus far more than that. Specifically, a the coolest fucking person I could possibly have found, as a new friend, direct interaction that made all of this seem a hell of a lot less fictional very, very fast. He said things like “So are you ever going to come out here and actually see this stuff yourself”, and I said things like “Obviously I have plotted a route and looked up train fares but don’t be silly, that was just the stuff of lockdown-induced dreams.”

I quickly started planning things more seriously, but at the same time, the editing work I’d been doing started drying up, I had a bit of a financial crisis where I became concerned that I’d be unable to pay rent, and couldn’t save for a trip. I followed the 2023 Edinburgh Festival from afar, from NextUp streams and hearing stories about it from a friend who actually went there and sent me pictures, which was so fucking cool, and it was all so very very real.

I got a new job, this one much harder because it involves leaving the house all day for five days a week, but also it’s much more stable than the editing work I did for all of lockdowns, and I was able to start saving money in the second half of 2023. I learned that the place where I work shuts down for the last week of July, and the Monday of the following week is a holiday. So I put in a request for just four days off, the Tuesday-Friday, to create a two-week holiday. One week in London at the end of July, and one week in Edinburgh during the first week of the Edinburgh Festival.

The time off got approved (barely, I was told I can’t book any other vacation time in 2024, but I got it) in late 2023, and it was so exciting, and that’s the first time it started to feel even a little bit real. Then I booked an Air B&B for the week in Edinburgh, because it’s my understanding that accommodation availability and prices are a huge issue there and you want to book early. I think I did well, though. Found a place that’s not cheap but not unfeasibly expensive, I can have my own room and it’s a 50-minute walk or 10-minute bus from Edinburgh city centre. It was so exciting to book the place, put some money down, finally have something on the books for sure. Though I did triple check that it’s fully refundable if I cancel up until pretty much the day before, just in case something goes wrong.

I booked the flights over Christmas. They weren’t cheap, but I was able to afford them without destroying my ability to pay rent, because it turns out there is a reason why I put myself through human interaction for 8-10 hours five days a week. I did pay an extra fee to give myself the ability to pay another fee and cancel them, because still, it felt like I can’t be totally sure this will actually work. But that was a big commitment.

And that’s pretty well the main things sorted out. I still have to book a whole lot of train tickets, but I have the flights. I have the time off work. I have the Edinburgh accommodation. I have accommodation in London, because the absolute coolest person I could possibly come across on a comedy message board has a spare room, and is extremely kind and generous with his time and space, and I’ve said some pretty disparaging things about that message board before (based on some quite bad threads from like fifteen years ago, that I spent weeks reading in their entirety because, you know, autism), and I would like to take them all back.

Now they’ve announced the first bunch of acts at the 2024 Edinburgh Festival, and I’ve been going through picking out which ones look most interesting to me, and for maybe the first time, it’s finally feeling completely, entirely real. This is happening. For real this time. I am going through an Edinburgh Festival catalogue not just to take screenshots of the most interesting blurbs so I can save them in a folder and/or post them on my blog to say here’s an interesting piece of history. I am going through it to pick what shows I wish to see.

So here’s my plan, that I’m writing because I now feel confident that I think it’s actually going to happen. Obviously I have a spreadsheet with various tabs, and a KMZ file so I can open Google Earth with all the places I might potentially want to see already marked. I have been planning this trip for years. I have two weeks in the UK, and I don’t want to waste a single second. I want to make sure all that time spent planning comes to something, because as a fundamental part of my personality, I have always believed that there is a level of planning you can do to guarantee that everything goes right. This belief has been proven wrong time and time again, but I’ve never tried something with this much planning beforehand, so surely this time it’ll work. No taking a chance on some tourist attraction that might turn out to be shit, because I’ll have looked at it all on Google Earth beforehand and ranked things in order of how cool they look.

I have organized my spreadsheet into seven tabs: overview, plan by day, places to eat, things to see London, in Edinburgh, in Cambridge, and things to pack. I have organized each “things to see” tab into three sections: things I want to see for reasons related to general tourism, things I want to see for reasons related to comedy, and things I want to see for reasons related to Harry Potter. I apologize for the latter, and obviously I will not be doing anything that would give revenue to JK Rowling. But nothing JK Rowling can say in the 2020s will change my childhood, and I need to spend some amount of time indulging my childhood dreams of running around fancy buildings feeling like I’m in a magical British land.

London, tourism: pretty straightforward. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral are on the list, because I remember how cool they were last time, and because for some reason when I stopped being Christian at age 16 I did not also get rid of my awe at fancy churches. I want to see Parliament and related areas, I want to try to get a picture of the Number 10 door as seen in Yes Minister. I want to see some bridges. Take a cable car across a river. Go look at Douglas Adams in Highgate Cemetery (I realize there are more famous people than Douglas Adams there, I’d like to see them too, but mainly Douglas Adams). Go see what The British Library has going on while I’m there. There are too many pubs on the list given the fact that I’m currently trying to stop drinking, I am going to cut some of those pubs off the list and I’m just trying to decide which ones, but I really love a good pub and the ones in London look so cool and even if I can’t have a pint I want to sit there in the atmosphere and have a burger or some shit.

Harry Potter tour of London is simple. Obviously I want to go look at King’s Cross Station, I did it when I was 16 and it was so fucking cool, I don’t care how stupid that is. Otherwise, I’ve looked up three different areas that were used in filming Diagon Alley, and according to Google Earth, seem like the do sort of look like Diagon Alley-like places. That’s what’s interesting to me. I’m not really interested in places where the movies just happened to be filmed (the movies were fine, I’ve seen them a couple of times each, but it was the books that I read until I had them nearly memorized), I want to see places that look like they could be where the books were actually set. And Goodwin’s Court appears to look like where Harry Potter could have actually been set. So I’ve made an appointment to go walk down a road.

For the comedy-related locations in London, there are a few venues I want to see. Ideally while something’s playing in them, but even if there’s nothing I’m interested in at the Soho Theatre while I’m there, I’d still want to go in and just see the building, after the all the shows I’ve seen and heard that were recorded there. Same with The Bill Murray. Battersea Arts Centre. I also wish to make a pilgrimage to the bit of Regent’s Park where Daniel Kitson’s done some of the most landmark nights of comedy in the last twenty years. Obviously I want to go stand outside the gates to the Taskmaster house and see just how close it is to that golf course. (There will also be a few hours of the itinerary where I might just leave some of the details blank, no need to get too much into what I want to see there, it’s in my spreadsheet as just “Crystal Palace”, and I will say that if you don’t want people to go look at a place where you used to live, don’t make your address the title of your theatre show – I need to stress again, just so we’re clear about what level of creepiness I’m talking about here, it is a former address, not anywhere that anyone significant lives now or has lived for the last fifteen years, it's just the subject of comedy stories that are now long in the past, as are various surrounding landmarks, it’s archaeology.)

Now, in Edinburgh I’ve put a lot fewer things on the itinerary, because I want to leave most of my time for going to see comedy shows. And going to see a couple of music shows, because that first wave of events they’ve announced includes a couple of traditional Scottish music things that I am so excited about, it’s going to be mostly comedy but I do want to do that as well. Celtic music, Harry Potter, British comedy – all the biggest special interests of my life besides the one where you beat people up, all easy to access at this festival (I mean, technically Edinburgh has something called wrestling too, but it’s best if I don’t hear anyone try to compare the Max + Ivan wrestling to the sport that I do).

I do want to climb Arthur’s Seat, because I’ve done it about a hundred times in Google Earth so I just have to do it in real life. When Mark Watson released his book last year, I got the signed and dedicated version and he said we can tell him about a problem we have for him to solve in the dedication. I said my problem is I’m going to London and Edinburgh next year and need advice on where to go, he said I should climb Scott’s Monument. Even though my levels of respect for Mark Watson have dropped significantly since that book actually came out, I am still going to climb Scott’s Monument because Mark Watson told me to.

Similarly, this extremely kind and cool person I know recently got the chance to get me an autographed copy of Tim Key’s new book (which I unfortunately won’t get until I go to London and pick it up in person, but it looks great), where he also asked Tim to give me some advice for my trip. Tim Key said to go to Mosque Kitchen, and Indian restaurant in Edinburgh, so I’m doing that. Oh, and while I’m in London I have to go to a place called Kebab Kid, because it’s Nish Kumar’s favourite shawarma place in England, which I know because I know a guy who could just walk up to Nish Kumar after one of his gigs and ask him what his favourite shawarma place is. Have I mentioned how fucking cool this is?

Anyway. That’s the extent of my interest in Edinburgh tourism, mainly. I mean, if I were going when the festival weren’t on, there would be plenty of other stuff I want to see. But I don’t want to take time away from festival events. I might do the castle. The castle’s probably cool. I definitely want to walk up that hill, as I’ve done many times on Google Earth, and look at the castle. Whether I pay to go inside will depend if there’s a hole in the comedy schedule, I guess.

In the Edinburgh – Harry Potter section, I have a few things. Greyfriar’s Kirkyard, the graveyard with the story about the dog that’s probably bullshit (I mean, it happened, but I think someone was just feeding that dog) but the story about how it inspired Harry Potter character names that’s true. Go get a picture of Tom Riddle’s grave. I’ve marked a couple of streets and a couple of buildings that look particularly like they could be from Harry Potter, those are on the list of places to walk. There’s a Harry Potter store that I want to go in and look through the stuff because the interior seems really cool, but I promise I would never spend money in there.

And then Edinburgh – comedy will probably take care of itself. I want to see The Stand and The Gilded Balloon, as the sites of many of my favourite comedy events over the last twenty years. But I’m hoping I’ll end up in those places anyway to see shows, so no need to make a special trip. If not, though, I’m making a special trip. I have to see the stage where the cow got torn apart. I absolutely have to go see it in person.

There is also the Cambridge tab, because I have blocked off one of my London days to take a train to Cambridge and back. I have made a Google Earth document with about 20 of the most interesting-seeming colleges marked. Obviously I’m not going to see 20 colleges, I’m going to look at them all in Google Earth and then rank them by how cool they look and go see as many as I can in order. I have also, of course, marked down which ones let you take tours and at what times. The place I’m most excited to see is the Wren Library, which appears to be a library from Harry Potter or His Dark Materials or something. I want to see Trinity College because it’s the college on which Douglas Adams based the college in the first Dirk Gently book. A few of the colleges have chapels that look really pretty and are interesting to me because I have for some reason not lost my awe of pretty churches. And mainly, I just want to walk around the Cambridge University grounds looking at stuff.

Oh, and we’re leaving another day to take a train to Kent, where they have an archive of stand-up comedy materials that I wish to see. But I haven’t made a tab for that, because I just want to see some stuff in the University of Kent and then go back to London.

I am also hoping I can block out one day from the Edinburgh week to not book any shows, and just take trains around Scotland. I have always wanted to take trains around Scotland. I have always romanticized trains, I have always romanticized Scotland, taking a train through rural parts of Scotland will make me feel like I’m on the Hogwarts Express, it’s everything my over-romanticizing heart fantasized about when imagining this trip. I’ve checked, and while it would be an incredibly long day, it is possible to take a train from Edinburgh to Mallaig in the morning, have a couple of hours in Mallaig, and take another train back at night. This would take me, twice, through something that’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful train journeys in the world, from Glasgow to Mallaig. Mallaig is a tiny village on the West Coast of Scotland and it’s got a hiking trail and a pub and I just want to take a train across a country and walk around the trail and then sit in that pub and look at the ocean. I want that so badly. It’s been a rough couple of months, I find it hard to spend 8 to 10 hours a day interacting with other people, the thought that one day in early August I might spend one hour sitting in a pub in Mallaig looking at the ocean is really getting me the through the day at this point. There are a few pubs in Mallaig, but obviously I’ve picked out my favourite. I want to eat seafood. I love seafood. That’s not just a Mallaig thing, seafood is my favourite food and I always eat lots of it when I visit the East Coast of Canada because it’s better near the ocean. All of Britain is near the ocean, so I want to eat all their seafood.

Okay, that’s the plan. I was going to write about what I’m thinking in terms of actual shows to see, but I might let that turn into a different post. Right now, I’m just excited about the idea of posting this on the internet because it is real and I am actually going to do it and having this to look forward to is way too big a proportion of my motivation at this point in my life.

[fox-bright]

A dream.

I dreamed I was an orphan child, dressed mostly in rags, following a caravan. Horses, carts, wheelbarrows, maybe mostly a merchant caravan? There were guards, and they kept me from getting too close to beg for food.

An old man all in black and dark blue started sharing his food with me in the evenings, and his fire. It was a several-month journey, and I was sticking as near the caravan as I could creep, so that I'd be safer from bandits that preyed on travelers in the desert. I never saw the old man sleep, but once in a while he said he'd keep watch while I did so, and I grew fond of him pretty quickly.

Mostly what I remember of him from the dream was that he told stories. Not the kind I was used to, not the funny stories about who tricked whom or who got kicked by a horse when they tried to sneak into a woman's blankets, they were stories about palace intrigues and the movements of armies, complicated things that always seemed ultimately to have a moral--avoid cruelty, avoid greed, consider the effects of your actions on the people around you. I asked "Are you a monk?" and he tilted his head and smiled, and said nothing.

Bit by bit, my being seen with him brought me closer to the caravan. Eventually I was allowed to sleep within the glow of its firelight. A little while later, one of the kinder guards would slip me bits of dried meat when he thought no one else was looking, and once or twice even tangy dried fruit. Someone, or someone's mother, gave me a pair of shoes that a child had outgrown on the trip. I don't think I'd had shoes before, only sometimes wrapped rags around my feet if the air was cold. It seemed that everyone knew the man--and lots of him did, in fact, call him That Monk--and knew him to be a good judge of character. It seemed that the old man was known for good deeds, for the quiet word that interrupted an argument, for tireless effort to help in times of trouble (mending a cart wheel, caring for a sick horse or injured herd dog), for feeding hungry children like me.

With acceptance came other conversations, sidelong at first and then openly, about the weather and where we'd all come from, about where we were going and what we hoped to be when we got there. I didn't have any particular reason to think that the new city I was headed to would be kinder to me than the last, but home hadn't been safe for me anymore, and if I was very lucky I could find some sort of apprenticeship. One of the merchants hoped to become rich, another had already traveled this route a dozen times in his life, and scoffed at the idea. A grandmother was going to be with her son and his family, now that her husband was in the ground--she couldn't wait to see the sea again, after her entire adult lifetime spent so far from where she'd been born.

That Monk didn't have any goal, he said. The older merchant murmured that he'd encountered him more than once on this road, over the years, and that he'd already been known here when the merchant was young. "He doesn't settle." he said. "Maybe his sort can't."

All the same, I tried to convince him. "If I get an apprenticeship I could afford us a room. It's going to be autumn when we make it to the city, you should at least stay through the winter." I hadn't had any dreams about family in a long time, and he'd become precious to me. I harassed him for two weeks, until finally he sat me down alone after the rest of the caravan was asleep and said he was going to tell me something he hadn't told anyone else in a long, long time.

And he told me another story:

"Long ago, when I was young and fierce, I was also very wealthy, and thought that gave me virtue. I was the brightest son of a family of strong warriors, raised to know that everything I looked upon belonged to me, and I could do as I would. And oh, I did. I wreaked war on my neighbors on all sides, and added their wealth to my own. My father eventually joined our grandfathers in the afterlife, and I became the ruler. To do honor to my forebears, I conquered without mercy. I burned villages if they would not submit to my rule, I sacked cities, I ordered the deaths of as many people as there are fish in the Yangtze. And my empire flourished and shone, and I was glad.

As I grew older, of course there were rebellions. And I and my captains put them down. Once, there was an attempt at a coup within my own palace. I had the ringleaders tortured to death publicly over the course of a week, and held a feast while their families were driven into the desert. The face of the world was changed by my hand, and I reckoned it only appropriate, because after all I was strong. And bit by bit, violence by violence, I grew old.

When the fever came, I knew that I would not survive it. I had already assigned duties to my heirs, as I would not see my great empire destroyed by bickering after I was gone, and I settled riches on my wives, and I knew the rattling in my chest was an announcement of my fate.

I grew very weak. I thought about what was to happen to me next, about what gleaming company I would enter as I died, about my grandfathers and the stories we would tell about our triumphs. Half-dreaming, sick and delirious, I saw them arrayed about me in their armor and their finery, and I waited to see them smile and welcome me. But their faces were hard with grief. And I knew all at once that I had no time left, and that I was about to be consigned to one of the bitterest hells. I had committed so many acts of war, to no purpose but to add to my majesty. I had caused so many to die, and killed so many with my own hands, that the weight of their suffering would drive me down for the rest of time. I was filled with despair and self-loathing.

I had known some power beyond that of the spear, and I had read many books, and with my last breath I made a bargain. I said, let me not yet enter hell. Let me instead try to rebalance my karma, let me do good where for so long I have done violence. And my grandfathers said, You have no time. And I begged them, I do not ask to live. I only ask to find some way to atone.

And I opened my eyes for the last time, and I was alone in the room. And I closed my eyes."

I looked at him in disbelief, where he leaned back against against a bag beside the dimming fire, all his darkness limned in gold. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and I did not think he watched me. I took a long breath. "It is a story." I said. "It is." he said. "Go to sleep."

I slept.

When I woke into a bright morning, I did not ask him again to stay with me. I did not ask him for anything at all. The mother who had given me her boy's shoes watched me with concern, and rested her palm on my forehead for a minute. After some quiet discussion with her group, she said that today, I could ride on her cart and rest.

But I was a child, and children smooth things over. And after all I had been alone for so long, without an adult to trust, why would I throw this one away? Life went back to normal.

We were very near the city now. Near enough that the guards began to be on edge, because with proximity came greater danger. We hadn't seen any bandits on the road, had once seen a cloud of dust on the horizon that came from the hooves of many horses but had never been close enough to hear their riders. But there is no point to raiding a merchant caravan unless you can sell what you take from it, and cities have many people who would buy from anyone. So it was perhaps inevitable that the last night we would be camping outside, we were attacked.

I snapped awake to the sounds of screaming horses, and screaming people. My fire had died down, but I could see the rest of the caravan's fires being stoked bright, I could see women thrusting their children behind them. I heard laughter from the shadows behind me, and when I turned there were bandits, their faces very cheerful and upsetting. They were between me and the safety of the caravan, so I ran into the dark.

I was small, and not very strong. I didn't get far. There were half a dozen of them here, and they grabbed at me, and all I was was screaming and kicking and biting. One of them caught my heel, and my shoe peeled off as I hauled my leg back to kick again. And then there was all at once a sort of silence, a stillness that came over us like a blanket, like sleep. In my lungs the air felt freezing cold, the stars above were clear and untwinkling. And behind us all, That Monk cleared his throat.

"If you don't put the child down, turn and leave this camp, I will kill the lot of you." he said. His voice wasn't loud. There was no anger in it, though there was a sort of sleepy anticipation, and an absolute confidence. All the hairs on my arms went up, and I was shouting again, but this time at him, begging him not to do it. He'd been working a thousand years to balance his karma, if he killed these men--if he killed these men!

They dropped me roughly on my tailbone, drawing weapons, diving for That Monk. And for a moment I had double vision, there was his wrinkled, smiling self, all his dark rough clothing, and there was a man in his thirties, dark hair falling to his knees in a high tail, shining lacquered armor catching the light from the caravan fires. Drawn sword catching the light more sharply, blood red. He moved through the bandits like a flicker, or a swallow, some darting thing, like a child's kongzhu toy jumping from string to string. But everywhere he landed, a blade darted out, and someone fell.

It was over in moments. I'd barely had time to bring back the breath that had been knocked out of me when I was dropped. My heart was in my throat, and my eyes welled up, looking at the old-young king-monk who had saved me. "Stupid! What were you thinking! You were almost free!" I shouted at him, finding my feet and running to pummel him on the chest with useless fists. "My life is worthless! You should have let me die!"

He laughed under his breath, and fixed the tie in my loosened hair. "If I had done that, if I had let you die out of fear of soiling my karma, what would have happened to me then?" he asked me. "What weight would have been added to me, what shame? Killing them was a more moral choice than cowardice." I blinked and rubbed my eyes with dusty fingers. Behind him I saw men in armor, men with cheekbones like his, men with jewels at their throats and quiet approval on their rough or elegant faces. And behind them, someone else, someones, all bright, hair and eyes burning white as the Moon--

And then I woke up.

[bluebellhairpin]

Please use this as an excuse to ramble and talk about your got oc and Sannem!

An excuse to talk about Sandor and my selfship oc? You don't have to tell me twice! (BEWARE. I DIDN'T HOLD BACK LOL)

They're both actually so special to me, but I haven't given myself a chance to really think about them. I do know that their relationship doesn't change the plot a whole lot - however because all my oc's are female I like having them do something to further the plot. I just haven't decided what exactly that is for her yet.

Well I do know one thing, but I'll talk about it later. What I'm mostly trying to get at is I know more fixed lore about the oc than the relationship she has with Sandor. A lot of it is still up in the air lol.

Over the course of her life she gets four nicknames. They progress from The Mouse -> The Thousand Times Bitten -> The Bitch -> The Untouched. (Link are to other post's I've made about why she's called that, and at what point she gets them. BUT THIS IS GOING TO GO WAAAAY MORE INTO THAT.)

I think I mentioned it in the description for The Mouse, but if she was in the show we'd first meet her at Winterfell. She runs errands, and her manner is likened to a field mouse. She knows the Starks, and probably would be around the crowd feasting when King Robert Baratheon visits. I can imagine her catching Sandor sometime then, and perhaps also on the road again a bit later - something clicks and they're friendly enough for acquaintances.

I can imagine her turning into an envoy for Robb during the War of Five Kings. She knows all the routes everywhere, especially in the North and around the Vale, and knows how to keep hidden - whether it be in crowds or empty spaces. It would be this envoy work that leads her to the house of Ramsay Snow. She's caught there, unable to leave. Eventually Ramsay chooses to hunt her, and she almost makes it out of the woods when his hounds get her. She bares her back to the dogs. When the others find her, they leave her there, saying that if she survives the night on her own, she'd be The Thousand Times Bitten.

She does survive, or at least that's what's told since the next morning she wasn't where they left her. Really she was picked up by a farmer and his wife who were coming home late. They nurse her back to full health over the next few weeks, however she cannot stand hounds anymore.

Eventually she leaves. She refuses to be a burden to the family anymore, intent to meet up with Catelyn and Robb Stark. Really though she wanders for a while instead. Eventually she meets Sandor again, and sees Arya. Right as they meet, Arya said that her mother and brother both died the night before, and seeing as she has nowhere else to go, she joins them both. The trio get along well, but during this time is when she starts being called The Bitch. Time with Ramsay has caused what once was sweet to turn bitter, and while before she might have laughed off curse actions and comments she becomes more violent, lacking in self preservation. This and her fondness for Sandor, and his fondness for her, garners her a new name.

She travels with Sandor and Arya until they all meet Brienne of Tarth. She gets lost among the fight. She finds Arya walking towards the road and asks what happened to Sandor. Arya replies that he's dead (at least to her), and she believes it. She's unable to bring herself to go see for herself and instead makes her way back North to the Wall. She meets Jon Snow, who is Lord Commander of the Watch, and uses that time to be taught how to fight properly.

She offers to join Jon on the trip to Hardhome, but he denies saying that she isn't experienced enough, and won't risk her life there. She spends all that time training more, to prove she could've gone. During this time she discovers a fondness for using two blades which are slightly smaller then swords. These become her weapons of choice.

When Jon dies at Castle Black, she is one of the people drawn outside by Ghost's howls. After he's brought back to life, she chooses to join him in leaving as the Wall was never a place for a woman. This plan is foiled when Sansa Stark shows up. In the days the follow, a letter comes from Ramsay goading them to fight him for Winterfell. She is eager to join in, having sworn to see Ramsay die for what he'd done to her, and now to Sansa - and threatened to do again.

She fights at the Battle of the Bastards, and lives without a scratch on her. The training from the Watch paid off. She rises that day as The Untouched - a name garnered from her days at Castle Black, since the moment training moved from pretend swords to real ones, no one could land a blow on her - and now a name solidifying her into a battle legend.

Staying true to her promise, she watches as Sansa sets Ramsay's hounds on himself. Sansa walks away, but she stays. She promised she'd see him die - really she wanted to do it herself, to feel his blood warm her hands, but watching the life leave him was really the only thing she wanted to do before she died. Now her life was no longer in service to herself. Now she was ready to serve someone else again.

Lo and behold, once again there is now a King in the North.

AND THAT'S ALL I HAVE SO FARRRRRRR <3 (I could write more, since I have seen a few more seasons since I decided on all this, but this post is getting loooooooong. So if you've lasted this long I'm giving you a nice cup of tea and/or hot chocolate and kissing ur forehead THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU <3333)

[outofangband]

I got an ask about food or cooking related headcanons for Morwen or Aerin, I originally responded with the two together but I decided to post them seperately because I have so many thoughts about this. My response to the ask with some Morwen thoughts is here!

I have several related posts including this one

Aerin:

I have so many thoughts on Aerin and food actually, especially as some of the only canon details involve food; she risks her life to save Morwen from starvation, she holds onto some of her own culture by feeding the poor and other Hadorian slaves (I have a ost about this here but I really want to write more on it), In both the Narn and in the earlier Book of Lost Tales, her confrontation with Túrin happens at meals, there’s a chilling paragraph in BoLT about her hatred of Brodda’s feasts, etc

-I headcanon there is a tradition of beekeeping for both honey and wax though animal fat is also used for the latter. Aerin’s favorite food is clover honey and bread and she used to love watching the women who tended to the bees, begging them to teach her how. Aerin as a child never learned fully but they did tell her important facts of the trade.

Post Nírnaeth the hives kept by the Hadorians mostly went neglected. Aerin tried once or twice to revive and then to release them, taking none of the precautions she was taught, receiving two stings upon bruised arms.

-Meals are some of the worst times. During her childhood her family traveled with their horses and meals were often fairly chaotic, rations being padded around, children running between families. She remembers the grass beneath her feet and her mother making batches and batches of salted bread that could last weeks.

(Note: I headcanon that sections of the Hadorians are semi nomadic and travel with their horses along grazing routes. Aerin’s family was among those who traveled with them until she was about sixteen. She would usually spend a quarter to half the year traveling)

The loss of these aspects of her life and culture, the foods they would make for long travel, the songs they would sing at night, the ability to just sit with her horse in a meadow on a quiet afternoon…these grieve her as much as any part of her ordeal

She sits beside Brodda at meals, enduring the jeering of his men and the silence of her kin. She no longer protests or pleads when they are beaten in front of her. Perhaps if Brodda is preoccupied with another matter, she can help tend to them herself.

It is at these meals that the cruelty of her position sometimes feels the most acute, how she is both among her oppressed kin while also isolated from them through no choice of her own, how many steps she can take to aid them might mean submitting to the position that she has been forced into

It’s something I’ve tried to articulate over and over again (namely here and here) but I probably won’t ever be able to do so properly

Anyways I love Aerin so much and have so many thoughts about her